Chapter 53 Peggy
I cannot breathe.
Sammy and I should have left last night.
We should have escaped when we had the chance.
I kick out with my feet, fighting with my hands, but he holds me firmly in place.
“No,” I scream, but the sound is muffled.
I will not let him do this. I have Sammy to look after.
“You disgust me,” he whispers, calmly, wedging the top of his belt over the steel door and squeezing it shut. “Women like you are everything wrong with this country. The harm you’ve done.”
I kick out at him and try to pass my fingers between the leather and my neck but it is already too tight.
He holds my legs so I have no purchase.
“Look at that,” he points to his bureau, to his trophy, and his voice is louder now. “I could have done it, you know. If you hadn’t come along. You and your mother. Ruining my life, my career, my focus. I could have made it. You know it better than I do. You stopped me, didn’t you?”
I wriggle and squirm, elevating my head, trying to take in air.
He is too strong.
“You. And your mother.”
“No,” I croak.
He lifts my feet higher and my vision blurs.
The pressure on my neck.
“You never looked out for me, not really. You looked out for yourself. Turned my son soft. Why did you do it? Why did you have to embarrass me?”
“No,” I say, but it’s just a croak. “Drew.”
“Walking out? You walking out on me? Don’t make me laugh. Nobody walks away from me, do you understand?” He’s talking through gritted teeth. “Taking my boy away. You two, walking away from me.”
“Help!” I try to scream. My peripheral vision is darkening and I’m hearing noises that aren’t there.
“You don’t tell me what’s what. You want to leave. Leave me? No, princess. Won’t permit it. Leave me? Incorrect. Leaving me?”
I look up at the belt. Try to move my body to the side.
“Your mother didn’t do it, Peg. She should have done, would have saved us all a lot of time and a lot of hassle. She didn’t have it in her. Old girl was in our way. Dear, oh dear. Writing was on the wall, wasn’t it, the way she carried on. It was her or me.”
What is he talking about?
It is not possible.
Out of pure fury, primitive rage, I manage to fight and dig out a finger of space between my neck and the rancid belt.
“You didn’t,” I croak. “No.”
“Yes,” he says, knocking my hand away with ease.
“Yes, Margaret, sweetheart. You thought life was easy, you pair. Cozy little bungalow to grow up in. Chip on her shoulder about being a Brit. Dragged us all down, though, the pair of you. Never stopped. Heavy weight around my neck, Peggy. Us against the world, right, you never understood it, did you?”
I cannot hear his words clearly anymore. The boat is growing dark.
His lips move.
I am slipping away and all I can think of is the expression on Sammy’s face when he finds me. History repeating. Drew winning once again.
“It’s your fault, Peg. The boy. The books. All of it’s your fault.”
Blackness.
“You should have done better.”