Juliet Bell - The Other Wife

Helen’s fingers closed around my hand and I pushed the anger aside.

‘Girls – don’t dawdle. The bus won’t wait for you.’ We all turned to see one of the nuns coming down the stairs, followed by a woman we had never seen before. ‘And Miranda, perhaps during Christmas you could think about our Lord and his teachings about being kind to others.’

‘Yes, Sister.’ The girls left quickly.

The sister smiled at Helen and I. ‘So girls, you will both be with us for the summer again?’

‘Yes, Sister.’

‘Well then, I would like to introduce you to our newest member of staff who has just joined us. This is Miss Temple.’

Miss Temple smiled. Her hair was dark red and her eyes were golden brown. She had painted fingernails. They were a soft, shiny pink and when she moved her hands, as she did when she talked, the pink caught the light. She wore a blue dress with a white collar, not unlike our school uniform, but on her it looked elegant. ‘You’re not a nun.’ The words were out before I could stop them.

‘No.’ Miss Temple’s smile spread wider.

‘Miss Temple is the first of our lay staff,’ the Sister explained. ‘We will be taking on a few lay teachers and house mistresses in the future. Miss Temple will be joining us as an English teacher when school resumes in February.’

‘And I will be house mistress here in the junior school,’ added Miss Temple.

Helen nodded. ‘Can we go now, please, Sister?’

‘Of course.’

We left. We slipped around the back of the boarding house towards the gymnasium.

‘Don’t you think Miss Temple is pretty?’ I was still a little dazzled by her.

‘I suppose so.’ Helen frowned a little bit. ‘Come on..’

‘Where are we going?’

I followed her along the edge of the sports field to the furthest corner of the grounds. This area wasn’t used for anything and it was overgrown with bushes. Helen pushed her way past the bushes and I followed her into a small open area.

‘Oh.’

There were flowers growing all around me. Yellow and red flowers that were in full bloom because summer was just starting. I could smell them too. There was something familiar about that smell.

‘It must have been a garden once,’ Helen said. ‘When I found this place, there were weeds everywhere. I pulled them out and the flowers grew.’

‘When did you find it?’

‘A couple of months ago. I wanted to surprise you. Miranda is wrong, Jane. This is your present.’

‘My present?’

‘Your Christmas present, silly. We can spend all our holiday here and no-one will disturb us. We can grow even more flowers together.’

‘It’s beautiful.’ I flung my arms around Helen and hugged her. As I did, I remembered where I had smelled the flowers before. My mother. I could barely remember her face, but I did remember the flowers she’d grown. The garden smelled like home and freedom, and memories, and Helen had made it for me.

I hugged my best friend even tighter as I said words I hadn’t said since the day I was taken away from my home.

‘I love you, Helen.’

Betty

Betty leant on the veranda railing. It was a hot January day. Most people would be inside in the shade, but, even after all this time, Betty still loved the way the heat of the sun warmed her as it touched her skin. And she even secretly loved the way it turned her skin darker – it reminded her that she wasn’t Eliza Mason at all, no matter what everyone else might think.

The girls from school would go to the beach on the weekends and come in on Monday all red and sore, and complaining that they could never get a tan. Betty wasn’t like them. That meant they hated her. Betty had decided not to care. She’d decided that she hated them too.

A car pulled up to the garage. Richard’s new car, a present from his father for his birthday. She’d heard Richard boasting to his mates about the big red muscle car. It was a 1971 Falcon GTHO with racing stripes. He thought it made him powerful. It didn’t. It was the car that was powerful. Richard was nothing.

She slipped back inside before Richard got out of the car. She tried to avoid Richard as much as she could. He had ignored her for years, but just lately he’d noticed her again and she didn’t like the way he looked at her now.

She tied her hair out of her face and went down to the kitchen. The cleaning woman only came twice a week now. Mr Mason had decreed Betty old enough to manage most of the cooking and tidying. He only got someone in to help if he was having his disgusting work people over to the house. Then Betty was confined to the kitchen. She didn’t mind that too much. It was better than sitting at that table with the Masons.

It was time to start making dinner, so she put a pot of water on the stove to boil and started peeling potatoes.

‘What are you doing?’

The tone of Richard’s voice made her freeze.

‘Go away. I’m starting dinner. Your father will be angry at me if it’s late.’

Richard shrugged. ‘He’s not home yet. Went out with clients and won’t be back for ages. Plenty of time for a bit of fun.’ His smirk made Betty’s insides clench. She was sixteen. She knew exactly what he was talking about.

‘Piss off.’

‘I don’t think so. We’ve fed and clothed you all these years. It’s time you started paying us back. And I know just how you can do that.’

Betty shook her head. ‘No.’

Richard lunged towards her. She staggered backwards, cracking her hip on the corner of the big table. She stumbled. That was enough for him to get to her. He pushed her back onto the table and trapped her there between his arms and his body. She wriggled backwards. He laughed.

One hand grabbed her wrist. The other dug into her thigh. ‘You can pretend you don’t want to, but we both know you do, don’t we?’

His arm pushed down across her chest, and his free hand pulled at her knee, forcing her thighs wide. ‘Come on. I know you give it to the boys at school.’

His hand starting pulling at her skirt. Betty stared up at the ceiling, her panicking mind searching for something… anything.

She twisted her shoulders as hard as she could. It unbalanced him and she sat up, leaning forward, trying desperately to push him away. It wasn’t enough. She just ended up closer against his body. He laughed again. ‘I knew you’d be up for it.’

He held her tight against his body now, while he struggled with his own clothes. ‘I bet you like to suck cock, don’t you?’

A wave of nausea hit her. She leant forward as far as she could. One last effort. The pot for the potatoes was still on the stove. If she could reach that, then she’d have something she could hit him with. She reached and her fingertips brushed something – the handle? She tried to grab. The burning pain seared through her hand. She screamed without thinking. Richard looked behind himself. He pulled her hand into his grip, staring at the red welt that was appearing across her palm. ‘Does that hurt?’

Betty had no fight left. She nodded silently.

He smirked again. ‘Good.’

He tipped her back onto the table. Looking into his eyes, she saw a kind of madness there. Nothing would stop him now. Not her pleas, or her injury. Not even fear of his father finding out. She’d had boys before, but this was something else. They’d wanted her. Richard just wanted to have her, to show her that he could. Betty closed her eyes and pictured the fire. She concentrated on the burning sensation in her hand, and in her mind that grew into flames dancing in front of her, warming her. Carrying her away.

‘What in God’s name…?’

Richard was off her in an instant. ‘Father?’