Jennie Ensor - The Girl in His Eyes

‘Don’t lose it, Mum. Please, keep it together. I’m here, you’re not alone.’

As if from inside the room, she heard Adele’s strong, resonant voice speaking, as she did at the meditation group: ‘Imagine a light flooding into you, a pure white light, a healing light.’

Later, seconds or perhaps minutes, she realised that Laura’s hand was pressing against hers. Her daughter was crouching on the floor beside the armchair, her long, delicate fingers wrapped over her own. Suzanne opened her eyes. She noticed the flesh of her ring finger, dented, deformed by the wedding band.

‘I’ll bring you some water, hang on.’

Laura stood and bent down to pick up the mugs, revealing a white swathe of back. Her jeans were tight, showing off her slim figure. Even as a little girl she was slim.

So, Paul had been turned on by his own daughter. He had used her to gratify some perverted need; he’d done a terrible thing to Laura, worse in a way than what he’d done to Emma. Laura was his own flesh and blood. She put her hand over her mouth, fighting the urge to throw up.

‘Here, have some of this.’

Suzanne sipped the water offered by Laura. A hundred questions filled her mind. One was pressing to go first.

Why didn’t you tell me?

‘Have you told anyone else about what he did to you?’

‘Only Rachel, a few months ago. After you told me about him taking Emma swimming. She thought I should tell you.’

‘Why didn’t you tell me? Years ago, I mean.’

‘I should have, I fucking should have.’ Laura lowered herself onto the coffee table. Her eyes glittered, wet now. ‘Ages ago, soon after the first time he touched me, Dad made me promise not to tell you. He said it would kill you if you found out. I guess I was scared he might be right. I never imagined him going after someone else, not once. Not till he told me about Emma.’ A bitter smile caught hold of Laura’s mouth and she wiped the tears from her eyes with a swipe of her fingers. ‘It was stupid of me, I know. But I always had this idea that he did those things because of something about me. He used to tell me I was so sexy, he couldn’t help himself.’

She jolted, a small electric shock through her body. Sexy . The word penetrated to her core. He used to call her that, sometimes. ‘Come here, sexy woman.’ How could he have used that word to their own daughter? Her thoughts swirled, overtaking her. So many emotions: bitterness, anger, resentment, envy.

Then guilt and self-loathing. Laura was a child, she wasn’t to blame for what had happened.

You’re the one to blame. You’re her mother, you let this happen. You didn’t protect her.

This had all happened right under her nose and she hadn’t noticed. Paul had callously abused her daughter and she’d done nothing to stop him. What mother could let her own daughter go through that, without seeing the truth?

‘I should have protected you,’ she said at last. ‘I should have seen what was going on. You didn’t deserve that.’

Laura looked at her steadily. ‘Didn’t you ever suspect anything?’

‘No, I had no idea.’ A well of unease deepened inside her as a memory flickered to life. That wasn’t true, was it? Not entirely. ‘I just had a feeling…’ She took a deep breath. ‘You and your dad were so close when you were small. He was always making a fuss of you – reading you stories, taking you to classes, buying you sweets and magazines, bits of jewellery – I wondered if that was normal. Sometimes, the way he looked at you…’

She couldn’t get her breath; her lungs were snatching at the air.

Just say it . Tell her the truth.

‘I think I had an inkling something was wrong, way back. Only I brushed it aside and pretended it wasn’t there. I didn’t trust my own judgement. Paul used to say I was unstable, he made me doubt my own mind. I let him convince me that everything was about me, not him.’

Finally, she’d admitted it. She must have known all along that Laura was being abused. Only she’d never been able to believe it.

‘Do you blame me, Laura? Is it my fault, what he did to you?’

A tear rolled down her daughter’s cheek, unchecked. Laura swallowed, her head moving slowly from side to side.

‘No, I don’t blame you, of course I don’t. Dad hid what he did from you, I know that. I just wish you’d noticed something was wrong. I wish you’d asked why Dad was always so nice to me and why I wasn’t happy anymore. I wish you could have done something to stop him.’

‘I’m so sorry, Laura. Please, forgive me.’

Suzanne reached across the gap between them and gave Laura’s hand a squeeze. They sat, she in the armchair and Laura on the coffee table, the silence broken by occasional noises: doors slamming in the block, cars passing, the clatter of an object being tossed into a wheelie bin.

‘Have you talked to Emma, Mum?’ Laura’s voice was urgent, suddenly. ‘Did she tell you what happened?’

‘No, Jane told me.’

‘When did Emma tell Jane?’

She tried to work it out; days had seemed like years recently. ‘A few days ago. Four or five days ago.’

‘Emma waited all this time before saying anything?’

‘She thought her mother would blame her for what Paul did.’ Suzanne dug her fingertips into her brow. Anger ignited inside her, directed at her husband. ‘He had it all worked out, he must have been planning it for ages. Emma was desperate to be a model and he knew it. He got her to come to the house to take some photographs of her, then he tricked her into taking her clothes off.’ She skipped over the next bit, though images were already in her head. She mustn’t think about that, not yet. ‘Afterwards, he blackmailed her so she wouldn’t tell anyone. He manipulated me, too. When I told him what Emma had accused him of, he denied it all. He made up a story about Emma kissing him and I believed it. I must have been mad.’

‘I thought you said Dad wasn’t going to see Emma anymore?’ Laura’s face was flushed. Her eyes had the hard shine in them that came into Paul’s eyes when he was very angry. ‘You said she had something else to do.’

‘After I spoke to you, Jane asked your father if he would take Emma swimming again. She was worried about her seeing a school friend who’d been getting into trouble. She thought it would be better for her to be with Paul.’ The irony of this hit her. If only Jane hadn’t made that request. But it was too late now, of course.

‘If I’d known,’ Laura said, ‘I could have done more to stop him.’

‘What do you mean?’

‘I went over to Jane’s house, to warn Jane about Dad, but she wasn’t in and I got fed up with waiting. So, I talked to Emma instead.’

‘Emma?’ She tugged at her blouse. A mesh of sweat clung to her skin.

‘I told her she shouldn’t see Dad anymore, that she shouldn’t be alone with him. I said he might take advantage of her. But I didn’t spell it out, I didn’t say he was dangerous. I should have made it clearer.’ Laura frowned and kicked a leg of the coffee table. ‘I thought she’d tell her mother – I asked her to tell her mother. I was expecting Jane to call me sometime. Then, when she didn’t, I guess I got caught up with other things. Trying to get a job then working late at the club.’

‘She couldn’t have told Jane,’ Suzanne said. ‘Jane would have stopped your dad coming over if she’d known.’

‘Maybe Emma forgot to tell her. Or she didn’t want to tell her.’

‘Why wouldn’t she want her own mother to know?’

‘I have no idea. She really believed he could help her become a model?’

Neither of them spoke. Suzanne searched in her handbag for the small white tablet. Amitriptyline. She didn’t like to take them anymore – they made her calmer and flat, drained of emotion – but she needed one now.