Page 19 of Loving Wild
It’s like she’s a different person to the one who was telling me to die quietly this morning, and I don’t know what happened exactly to bring about such a drastic change.
Heading back out to where Freddie’s waiting in the kitchen, I put the kettle on.
“You want a cuppa, Fred? Tea? Beer?” I offer.
“I’m good, mate. I’ll just get Lauren to sign these, and I’ll be off.”
“So what’s happening? We’ve not heard from the police since this morning.”
“They’re still holding him. Looks like they’re going to charge him with unlawful wounding and trespass. He’ll probably face court tomorrow or Thursday; that’s when we’ll get him served with this too.” He gestures to the paperwork sitting on the bench.
“Will they let him out?”
“He’s lawyered up, but I don’t think the police want to bail him. Chances are, he’ll swear he’s sorry, promise to get help and attend anger management classes, say all the right things, and make bail.”
My gut tightens at this news. The fucker needs locking up.
“Will the IVO make any difference?” I ask.
Freddie shakes his head slowly, his eyes slicing towards the hallway that leads to my bedroom before coming back to me.
“If he’s determined to get to her,” he says quietly, “it won’t mean shit. All I can do is cover all our bases in the bail conditions. If he sends so much as a text, I’m gonna push for him to get locked up till he goes to trial.”
“That’s fucking bullshit,” I hiss through my gritted teeth.
“The system sucks,” Freddie replies. “It’s getting better, but it still sucks.”
After a moments pause, he adds, “My advice, get a decent camera and alarm system put in. You’re set back from the road, behind a high fence and gates. You’re too vulnerable with all of your living areas and master upstairs. Someone could easily sneak onto your land, and in through a downstairs window, I’d be getting every entry-point covered by cameras and alarmed.”
I nod as I consider what he’s saying. I fucking hate that I’m being forced to make this decision because of the actions of a coward, but I’d rather keep Lauren safe or at least make her feel like she is.
“I’ll get on to it tomorrow,” I tell him just as Lauren joins us.
She’s brushed her hair and piled it back on top of her head, but the spark that was in her eyes when she was making her threats earlier, has gone from her eyes.
“Freddie, this is Lauren Day,” I make the introduction and watch as they shake hands. After minimal small talk, Lauren has the paperwork signed, and right before Freddie leaves with it, the police arrive to interview us.
“You up to this?” I ask her as we stand at the front door, watching Freddie pull away, and two police officers climb out of their car and approach us. They’d asked me this morning if we’d prefer to go to the station or for them to come to us to make our statements. I thought this was the better option. Now I’m not sure how I feel about bringing more of what that fucking man has done into our home.
“What choice do I have?” Lauren questions. “I’d rather get it done and out the way than be worrying I still need to do it,” she says with her arms folded across her chest.
* * *
The policewoman isthe same one who spoke to us at the hospital last night and works solely with the family violence unit of our local police force. The fact they need a specialist unit has my jaw tensing.
Seated around our dining table, the woman, who introduces herself as Emma, explains that Mitchel, the male officer, is there to record and take notes.
“You comfortable with that, Lauren? If not, I can ask him to wait in the car and do this myself,” Emma states.
“It’s fine. I have no issues with him being here. I know not all men are like my husband,” Lauren says quietly.
“So, tell me about him, your husband, I mean. Has he done anything like this before?”
It’s irrational, but every time East gets called Lauren’s husband, I feel my jaw tic as my teeth grind harder together. By the time Lauren has finished explaining the years of throat squeezing, hair pulling, and wrist grabbing that she’s come to accept as a normal part of a relationship, and then the details of the last two attacks on her before she finally left him, I feel like I’m going to throw up my heart as my brain bursts out the top of my head.
I have never felt so much hate for another person in my life, and I don’t know how I stayed in my seat as Lauren spoke, but for her, I did it. When her hand reached for mine under the table when Emma first started asking her questions, I wanted to fucking cry. After the way I let her down yesterday, I took it as a sign she still trusted me, still needed me.
Despite her silence and withdrawal this afternoon, I thought it meant we would be okay, but when the police left with their statements, without eating anything, Lauren grabbed a bottle of water and went straight back to bed.
