Free My Girl by Jack Jordan Page B

adjusted the hem of the coat, suddenly feeling exposed.
    ‘Do you know the doctor?’ Maxim asked when they were alone again.
    ‘He’s my GP.’
    ‘Do you always react that way when you see people you know?’
    ‘No, not always.’
    When everyone was seated, Maxim made his way to the pulpit and began the service. Paige sat on the back pew and allowed herself to take off the scarf before she began to drip with sweat, wondering how long it would take until the service was over and she could get away from the doctor. His wife was beautiful, with long dark hair, hazel eyes, youthful skin – and a warm smile that Paige felt unworthy of. They were sitting five rows in front of her, and every so often the doctor would glance back to check she was still there. Paige could see the cut on his head had scabbed over and was surrounded by a purple bruise.
    Dressed in just the coat and tights, Paige couldn’t help but feel like a whore again, especially under the doctor’s glare. Only an hour before she had been walking towards the church feeling uplifted, free from her previous burdens, but being near the doctor brought back shame. She felt judged and dirty. She longed to get back into the cold shower and scrub her skin until she felt clean again.
    While Maxim delivered his sermon, he frequently looked at Paige with a smile.
     
At least my presence makes him happy,
she thought, crossing her legs and pulling down the hem of the coat again. The doctor glanced at her.
    I need to get out of here. I need a drink. I need something.
    She looked at the side door leading further into the church, and wondered if she would be able find the communion wine.
    No. You’re doing this. You’re staying sober.
    The doctor glanced back at her again, and this time his wife noticed. She followed his gaze and turned to look at Paige. With that one look, Paige watched the woman learn about the relationship between her and the doctor, about what they had done. His wife’s eyes glazed over with a sheen of tears.
    Paige grabbed the scarf and headed for the door, and practically ran through the graveyard, longing to get away from the scrutiny. The scarf got stuck under her foot and she fell on the gravel, twisting her bad ankle, scraping her knees and laddering the tights. Her broken wrist ached from the jolt. Her free hand was bleeding. When she looked up, she saw her husband’s grave.
    ‘So you’re judging me, too?’
    She picked herself up and limped back to Maxim’s cottage, longing to be alone, to take some of her tablets, and to forget the shame and the pain that seemed to stalk her every move.

SIXTEEN
    Paige sat down at the dining table and took a sip of water, wishing it were wine. Dressed in Maxim’s tracksuit again, her knees felt hot and sore from the fall in the graveyard. Her injured wrist still ached and her ankle was swollen. A candle flickered in the centre of the table; the flame gleamed in the cutlery that was set on the table for the two of them. Maxim was in the kitchen serving up.
    He emerged with two plates of pasta in a creamy sauce, easy to eat with a fork in one hand.
    ‘Looks great.’
    ‘Well, you haven’t eaten it yet,’ he replied, and sat opposite her.
    ‘I’ve been living off your dinners for a while now. I’m not looking forward to the day when I have to cook for myself again.’
    ‘Stay here, and I’d be happy to cook for you every night.’ He raised his glass of water. ‘Cheers.’
    Paige raised her own and they each took a sip before tucking in.
    ‘Do you ever get lonely, Maxim? Living on your own?’
    ‘I’m not alone,’ he said. He put a forkful of pasta into his mouth and chewed. ‘I have God.’
    ‘No one else? No friend that sometimes stays?’
    ‘I don’t have a girlfriend,’ he replied.
    ‘Why not? It’s not as if you aren’t attractive.’
    ‘I have everything I want. Well, almost everything. I don’t feel the need for a girlfriend.’
    ‘Surely even vicars are allowed a sex