Stuart James - Apartment 6

Meagan looked up at her mother; her large brown eyes were wet from the cold, and her top lip was dry from wiping it on her sleeve. Tricia admired the determination in Meagan’s face to keep going, watching her daughter as she swung Arthur the bunny in her right hand.

How Tricia wished life was different, that she could bring up their girl in a stable family environment, a happy home. There was no denying Sean loved Meagan; he was even a good father and occasionally spent time with his daughter. As far as Tricia could tell – and she questioned Meagan several times – he had never hit Meagan, ever.

The abuse was all directed at Tricia; that’s what broke her heart the most. Meagan was seeing the cruelty every day, as if it were the norm. She was learning that it’s the way it is, for husbands to beat their wives if rules were broken. With Sean, there didn’t have to be a reason. His rules , as he called them, were arbitrary. Ordinary families didn’t make laws that had to be followed. They didn’t write long lists and make orders that needed obeying. Meagan had to see how life was without him. Tricia felt guilty, but it was the only way to deal with this.

They reached a corner in the road where it veered to the right. Tricia stopped by a tree, dropping the bag. The tips of her fingers were a red glow, and a numb ache had developed along her hand.

Meagan was sipping from the bottle of water. ‘Is this where we’re hiding, Mummy?’ Meagan was pointing. ‘Behind the tree?’

‘No, Meggy. I told you we’re going to Aunty Anne.’

Meagan placed her bag down, sitting Arthur on top of it, setting his legs out to make him more comfortable. Tricia watched as her daughter placed the bottle of water to Arthur’s lips. Then she went to a large oak tree, putting her hand on the bark. ‘This is how you can tell how old a tree is, Mummy, by counting the marks on the bark. Mrs Lester told us at school.’ Meagan walked over to her mother. ‘You only have one line on your forehead. That means you’re ten.’

‘Oh, Meggy, you are a sweetheart, I only wish it were true.’

Meagan was facing the road they’d just walked along. ‘The game’s over, Mummy.’

Tricia was looking out at a field, watching a small herd of cows that were sitting close by. ‘What do you mean, Meggy?’

Her daughter was pointing at the road. ‘There’s Daddy’s car.’

Tricia watched in horror as her daughter went racing towards the road.

‘No, Meggy, stop. Please, Meagan.’ Her mind raced, images playing out from the past, hoping they’d become distant memories. The cruelty at the hands of Sean, keeping her locked up, the beatings. If he found them he’d most certainly kill her, and she couldn’t take that chance.

Tricia reached her daughter and pulled her to the ground. They kept low, watching the car speed past, Sean driving.

‘Is he still looking for us, Mummy?’

Tricia struggled to communicate. Her body ached, she was tired, feeling she couldn’t go on, but they had to. Tricia had to do it for Meagan.

‘Yes, Meggy. He’s still looking. We need to make tracks; the station is just a little further. You okay to keep going?’ Tricia crouched beside her daughter, stroking her hand through Meagan’s hair.

‘Yes, Mummy. If you’re okay, then I am too. Arthur is sick. He has a cold, but I’ll look after him.’

Tricia made sure the car had passed, and her husband was out of sight, then they gathered their belongings and headed to the station.

The car park was quiet. A couple of taxis were waiting patiently at the side rank, the drivers reading newspapers. A young couple were embracing outside the main doors, and Tricia wondered if one of them had arrived or was just leaving. She hated goodbyes. It broke her heart when she had visited the west of Ireland as a child, and she had watched her uncle’s tear-soaked face as the train pulled out, heading to Dublin.

As they walked through the main doors, Tricia worried if they’d brought enough clothes with them; if the trains were running; if her sister was home.

She glanced up at the departures board, while Meagan stood beside her. They watched the letters flapping and forming the destination names.

An announcement came over the tannoy. ‘The next train to Exeter will arrive on platform nine in ten minutes. Please make sure you keep your belongings with you.’

Tricia looked at her daughter. ‘That’s us, Meggy. Quick, we need to get tickets. We haven’t got long. You ready?’

Meagan smiled at her mother, and the two of them went to the kiosk.

Sean had driven for half an hour and spotted no sign of his wife. His body was pumping with aggression, anger and fear. Fear of what he’d do when he found Tricia. He frantically rubbed his face, pulling down hard on the skin of his cheek, forcing the gearstick, pumping the clutch, gripping the steering wheel and squeezing it in his hands.

‘What the fuck is she doing? Running out on me, taking my daughter!’ Sean screamed out, punching the side window. He pulled into the train station, parked up and raced inside, checking the toilets, shops, looking along the platforms and questioning the taxi drivers outside as he darted back and forth.

One of the guys gave a quick response. ‘You want to take care of your family a little better, mate.’

Sean squared up to him, and another driver stepped in the middle to calm the situation.

Sean was back in the car and driving along a country road, slowing up, peering into the fields either side. It was like looking for a sand grain on a pebbled beach.

He pulled up, parking beside a field, traipsing across the long grass, calling his daughter’s name.

After a few minutes, he got back into the car and decided to head back to the station and take another look.

Tricia collected the tickets, paying in cash, then led her daughter to platform nine.

She flashed the tickets to a woman dressed in a smart black uniform, who smiled and wished them a pleasant journey.

‘Wow, Mummy, the train is ginormous. Look, Arthur. We’re going for a ride on that. Poor Daddy will never find us. It’s not fair on him.’

Meagan was climbing the steps, looking at the tracks underneath. Tricia followed close behind.

The train was busier than Tricia had expected. People were hoisting luggage onto the racks overhead and the corridor was full of people with red, frustrated faces, pushing past commuters hogging the aisle as they tried to settle.

Tricia instantly felt claustrophobic and had to fight the tightness in her chest.

Once seated, Meagan placed Arthur on her lap, while Tricia waited anxiously for the train to pull out. She watched a family to her left; a mother and father with their teenage son. They had a newspaper spread out on the table and were sharing a crossword, the three of them contributing. The woman got one of the clues and her partner looked proud, applauding her, praising her effort. The woman laughed, basking in her glory. Tricia watched them holding hands, relaxed, so content in each other’s company. The guy stood, asking what they’d like from the buffet car.

How Tricia wished that her life was like this.

A loud piercing whistle sounded from the platform, the doors closed, a beeping noise echoed through the carriage.

Tricia’s heart pounded. She fought back the tears as she watched the excitement on her daughter’s face, her eyes wild with anticipation.

They were sat in the first carriage, Tricia facing the platform, watching as the train pulled out slowly.

Suddenly there was a commotion by the ticket barrier, someone running to the platform, racing towards them, with two people in uniform giving chase. Tricia rose in her seat to see what was going on. The guy was jumping wildly, frantically waving his hands for the train to stop. He reached their window, pounding his fist on the glass.