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‘I’m so sorry,’ she said, covering her mouth as a laugh escaped her too, embarrassed. ‘That was so rude.’
‘It was… but it’s true.’ They were both laughing now. ‘But you were never one to mince your words, not even as a child.’
‘I’m so sorry.’
‘Don’t be. I suppose it needed to be said. I have no one around me who is as candid as you.’
She uncorked the bottle, dabbing the perfume on her wrists. She held one up to her nose to take in the fragrance that he had been drawn to as much as her country and understood why as the bright citrus mellowed to delicate floral and then deepened into a creamier, spicier fragrance that spoke of woods and earth. She could smell her island in it.
‘My honesty has always got me into trouble,’ she admitted. She sighed. ‘And now it earns me bruises and broken bones.’
TWENTY-THREE
All humour fled Peter as he took in her words. ‘Valentina, are you being serious?’
‘When am I not serious, Peter? I’m not known for being a great wit, except perhaps when I’m being rude.’
She was trying to make light of it, he could see, but he couldn’t get past the comment. ‘Lawrenz hurts you?’ he asked, frowning in shock.
‘Yes,’ she said, matter-of-factly. ‘It’s how he controls us. With his fists.’
‘He hurts Dan—?’
‘No,’ she said quickly, shaking her head. ‘He hasn’t yet touched our son, but it’s only a matter of time. Danjel is beginning to challenge his father – he’s too big now to stand by and watch me be battered. But Peter, I’m frightened for him. I can handle Lawrenz to some extent now. I know his moods and can see the shift coming; I know how to temper my words, though it doesn’t always work.’ She gave a sigh. ‘Sometimes, I think Lawrenz just loves the power he feels when he hurts me.’
‘Fuck!’ Peter had never used this word outside of the cockpit except perhaps at school, trying to feel part of the gang – not that he ever was – and yet it came now with so much force, he shocked himself. ‘Forgive me… I—’
‘No need to apologise.’
‘I must. Speaking like that… it’s unforgivable.’
‘No, Peter, what’s unforgivable is my husband’s brutality.’
‘And it’s been going on all these years?’
She nodded, meeting his eyes. ‘And it’s not just his fists. He began on our wedding night—’
‘Stop, please stop,’ he said, putting his hands out in front of him as understanding flooded through him. He thought the rabbit stew was going to come right back up. He felt weak.
Weak in his belly.
Weak in his soul.
She was right about him.
‘I can tell no one but a stranger,’ she said evenly.
He looked at her carefully. ‘So now I’m a stranger?’
‘We really don’t know each other that well any more, do we? And now you are breezing into our lives, but soon you’ll leave again, and you can take my secret with you. It is a relief to say it aloud, though. Only Danjel and Lawrenz’s brother know.’ She paused. ‘It actually feels good to shock you, because I live in my own despair. When you swore… it confirms that this is a shocking thing, even though it’s something I’ve lived with for a dozen years now. But I ask your forgiveness for sharing this with you. It’s not your problem.’
He could understand a little; it was like when someone properly acknowledged the extent of the loss that the war had brought to so many lives – to his own life – even though most people had moved on. ‘What if I make it my problem?’ he asked.
She frowned. ‘How?’
‘Let me confront him.’
‘To what end? You think he’ll stop because the tall Englishman who knew his wife as a teenager now politely insists? How do you think that will play out, Peter? How do you imagine that will go for me after you’ve had your say and then gone… or for Danjel? Thank you, but no. Please do nothing.’
