It was a beautiful day when the removal van pulled up next door, I was busy gardening as it wasn’t often the grass was dry enough to cut and I could enjoy tending to my pink azaleas. The sun was shining with an uplifting heat which was rare for our small suburban area and, as the young couple sprung hopefully from the front seats, they hugged with joy at the sight of their new home. The man; a tall brooding figure, heavily built with wide shoulders and a strong jaw. And the woman; a small, pretty thing with golden curls and a childish, welcoming face. What a darling young girl; I thought as he carried her over the threshold of what I assumed was to be their first home. Newlyweds.
A little while later the man emerged and started unloading the van whilst the pretty young thing stood just outside the front door with tousled hair, fixing her clothes and giggling childishly into her perfectly painted pink manicured hand. I looked up at her and welcomed her to the neighbourhood, at which she grinned and skipped over to the small wooden fence that separated us, “Hi, I’m Annabelle and this is Mark,” she waved a hand and turned towards the brooding Mark and, again, her charming giggle surfaced. “Well it’s very nice to meet you both,” I said and, as I finished pulling the weeds from my precious azaleas, I offered my help in unloading the van. Annabelle, as I now knew her, smiled warmly at my offer yet Mark was not as welcoming, “I think we can handle it,” he snarled at me. But for fear, I assumed, of being rude to me and later being on the receiving end of a disapproving lecture from his new wife, he changed his mind and almost sighed in annoyance as he conceded “an extra pair of hands couldn’t hurt.”
The next three hours Mark unloaded the van as Annabelle and I unpacked box upon box, safely stowing items in their rightful place. I discovered a lot about the couple that day; Annabelle had been a waitress at a bar in Bristol, where Mark had been on a stag night out with his friends. Annabelle said she noticed him instantly but that Mark was too busy with his friends to notice her, or so she thought. The next day Mark had returned to the bar and, to her surprise, had asked her out; 9 months later Annabelle moved into Mark’s flat in Stafford but, wanting a new life together and a fresh start with a family, they had moved here. Wonderful really, innocent young girl whisked away by a beautiful stranger and falls unconditionally in love. Despite the odd scowl being shot our way by Mark, Annabelle continued to tell me about her life, which for someone so young was fascinatingly detailed. Annabelle had spent 7 years of her ‘before Mark’ life touring the world; India, Italy, France, Africa, Dubai; places I could only imagine.
After a long day of unpacking I invited Annabelle and Mark to come for dinner as I was sure my husband would love to meet them. My husband, Chris, had been very fond of our old neighbours and I was certain he would like this couple just as heartily. Annabelle happily accepted on the grounds that they had only crisps and liquor in the cupboards, at this Mark looked unhappy, but, he reluctantly agreed to come as I teased his taste buds with the promise of steak and chips. I did not understand at that moment how strongly he disliked the company of others; a lesson I would learn in time.
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“How did you find the steak, Mark?” my husband, Chris, leaned over to remove the un-blemished plate from under him. “Good,” was the only reply he received for our hard work in preparing his meal, no thank-you, not even an appearance of satisfaction from the meal he devoured like an animal at our table. But Annabelle, the pretty and dainty lady she was, brought her plate to the kitchen and thanked me for the most delicious meal she had eaten since being in Italy, where the waiters had prepared dishes with fresh herbs and spices before her.
I sat down with Annabelle and Mark as Chris prepared the dessert, “I love your dress,” I confessed to Annabelle, it had been a while since I’d worn a pretty dress like that, but then she was 27 while I was in my thirties; perhaps too old for dresses like that. Mark’s loud drunken babble interrupted my thoughts, “It bloody well should be I spent enough on the stupid thing!” He seemed aggravated; he had been drinking more and more all night. Annabelle looked awkwardly at her lap before glancing up with an apologetic look in her eyes, this was not the first time Mark had been drunk like this, and it would not be the last. But I shrugged it off, I would not allow him to ruin our night. I turned to Annabelle once more, “I’m going shopping tomorrow, I was wondering if you’d like to come, have a girly day?” Her smile suggested she would love to, avoiding Marks hangover I assumed. The newlyweds left our home at about two in the morning, Mark staggering and clutching at the back of Annabelle’s neck to steady himself.
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The next day Chris had left for work and I was almost ready to go shopping with Annabelle when I heard a faint knock on the door. I opened it to find Annabelle; pale white with sore, puffy red eyes. Makeup was smeared across her face and she struggled to stand still, holding her arm with a steel grip in an attempt to compose herself. Her bottom lip quivered and she did what she could to conceal her shaky voice and wipe the escaping tears from her face as she stated she could not come with me today as she hadn’t realised Mark had made plans for them both. The whole explanation sounded rehearsed, like she had been told what to say, she apologised for not having checked with him before saying she could accompany me, that it would not happen again and then quickly walked away leaving me with an unmistakable feeling of dread. What had happened? What had he done to her; the pretty, giggling girl?