By Any Other Name

PROLOGUE

December 1^st 1986

Rose quietly closed the door to the tiny one bedroom flat so as not to disturb the baby or wake up her boyfriend, fearing her boyfriend more.  Her nose involuntarily screwed up as she was met by the smell of rising damp and stale alcohol. 

Rose knew that the situation she was in was her own doing but she wished more with each passing day that she had listened to her father's words of warning when she had first taken her boyfriend to meet her parents.  Maybe if Rose hadn’t have been so stubborn then she wouldn't be in this dreadful predicament.  Her parents had only met him once but that was enough for her father and despite her protests, he would never change his mind.  Rose’s thoughts lingered back to that day and her father’s words that would always stay with her.

 September 29^th 1984

The day had started out so well, Rose’s nervousness seemed needless as her mum welcomed them into the sitting room for afternoon tea and cakes.  Rose had always known that her boyfriend's way of life would never meet up with her father’s requirements but as they sat on the sofa she grew more hopeful that if her mother could see how much they loved each other then, with her help, Rose would be able to persuade her father to see it too.  With that little twinkle of expectation, Rose had decided it was time to take him to meet them.

They’d sat there as her mother poured out the tea using the best china while explaining that father would be late as he was seeing to the gardener because the green fly were in the roses again.  Fondant fancies, Battenburg and butterfly cakes adorned the three tiered cake stand that was also part of the matching best china.  Everything was so polite and relaxed until her father walked in the room.

From the minute her father walked in the atmosphere became heavy and the whole room seemed to grow smaller adding an element of claustrophobia to what was to become a very strained situation.  Rose’s father sat down in the armchair across from them, arms folded and brow furrowed.  The same look that had been used when, as a child, Rose had picked his prize begonias and used them to practicing pressing flowers as homework from school.  He then began bombarding her boyfriend with grueling questions about his life, the answers to which were always followed by accusations and derogatory remarks.  Every so often her mother would say, “Now, now father, I’m sure it’s not that bad.” And she would smile awkwardly at them both.

No lies were told but in this case lies would probably have been the better option.  Once her father knew his background he wouldn’t stop dictating, letting him know that without a shadow of doubt he would never be the man for his daughter.  Then it was her turn…

“How could you choose a man with no class?  You could be with any of the most promising young men at our parties, so why choose this low life over one of those?”  Her father chastised.  “It’s not just the fact that he’s grown up in the wrong area.  He has no money and with his job, how do you expect him to fit into our society.  Plus, his father is a permanent resident of Her Majesty!  It rubs off you know!  That’s if it isn’t already in his blood!”  And so it went on with his last words being, “It won’t work!  You mark my words;  if you marry him then you’ll be divorced in a year!”

 And it was those words that it had stuck in her head nibbling away whenever things were going wrong and just lately they had gone very wrong.  It wasn’t because of his council estate upbringing, not because of his employment or social skills and not because his father was in prison but because of her father’s stubborn lack of understanding and because of Rose’s rebellious nature she had stayed with him all this time trying to make it work and trying to prove her father wrong.  She did a very good job at it too!  She fell pregnant within a few months of moving in together and had to leave university early.  When her parents found out about that, they disowned her.  And now, still afraid to contact them, she lived the life that she had made for herself, one of misery and abuse.

It was dark in the room, but she could sense angry eyes staring at her, cutting into her like a sharp knife, drawing her life's essence out of her, weakening her until she felt she could take no more.

The table lamp came on.  Rose blinked for a few seconds allowing her eyes to become accustomed to the sudden yellowish glare of the bulb through the creamy dust covered lampshade.

"Where have you been?"  Her boyfriend yelled, his eyes cutting into her like scalpel trying to dissect information rather than flesh and bones.  Scrutinising her, trying to find answers in her facial expressions, her mannerisms. 

Rose knew that he didn't really care where she'd been or what she’d been up to.  By the bottles that lay around the room, empty of the contents that had so cleverly convinced him that his insecurities were real and had driven him into yet another wildly jealous rage, Rose knew that he was just trying to find some information that he could use to pick a fight, and then it would end up how it always ended up. 

It started with a good drinking session followed by his imagination running riot with pictures and information collected from pure fantasy.  More beer would follow to help contain these pictures, adding more kindling to the jealous rage that grew like a wildfire inside.  Finally the beer was replaced with whisky or some other spirit and this would convince him that everything he had been imagining was actually a true event, so this then led to the uncontrollable anger that was eventually dampened by a session of beatings and brutal sex.  Why couldn't he be normal and make-love like they used to do?  It seemed like they always had to fight first so that he could feel in control and powerful.

He seemed to enjoy hearing her cry and scream.  He liked to slap her and punch her.  Belittle her.  For some reason these things excited him.  He enjoyed seeing her in pain, enjoyed hearing her plead.  It never used to be like this.  He used to be so romantic; she used to love him so much.  But now, well, the romance wasn't there and neither was the love.  Rose hated him.  She hated him so much that if she had the strength Rose knew she would kill him.

When it first started the neighbours would call the police.  The police would come and then go after being told the situation was all right.  Now the neighbours didn’t bother anymore.  She was on her own.

"Where have you been?"  He yelled again, waking her from her thoughts.

"I...I g...got h..held up.  We...we had a very busy night.  I had a lot of cleaning up to do.  The office had an after work party and we had to wait for them to finish and then clean up the mess."  She stammered nervously, praying that he'd believe her and not cotton on to her plans.

"You're lying."  He shouted and jumped up from the armchair knocking the nearly empty bottle of Jack Daniels to the floor.  Rose jumped too and began frantically looking for someway to get past him to the bathroom so she could lock herself in and escape his torture.  "Tell me the truth you slut.  Where have you been?"

Rose could hear baby John crying in the bedroom, the bathroom was no longer an option, she headed for the bedroom door to make sure he was okay.  She’d only just made it to the door when a hand swung round, hitting her on the side of the face and knocking her to the ground.

Rose lay there dazed, her head spinning while face became hot with the stinging sensation that the hand had left. It took her a few minutes to realise what had happened but by then it was too late to do anything about it.  He was already on top of her, shoving her skirt up, tearing at her tights, pushing her knickers to one side and thrusting himself inside her, his anger transforming to pleasure as he did so. 

"Get off me!"  Rose screamed, summoning her strength to try and push him off and even though she knew it was useless, she knew she had to try.  "Leave me alone!"  Pushing hopelessly against his huge, bulky body, Rose’s strength started to fade.  "Just get off me and leave me alone!"

The more Rose said that she didn't want it, the more he was enjoying it, thrusting harder and harder.  It was becoming more painful with every thrust.  Sending shooting pains into her stomach and making her feel sick.  She could still hear the John crying in the bedroom, even above his grunting and her whimpering.

Rose tried to remember the good times, tried to switch off to what was happening.  Tried to remember how he used to take her to fancy restaurants, tell her how beautiful she was and buy her flowers to cheer her up.  He still bought her flowers but they were only to say sorry for what he'd done.  At first she believed that he was truly sorry convincing herself that he hadn’t meant to hurt her but now she took it for what it was, a ritual that he couldn’t live without.  He would never change.

Then with one terrifyingly violent thrust it was over and leaving her in a weakened, jelly-like heap on the floor he went into the bathroom, slamming the door behind him.

Rose got up as quickly as she could, ignoring the searing pain between her legs, trembling, she hurried into the bedroom.  Sobbing, she picked up John and holding him close to her, she whispered in his ear.

"You're the only good thing that's come out of this relationship.  After tomorrow there'll be no need to cry any more.  Don't worry, we're going somewhere nice, somewhere he can't hurt us anymore.  We'll be rid of him tomorrow."

Rose sat on the edge of the bed rocking back and forth, feeling at ease, hugging John like a child would hold its favourite bear after being woken by a nightmare.  Inhaling the babies relaxing scent of talcum powder and E45 cream, that always made her feel calm.  As if sensing that everything was going to be all right, John stopped crying and went back to sleep.

Rose put the sleeping child back into its cot, staring at him for a few minutes and then changing into her pajamas.  She climbed into bed, positioning herself as close to the edge as she could without falling out and pulling the covers round her neck, leaving her torn blood stained clothes on the floor to deal with tomorrow. 

She lay there sobbing for most of the night not daring to go to sleep.  Waiting for him to come in from the bathroom and climb into bed beside her.  Sometimes he would do this and it would all start again, like bell starts the next round of a boxing match, something would go off in his mind and the commentator would yell “Round two”. 

Sometimes he would come to bed and go straight into a heavy sleep and Rose would lay there listening to him snore. 

But on this occasions Rose’s boyfriend didn't come to bed.  She didn’t really know what happened, he probably sat in his armchair continuing to drink until he eventually fell asleep.  Of that Rose was thankful.

When Rose got up in the morning he'd already gone off to work.  She’d heard him come into the bedroom for his work clothes and had pretended to be asleep to avoid any further confrontations.  Looking at the clock, Rose could see that she had four hours to get packed and make her escape before he came back for lunch.  She didn’t own much so it wouldn't take very long but it didn’t stop her from feeling nervous.  What if he came home early and caught her packing?

After packing, Rose must have sat staring at the clock for an hour, wishing, willing the hands to move a bit quicker, before the car horn sounded to indicate that it was time to go.  Rose held her breath as she went to the window just to double check that it was for her.

On seeing the friendly red car, Rose sighed and grabbed all her bags taking them outside, coming back for the baby while the car was loaded up.   

Rose had met Karen through work and as they cleaned the office building together they had become very close.  Karen didn’t get on with her family either so she and Rose had a lot in common. 

Karen had become more concerned with each fresh bruise that appeared.  At first Rose had lied about how she’d got them and Karen, being a friend, pretended to believe her.  But eventually Karen got the truth out of Rose and it was Karen who had finally talked Rose into leaving and moving away with her, convincing her that she couldn’t stay there and bring up John with that monster around.  Between the two of them they could afford to live and bring up the child.

It had taken a while to get a place and a job sorted, all the mail going to Karen’s so that Rose could keep it all a secret, knowing too well what would happen if her boyfriend ever found out.  The last pieces of the puzzle were put together last night as Karen and Rose stayed late at their cleaning job to plan her escape.

Rose felt the tears make tracks down her cheeks as the sense of relief overwhelmed her.  She took one last look at the dismal place that had been her prison for the past two years, and then closed the door on her nightmare to start afresh with a new name in a new town.

When Rose’s boyfriend returned home everything seemed a little bit too quiet.  It was unusual to not hear John crying as he came to the door.  He unlocked the door and stepping in, he called, "Rosie, I'm home."

No reply.

"Come on Rosie, I'm sorry.  I've brought you your favorite flowers."

No reply.

He threw the flowers on the sofa and strode into the bedroom.

"Rosie!"

No one in the bedroom.

"Rosie!"

No one in the bathroom.

He ran back into the bedroom, John’s cot was missing.  How did he not notice that the first time he entered.  Looking in the wardrobe, he noticed her clothes were gone.

He could feel the anger welling up inside him and slammed the wardrobe door which immediately broke from its hinges in protest at the brutality.  "I'll get you back for this Rosie.  I'll get you back, you'll see."