Refuge at Riley Road

By Amanda Martin

Life is full of impossible choices for Nadine. Married to an abusive man, she has stayed only to protect her children. But when her husband's aggression turns to her daughters, she knows it's time to leave. However she soon discovers that deciding to leave a violent husband, and actually getting away unscathed, are two completely different things. Can she find a refuge where they will all be safe?

• Language: English
• Publisher: Amanda Martin
• Release date: Jul 31, 2016

Amanda Martin

Amanda Martin was born in Hertfordshire, England. After graduating with first class honours from Leeds University she wandered around the world trying to find her place in it. She tried various roles, in England and New Zealand, including Bar Manager, Marketing Manager, Consultant and Artist before deciding that WriterMummy summed her up best. She lives in Northamptonshire with her husband, two children and labradoodle Kara. She can mostly be found at http://writermummy.wordpress.com

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AMANDA MARTIN

COPYRIGHT

Published by 3AD Publishing at Smashwords

Copyright © Amanda Martin 2016

Discover other titles by Amanda Martin:

Baby Blues and Wedding Shoes

Class Act

Two-Hundred Steps Home: The Complete Journey

Amanda Martin asserts the moral right to be

identified as the author of this work

This novel is entirely a work of fiction. The names, characters and incidents portrayed in it are the work of the author’s imagination. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events or localities is entirely coincidental.

All rights reserved.

This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please purchase your own copy.

Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

TABLE OF CONTENTS

Title

Copyright

One

Two

Three

Four

Five

Six

Seven

Eight

Nine

Ten

Eleven

Twelve

Thirteen

Fourteen

Fifteen

Sixteen

Seventeen

Eighteen

Nineteen

Twenty

Twenty-One

Twenty-Two

Twenty-Three

Twenty-Four

Twenty-Five

Twenty-Six

Twenty-Seven

Twenty-Eight

Twenty-Nine

Thirty

Thirty-One

Thirty-Two

Thirty-Three

Thirty-Four

Thirty-Five

Thirty-Six

Chapter One

Nadine breathed in the silence of the empty kitchen and smiled. It was her favourite time of day. Summer sun poured in through the patio doors, casting streaks of gold across the wooden floor. Without looking, she knew the roses would be nodding their beautiful heads while bees began their early morning dance in between the honeysuckle flowers. Reaching across the sink, she opened the window to let in the scent of lilac and sweet pea from the bed she’d planted last year.

The toaster popped, startling her. She hurried over to butter the toast while it was still hot, just as Gareth liked it. She cut the toast into triangles and slotted the pieces into the silver toast rack, before placing it carefully in the centre of the table. Once everything was perfect, she took a deep breath and went to the kitchen door.

Breakfast is ready, she called, just loud enough for the girls to hear. Immediately, doors opened and footsteps clattered down the stairs.

Hush! Nadine admonished, not that she needed to. They all knew the routine. Nadine counted silently and got to twenty before Gareth’s heavy tread echoed behind the girls. Without noticing, her jaw clenched and the sunshine dimmed.

Nadine went to pour coffee, as her daughters took their usual places at the table.

Where’s the jam, Mum? Chara said crossly. Nadine reached across her daughter and moved the jar an inch nearer without comment. Chara opened the jar and began to spread the organic, low-sugar, home-made jam across her home-baked bread. Baking kept Nadine busy.

Gareth took his seat without acknowledging anyone. Nadine silently slid a cup of coffee next to his plate. As she tiptoed to her seat, she silently urged Chara to chew more quietly.

Did you change the bread recipe? Gareth said suddenly.

Nadine took a shallow breath. No, darling. I use the bread-maker you bought to make sure it’s always the same.

It tastes wrong. He pushed his plate away.

With a scrape of her chair, Nadine quickly stood to take away the offending food.

Do not scrape your chair! Honestly, woman, how many times must I tell you? This floor cost a fortune.

Sorry, Nadine murmured. What would you like to eat? I can make omelette, pancakes, porridge?

I wanted toast. But as you are too useless to make an edible loaf, I shall get breakfast at the office. He lifted his chair carefully back and stalked from the room like an angry panther.

Chara rolled her eyes at her sister. Every morning was the same; she didn’t know why Mum put up with it. She had the backbone of cooked broccoli. Blythe frowned back, knowing full well that Dad would explode if he saw Chara’s disrespect. Let him go to the office to eat, at least she could finish her breakfast without a lump in her throat that made it hard to swallow.

As soon as they heard the front door slam, everyone relaxed. Why do you let him talk to you like that, Mum? Chara said immediately. He treats you like shit.

Language! Nadine said, shocked. If your father hears you using words like that, he’ll wash your mouth with soap.

Oh, pur-lease. Let him try. I’ll report him. Chara folded her arms and gave Mum a challenging stare.

Chara, shush, Blythe said quietly. Can’t you see you’re upsetting Mum just as much as he does?

Wimp, Chara said, turning on her sister. You’re both pathetic! As soon as I’m old enough, I’m out of here.

Which is not for another two years, Nadine pointed out wearily. Chara’s attitude was getting increasingly confrontational. If she’d dared act like that, her father would have locked her in her room for a month.

Where would you go? Blythe said. At ten, the world was still a small place, and she couldn’t ever imagine leaving Mum.

Anywhere! Work on a cruise ship, move in with Billy, get a job. Get a life!

Nadine sank into the nearest chair and rested her head on her hands. Please go and get dressed for school, she said through her hair. Chara scraped back her chair and stomped out.

A soft hand rested on Nadine’s shoulder, as Blythe said, Are you alright, Mum?

Nadine nodded without looking up. I’m fine, she said, her voice cracking. I’m fine.

Come on, Chara, we’re going to be late!

Nadine peered in the back of the car, where her eldest daughter was applying make-up. What are you doing? Are you even allowed to wear that to school? She twisted her hands, unsure whether she had the energy for another run-in with her daughter that morning. She already felt battered.

All the girls do, Chara said, carefully lining her lips in bright pink.

That doesn’t really answer the question, Nadine replied half-heartedly.

Mum, did you bring cakes?

Nadine span to face Blythe and her heart sank. Blast! The cake sale. I forgot. Your dad is right, I am useless, Tears fizzed unshed and she hugged herself tightly. All around them immaculately turned-out parentings led their beautifully dressed offspring into school, smiling and chatting. The mums all had highlights and wore office suits and heels, while the occasional doting father strode past, theirs eyes hidden by designer sunglasses. Everyone looked like they owned the world, like they belonged.

Nadine glanced down at her old grey trousers and sensible shoes. Gareth didn’t approve of heels, possibly because she was almost as tall as him. All her suits had been bagged up for charity years ago. She hadn’t worked since Chara had arrived.

A crack of thunder made them all look up, as grey cloud spilled into the sunny morning.

"Oh, that is totes annoying, Chara sighed dramatically, sounding like one of the girls on the TV shows she wasn’t meant to watch. I straightened my hair this morning. She patted her shimmering brown bob. Can you drive us nearer the gates? It is literally going to be a hair disaster if it gets wet."

It’s two-hundred yards, Mum snapped, You won’t melt. Just get out the car before we’re in the tardy book again.

Chara held her blazer over her head like a canopy and made a face at Mum as she brushed past. She was gone before Nadine could even say goodbye.

Is there time to go to the shop for cakes? Blythe pleaded. Everyone else will have brought them.

Nadine shook her head. No, Poppet. Besides, I can’t take in shop-bought cakes, all the other mothers will have spent hours creating cup-cake masterpieces. I’ll bake some this morning, okay? Drop them in at lunchtime?

Blythe smiled, her green eyes shining as she reached out to give Mum a hug. Nadine gave her a brief cuddle and pecked her cheek before pulling away. Have a good day, Poppet, she said. Blythe’s smile faltered but she forced it back in place.

You too, Mum. Then she ran into school without looking back.

Nadine wrapped her arms around her middle, envying Blythe as she skipped up to a group of friends and hugged them. At least her daughters were happy. That was the main thing. Wasn’t it?

Nadine swung the car into the driveway and sat at the wheel for a few moments. She ought to be baking cakes for Nadine’s bake sale. Or pressing Gareth’s shirts. And Friday was the day she did the beds. Somehow she couldn’t bring herself to get out of the car.

A flash of colour out the window caught her eye. A scrawny ginger cat sprang across the perfectly manicured front lawn after an oblivious bumble bee. Nadine smiled. It was barely a kitten, although it looked like a stray. Its ribs pushed painfully through matted skin. She should shoo it away. Gareth hated cats. He disapproved of pets of any sort. The girls had long since learned not to pester for a dog or even a hamster. They smelled and made too much mess.

Without thinking, Nadine opened the car door and held out her hand to the cat. Here, Kitty. Come say hello.

The cat turned and stared at her with unblinking green eyes. It reminded Nadine of Blythe; that same open, honest stare that allowed her daughter to cut straight through to the heart of a person. Then, deciding she wasn’t a threat, the cat padded over and nuzzled its head against Nadine’s hand. The gesture sparked something warm deep inside. Nadine reached out and scooped the cat onto her lap. He immediately leapt down and ran across the lawn.

Want to be free, do you, Kitty? I can’t blame you.

Letting gravity pull her out of the car seat, Nadine plodded into the house. The cakes wouldn’t bake themselves, and if Blythe told Gareth she’d forgotten something for school that would be the weekend ruined. She stared blankly at the neatly ordered contents of the fridge. But instead of reaching for the eggs she wondered if they had anything for the cat. She couldn’t open a packet of ham, Gareth would notice.

She went to the cupboard and fetched a tin of tuna, making a mental note to order a new pack. Once outside, she put the tuna in a saucer and stepped back away from it.

The cat approached slowly as if fearing a trap. Carefully it ate a mouthful and then two. Soon it had eaten every last scrap and was licking the plate clean. It purred and rubbed itself against Nadine’s legs as if to say thank you for the meal.

What a gentleman you are, Cat, Nadine laughed. Now hurry away, before you’re seen, and we both get into trouble.

The cat sat and stared. Wondering if she had made a terrible mistake, Nadine picked up the empty saucer and went in the house, shutting the cat outside.

Nadine rang the buzzer with her elbow as she clutched the tin of cakes and prayed it was the nice woman on Reception. The other one, Mrs Tomlinson, frightened her, peering at parents over her clichéd half-moon specs as if she’d trained to be a school secretary by reading St Trinian’s novels.

How may I help you? a voice answered in clipped tones. Nadine sighed. It had to be Mrs Tomlinson, didn’t it?

It’s Blythe’s mother, Mrs Cameron. I forgot to bring the cakes for the bake sale this morning. Please may I drop them off now?

Mrs Tomlinson tutted. Parents are not permitted on site during school hours.

Surely I can leave them with you? Nadine said, trying to keep her voice neutral.

I have more important things to be doing than to run around after forgetful parents, the secretary replied.

I’m happy to take them to the hall. Nadine sighed. If she was Gareth she would have pushed her way through by now. After all, wasn’t she helping the school by baking cakes? It wasn’t compulsory.

Purposeful footsteps sounded behind Nadine and, as she turned her head to look, a wave of hairspray and Channel engulfed her. It was Mrs Jenson-Lewis. Nadine shrivelled like a weed and tried to look invisible, but unfortunately she was standing between her and the door; stooped over the intercom like a double-glazing salesman.

Good morning, Mrs Jenson-Lewis said cheerfully. Blythe’s mother, isn’t it? She held out a perfectly manicured hand. Nadine gestured at the cake box in hers and grimaced.

"Oh, you are good. I had the nanny bake cakes for Annabelle. I’m far too busy with Governors’ meetings and things of that ilk. Would you like me to take them in for you?"

With a mute nod, Nadine handed over the cakes. Mrs Jenson-Lewis peered through the transparent lid. Raisin buns. How rustic, she said. What a refreshing change from the trend for elaborate cupcakes.

Nadine stared at her clumpy shoes. Where was a sudden sinkhole when you needed one? Mrs Tomlinson hurried around the desk and swept the door open for the welcome visitor.

Do have a wonderful day, Mrs er…

Cameron, Nadine added. But a suffocating cloud of perfume was all that remained to keep her company.

Chapter Two

Mum, can you drop me off at Elise’s house? Chara called from the hallway. Nadine stuck her head around the kitchen door and gasped.

"What on Earth are you wearing?"

Chara glanced down at her outfit and shrugged. She couldn’t see anything wrong with the denim shorts, sheer tights and crop top. Her midriff could be flatter, and she’d had to stuff her bra with tissues, but it looked real enough to her. She flicked her hair out of her eyes and tutted as it caught on her gold hoop earrings.

"Are those real earrings? Nadine hurried forward, wiping her hands her apron. When did you get your ears pierced? Dad said no."

Actually, Dad said, ‘no daughter of mine is going to turn themselves into a harlot and fill their body with metal’. Chara imitated Gareth so well that Nadine shuddered. She automatically glanced at the door, to check his keys weren’t hanging on their hook.

"Chilax, Mum, for goodness’ sake. I won’t let Dad see them, and I’ll be gone before he gets home from work anyway."

I can’t take you to Elise’s house looking like that, what will her parents think?

That I’m dressed like a normal teenager? Besides, we’re going to a party.

What party? Nadine sank on the stairs and pressed her thumbs into her temples. The headache refused to shift. It felt as if her head might explode from the pressure. Gareth would explode if he saw his eldest daughter half-dressed and wearing jewellery. And make-up. But if Nadine made her get changed, Chara would scream and rant, and they’d both end up in tears. And there was still no guarantee that Chara would wear anything different.

At last, Nadine sighed loudly and stood up. Her eyes were red, but dry. Put a coat on at least.

Chara gave a victorious grin and grabbed a jacket from the cupboard. Can I sleep over at Elise’s? she added as an afterthought.

‘No’ hovered on Nadine’s lips. Then she thought about Gareth picking Nadine up in that outfit – he would insist – and she nodded. Take something more…appropriate to wear for the morning. I expect Dad will collect you.

Chara glared mutinously at her mum. Then, before Nadine could argue, she pulled out a summer dress and waved it in her face. "Is this demure enough for you? Stupid prude. You are such a joke. I wish I lived with Elise – her mum is awesome."

The words stabbed at Nadine. A sudden urge to claw at her daughter’s face and scream like a child swept through her, pulling at her fingers and catching in her throat. Her limbs trembled as they contained the surge of fury.

Scared by the ferocity of her reaction, Nadine turned away and snatched off her apron. Get your sister, she snapped, as she stomped into the kitchen.

Nadine swung the kitchen door shut with a slap that hurt her hand, and stared blankly at the spotless room. Part of her brain did a quick audit: Dinner was in the oven, and would be ready on the dot of seven, when Gareth usually arrived home from work. The counters had been wiped and disinfected, the bin emptied, the plants watered. As she ran through her mental checklist, a fire burned in the back of her mind. How dare her daughter talk to her like that? How dare she? Another voice murmured, Because Gareth does and you let him. That’s different, she protested. But was it. Really?

Nadine slid to the floor. The rage dissolved into disgust. She was pathetic. Her own daughter hated her, and it was all her fault. She was nothing.

Mum?

Nadine heard Blythe’s voice, but it barely penetrated the fog. Her throat ached and she wondered how long she had been crying.

A cool hand brushed her cheek and she felt someone sit on the tiles next to her. For a moment her daughter didn’t speak, she merely took Nadine’s hand and stroked it gently.

Are you okay? Blythe asked eventually.

Nadine shrugged.

Chara? When Nadine didn’t reply, Blythe laughed. Silly question, of course Chara. I saw what she was wearing.

You think I’m a joke too, don’t you? Nadine said suddenly, wondering when her youngest had become the adult and she the child.

No, of course not, Mum. What did Chara say? For a second she sounded angry, but then her voice grew soft. She doesn’t mean it, whatever she said. It hurts her when Dad is mean to you. She wants you to stand up to him.

Nadine inhaled deeply. And what about you? she said in a small voice.

I think it’s easier said than done.

When did you become so wise? Nadine said with a wobbly smile.

I learnt it from you. Blythe squeezed Nadine’s hand. Come on, let’s take Chara to her party, and then you and I can watch TV in the den until Daddy gets home.

Nadine leant her head briefly against Blythe’s. Blythe reached over to hug her, but Nadine couldn’t. She scrambled to her feet without meeting her daughter’s eyes. If she let someone in she would shatter like glass. Wrapping her arms around herself to keep together, she hurried to fetch her bag and keys. Pausing at the door, she turned and saw that Blythe hadn’t moved. Only her eyes followed Nadine, wide in dark sockets. They were fathomless, full of hurt and loss.

I’m sorry, Blythe, Nadine said. I. I’m. Thank you. Swallowing down more tears, she turned away.

Where is Chara? Gareth said suddenly, breaking the silence in the dining room.

Nadine looked up from her plate and felt the blood drain from her face. She’s at a party. She told me you had given her permission.

Gareth’s dark brows drew together and his grey eyes grew stormy. And you believed her? Stupid woman.

Blythe opened her mouth in protest but Mum gave her a tiny nudge beneath the table. This was her fight. It was time she was the grown up.

Chara is fourteen now, Gareth. She wants to be with her friends on a Friday night.

Gareth’s head whipped up and he pinned Nadine with a razor-sharp glare. What did you say?

Nadine quivered. Her hands shook until she had to lay down her knife and fork. There wasn’t enough air in the room and she gasped for breath. She could almost feel Gareth’s fingers digging into the flesh of her shoulders, like they did when he grabbed her and shook her. She wondered if he would interrupt his dinner and drag her out the room. At the same time she felt Blythe looking at her. Urging her to be strong.

I said we need to give her room to grow.

Gareth growled, low and fierce, a sound that rumbled around Nadine’s stomach like thunder. He stood slowly, lifting his chair so it didn’t scrape.

Dad- Blythe began. Gareth silenced her with a look.

Go to your room.

But-

I said, Go to your room. NOW!

Blythe looked at her mum. Nadine nodded. She didn’t want her daughter to see this. As Blythe ran from the room, ponytail flying behind her, Nadine wondered if she had lost her mind. What was the point in standing up to Gareth? He always won in the end. But nothing she said now would do anything but enrage him further. She sat still,