25. Why is your mum here?
Why is your mum here?
Mike
There was a low buzzing in my ears from residual fury as I gripped the steering wheel so hard my knuckles turned white.
Vicky kept darting me small glances as we drove, no doubt worrying about me.
Yes, worrying about me.
As we’d driven away from the shitshow of a wedding where my girlfriend was goddamn assaulted, she’d asked me if I was okay.
She’d been assaulted, and yet she was asking me how I was.
I’d given her the honest truth, that no, I was not okay, and it was taking all of my restraint not to turn the car around and go back to finish off that piece of shit before fucking up the rest of her family.
I’d never had such a strong urge to hurt a woman as I had with Vicky’s mother and sister.
She’s always bruised very easily.
What the fuck was wrong with that woman?
“Oh,” Vicky had replied in a small voice. “I’m sorry.”
“You’re sorry?” I said through gritted teeth. “Why the fuck are you sorry?”
“I shouldn’t have taken you to the wedding. They’re my family. I should have just dealt with it by myself.”
“Rest assured, Vicky,” I said with absolute conviction. “You are never, under any circumstance, dealing with any of your family alone, ever again. Understand me?”
“Oh… okay.”
I’d then had to sit through Vicky’s interview at the police station where she recounted what rapey Darrell had done to her two years ago, and what he did today. I’d told the detectives that she was Autistic, and they were actually really good with her, but it had been a long bloody process.
It was now ten at night, and Vicky looked completely exhausted.
“Where are we going?” she asked, and I realised I’d been too consumed with fury and worry that I hadn’t even bothered to tell her what was happening.
Forcing myself to ease my grip on the steering wheel and start behaving like a rational, caring human, I glanced over at Vicky, and my chest felt tight. I cleared my throat and tried to soften my voice when I spoke.
“We’re going to the cabin.”
“Oh.”
I’d expected some sort of objection, but then again, Vicky seemed a little out of it—she probably didn’t have it in her to object.
Half an hour later when we arrived at the cabin, I noticed Vicky’s tense body relax as we drove up the driveway, and I breathed a sigh of relief that maybe I’d done the right thing. But when we pulled up outside, she tensed again as she looked at the front door.
“Why is your mum here?” she whispered, staring at Mum, who was now bustling towards the car with a smile on her face.
I rubbed my forehead.
“Vicky, I’m sorry, but I had to call Mum.”
I’d rung her whilst Vicky had been in with the detective for the last bit of paperwork. To be honest, I was just so worried about Vicky, and I knew Mum would know what to do.
“I knew you wouldn’t have eaten, and Mum, she just… she makes everything better. I know she’ll help me make you feel better.”
“Hello, lovie,” Mum said as she pulled the passenger door open.
Vicky looked at her warily then jumped when I unclipped her seatbelt.
“You coming out of there, sweetheart?” Mum asked as I opened my door and jumped down, coming round to their side to see Vicky slowly lower herself out of the Land Rover.
“Mikey told me what happened,” Mum said softly. “I’m so sorry you were hurt.”
Vicky looked between me and Mum before wrapping her arms around herself. “It wasn’t your fault, Mrs. Mayweather,” she whispered.
“I know that, sweetheart,” Mum said, her voice even softer now. “Doesn’t mean I’m not sorry. I’m even sorrier I wasn’t there with my rolling pin to crack some heads open.”
Vicky’s eyebrows went up, and her lips twitched. She might think Mum was joking, but I knew for a fact that Hetty Mayweather could be hell on wheels when she was angry.
“Now, I know what makes my kids feel better when scary stuff happens.”
Kids? I was a thirty-four-year-old man. “Hugs,” Mum explained. “Now it’s okay to say no. But, can I hug you?”
Vicky hesitated then nodded slowly.
Mum pulled her in and enveloped her in a classic Hetty Mayweather hug—warm and all-encompassing.
Vicky’s arms were limp by her sides for a few seconds, but then she hugged Mum back, letting out a very small sob into Mum’s jumper.
“Okay, lovie,” Mum said softly as she swayed Vicky gently from side to side. “You’ve been a brave, brave girl for a long time, but you’re safe now. Nobody’s going to hurt you here. My son won’t let anything happen to you.”
Mum’s voice was shaking slightly, and when she looked up at me over Vicky’s shoulder, I could see her eyes were glassy with tears as well.
It was a good few minutes until Vicky pulled away. When she did, Mum swept the mascara from under her eyes and wiped away the rest of her tears.
“There we are,” Mum said gently. “Pretty as a picture. Now, in we go, and we’ll have some grilled cheese toasties and tomato soup.”
As Mum bustled us into the cabin, I talked low in her ear, “You remember that Vicky likes?—”
“I know what she likes, love,” Mum said.
“Always easy to please as a child weren’t you, Vicky?
Never seen anyone so happy with a cheese sandwich.
Now, off you go and have a shower whilst I get this ready.
I’ve put Mike’s softest shirt out for you on the bed and those pyjamas I got you last year for Christmas, Mike.
The ones that were too small. No labels or anything, okay? ”
“Er… okay,” Vicky said slowly, eyeing my Mum as if she was an alien from another planet.
An hour later, I was completely reassured that ringing my mother had been the best plan I could have had.
Vicky was tucked into my side on the sofa with a blanket over her, having eaten a cheese sandwich and even a small amount of soup, her hair back in a plait which she’d let Mum do for her.
Before Mum left, she’d gathered Vicky in for another hug.
“Men like that, they try to take a piece of you,” Mum said softly. “You stay whole though. Don’t let him steal anything from you.” Her voice became fierce then. “It’s not his to take. Understand me?”
“Yes,” Vicky whispered.
“Good girl,” Mum said as she pulled back and hitched her handbag up on her shoulder. Then she turned to me. “You’ll sort out those people, won’t you, Michael?”
It was a command Mum expected to be followed.
“Oh yes,” I said firmly. “I’m going to be sorting them right out.”
Vicky and I went back inside and watched the rest of Britain’s Secret Hedgerows . About five minutes in, she’d fallen asleep on my chest. I carried her upstairs to my bed, and she curled into a tiny protective little ball, so small, you could barely notice she was even under the duvet.
I lay awake for the next few hours, staring at the ceiling and silently seething.
When I finally did fall asleep, I was less than impressed when, what felt like only moments later, even though it was in fact the next morning, there was a series of loud, incessant bangs on my door.
Vicky was still out of it in her small ball on the bed, and I didn’t want to wake her, so I moved my big carcass off the mattress with as little disturbance to her as possible and hurried downstairs to tell whoever it was to shut the fuck up.
What greeted me when I pulled open the door was a very pissed-off Ollie, flanked by a worried-looking Lottie and a visibly upset Margot.
“Where is she?” Ollie growled, attempting to push past me to get into the cabin.
I stopped him with a hand to his chest, pushing him out onto the porch.
“She’s sleeping, arsehole,” I clipped. “What the fuck are you doing here?”
“That awful woman rang me,” Margot said, her voice shaking slightly. “She was ranting and raving about the police and something to do with Vicky, and how I had to stop her pressing charges. Honestly, she sounded certifiable. Did something happen?”
I crossed my arms over my chest and let out a long breath. “Listen, why don’t you lot come back later. I’ll talk to Vics, and if she’s up to it, then?—”
“That’s my sister in there, mate,” Ollie said in his bloody Duke of Fuckingham voice, the aristocratic one he liked to wheel out to make lesser mortals do his bidding. “If she’s been hurt, then I want to see her right fucking now.”
“Oh yeah?” I felt my temper rising. “If she’s your sister, then where the hell have you been for the last two decades?”
Ollie blinked. “What are you talking about? I’ve protected Vicky her whole?—”
“Bullshit.”
“What?”
“Bull. Shit. If you’ve always protected her, then why did her mother tell me yesterday that, and I quote, ‘She’s always bruised easily’?”
I heard Margot suck in a shocked breath, but they had to hear the truth they’ve clearly always ignored.
“Why was she never assessed for Autism as a child? And why the fuck didn’t any of you know about the wedding yesterday? She was going to go on her own, for fuck’s sake. God knows what would have happened to her if I hadn’t pulled that fucker off her.”
“What?” barked Ollie, his face losing colour. “Who did you pull off her?”
“The goddamn groom, that’s who. And apparently, it wasn’t the first time this bastard had assaulted her. Where were you when he did it to her two years ago?”
“Christ,” breathed Ollie. “Two years ago… that was when she went totally into herself for weeks, remember, Mum? She kept working, but beyond that, she was a complete ghost. She never told us what the matter was.”
“You must have had some idea about how her mum and sister treat her?” I said in disbelief.
“That woman! She…” Margot shrugged helplessly.
“She was so awful. I always thought it was best to just avoid her. And when Hugh told me I had to look after his love child in the summer holidays, I wasn’t best pleased.
It took me a while to…” Margot swallowed.
“It took me longer than it should have to get to know Vicky.”
I sighed. “She thinks she’s a burden to all of you. She overheard a lot of your arguments with her dad when he brought her to Buckingham Manor. I’m not saying you weren’t right to be angry, but?—”