18. Armed with an Umbrella
CHAPTER 18
Armed with an Umbrella
IVY
I stand alone in the corridor. I feel like bursting into tears, but I hold it together. Alistair has never spoken to me like this before. My heart is aching, and I can’t trust my voice through the lump in my throat. My intuition won’t let up, forcing mental images of Jeff’s red, veined, screaming face.
This is how it started with Jeff.
This is how it started.
The insults came later, once he established that I would stay even if he shouted at me. After the insults came the flat hard palm, and then the punches. Threat on top of escalating threat.
“Ivy,” Alistair says behind me, and I startle. I was so lost in thought that I hadn’t heard his footsteps. I spin around, hand on my chest. Is he still angry with me for not backing him up? He’s so tall and strong, I feel like a mouse. Anxiety spiking, heart hammering.
Say something! my intuition yells. You can’t let him speak to you like that. Don’t set that dangerous precedent.
But I don’t want to say anything. I don’t want more conflict. I want to go back to half an hour ago when we were crazy in love and he had never shouted at me. I want to paper over this new painful crack in our relationship and pretend it never happened.
Like I did with Jeff.
Like I did with other boyfriends before him to keep the peace.
As if their peace was more important than mine.
No.
“You may not shout at me like that,” I say quietly. Too quietly. I’m blinking back tears. I swallow and try again, louder. “Alistair, you may not shout at me like that.”
“Ivy,” he says, his regret clear. “I am so sorry.”
That’s when I see the flowers he’s holding. Their sweet scent makes me feel sick.
My intuition is adamant that we sort this out. It’s like having a less-sweary Becks in my head. Be honest, it says, or risk your personal integrity and the integrity of your relationship. I gather my courage.
“That’s what Jeff used to say,” I tell him in a shaky voice.
He recoils. “I would never hurt you, Ivy. Never.”
“Too late,” I reply.
“Please forgive me. Please take this,” he tries to hand me the huge bouquet of cream roses.
I don’t take them. “Jeff used to buy me flowers after he hit me,” I say.
“I’m not Jeff. I’ll never hit you.”
“That’s not enough. Not hitting me is not enough. I won’t stay with a man who treats me like you did in there. Who yells at me.”
“Of course,” he insists. “Of course you won’t. You deserve better than that. Better than me.”
“That’s not what I said.”
“Well, it’s true. I know I’m not good enough for you. I’ve known since I saw you at that protest. But that’s not going to stop me wanting you. Loving you. You make me want to be a better person.”
“Well, it’s not working,” I reply. His grimace hurts.
For the first time I can remember, I don’t want to be in Alistair’s company. “I’m going for a walk.”
“I’ll come wi?—”
“Alone. I need to think.”
“Ivy. Don’t leave,” he pleads. He puts the flowers into my hands and clamps my fingers closed around the stalks. I don’t resist. I turn and exit the lobby, binning them at the door.
I head out of the hospital and walk blindly, oblivious to where I’m going. The heavens open up and drench me. I shake my fist at the sky. It’s clearly on Alistair’s side. The last time we argued, the outcome was torrential. Note to self: when fighting with Alistair, come armed with an umbrella. It’s difficult to look like a savvy take-no-shit woman when you resemble a drowned rat.
Fuck it, I think, and just keep walking. When you reach peak saturation, there’s no getting wetter, so I may as well keep going. I’ll think of it as a cleanse. May the rain wash away the knot in my stomach and the sting in my heart.
My intuition is quiet now, or perhaps just drowned out by the downpour. I channel Becks instead. What would she say?
St. Ives, beloved, what did you expect?
No, I argue with the phantom version of my best friend. That’s not fair. Alistair has given no indication of violence toward me, ever.
His true self, though.
Again, unfair.
Is he not a feared figure in the London mafia?
Okay, I’m not enjoying this inner dialogue at all.
Then put it this way, says imaginary Becks. Ignore the fact that you’re dating a violent, powerful, morally gray man.
When you put it like that…
Then the question remains. What did you expect? And by that I mean, did you think you’d never argue? Did you think he’d be perfect in every way?
He can’t be that controlling though. Ariana needs loving guidance, not force.
Ivy, you sexy bitch! Stop lying to yourself. You LOVE that he is so controlling. It makes you feel safe.
Ugh. This isn’t working. I need the real Becks. I would call her if the rain wasn’t so loud—and if my phone was waterproof. Maybe I can duck into a coffee shop, I think, but there are none in view.
So I keep walking in the rain, sulking, a Snow Patrol song on repeat in my head. When I start shivering, I think I’d better catch a cab home. I try to signal a taxi but it just rushes past, sending a wave of dirty puddle water over me. I want to remove my ruined shoes and throw them at his rear window, but I restrain myself. It’s not the cabbie’s fault that I’m in need of an ark.
I give up my struggle. I close my eyes and stand there, face angled up at the weeping gray sky, feeling the drops land on my face. A cloudburst takes my breath away. A cleanse; an anointment; a baptism.
When I open my eyes again, a familiar-looking limo glides to a stop, and Alistair leaps out to get me.
“Ivy!” he exclaims, tutting at my cold hands.
He bundles me into the back of the vehicle while Macavoy hands a blanket through from the front. I’m about to ask him how he found me, but of course, there is a tracker on my phone.
“I know you want to be alone, but I started getting worried. Are you okay?”
I nod. I’m shivering. “Thank you for picking me up. I was trying to get a taxi.”
“You’re freezing! Poor thing.” He strips my sopping cardigan off me and wraps me tightly in the soft blanket, then pulls me into him so that I’m practically sitting on his lap. He wraps his strong arms around me and I feel so small, and so protected.
“We’ll get you home and dry,” he says. “I’ll make you a hot chocolate.”
I lean into him, loving the feel of his warm skin on mine. I feel empty inside, and I don’t feel like talking. In an unspoken agreement, we travel in silence while Alistair holds me tight and my warmth slowly returns.