Free Heller's Girlfriend by J.D. Nixon Page A

They were
followed by the mediator who seemed almost on the point of tears,
stressed beyond endurance. And this was only the first day of
mediation.
    I walked the two ladies to the
car, particularly observant in the carpark, almost expecting
Warburton to be lurking in some darkening shadow, waiting to
pounce. But of course he wasn’t. After another hair-raising drive
with Corella, Patricia and I were thankfully safely deposited back
at the hotel. Corella farewelled us, promising to pick us up again
at the same time tomorrow.
    “Do you want me to stay with you
tonight?” I asked Patricia as I escorted her to her room. “It’s no
bother.”
    “No, I’ll be fine,” she insisted
quietly. “But I’d like it if you stayed for dinner. Otherwise I’ll
be alone.”
    She sounded so pathetic as she
spoke that of course I agreed. I didn’t want to dine in public in
my uniform and she wasn’t keen on eating out either, so she ordered
room service. We settled down with a bottle of wine and a couple of
delicious meals, although I noticed that once again she barely
pecked at the food. She made up for it by drinking the wine
generously. After downing a glass and pouring herself another, she
became more talkative.
    “This will be hard for you to
believe, but Gary was so charming when I first met him. He
completely won me over with his smooth tongue. My family weren’t
keen on him at all. He wasn’t in our social class, but that’s what
attracted me, I suppose. He was a lot rougher than the men I
normally met, and I guess I thought I could play Pygmalion with
him. I thought he was a diamond in the rough, but of course I was
wrong. He’s always been an aggressive person.”
    She took a huge gulp of wine,
finishing the second glass, which she’d only just poured.
    “I thought his anger towards me
was justified for a long time. Maybe I wasn’t such a good cook or
housewife or . . .” she blushed, “good in bed. I hadn’t been with
anyone else before him. Perhaps I didn’t measure up to his
standards.” She poured herself another glass of wine. I had barely
touched my meagre quarter-glass. The bottle was emptying
rapidly.
    “I blamed myself all the time
for not being perfect. Not pretty enough, not thin enough, not
smart enough. I was rich enough though, so I guess that saved me
from his fists. But I still felt the sting of his slaps often
enough.” She laughed, but it was a sad sound. “And then to find out
he was cheating. Not just once, but frequently, ever since we were
married. I blamed myself for that too. He was sexually very
experienced when we married, I wasn’t. I came to believe that sex
was supposed to be as rough and fast as what I usually had with
him. I didn’t know any better, but I knew I didn’t like it that
way. It wasn’t romantic at all. It was painful – he hurt me. When
he was in one of his moods, he didn’t care a scrap if I wanted to
have sex or not; he just took what he wanted, when he wanted. I
finally had to escape. Now, of course, I understand that he’d been
raping me for years and I didn’t even realise. I just thought that
was how all husbands behaved. I’m so stupid.”
    Her face took on a dreamy cast.
“It wasn’t all bad times, of course. When he was in a good mood
with me, it was so wonderful. He could be incredibly tender and
loving.” She sighed and slammed back her third glass of wine. “I
suppose that’s why I stayed with him for so long.”
    Her words had started to slur as
she spoke, her eyes blurring with well-deserved tears. I helped her
to her feet and then into bed. She was adamant that she didn’t want
me to stay, so after clearing up the dishes and leaving them
outside the room for the hotel staff to collect, I called Heller
and waited in the foyer for my ride. Heller picked me up himself
and I spent the trip home telling him about my adventures with
Warburton.
    “More trouble tomorrow?” he
asked, concern clear in his voice.
    “No. I’m sure he’s well