Unspoken: A story of secrets, love and revenge by T. Belshaw (i want to read a book .TXT) 📕

to keep you, I know you’re a busy man,’ I said, standing where I was.

Godfrey closed the gap between us and touched my cheek softly with the fingers of his right hand.

‘What on earth happened here?’

I looked at the genuine concern on his face, and made an instant decision not to tell him the whole story.

‘I walked into a door,’ I said.

‘Alice, do you know how many times I’ve heard that in my career? This was Frank’s doing, wasn’t it? Did he exact revenge for catching us the other day?’

I nodded. ‘He’s gone now. He’s on his way to Liverpool. I called the police, but they said it was just a domestic incident and told me to cook him a nice dinner.’

‘Things have to change, Alice. Women are beaten up every day of their lives by drunken, brutes of husbands, and the law does nothing to protect them even, though it is an actual crime.’

‘He’s gone,’ I said again.

‘But you shouldn’t have had to suffer that, Alice. I’m not sure what we can do without getting the police to acknowledge it as an assault on your person, though. I don’t fancy the odds; it will just be your word against his.’

‘Leave it, Godfrey, I want to forget it ever happened. He’s on his way to America now, and I doubt he’ll ever come back here again. His mother will be dead by the time he returns, and he knows there’s nothing for him at the farm. He’s out of my life now. I want to try to forget he was ever in it.’

I thought about the rape, briefly, but it was so foul, so ugly, so horrible, that I didn’t want it to get in the way of the joyous, lovemaking I had enjoyed with Godfrey. In future, whenever I thought about sex, I wanted to remember the beauty of that morning. I wanted to find a little room in my memory bank, and lock Saturday night away in there. I knew that dark attic would be opened in times of stress, but as long as I felt I had the strength to close that door on it again, I might just be able to manage the feelings of helplessness and revulsion.

‘Well, if you’re sure, Alice,’ he said, without even attempting to try and persuade me to fight on.

He looked at the door, then at his watch. ‘I have a client, soon.’

‘You weren’t in such a rush last week, Godfrey, and you have no clients this morning, I checked with Miss Perfect out there.’

Godfrey looked uncomfortable. He fiddled with his tie as he spoke.

‘About last week. That was a mistake, Alice. It should never have happened.’

A mistake! It was the best day of my life and he was labelling it a mistake?

‘That’s not the way I see it. I gave you something precious, something, beautiful.’ I smiled at him. The smile he offered back was more of a grimace.

‘It can’t go on. I’ve got too much to lose, Alice. My wife, my children, my partnership in the firm. Just think about that for a moment, will you? My life would be ruined if we carried on with this. I’m putting my foot down now. You’ll have to stop contacting me. Our business is concluded.’

I was incandescent. It was all about him. He’d had what he wanted, and now he was going to throw me away like an old rag. I checked my impulse to shout at him. Instead I summoned up Rita Hayworth, the woman I had pretended to be so many times in front of my bedroom mirror. What would she have done up on the big screen? She’d have used her brain to win the day. She always got what she wanted in the end.

Men really thought they held all the aces. They held all the political power, but things were changing. Women now had the vote, there were female MPs, female scientists, soon there would be a lot of female doctors. Men used much of their power to subjugate women. That thing in their trousers made them feel invincible, but women were stronger than they ever imagined. They could suffer the pain of childbirth, the heartbreak of miscarriage, the cuts, bruises and humiliation of a beating, and still get back up for more. Women had a far more subtle power, if only they could learn how to use it. A power that men took to be their weakness. It was like a hypnotist’s act at the music hall. All a woman had to do was flash those eyes and hint that she might be available, and the battle was over. Men were weak. I hid my anger, and let Rita perform.

I undid the top three buttons of my dress and stepped back until my backside bumped against his desk, then I brushed my arm across it, sweeping a pile of legal documents onto the floor. I placed both hands on the desk and pulled myself onto it, then I pushed my legs out and crossed them before slowly pulling my dress up to my thighs.

Godfrey began to sweat. He gulped and looked at the door again. Interestingly, this time, his watch was spared the interrogation.

I unhooked the front of my bra and pulled it aside, exposing my breasts, then I pursed my lips and blew out a kiss.

‘Christ, Alice. What if she comes in?’

‘She can bugger off back out again then,’ I replied.

Godfrey took a step towards me.

‘Alice…’

‘I lifted up my backside and slipped my pants down to my knees.

‘Now then, Godfrey, it’s your turn, don’t be lazy.’

Godfrey pulled off his jacket and dropped it on the floor. I pulled my pants over my ankles and let them fall.

‘Oh, Jesus.’

‘He’s not going to help you now, Godfrey,’ I said in a voice so alluring it would have made a monk think twice.

I grabbed hold of his tie and pulled him towards me. All resistance gone, he pushed his head onto my chest and began to suckle. I