Resilience - Untold Secrets

Resilience - Untold Secrets

Sarah Allison


USD 21,99

Format: 13.5 x 21.5 cm
Number of Pages: 74
ISBN: 978-3-99064-210-8
Release Date: 16.04.2018
This is a story of a lasting childhood friendship between Susie and Lydia and the unending love of John for Susie after her recovery from an abusive marriage. This is a story that will warm the cockles of your heart from the beginning to the end.
Chapter One


“Oh, John it’s just as I imagined.” Nothing, absolutely nothing could spoil this day.
Don’t all young women want a fairy-tale ending and I was living it. How long had it been? Less than six months had passed since we met over cocktails at that little wine bar in Fleet. Me enjoying a girl’s night out with some of my best friends, all of us either single or divorced. If truth be told, these monthly get togethers had started to become stale akin to old perfume stagnating in the atomiser. I cannot say why this was so except; and I really couldn’t put my finger on it, a feeling of unease had descended upon us and it felt as though we were all trying too hard to “get a man”. I had gone to order another round; as there were five of us rounds were becoming increasingly expensive. Let’s face it, even as a personal assistant to the Director of Operations, my salary was nothing to write home about. It was while I was at the bar that I first noticed him, more for his appealing laugh than his looks. He was with a group of men, most of whom I had seen before. It is guaranteed that there will be familiar faces around if you frequent the same wine bar over the years. Even the name “La Cantina” was trite; the layout and colour scheme, green red and gold emblazoned on my memory. How I had ever thought it was trendy was beyond me.
I found the sound of his laughter captivating and wanted to stay a little longer. Unfortunately, the drinks were ready plus the girls were becoming impatient.
“Come on Susie, hurry up, the natives are getting restless.” Reluctantly, I picked up the tray and headed for our table. Lost in thought I bumped into someone, a bad habit of mine is not always looking where I am going.
“Sorry, it’s my fault” I apologized and must have looked shocked as I came toe to toe with the man whose laugh I enjoyed.
“No problem, it was my fault, I am clumsy especially after a few drinks; I’ve had a few, maybe more, I can’t really remember,” he blurted. His eyes were bright and dark, very dark and deep set. His jet-black lashes were long and luscious touching his eyebrows. Somehow it is criminal that men have longer fuller lashes than women.
“I’ll get the drinks replaced, hang on a minute,” he said. I was about to speak but he had already headed to the bar. I noticed I felt a little breathless following our brief exchange. He returned a few minutes later with a full tray.
“Thanks, accidents happen,” I said by way of keeping him close. With that he smiled and returned to his friends.
“Did you plan that Susie?” Lydia asked accusingly.
“No, I did not” I replied’ indignantly.
Soon my little upset was forgotten, and we continued to chatter about the dearth of eligible men! I know I should not have but I really could not help myself as I tried to catch sight of my “mystery man” and felt slightly miffed when we left without seeing him again.
For the next couple of weeks, I was distracted at work and at home, and I found myself wanting to revisit the wine bar and I suggested to my friends we go at the weekend. They were up for it, so I was hopeful of bumping into my mystery man again. Always an optimist and being ready for any eventuality I busied myself shaving my legs and epilating all areas of over growth.
Friday night arrived, and I headed to Lydia’s place for pre-going out drinks. My favourite cocktail is the “Grasshopper” terribly bad for one’s cholesterol levels as it involves crème de menthe, crème de cacao and double cream – delicious! I also enjoy a Tequila Sunrise and anything involving vodka! This sounds as though I am an alcoholic; not so, merely a cocktail aficionado. Lydia and I had known each other since our grammar school days and were conspirators in arms. There was nothing we did not get up to and we had an enviable tag name of the “devil twins”. I thought nothing of making life difficult for those girls we detested, especially the really brainy ones. As an older, pushing thirty, woman, I am not proud of how badly I behaved while at school and have lots of regrets. Enough of that. I wanted us to meet the others as soon as possible and harried Lydia to “get a move on”.
By nine we were in the wine bar at our favourite table, downing the first round of drinks. I was feeling a little deflated as there was no sign of my mystery man. After about an hour Lydia nudged me.
“Susie is that the man you’re looking for?” I followed her pointed finger, never a subtle one our Lydia, and my eyes rested on a group of men at the bar and yes, there he was!
I was blushing, a good indicator of sexual desire and I was busy hatching a scenario where I could introduce myself. At that moment he turned around, saw me looking and nodded, raising his glass. I smiled and raised mine.
Then, joy of joys he came over to the table, made a joke about “is it safe” to talk with me and sat down. Somewhat lacking in manners, I suggested we spoke away from the group as the others felt a little inhibited.
“So,” he said. “Do you want to go out on a date or something? I noticed that you were looking at me and I like how you look too. I’m right aren’t I?” Whoa! quite forward but that was okay as I had been out of the game for a while.
“Yes,” I said. “I really found your laughter appealing.” At this he tilted his head; his face was in soft focus, highlighting his cheekbones and those deliciously long lashes. “I would like to go out with you on a date,” I said with a tad more eagerness than anticipated.
“Okay then how about tomorrow night, I could pick you up at eight?”
“Sounds great to me,” I said, and we decided to see the latest Sci-Fi at the local multiplex. We agreed on where to meet and went back to our respective tables.
“Oooo Susie! do tell,” says Lydia.
“I have decided to meet him for a date tomorrow.”
“Great news and you can let us know how it went during break on Monday,” she said with glee.
I spent most of Saturday fantasizing about how the date would go so much so that the time to get ready was upon me in no time, and I had to rush getting dressed. I was outside the cinema by seven fifty-five p.m. but there was no sign of John. I checked my smartphone to see if I had missed any calls which I hadn’t. The film did not start until eight fifteen p.m. so I felt confident that he would turn up soon and if not, I would call him and then decide if I would see the film on my own or go home and have a take away. Just as I was about to call him he appeared running across the road looking flustered.
“So sorry Susie I fell asleep as I played football this morning. Forgive me?” he asked sheepishly.
“No problem, you’re here now and there is still time to catch the opening credits.”
John paid for the tickets and we found seats near the front as we both enjoyed the special FX particularly the whole-body experience which can only be appreciated as close to the screen as possible. The film was quite good, and we held hands throughout the show and talked animatedly about the plot as we were leaving. It was still quite early for a Saturday night and both of us were hungry. Following a discussion around what type of food we settled on Thai and headed for the nearest restaurant. Thankfully, as my hunger was growing, we found a table and enjoyed a tasty meal; engaging in conversation with topics ranging from politics to whale watching. He asked if he could walk me home, which was nice. I declined as my car was just around the corner. Instead, we spoke about how much we enjoyed each other’s company and arranged another date for mid-week. We had a hug as an end to our evening and a peck on the cheek before waving goodbye. I found this quite refreshing as my previous dates have usually ended with rough kisses and octopus hands!





Chapter Two


I enjoyed a lazy Sunday, catching up with laundry and recorded programs which included horror and thrillers plus the occasional chick flick as I had my period, so I could indulge in sobbing. Too soon, Monday arrived, and I went to work a little apprehensive about being given the third degree by my office colleagues. Fortunately, “flu” had decimated my work place, so I found myself very busy but not under a microscope. I was reluctant to share my date experience as I felt it had possibilities and sometimes dissecting she said he said can be damaging to my confidence.
Given how quiet it was in the office, my mind wandered to a far less happy time in my life when at aged twenty I made a decision that I was to regret. Without my friendship with Lydia I might have become just another statistic; a name on a long list of abused women. Lydia was the only one of my friends who I was totally upfront with. She had known me the longest and had witnessed my sorry decline during my first marriage. I find it hard to admit, even now, that I had been a victim of domestic violence. My first husband was what my mother used to call “a real charmer” and he was just that. He charmed me into believing he was honest, sincere and kind. We enjoyed a whirlwind romance where he quite literally whisked me off my feet.
Once married, he quickly turned into a chaotic, nasty and frightening bully, making demands that were unreasonable and enjoying belittling me at every opportunity. It took me a long time to realize how dangerous he was. Lydia saw it and remarked on how withdrawn I had become and questioned some of the bruising I tried hard to conceal. His abuse encompassed physical emotional and mental torment. It’s amazing the lengths I went to deny how serious the situation had become; but the shame I felt was overwhelming plus the fear of “what next” was paralyzing. For a long time, I’d nursed the thought that it was Karma; pay back for behaving badly at school – given how unkind I had been towards other girls. Domestic violence has you questioning everything, as uncertainty erodes all sense of self-worth and you believe the lies the other person tells you. I started to lose weight and became hyper-vigilant and at one point, felt as though I was losing my mind.
Lydia was instrumental in my escape from my frightening highly dangerous nightmare. Together, we planned my getaway. It was a time of great uncertainty and my divorce involved restraining orders and emergency police alarms. Lydia helped me move my belongings from my house whilst he was at work. It seems incongruous that he was able to hold down a good job and weave a life of normality to fool others. I now know that domestic violence is found across all areas of society and that victims can be assaulted upwards of fifty times before they report it. Lydia’s belief in me was motivational and with the help of the local women’s refuge, counselling and Lydia’s unwavering support, I survived and began to rebuild my life. Even my parents and siblings know nothing about the real reasons for my divorce. One of the benefits of living so far away from family is that keeping secrets is easier. I may tell them one day, but that day hasn’t arrived yet.
I count myself as fortunate to have become more resilient and able to value myself more, as a direct consequence of my experiences. It would have been so damaging to become mistrustful about life. I have not lost my natural optimism or my belief in humanity. This is not so for many other victims of this insidious crime. Lydia has been a constant in my recovery and has never been an “I told you so” friend or someone who felt the need to be reproachful. We have a tacit understanding that she will voice any concerns she has, and to date, she hasn’t voiced any regarding my tentative relationship with John. Having her as an active witness allows me enough room to still make mistakes; just not big ones that may cost me my sanity.





Chapter Three


As a modern woman I have my phone on me always; thus, feeding the illusion that I am indispensable. Yes, I am a slave to technology as are most of my peers. I felt justified in my obsession when I received a message from John.
“Hi Susie, I couldn’t wait until Wednesday night so just wanted to send a message.” Accompanying the message was an emoji sticker with stars in its eyes. I respond by sending the same emoji back.
By the time I got home I feel that I might be coming down with something. I have a sore throat and a thick head. I hope this goes by Wednesday, so I don’t have to cancel my date with John. I hunt through my cupboards for the twenty-four hour cold and flu medicine and down two with some warm milk and wrap myself up in my duvet and settle down to watch more repeats as I don’t want to concentrate too much. Next thing I know my alarm goes off and I struggle to open my eyes and my throat feels like broken glass, bugger! I had been hopeful but given my symptoms and how miserable I feel I will have to cancel my date and let my work know I won’t be coming in. Having texted John that I am ill and unable to keep our date, he sends a sad looking emoji and confirms he will call tomorrow to see how I am. With that, I head for bed and try hard not to feel sorry for myself.
True to his word John calls and asks if there is anything he can do. How nice to be asked, but I find it hard to come up with anything as I am feeling wretched. We tentatively arrange a night out for Saturday. He says that he can cook me food should I need it, as long as I don’t mind spaghetti bolognaise. I tell him that he is kind and I may take him up on it. He tells me he will call tomorrow to see how I am. I really enjoy living on my own as I like my own company, but I miss regular sex. I have often thought that if married men and women found it necessary to live apart and only came together for sex; there would be far fewer divorces!
I sleep the sleep of the dead and wake up the next morning feeling quite a bit better, until I try and get out of bed and then feeling wobbly I decide not to dress. I look forward to John’s text as my appetite is returning. I decide to go downstairs when there is a knock on the front door. I always feel so exposed in my pyjamas but cannot face going back upstairs, so I crack the door open to see who it is. I wish I had one of those fish eye things you can have fitted to front doors to check out if you want to open the door or not. I see John’s face smiling back at me.
“You look poorly,” he said kindly, and added. “I come bearing gifts can I come in?”
“If you don’t mind me looking less than my best,” I croak.
“Not in the least.” He takes a good look at me and says, “If this is looking better I would hate to have seen you ill,” and then he laughs.
“That’s not very chivalrous,” I say mockingly, adding if I felt well that was worthy of a slap, and end up coughing.
“See, when you are mean Susie – instant Karma!” We both laugh and John puts coffee on.
He returns and sits next to me and hands me my coffee. “You shouldn’t come too close I may be infectious,” I say.
“I don’t mind catching flu I could do with a few days off from work.”
“Now that you’ve raised work what do you do?”
“I am a National Trust ranger and a roving one at the moment, waiting for a fixed position.”
“That sounds interesting,” I say.
“Sometimes it can be a bit samey but on the whole, it’s not too demanding. Anyway, I’m here to keep you company if you’ll let me.” His face brightens when I agree. John stays and makes me more coffee and toast and asks if I need any shopping done. I tell him he is very thoughtful, and we spend the next few hours talking about this and that, and then he leaves, having arranged our next date.
The next day I feel well enough to head into work and several more colleagues are back too.
Lydia comes over with “Well”?
“Well what”? I counter.
“How did it go then?” She asks enquiringly. I tell her it was a good first date, we had lots in common and he did not try and grab me, plus we have arranged to meet again. In fact, he came around for coffee. He made it, and we chatted for a while.
“Wow, he sounds like a keeper,” Lydia says with a slight glint in her eye. Our catch-up session is interrupted by work-related stuff and rapidly approaching deadlines.
My boss is pleased to have me back and I spend the day catching up on appointments and apology letters. I am dog tired at the end of work time, and I am relieved that the drive home is short and without incident. I sink into my old sofa; so glad that I had put the heating on before I went to work. I only manage a couple of hours watching TV before I must go to bed.
I awake to a slightly muggy head but fewer aches and pains, so I decide to get out of bed sooner rather than later and head off to work. By coffee break I am questioning my decision to come to work, as I am feeling nauseous. However, a text from John cheers me up considerably. He says how much he enjoyed spending time with me, even though I was ill, and confirmed our date for Friday night.
I spend the next half hour imagining how the date might pan out. John has already shown how thoughtful he is and hasn’t been put off by seeing me without makeup. It’s always a balancing act with men. In nature male animals are all showy and bright with elaborate displays of “pick me”? In the human realm the “mating rituals” are reversed. Women wear makeup, don their glad rags and you must wait for the man to ask you to marry him. Sometimes I tire of all the paraphernalia associated with being part of the “dating circuit”. I put my low mood down to going back to work too soon. Ah well, tomorrow is another day and full of possibilities. Just a thought makes me smile as I have watched reruns of Game of Thrones recently. (The “night is dark and full of terrors”). I hope not and pull my duvet closer.
Friday finds me almost back to full fitness, so it was just a heavy cold and not flu. I am happy, as my thoughts turn to meeting John and what the night might bring. I have never been promiscuous by my own definition of the word. I have been known, on occasion to jump into bed after the first date, but never with more than one man. It was nice to daydream about possible sexual contact, whether it would be slow and tender or fast and passionate. My money is on slow and tender, given his thoughtfulness to date or I might be entirely wrong. I spent quite a few minutes throughout the day with pleasant scenarios running through my head. Funny how photocopying allows me the time to fantasize, that is until the damn thing refuses to work. What is the point in employing technology when it does not do the job it was designed for? Don’t let me get started; all the labour-saving devices that disappoint on a regular basis. Happy to leave annoying work-related issues, I head home, full of anticipation about my date with John.
Once through the front door, I run up the stairs to have a shower and beautify myself. I find myself humming “hey big spender” one of Shirley Bassey’s belters as I put on one of my favourite bodycon dresses, the one with pale blue and pastel pink flowers on a pale green background; just tight enough to show off my curves and not too tight to restrict my breathing. I love to accessorize and spend time agonizing over shoes and handbags. In the end I go for pale green. There is a theory that women spend money on shoes and handbags as it does not matter what shape or size you are; your shoe size rarely alters, and handbags are not subject to how big or small you are. I give my neck a quick spray of my favourite perfume and wait for the doorbell to ring. And ring it does, dead on eight. I try to curb my enthusiasm by walking downstairs slowly but gather speed and end up slipping on the mat. I open the door breathily to see John holding a lovely bouquet of windflowers and the best smile ever.
“Hey Susie, did you slip?” he says with a cheeky grin.
“Yes, but no harm done,” I reply while opening the door wide enough for John to come in. He kisses me on the cheek and passes me the bouquet which I accept graciously, as they are gorgeous and give him a hug.
“So where are we going tonight?” I ask eagerly.
“I thought we could go to that new pub off the main drag as they have an open mic night tonight.”
“Sounds great! I’ll just get my coat.” First, I put my flowers in some water so that they will last longer, grab my coat and we are out of the door. John says that he will drive which is fine by me. The journey takes less than fifteen minutes with John and I just chatting.
After parking the car, he comes around and opens my door with a “I hope this hostelry meets with madam’s approval?” he says bowing low.
“Absolutely, my good man,” I respond, barely able to keep a straight face. He takes my hand and it feels so natural as we walk laughing into the pub.
The pub is themed, aren’t they all these days? I used to like higgledy piggledy interiors as I find the more contrived ones a bit boring but not so in this case. The pub was quite atmospheric with varied lighting and well thought out seating – the décor, however, reminded me of a high-class brothel. often seen in westerns.
My ears pricked up when one of the barmen said, “Hey John! Are you singing tonight?” I stopped walking, faced John and looked at him quizzically.
“Is there another string to your bow John, that I am unaware of?”
“Well, Susie I play guitar and sing traditional Celtic music. You’re not mad, are you?” he asks looking at me with puppy dog eyes.
“No, I’m not. I feel quite excited about you being a musician,” giving him a kiss. With this, we made our way to the bar where he introduced me.
“This is Susie, my girlfriend.” I shook hands with Dave, the manager.
“Pleased to meet you Susie, don’t let this man get away with things.” He winks at me. By the time we had our drinks, the pub had filled up quite quickly; luckily Dave had saved a table for us.
“So, when are you down to play?” I ask, as soon as we were settled.
“I’m number three tonight so I have a bit of time before I am due to play.”
Dave introduced the first act; a couple of young men giving a rendition of “Hold back the river” by James Bay and doing an okay job. The rest of the audience liked them too, given the applause. The second performer was a young woman who played acoustic guitar (very well I might add) and she got a warm reception. It was then John’s turn and I must admit I felt quite nervous; with butterflies in my stomach as I had no idea how he would perform. I need not have worried as he was wonderful, his voice was like liquid honey and full of emotion; well suited to traditional Celtic music; plus, he played a mean guitar. He received shouts for more and I felt elated; happy for John and happy that my boyfriend had such talent. John obliged the audience and sang another one and sat down, grinning from ear to ear.

You might like this too :

Resilience - Untold Secrets

Richard Rose

Not Strictly Dancing

Other books by this author

Resilience - Untold Secrets

Sarah Allison

Second Chance - Beyond Berlin

Book rating:
*mandatory fields