Page 42 of The Midnight Bakery
‘It’s my day off, you’re in luck.’
Frankie realised just how lucky she had been. ‘I don’t know what I would have done if you weren’t here.’
A startled look came over his face. ‘Those lads didn’t pay you a repeat visit, did they? It wasn’t anyone from the club giving you grief?’
Frankie shook her head. ‘No, nothing like that.’
‘But someone was following you? You said you were running.’
‘I don’t even know if they were,’ admitted Frankie. ‘I think so. I heard noises and…’ She stopped. The only way to explain was to explain properly, but after all this time, holding everything in, never admitting to anyone who knew her what had happened, Frankie wasn’t sure she could.
Yet if she were to tell anyone, she’d like it to be William. He was sitting on the sofa opposite, with one leg tucked beneath the other, in a pose which he obviously favoured. He radiated such an air of still calm, it was like a soothing balm. She could feel her blood pressure lowering just by being in his presence.
‘You really don’t need to tell me,’ he said, sensing her hesitation. ‘I’m guessing that whatever got you this upset is not something you would normally share with a virtual stranger. And that’s okay.’
She stared down at her mug, still clasped in her hands. It wasn’t okay, and it would never be okay unless she let people into her life. People who might understand.
‘There was a note waiting for me when I got to work this evening,’ she said. ‘Someone had pushed it through the bakery’s letterbox.’ She shook her head. ‘Not someone…I know who it was.’ Was she really going to do this? William had been sokind to her, and she had ruined his evening,wasruining his evening…
‘I was married. Am married…The note was from my husband, and he—’ The breath caught in her throat. ‘He shouldn’t know where I am, but he does, and now…I don’t know what I’m going to do.’ She swallowed. ‘It took me such a long time to get away.’
There was silence. She didn’t want to look at William and see the irritation in his eyes, the realisation that she’d just shoved him straight into the middle of a marital dispute. She didn’t want him questioning her motives. But, as the seconds ticked by, she found she couldn’t bear it and, looking up, was surprised to see an altogether different expression on his face.
‘He hurt you?’ he said softly.
‘No…’ She frowned. ‘He didn’t hit me. That’s what you mean, isn’t it? He wasn’t violent, but he did hurt me. And sometimes I wish hehadused his fists, at least then I’d have something to prove what a monster he was. A monster I lived with for nearly thirty years, stupidly believing for most of them that I was happy – that I was married to a man who loved me, and cared for me, and would do anything for me. But it was only when I had reached rock bottom, when I depended on him almost for my very existence, that a teeny spark inside of me began to wonder if it was him who was the problem, not me. And, as soon as I realised, that’s when the monster appeared.’ She winced. ‘They call it gaslighting now, coercive control, and I’m glad, finally, to have some way of labelling his behaviour. To know that people recognise it, talk about it even. Before, it was just me, losing my mind, making a fuss about a man who was so kind and considerate. No wonder people thought I was mad.’
William nodded. ‘I’m from the same generation as you so I’m learning about the terms for these things too. I’m sure theyexisted in the past, but I don’t think people understood, not really.’
‘He made me depend on him for everything. Even the things I believed in came from him – his mind, his opinions. He changed the way I thought, how I felt even, and if I found myself disagreeing, I told myself it was because I didn’t understand, or I was stupid. You lose all faith in yourself, in your abilities, but it happens so gradually you never even notice.’
‘Like the boiling frog analogy?’
She stared at him. ‘Exactlylike that, yes. It all starts off so innocuously. In fact, when we first got married, I congratulated myself over and over at how lucky I was to be with a man like him. Someone who wanted nothing more than to take care of me. It wasn’t until I woke up one day and realised he controlled every aspect of my life that I understood he was the very opposite of kind and caring. The trouble is that, even now, when people recognise this kind of behaviour, they still don’t understand how you could let yourself be fooled by it, and to such an extent. They don’t believe they could be so easily manipulated, so they don’t understand howyoucould be,therefore…maybe there was some truth in the things he said about you.’ She bit her lip. ‘I thought at the very least my family would understand, but I hardly speak to them now.’
‘Your family?’ William’s expression was unbelievably sad.
Frankie nodded. ‘They’d joke about me when we were all together, saying, “What are you like?” rolling their eyes and smiling as if they were indulgingmybehaviour. And I wondered why they were saying such things. Now, of course, I know why. But even though they knew me, could see the reality of the situation I was in, suggestion is a hideously powerful tool. All it takes is for an idea to be planted, and he was so good at that – idea bombs – scattering them like seeds and watching them grow.’
William cleared his throat a little, swallowing. ‘But you got out? What did you do?’
‘I tried staying with a friend for a while, no more than a couple of weeks, but it was enough to show me that it would never work. How even my friends had bought into the lies he’d spread. She was sympathetic, and consoling, but deep down I could see she believed him over me. She wasn’t sure about me, and it showed. He was just so nice, you see, so reasonable – so full of concern for me and my mental health, which had been deteriorating bit by bit over the years. At times, it truly felt like I was going mad, and I almost believed I was,almost. But not quite. Some part of me still wanted to fight.
‘And it was the same withallmy friends. Their sympathy was ever so slightly condescending. They’d say things like, “Robert’s devastated, I’ve never seen him so upset.” They’d acknowledgeIwas upset, but they all expected me to “feel better” after a while and realise that Robert only wanted what was best for me. He’d convinced them, you see, just like he’d tried to convince me. And, because it was drip-fed to them, slowly, slowly, over time, no one had any reason to question what was actually going on.’
‘They don’t sound much like friends to me.’
‘I don’t think they were either,’ replied Frankie, fumbling in her pocket for a tissue. ‘And for the longest time that was one of the biggest hurts. Until I realised that I could never make any true friends when all I had to offer was some watered-down, projected version of me. Until I could reclaim who I really was…am…nothing would change.’
William nodded, getting up from the sofa and fetching a box of tissues from the kitchen. He laid it on the table between them and Frankie took one, nodding in gratitude. She took a deep breath.
‘So, I cut my losses,’ she continued. ‘Did what research I could, and I ran away. I had no money of my own, but I managedto save a tiny amount, literally enough to buy a train fare, and I threw myself on the mercy of a women’s refuge. And wow, that really opened my eyes. But it also gave me strength, and although Robert found me, I got better at planning, at hiding, and so here I am, nearly eighteen months after I first left.’ She gave a nervous smile, even now anxious that she be believed.
William was silent, deep in thought and, although his brow was furrowed, his expression gave nothing away. She swallowed, dropping her head to hide her face. She didn’t think she could bear his dismissal.
‘So, what did the note say?’ William asked eventually, pursing his lips.
‘I don’t know,’ she admitted. ‘When I saw who it was from, I panicked. I threw it down and then…came running in your direction.’
