By Death Divided by Patricia Hall Read Free Book Online

would begin hitting Anna as well as me.’
    ‘Has he?’ Laura asked.
    ‘No, I’ve always managed to protect her. Quite often she’s been in bed asleep when things have got bad. I tried to leave him once before but he begged and begged me to go back. He seems quite normal, you see, most of the time. Loving and so ashamed of what he’s done. And I let myself be persuaded. In fact, I generally end up comforting him. Stupid I know, but I did love him once. But recently, since we came to Bradfieldreally, he’s been flaring up more often and I’ve got completely frantic with the worry. Even in between the rages he’s been moody and distant, not his normal self. I thought this time if I didn’t get out I’d be the one to crack up completely, so a few days ago I packed up and went out as if I was taking Anna to school as normal. But we came here and I’ve not been back.’
    ‘He’s no idea where you are?’
    ‘Not at the moment but I don’t think it will take him long to find this place. We’ll have to move on. The husbands and partners do turn up here, that’s why there’s all the security. To keep fathers out.’ Suddenly Julie was in tears and Laura switched her taperecorder off.
    ‘I’m sorry,’ she sobbed. ‘I just never thought I would be in this situation. It all started so well. We were so in love. We had good jobs. We weren’t short of money. Anna was a very much wanted baby. Where did it all go so wrong?’
    ‘Who have you talked to about it, apart from Vicky?’
    ‘No one really. I went to the doctor and said I was stressed and he gave me some tranquillisers.’
    Laura looked at her aghast for a second.
    ‘I would have thought it was your husband who needed pills, not you,’ she said.
    ‘He won’t go near the doctor,’ Julie said. ‘He’s got quite a phobia about the medical profession. I think he had some sort of bad experience before I met him. He never talks about it. And he won’t go near marriage counsellors. I’ve suggested it but he says he doesn’t want anyone interfering in his private life, asking questions, demanding explanations. He seems quite frightened of that.’
    ‘I think you ought to see your doctor again and be honest with him this time. I don’t know much about mental illnessbut it sounds as if your husband could be suffering from some form of it. And talk to the police. If you don’t do something pretty dramatic, you or Anna could get seriously hurt.’ Or worse, she thought, and she knew that Julie could recognise the unspoken thought only too clearly.
    ‘That’s what Vicky said,’ Julie said dully. ‘But I don’t want him locked up. That would destroy him. I just want it to stop.’

    Mohammed Sharif, known at work happily enough as Omar, but not here, felt the familiar sounds and smells of Aysgarth Lane enfold him, the Punjabi chatter, the spicy aromas, the car horns of impatient young drivers and every now and again the beat of a Bangla rhythm. It felt like home and for a fleeting moment he regretted having cut himself off so completely from it. He had parked in one of the narrow streets of terraced houses nearby and joined the early evening crowds making their way from one Asian emporium to another. He inched through the door of the Punjab Bazaar, a gloomy cluttered store where women in brightly coloured
shalwar kameez
, headscarfs worn loosely around their hair or shoulders, gossiped amongst the crammed shelves. He had promised Louise, who did not realise how unusual it was for an Asian man to be seen in a kitchen, that he would cook her a curry that night, and he spent some time selecting large plastic packets of coriander, cumin and red pepper for his store cupboard on the other side of town, where such things only appeared on the supermarket shelves in minute and highly priced jars. He slipped easily back into Punjabi at the checkout, where he was greeted by name. This was a tight-knit community, which did not lose track of its sons if it could help