Chapter 12 – The Breaking Point (1921)

A year passed. Summer, autumn and then winter, the Christmas season coming upon us quickly. The streets were decorated and there were carol singers and an air of festivity everywhere I went. It had always been one of my favourites times of year, but Charles' return had sucked all the joy out of my life and even Christmas failed to raise my spirits. Then it was New Year, and I was looking down the barrel of another year and wondering bleakly how I was to survive it.

I was frightened. Charles temper was on a hair trigger, and I lived every moment in dread of what would happen next time I roused his anger. He had always used physical violence to punish me, but before the war he had always been in control of his actions. The same could not be said anymore.

I tried to be an understanding wife. I could only imagine the horrors of what he would have seen and done during wartime, and I knew that easing back into a peacetime world would be difficult for him. He often woke with nightmares and didn't go back to sleep, instead smoking the rest of the night away as he sat up. He drank heavily too, going out with fellow soldiers he'd met and new friends he'd made at his new job and spending hours in hotels and bars. Charles had never held his liquor well.

I tried to be quiet and supportive and keep my faith that it would improve. But Charles kept drinking and the violence increased, and I began to feel desperate.

I wished fiercely that I had saved some money of my own when I had had the chance, but Charles had taken back all control of our finances and I had only the money he gave me for housekeeping. As he drank more this allowance became less, and there were weeks that it was a struggle to provide three meals for every day. With no money, and no one to turn to for help, I began to feel more alone and trapped than ever.

One night I lay awake in bed beside Charles, listening to him snoring. I didn't move for fear of waking him, even though several parts of my body throbbed in pain. Tears leaked silently from my eyes and slipped down my cheeks as I tried, once again, to see my way out of this terrible situation. I had tried and tried to make it better, but Charles was getting worse and I had begun to face the sickening truth that his violent rages might take my life one day.

I slept, and for the first time in years I dreamed of the doctor. The golden eyes and the honeyed voice that had offered such steady comfort for me during those long ago days in hospital floated through my dreams and I woke with tears streaking my cheeks, because he had been my ideal and my life had fallen so far short of that.

Charles side of the bed was already empty. This wasn't unusual, as with his erratic sleep patterns he often rose early when he couldn't sleep, but I was glad for a moment of privacy as I pushed away my memories of the kind doctor and dried my tears, steeling myself to face another day. But as I sat up and took a deep breath my stomach roiled, and nothing was more urgent than getting out of bed and to the outhouse immediately.

I made it out of the bedroom, but as I raced into the kitchen from the hall I tripped over the flagstone and fell hard on to my knees. Then the scent of stale tobacco that hung over the kitchen hit me and I could do nothing as my stomach heaved and I gagged and choked on the vomit.

"Esme, goddamn it all to hell!"

My senses whirled. Spots danced in front of my eyes as my stomach heaved again, and I cowered under Charles' barrage of furious shouts.

"I can't help it!" I coughed, staggering to my feet. "I'm sick…" And I pushed out blindly to get Charles out of my way.

I think I struck him. I was never sure though, because the next few moments were chaos as his hands wrapped around my neck and his fingers squeezed convulsively. I clawed frantically at his hands as they cut off my breath, trying desperately to prise his fingers loose as I fought for air. His enraged, screaming face only inches from mine, Charles shook me like a rag doll, and I could feel my eyes bulge with terror as my vision began to fade. I used all of my remaining strength to hit out at him, but it wasn't enough and a roaring, rushing noise filled my ears as blackness swirled around me and I passed out.

I was alone when I woke. My damp, sticky cheek was pressed against the linoleum floor and the smells of tobacco and vomit mingled sickeningly in my nostrils. Whimpering, I crawled across the kitchen floor and pushed through the door, gulping in the fresh air in the cobbled rear yard. After a moment I rose shakily to my feet and went across to the old pump by the stable, running the ice cold water over my hands and splashing it over my face before I rinsed my mouth.

My throat burned. Every breath felt like someone was dragging sandpaper across it, and every swallow was agony.

I sank back down onto the cold stones of the yard, folding my legs up to my chest and wrapping my arms around my knees. It was only then, as the sensitive flesh of my breasts protested at being crushed by my legs, that I put the pieces together and felt the whole world tremble.

I'm having a baby.

He could have killed me.

I shuddered as I accepted the truth of it. Charles could have killed me. The war had taken an already violent man and broken whatever it was he had in him that had restrained him, and now he was back with me and nothing I could do would stop him.

Perhaps it wasn't entirely his fault, after what had happened to him in the war, but in the end it didn't matter. I wasn't safe here, a baby wouldn't be safe here, and no matter what vows I had made to him or what everyone else would think of me for doing it, I had to escape. I would not accept that level of violence from him, and I would never let my child be subjected to it.

I forced myself to swallow the rising nausea despite the pain in my throat and then slipped inside. Ignoring the mess in the kitchen I went to my room and dressed, as quickly as I could manage it with fingers that trembled with fear. Around me the house was silent, and I trembled when I thought about Charles returning and finding me still here. There was no time for crying. I had to act quickly.

My reflection in the mirror clearly showed the marks of what Charles had done, my neck encircled by bruises, the imprint of his hands clear in the bruised, swollen flesh. Shuddering I found a silk scarf and arranged it around my throat so that no one would see, adding my hat with the matching band. I looked pretty. No one would ever know, as I walked quickly but elegantly through streets, that only an hour before I had been on the kitchen floor as my husband choked the life out of me.

I took my purse. I left my wedding ring and the elaborate pearl and diamond flower engagement ring in the centre of the kitchen table, where Charles would be sure to see them.

With no time to plan, I realised that my options were very limited. All I could think of was that I had to get away, get as far away as I could, before Charles realised I was gone and came to find me. The quickest way out of town was by train, but to do that I would need far more money than the few pathetic coins I had in my purse. There was only one person I could think of that I trusted enough to go to, and so I made my way through the streets to my friend Leila's house, approaching it from the alleyway at the rear of the property.

I didn't want her husband Robert to see me. He was a friend of Charles', and I didn't know if he would support what I was doing. In truth I was taking a chance that Leila would be able and willing to help me without telling him, at least at first, but I could think of no one else. Making sure that no one was at the windows overlooking the rear garden, I slipped through the back gate and hurried to the kitchen door.

Their housekeeper, Edith, was cooking breakfast and she jumped with a start when I knocked. "Oh Mrs Evenson!" she exclaimed. "You gave me a shock! What are you doing here so early?"

"I need to see Leila," I whispered, my voice an almost unrecognisable rasp from my damaged throat. "But I don't want Robert to know I'm here…it's very important Edith."

Edith hesitated, and then pushed the frypan off the heat and wiped her hands briskly on a dishcloth. "Of course Mrs Evenson. I'll go and call Mrs Gregory down immediately."

She disappeared, and a moment later Leila came hurrying into the kitchen. She was dressed but hadn't done her hair, and for a moment all I could see was the long chestnut waves down her back. I had had no idea it was so long.

"Esme!" Leila came over and took my hands, looking at me in obvious concern. "What's wrong?"

"I need your help," I whispered. I didn't know how to even begin telling her what had been happening in my marriage, so I hesitantly unwound the scarf I'd wrapped around my neck so she could see.

Leila took in the bruises and her face darkened. "Charles?" she asked tightly.

I nodded, tears brimming in my eyes. "He's always been…he gets angry. I've tried Leila, but I can't anymore…he choked me this morning until I passed out and I'm scared. I have to get away."

"Oh Esme, my darling!" Leila took my into her arms, and for a moment I let myself relax, knowing that my friend truly cared and would help me. "I wish I had known!"

I shook my head. "I couldn't tell you. I told my parents once, a long time ago, and they said it was just what happened and I had to be a good wife, and learn to manage him. Charles was so angry that I'd told anyone that I never dared to even think about it again."

Leila's eyes are blazing. "Oh Esme. It's absolutely not just something that you should have to endure! I've been working with Robert on some articles for the paper about the women's movement and voting rights and all kinds of things that…but of course that's not important right now. What's important is that we get you somewhere safe."

"I have a cousin in Wisconsin," I said, sniffling and wiping my eyes. "I think she would take me in until I can decide what I'm going to do. I can catch a train there, but I don't have the money for the fare." Mortified to be begging for money I cast my eyes down. "If you could lend it, I'll pay you back as soon as I can."

"Of course I will! Don't give it another thought," Leila said firmly. "I'm going to go upstairs and look in the study…"

"Don't tell Robert!" I interrupted fearfully. "He might tell Charles what I'm doing!"

Leila pursed her lips. "I can keep it secret for the time being," she said at last. "I'll take the money from his study and explain everything to him later. I'm sure he won't tell Charles once he knows what's been happening. You just wait here for the moment. Oh, and Edith? Could you please make Esme up a picnic basket? She's going on a trip. And I think we don't need to mention any of this to anyone else for the present, don't you agree?"

"Of course," Edith declared. "I'll get right on it. I know Mrs Evenson is particularly fond of my shortbread and I just happened to make a new batch up yesterday so they can go in the basket."

I sat down at the kitchen table and buried my face in my arms as I wept. I was overwhelmed with their kindness coming on the heels of Charles brutality, and so humiliated that I needed their help like this.

"Esme?" It was Leila, gently touching my shoulder. "I've got you some money. I think it will be enough for the train and then for a little while after that, if you're careful."

I hiccupped, wincing at the pain in my throat. "Thank you." I took the money that Leila pressed into my hand and slipped it in to my purse. "Truly Leila, I can't thank you enough. I don't know what I would do without you."

"I hope it's enough," Leila said simply. "I hope you can make things work for yourself. Will you let me know when you're settled? When you're safe?"

I nodded. "If I can."

Edith came over with a cardboard box tied with string. "Here you go dear, I've put in some cold chicken and bread and butter, as well as some apples and of course the shortbread! Good luck, and be careful."

I took a deep, shuddering breath and began carefully arranging my scarf to hide as much of the bruising as possible. "I should get going," I said anxiously. "I'm not sure what time the trains are, and I want to get well away as fast as possible."

"I think that would be best," Leila said soberly. She hugged me tightly and then kissed me on both cheeks. "Please be careful Esme. If he could do that, he may not take kindly to you leaving…I wish you luck."

I didn't tell her about the baby. I had a small hope that Charles would let me go, let me run and not bother following me, but if he knew I might be carrying the son he had always wanted he would follow me to the ends of the earth and never give up.

So with only the clothes on my back and the tiny little baby in my belly I left my husband and my home, and took the first train leaving Columbus.