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  Fear had rooted Ange to the spot. The tears stung her eyes and she tried to hold back. She wasn't afraid he was going to hurt her; not physically at any rate. But this fear was something different. Terror that she had pushed him too far and ruined everything. She was afraid there would be no going back.

  "And two years of depression, and medication, without telling me? Did you trust me so little? But I bet your family knew, did they?"

  Ange made no attempt to answer, there was no point. She knew Jim needed to rant before he'd listen to reason.

  "Did they?" he shouted. "Were they making snide comments that you were so afraid of your wife-beating husband that you had to hide your depression? Answer me."

  "N-no," she replied, the tears now beyond checking.

  "More lies. Do you take me for a bloody fool? And save your sniveling, it won't wash. Who did you tell? Your mother? That bitch of a sister?"

  "No-one, I was too fucking ashamed."

  "As well you should be, ashamed of being a sham. Do you think your guilt helped with your depression? Or our relationship? You did your best to throw it all away. I could even understand it if you had kept it all in while you were depressed. But a year later, it's still secrets and lies. It seems I don't know you at all."

  "Mammy?" Ava shouted from the bottom of the stairs. "Jack needs to go to the toilet."

  Ange scrambled to dress herself before Ava walked in on her half naked and crying. In truth she was relieved at the interruption. While she had expected anger, this was much, much worse than she had anticipated.

  "I'll go. Make yourself decent," Jim snapped. "But we're not finished on this yet, not by a long shot. You have a hell of a lot of explaining to do."

  Once Ange returned down to the children, Jim took off to the gym, leaving her stew in her misery.

  Chapter 10

  By nine pm Jim still hadn't returned. The children were already in bed, and Ange was very anxious as he hadn't contacted her since he left, or replied to any of her texts or calls. It had all gone even more horribly than she had imagined. Ange was terrified he was over in Carla's – maybe even berating her. It was a horrible thought and Ange felt terribly isolated. If she had been at back in Ireland, she would have packed the children in the car and gone visiting some family to pass the day. She couldn't settle to anything.

  Ange picked up a book; dropped it; paced the floor. Then she switched on the TV, flicked from channel to channel, and paced the floor again. When the back door finally opened that's what she was at, pacing anxiously around the kitchen.

  "Where were you?" Ange asked. She leaned against the counter, hoping this was going to be a longer discussion than the one earlier.

  "All over the place, I needed to think."

  "And what conclusions did you come to?"

  "Shit, I don't know. First, I was mad as hell. I can't believe you kept something as serious as depression from me for three bloody years. I felt cheated, like everything was a lie. Then I was vexed at myself for not seeing it and started to think I let you down, too. I just can't believe how we went from Ange and Jim, happy married couple to strangers that shared a house. We used to be so close, but now I hardly know you. And that hurts."

  "I'm sorry. I know it's my fault."

  "You didn't help, that's for sure. But I started the problem that night, and I let it continue, too. I knew you blamed me afterwards, and instead of having it out with you I hid from it. I didn't want to hear you say it out loud. I thought it would ruin us if you did. It's ironic, it's only now that you are ready to take responsibility for your share, that I can see how wrong I really was."

  "I'm not trying to brush the past under the carpet, but we can't change what's past. Can you see a way forward for us? Can we get out of this mess?"

  "Do you mean am I leaving you? I've certainly thought about it, all day. And not for the first time, either."

  Ange inhaled sharply. Even the sound of those words struck fear in her heart. Her body tensed, she folded her arms, as if to shield her heart from the blow that it was about to receive. As if her arms could even start to protect her from her emotional vulnerability. Already Ange was imagining a return of the depression, that total sense of helplessness and inertia. She was dreading it. It had been bloody awful. Only for their home-help, an elderly, motherly woman who came in every morning, Ange would never have coped.

  "Please, listen to me, before you make any decisions. I want to tell you about the depression. What it was like. Maybe you'll understand better then. See why I couldn't tell you."

  Jim took a bottle of wine out of the fridge and stretched across Ange to reach two glasses. Ange immediately felt relieved at this indication that he was ready to sit and listen, and she sure as hell could use a drink to help loosen her tongue. This was a period of her life she preferred to keep locked away. They sat at the kitchen table, side by side, but chairs tilted towards one another. Ange looked down at the table rather than at Jim. It was hard enough to recall this without having to maintain eye contact.

  "Do you remember when Ava was born? How happy and besotted I was? The minute they put her in my arms I fell in love. And that love was like nothing else on this earth. Even the way I felt about you was nothing compared to it. I would have killed or died for her, from the very first second I held her."

  Jim smiled at the memory. "You were like a demon, you didn't even want to share her with me, and you used to get so mad if anyone tried to give you advice. She was your baby, and you'd do it your way."

  "Exactly. I wouldn't even let you do the night feeds, no matter how tired I was. I wanted all of her. When Jack was born I expected the same. When I was pregnant, I wondered if it was ever going to be possible for me to have enough love to share with another child. But with him, I felt nothing, it was like I was handed a stranger. At first I thought it was because he was early and I couldn't cuddle him much, you know, because of the incubator. And then the C-section didn't help. I still thought the bond would happen in time. But even after a week in hospital I still felt like I was handling a stranger's child. When they told me I was fit to go home without Jack, you'd have thought I'd be upset. But I was relieved, glad to be away from that place and even glad that I wouldn't have to be responsible for this crying, scraggly thing that I had no feelings for."

  Jim's horror was evident on his face. Ange knew what a cold, hard bitch she must seem to him now. Not only did she deceive and betray Jim, but she had neglected her new-born baby when he was at his most vulnerable. She needed a moment to prevent herself from crying from the pain of the memories and took a long gulp of her wine. She'd started now so she felt she might as well present him with the full picture, inglorious as it was.

  "Only for Mary, I'd never have got up and forced myself to go to the hospital. She bullied me out of bed every day, threatening to tell you if I didn't go. Once I was up and dressed, it wasn't too hard to go on autopilot to the hospital, but by Jaysus, getting out of that bed every day was worse than being in labor. Mary would run a bath, and nag and nag me to get out of bed. She even took away the bedclothes some days so I couldn't stay there. And Mary called the taxi every day, so I had no excuse. But even when I got there, I'd only stay and do one feed and one nappy change, out of duty, not out of love. The rest of the time, I'd sit in the café across from the hospital. When they said that they were going to let him out, I was petrified. I didn't want him home. I didn't want my own son." The tears she had tried to check were now flowing freely down her cheeks. She noticed Jim's hand on hers. Unaware of how or when it had got there, Ange took comfort from the physical contact. He was keeping quiet, so obviously he wanted her to continue. She fished in her pocket for a tissue, wiped her eyes and nose and carried on.

  "When we got Jack home it was worse, he was a slow feeder and it had been much easier to express the milk than feed him directly. He didn't like the boob after the bottle, either. It was harder for him to suck and he got frustrated and cranky. So he was rejecting me just as much as I was re
jecting him, or that's how I saw it at the time, which was stupid. A six week old baby doesn't reject anyone, it was my misery and guilt that made me think that. But it gave me another excuse. So I went back to expressing and was only too glad to hand him over to you and Mary and anyone else to feed. After another two months of this carry on, Mary got totally pissed off with me. She'd been telling me to see a doctor for weeks. But she took matters in her own hands and made an appointment at the doctor's. She said she'd leave if I didn't go. She forced me to let her come with me, said she wouldn't believe I'd been and told the truth unless she came, so she, Ava, Jack and I all went in to the small little room. And there in the doctor's surgery she spilled out the list of my failings and then left me to it. I was never as embarrassed as I was listening to her version of how I'd been behaving. But I just hadn't the energy to drag myself out of it. The thing was I didn't think I was depressed. I wasn't sad or didn't burst into tears or have the baby blues. I just felt nothing. Dead."

  "Jesus, Ange. How could I not have known this? I knew you were in crappy form, but I'd no idea how bad it was."

  "Even after six weeks on the tablets I didn't feel any better. Nor had I bonded with Jack. His crying was just proof of his neediness and made me feel like I was trapped in my own version of hell. I remember driving out to Dun Laoighre and sitting on the beach, wondering what it would be like if I just walked out into the water and didn't come back. I seriously considered it. The only thing that held me back was Ava. I wouldn't leave her behind, and I couldn't bring her with me. But that's the day that the crying started. After that I went back to the doctor and got different tablets. I never told her about the beach incident, though. I was afraid she'd send me to hospital. It was like starting all over again, there was another month of waiting for these tablets to work. Then the dosage had to be upped and finally when they got it right, bit by bit, the lead weight began to lift. It took ages though, about another four or five months, before I started to feel like I could cope properly. I was coming down off the tablets, on half dosage, when Jack got the pneumonia and had to go back to hospital. That set me right back. I felt so guilty about how I had let him down, and how I had never bonded with him. It took that to make me realize that I really did love him. I became totally irrational that he might die, just because I deserved to lose him. Even when he was out of danger, I was terrified to leave the ward, even for the loo or a shower, in case he mightn't be alive when I got back."

  Ange paused for another gulp of her wine. Jim squeezed her hand slightly. She couldn't believe how silent he was keeping. Normally he'd interrupt her every two minutes when she told him something, either to ask a question or throw in a quip. She didn't think she'd ever held the floor with him for so long in all the years she'd known him. She blew her nose and continued.

  "Two months later, Jack was all better and we were bonding well. He was a much more relaxed baby then. Of course it was because I was more relaxed with him and cuddled him more. He was babbling away, smiling and responding to my voice, even showing a preference for me over Mary. And I was so grateful to God for letting him get better and to Jack for seeming to forgive me. But then what baby doesn't love his mother? Even if she's as bad as I had been. I was getting back on my feet, done with the tablets, but my maternity leave was nearly finished. I told the school I'd be ready to go back to work, and they landed bombshell of the suspension. It seemed like everything was conspiring to fuck me up, and I was back on full dosage for a third time and back to struggling to get out of bed and face the day. I know you think I shut you out, but it wasn't you I was running from, it was me. My life. I didn't know my arse from my elbow then. I needed to blame you because blaming me would have meant me floating in Dun Laoighre Harbor. Then I just got in the habit of it. I swear, Jim, I know you think I was moaning about you to my family, but I was so bloody ashamed of myself that I wouldn't have dreamt of telling anyone. Mary had suffered post-natal depression herself, and she spotted it straight away, but she would never have said or listened to a bad word about you. Sure you charmed the pants off her. For everyone else I did my best to put on a face, if they saw through it, they never told me. And that's the ugly tale of the last few years in a nutshell. I thought that by moving here and starting fresh, I'd never have to tell you all this; that our problems would magically disappear, but even though, it's been better, some of them still haunt us."

  "I'm still really, really fucking mad at you for not talking to me sooner. But I'm glad you told me now at least. One of the lads I worked with, Damian, do you remember him? His wife had to be hospitalized with post-natal because she shook the living daylights out of their daughter and then went AWOL for a week, she went while he was at work and he came home to a screaming baby in the cot and no sign of Denise anywhere. I don't think I told you because it was just after Jack was born."

  "Fecking hell. God help her. How long was she in hospital?"

  "He was off for a month, but he didn't tell me any more than that and I didn't want to pry. I wish I had, though, I might have learned something."

  "It probably wouldn't have made any difference. I'm not like you, when you have a problem, you come and talk about it and that helps you. You've always been like that and it's a great way to be. When I have a problem, I see it as a defect; something to be dealt with in my own head until I have an answer. I only admit it when it's solved. I suck at admitting my weaknesses."

  "That's for sure. You never seem to get that I'm on your side. Fuck it, Ange, you're my world. I might not be the best for fancy words and flowers and that sort of shite, but I thought you got that much at least."

  "Sometimes I do. Or did. I don't know, I just got lost and scared. You know how I like to be in control."

  "From now, that's gone. You might like to be in control, but you have to learn to trust me, too. If you want to fix this you have to leave me control for a while and domestic discipline stays. That's my condition. You know I have to punish you for this, Ange. And it's one you won't forget for a long time. I never want you to keep secrets like that from me."

  Ange nodded her agreement. This was a punishment that she actually wanted, no matter how awful. She knew it was her chance to get a clean slate.

  "Go upstairs and undress. Then bring down the crop, the cane and a bunch of towels."

  "Towels?" Ange asked.

  "Just do it," he warned.

  When Ange returned in her dressing gown, Jim was standing at the table connecting some hosing to a bag, beside the bag was a two liter bottle of water.

  "Fuck, no way, you're not doing that."

  "Take off your robe, Ange. We'll see how much you want to keep things in in the future."

  "No."

  Jim dropped the tubing and grabbed Ange, forcing her face down on the table spanking her hard with his hand. He shoved her robe up near her head.

  "Stay still, and take your punishment. If you move or jump up, I will repeat the whole process again tomorrow night. Is that clear?"

  Fear gripped Ange. She knew he meant it. She gripped the far side of the table with her hands and prayed for the strength to stay still.

  He started with the cane. With no warm up, it hurt like fuck. Ange screamed as he sliced it down on her behind. He passed her a towel.

  "Hold that at your mouth or you'll wake the children," he ordered before delivering the next wallop. Four vicious strokes, one beneath the other. She could only imagine the welts that they would have left. Then he crisscrossed the welts with two more. Each stroke was met with a scream into the towel.

  "Stay there," he warned as he ran to the bathroom.

  Ange didn't dare move. When he returned, he had the bath brush and Vaseline. Ange begged but he was not deterred. He brought the bath brush down hard and fast and made her count each of the twenty strokes. Ange wished she could zone out of her body and tried to focus on anything but the pain. After that, he switched to the crop, with six more welts to add to those left by the cane. While she squealed and howled, she was too
shocked to cry. He had never done anything like this before. She gripped the table with all her might, to avoid jumping up. She tried to focus on the pain in her fingers, rather than her bottom and that helped to some extent. Once finished whipping her, he sat on a dining chair. Ange didn't dare move until he told her to go stand in the corner.

  "And remove your robe like you were told," he ordered.

  She was glad of the respite and the tears finally came. Hard heaving sobs. Ange knew she had earned every single spank. She had nearly thrown up her whole marriage. However horrible the physical pain was, it was nothing compared to the heartache she had felt earlier, when he was gone. She heard him fiddling with that damn enema bag and dread filled her. This was definitely the most humiliating treatment he'd ever subjected her to. Then she heard him rise, lift his chair, walk across the hardwood floor, and next a banging sound a little off in the distance, in the living area.

  "Turn around," he said.

  Ange looked at where he was standing. Jim had one shoe off, which he had used to hammer a hook against the outside of the downstairs bathroom wall. He fixed the blue bag on the hook. She felt her anus clench at the thought of what was to follow. She heard the glop glop glop of the bag filling with water.

  "See this hook? Tomorrow you're going to find a picture to put here, and every time you look at that picture, you'll know it's only there to mask your shame, because from now on, this is where enemas will be delivered. And they'll be delivered any time you hide things from me, or keep your feelings bottled up. Is that clear? If you keep things in, I'll force them out. Simple."

  Ange looked at the spot where he'd banged in the hook. She would have to come up with something imaginative to hang at waist height in her living area. She certainly would know it was her shame as she would never hang a picture in that spot. It was if he'd purposefully picked the least likely place for sheer humiliation, knowing how house-proud she was. Even as he spoke, his words and his lecture were affecting her. To her horror, Ange realized she was actually aroused, in spite of the awful thing she was about to endure. Her backside hurt like hell, but even so, she was never more willing to do his bidding. Ange wanted to please Jim, even if that meant having cold water infused into her bottom. She felt a massive sense of relief that he cared enough to punish her. Since Jack was born, Ange had never felt so secure in Jim's care. He had chosen to forgive her. She watched him lay the towels out on the floor.