Stuart James - Apartment 6

‘I’m glad I came.’ They laughed nervously. Oliver realised the barmaid was getting flustered waiting for his drinks order.

‘What can I get you?’ Oliver asked, taking the drinks menu from the bar.

Without taking a look, Meagan suggested a large gin and tonic. He ordered a pint of lager, and they made their way to a table in the far corner.

‘So.’ Oliver took a swig of his drink. ‘Sorry, I’m nervous, I’ll admit. Shit, why am I feeling like this?’

Meagan sipped her gin and tonic. ‘So am I. I don’t do this as a habit, meeting strange guys behind my husband’s back, but I wanted to talk to you. In private.’

Oliver was concerned. ‘I’m all ears.’

As they sat in the warmth, ensconced by the open fire, listening to the crackle of the burning wood, Meagan poured her heart out. She didn’t hold back. She told Oliver everything; her sham of a marriage, how Rob treated her, his nights out, the club he owned, his drug usage, the mood swings, the menacing behaviour and extreme abuse. How she couldn’t leave her apartment. Rob only allowed her to work as a nanny to bring her own money to the table. He permitted it when he found the woman she worked for was divorced and lived on her own with a small child.

She explained his jealousy, constant suspicion and overbearing possessiveness.

Oliver sat listening, never taking his eyes off Meagan, watching how she moved, the way she grew in confidence as the night progressed. Her eyes occasionally scanned the room and she would bite her bottom lip as if realising where she was; out of the apartment, her safe place. Like a prisoner released to the outside world, struggling to find her comfort zone, pining for the world they once knew.

She spoke for nearly an hour, barely taking a breath, flushed with the heat and a little dizzy with the alcohol.

As Oliver returned from the bar with more drinks, Meagan looked at him, her expression firm, serious. ‘I want to ask you something.’

Oliver placed the drinks on the table in front of them, spilling some and mopping it with a paper mat. ‘Go ahead.’

‘What I’m about to say may strike you as a joke. You may take it as a laugh and think I’m having you on, messing around even, but I’ve never been more serious in my life.’

Oliver stared straight through her, suddenly giddy, a surge of adrenaline racing through his body. ‘What is it, Meagan? You can ask me anything.’

‘I want you to kill my husband.’

‘Meagan, I’m not going to keep asking you. Put your shoes on. We’re going to be late for church.’

‘Which ones?’

Her mother looked down, beginning to lose patience. ‘You know, Meggy; you’re just being awkward. Honestly, you get more difficult by the day, young lady.’

‘But I don’t know which ones you mean.’

‘You do, now quickly go and find them.’

‘I don’t. That’s why I’m asking. Is it my school shoes? The black ones? Daddy said they were dirty.’

‘The white ones, Meggy. Did you look under the stairs?’

Meagan traipsed across the hall, holding her favourite toy, a small grey rabbit she named Arthur. She opened the cupboard, finding her shoes on the back shelf beside the pots of spices her mother had stored.

‘Got them.’ She held the shoes up for her mother to see.

‘Great. Thank you, right, let’s go. We can’t be late.’

Her father was sitting in the car, pressing the horn furiously. Meagan and her mother opened the door and sat in the back of the vehicle. ‘What was the holdup, Tricia? You’re lucky I didn’t go.’

Meagan looked across at her mum, making a sneaky face behind her father’s back. Tricia decided to keep quiet; the only way to avoid an argument. It was Sunday morning, the family were going to church, and the last thing Tricia wanted was confrontation. They’d done nothing but shout at each other the last few months.

Meagan struggled at school. She had nightmares, cried frequently and fought to cope. She hated her parents fighting; it made her feel sick.

They pulled out of the drive and headed along the quiet road. Her husband looked behind, eyeing Meagan and his wife. ‘I asked you a question.’

‘Oh, for heaven’s sake, Sean, leave it.’

He slammed the brakes, undid his seatbelt and got out. He wrenched Tricia’s door open. ‘I didn’t get that. Do you want to repeat yourself?’

Meagan held onto her mother’s arm, trying to make it better.

‘I’m sorry, I’m just a little stressed.’ Tricia attempted to ease the tension.

‘Get out of the car,’ her husband demanded.

Tricia looked at her husband, unable to believe he’d do this. ‘Please, Sean.’

‘I said, get the fuck out.’

Tricia kissed her daughter on the head, slid out of the car and stood by the ditch on the quiet lane. Sean shut the door and forced his wife behind the vehicle as Meagan tried to listen to what her father was saying; he was shouting, spit coming from his mouth. Meagan knelt up, pushing her head towards the glass at the back, watching her father shout, her mother nodding. Suddenly, her dad pulled his hand back, striking her mum across the face. Meagan gasped, placing her hand over her mouth.

A few seconds later, her father came back, got in the car and drove off.

‘Daddy, why did you do that to Mummy, making her walk?’

Her father’s eyes never left the road ahead. ‘Because Meagan, my sweet child, she doesn’t follow the rules, she chooses to disobey me, and that’s what happens.’

Meagan thought for a second. ‘Daddy, I didn’t think adults have rules.’

‘We still need to follow instructions, Meagan, do the right thing. It’s just that Mummy didn’t. She broke my rules, and these are the consequences.’

‘What’s consen– conqe–?’

‘It means you get punished, Meagan, plain and simple. Stop talking now.’

Meagan watched as the rain poured from above, pelting against the window, the condensation thick on the glass, worrying that her mother would get a cold and be sick for ages.

Sean parked the car on a side road. The rain had eased slightly, the clouds were a thick dark grey, drifting slowly above.

Sean lifted his daughter out from the back seat, and they made their way to the church.

Meagan sat with her father, looking around at all the odd-looking people. Old ladies with head scarves, men wiping the rainwater from their brows, tucking the handkerchiefs back in their jacket pockets, altar boys and girls going to the front, carrying lots of objects. She wondered if she’d be allowed to do this soon.

‘Daddy, I want to bring gifts to the front. Can I do that?’

Her father glanced to the side. ‘You can’t talk, I’ve told you many times, Meagan. How on earth could you do a job like that when you never stop talking?’

There were a few minutes left of the service when Meagan heard a racket towards the back of the church. The door opened, her mother stood in the passageway, rosy-cheeked and breathing deeply. Her hair was soaked, water dribbled down her face. Meagan smiled, and her mother’s face glowed as she spotted her daughter.

Meagan beckoned her over, but her dad hadn’t saved a seat.

Meagan listened as the priest gave a final blessing, then she raced to her mother.

Sean went outside to the car.

‘Are you okay, Mummy?’

‘I’m fine; come on, let’s go.’

As they stood by the outside of the church building, Tricia watched as her husband drove out of the car park and headed back towards the house. The rain had started again, and this time it wasn’t going to stop anytime soon.

Meagan was pleased to get a lift home with her best friend’s parents. She and Sarah sat in the back, laughing at everything the adults said. Meagan listened to her mother, making excuses as to why her dad had driven off and left them in the rain. She watched Sarah’s mum give a subtle tut, glancing towards her husband, shaking her head.