Part Twenty Three
All was quiet for nearly a month. Well, quiet in that there were no major ructions in the office or in anyone's private life. Mike and Karen were still happy, Tash and Kirstie were trying to be fairly discrete, and Nikki was beginning to settle at Victoria's and to gradually begin moving on from Tash. The group of players met up at least once a week, sometimes twice. Danny was giving Shaz some extra guitar lessons, teaching her how to use a capo. They'd played a total mixture of music, and it didn't look like they would stop any time soon. But when they'd discovered a few really good songs that required the addition of something vaguely resembling a piano, it was Barbara who came under the spotlight. Danny had asked at one of their weekly practices if anyone there could play the piano. Barbara had announced that she usually played the organ in church on a Sunday, so yes, she supposed she could. Danny had unearthed his ancient but reliable old electronic keyboard from the depths of his mum's garage, but then the question of space arose.
"I hate to say it," He said to everyone. "But we're going to have to find somewhere else to practice if we're going to do stuff with the keyboard as well." They were all left with the task of trying to find somewhere new. It was Crystal who first saw the possibility. It was the twenty seventh of November, one of the rainiest days so far that year. Karen could remember this. For ever afterwards, every little detail of that particular day would be engraved on her memory. They'd all been sitting in the large, spacious coffee lounge at lunchtime. It was far two wet outside for even Denny and Shaz to think of venturing to the local pub. Karen had been sitting, having her lunch with Mike, and the others had been spread out in little groups all round the room. As Crystal took a swig of the apple juice she usually brought from home, she suddenly looked over at Danny and gestured to him. When he looked up she said,
"What about here?" She waved her hand to encompass the huge amount of floor space in the centre of the room. Danny, his eyes widening, took the hint.
"Not a bad idea, Sherlock," He said to her with a smile.
"What's not a bad idea?" Asked Nikki sitting down next to Danny with her coffee.
"using this room to practice. We're not going to find anywhere better." Nikki looked a bit sceptical.
"Are you sure Meyer would let us?" She asked.
"Only one way to find out," Danny said standing up. "I'll ask Mike first, sound him out."
Karen remembered she was about to ask Mike something about what they were doing that weekend, when Danny came over.
"Mr. Barrett, can I ask you something?" Mike looked at Danny assessingly.
"Of course."
"Do you think Mr. Meyer would let us use this room to practice in? You see, now Barbara sometimes plays stuff on my old keyboard, we're kind of running out of space." Mike knitted his brows.
"I suppose anything's possible. You could always ask." Mike saw Anton appear in the doorway and gestured to him. "Anton, Danny here has something he'd like to ask you." Danny could happily have cursed Mike to hell and back again, but he took his boss in his stride. Meyer strolled over and looked quizzically at Danny.
"Mr. Meyer," Danny began, "You know that some of us have set up a little group of guitars and singers?"
"yes, I had heard," Meyer replied.
"Well, we were wondering if we could use this room to practice in, because we're running out of space at Shaz and Dennies." Anton's eyes swept round the spacious ground floor room of his office building.
"How many are there of you?"
"There's me, Shaz, Denny, Nikki, Victoria, Crystal and Barbara." Interesting combination of personalities, thought Anton.
"And how often would you want the use of this room?" He was successfully managing not to give Danny any indication of whether or not he would give them the go ahead.
"Say, a couple of evenings a week?" Anton again ran his eyes over the room and the people who Danny had listed.
"As long as it doesn't disturb anyone working here, including me, and as long as you lock up after you, I don't see why not." Danny's reaction was immediate.
"Wicked! Thanks." As Danny moved away to tell the others, Anton briefly smiled.
"I think you've just made his week," Said Mike. Moving away to make himself a coffee, Anton said over his shoulder,
"I just hope they don't make me regret it."
Karen had felt so contented with life that afternoon. She was in a job that she loved, she was seeing a man whom she was beginning to realise she loved, and even though she had to put up with the still jealous comments from Jim Fenner, this was simply an annoyance she could put up with. At five thirty, Mike came in to her office.
"You know I'm going to see my daughter this evening?" He said.
"Yes, I've got plenty of proofs to keep me quiet," Said Karen, rubbing her temples to try and get rid of the beginnings of a headache. Mike looked out of the window at the still pouring rain.
"You'll be careful driving home later, won't you?" She smiled.
"Of course I will. Just you make sure that daughter of yours doesn't pour you too many glasses of wine." Still sitting behind her desk, she pulled him down and he kissed her.
"Yvonne's going to an antiques auction where she's hoping to catch that dodgy dealer unawares, so you'll probably be the only one here."
"Suits me fine," Said Karen ruefully. "No distractions." She gave Mike one last hug and he left her to it. She worked for a couple of hours her headache getting slowly worse. Knowing that Anton also wasn't in the building, she lit a cigarette and stood by her wide open window, hoping that the freezing November wind would help to wake her up. But this wasn't to be. When she sat down at her desk, she leaned her head on her hand, scanning the story in front of her, but she was soon asleep from sheer exhaustion. As is often the case with an approaching migraine, Karen slept very deeply. Awaking two hours later, tired and stiff, she decided to call it a night. Switching off her computer, and collecting her things together, she opened her office door and moved to switch off the light. Before she could, a hand appeared out of nowhere and grabbed her wrist. There was something unmistakable about that touch, she'd have recognised it anywhere.
"What the hell are you doing here?" She said with an involuntary shudder.
"I thought it was time you and I had a little chat," He said, clearly slurring from the amount of whisky he'd consumed whilst waiting for her to decide to go home. He pushed his way in to her office and kicked the door shut.
"I have absolutely nothing to say to you," Said Karen, the faint edge of fear creeping it's way in to her soul.
"You might not have now," Slurred Fenner, "But I think you might have when I've finished with you."
"I think you should go home and we'll talk when you're sober," Karen said angrily.
"If I want to talk now, then that's what we're going to do," Fenner's voice getting harder every minute.
"We've done all the talking there is to do," Said Karen, trying to reason with him.
"Oh you're not going to talk," Said Fenner icily. "You're going to listen for a change." He made a lunge for her and managed to get one arm round her and his other hand over her mouth. Karen began to struggle, but she couldn't match his drink-induced strength. He moved her towards the desk, and scattering papers all over the floor, pushed her back on to it. All the time she struggled, but to no avail. He tore savagely at the buttons on her blouse, making them land in all four corners of the room. His hands were all over her now, using his own mouth to cover up her screams. As she roughly removed the barriers of her skirt and underwear, he growled out,
"Perhaps maybe now you'll start listening to me. You've had this coming for a long time." Knowing she couldn't possibly stop what was coming, Karen hit back at him with,
"Is this what you did to Dockley, and Hicks and god knows how many others?" His only response to this was to slap her, hard. Then she asked in desperation, "Why are you doing this to me?"
"Because," Fenner replied holding her down with one hand and unfastening his trousers with the other, "Everything we did was always on your terms. I think it's time I got what I wanted for a change."
"Please," She begged him. "If you stop this, I'll listen to you for as long as you like."
"It's too late for that, sweetheart," He growled, leaning over her. All she could do was plead with him, beg him not to go through with what she knew he was going to do to her. When he forced his way inside her, she wished she could die, there and then so as to stop this torment he was putting her through. when he finally moved away from her, still breathing hard, she rose from her prone position on her desk, pulled on her clothes as quickly as possible and not waiting to see what else he might do, ran out of her office and down the stairs. It was only when she reached the car park that she realised her car keys were still in her office, along with her handbag. Well, she would simply have to do without it because no way was she going back in there to have him do that again. She continued running, finding energy surely produced by Adrenalin She ran down the street, the tears running down her face, wondering just where she could go.
Yvonne had had a successful evening. She'd observed her dodgy antiques dealer bidding and purchasing at an auction of pretty cheap goods which certainly weren't antiques. Her next task would be to unobtrusively try and find out how much this guy would be selling them for. It was still raining when she began to drive home, but she was warm and safe inside her red Mercedes with the windscreen wipers doing their job. As she neared the street where the Post had it's office, she saw someone running down the street. As she got closer, she could see who it was. Her exclamation of "Shit!" was accompanied by the screeching of tyres as she drew up beside Karen. Yvonne was out of the car almost before the engine had stopped. She caught hold of Karen's arm.
"Jesus! What the hell happened to you?" Karen couldn't answer. Yvonne looked her over. her blouse was clearly torn and the rest of her clothes looked like they'd been put on in a hurry. Karen was shivering both from the cold and from shock. Yvonne opened the passenger door and gently helped Karen in to the car. She grabbed the car rug from the back-seat and wrapped it round Karen's shoulders. As she returned to the other side of the car, she caught sight of the purpling bruise on Karen's cheek. A cold fear ran over her. She got behind the wheel and turned on the engine. Warm air began coming out of the heater. Making sure her head and fog lights were on, she turned to Karen and took her ice cold hand.
"Karen, what the bloody hell happened?" Karen simply stared back, willing her own emotions not to let her give in. "The last time I saw you," Yvonne said, "You were planning to work late." This seemed to undo any resolve Karen had to keep her feelings in check.
"I did," She said, the tears coursing down her cheeks like the rain had all day. "Really stupid thing to do that was," She said, the irony of the situation taking over.
"Did this," Yvonne gestured at Karen's general state of disarray, "Happen whilst you were still at work?" Karen nodded. In blinding clarity Yvonne saw what must have happened.
"It was Fenner, wasn't it?" She said gently.
"Yeah," that word of final acceptance at what had happened seemed to make Karen slip deeper in to depression.
"What happened?" Yvonne asked again. Karen's tone was scathing to say the least.
"do I have to spell it out to you, Yvonne, he raped me." Then she took a deep breath. "I'm sorry, I shouldn't take this out on you." Yvonne squeezed her hand.
"It's okay," She said quietly. Then, "what do you want to do?"
"My car and house keys are still in my office. Please can I come home with you?"
"Of course," Said Yvonne, releasing the clutch and moving the car towards her house.
When they reached her house, Yvonne made them both strong cups of coffee. Karen, still wrapped in the car rug, seemed to gather some warmth from the mug in her hands. Karen appeared to have retreated in to a world filled only with her own darkest thoughts. Yvonne took the half empty mug from Karen's hands and placed it on the table. This seemed to bring Karen back to the world of the living.
"I'm sorry," She said, "I just can't stop reliving it." Then she realised just how cold she was. "Would you mind if I had a shower?" She asked. Yvonne, whose daughter was a police officer knew only too well that a shower could remove all evidence of a rape from a woman's body. Karen saw the contemplative look on Yvonne's face.
"Please don't look at me like that," She said. "There's no way I'm going to the police with this." Yvonne, not realising her expression had been so readable, said,
"do you not think it would be a good idea?" Yvonne tried to ask diplomatically. Karen shook her head decisively.
"No. Trust me, I want as few people as possible knowing about what happened in that office. I can't think of a worse place to be working at the moment. They'd all be fighting to cover the story." Yvonne thought this was a bit much but Karen was resolute. Yvonne showed her to the bathroom and handed her a pair of pyjamas and a dressing-gown. Whilst Karen was in the shower, Yvonne wondered just how someone as level-headed as Karen could turn in to a complete nervous wreck so quickly. Her anger began to boil when she thought of Fenner. She'd have his balls on a skewer if it was the last thing she did.
Karen stood and looked at herself in the full length mirror in Yvonne's bathroom. There were bruises on her arms, thighs and ribs. Her left eye was beginning to close from the brutal slap he'd given her. She stood under the shower and scrubbed every inch of her body. No amount of soap and hot water could rid her of the feeling of filth he'd left her with. She scrubbed parts of her skin raw, but still felt tainted, loathsome, as though an evil presence had penetrated her body and now refused to leave. The tears began to flow again when she realised that this is what he must have wanted. He had wanted her to feel cheap, used and dirty. When she returned to the lounge, she spied Yvonne's glass of Scotch. Helping herself to one, she sat down in one of Yvonne's deep armchairs.
"How do you feel?" Asked Yvonne, then feeling like she could have kicked herself. "I'm sorry," She said, "Stupid question. The truth is, I don't really know what to say."
"Well, that makes two of us," Said Karen. "It might sound strange, but I don't think it's really hit me yet. I guess I've got all that to come."
All was quiet for nearly a month. Well, quiet in that there were no major ructions in the office or in anyone's private life. Mike and Karen were still happy, Tash and Kirstie were trying to be fairly discrete, and Nikki was beginning to settle at Victoria's and to gradually begin moving on from Tash. The group of players met up at least once a week, sometimes twice. Danny was giving Shaz some extra guitar lessons, teaching her how to use a capo. They'd played a total mixture of music, and it didn't look like they would stop any time soon. But when they'd discovered a few really good songs that required the addition of something vaguely resembling a piano, it was Barbara who came under the spotlight. Danny had asked at one of their weekly practices if anyone there could play the piano. Barbara had announced that she usually played the organ in church on a Sunday, so yes, she supposed she could. Danny had unearthed his ancient but reliable old electronic keyboard from the depths of his mum's garage, but then the question of space arose.
"I hate to say it," He said to everyone. "But we're going to have to find somewhere else to practice if we're going to do stuff with the keyboard as well." They were all left with the task of trying to find somewhere new. It was Crystal who first saw the possibility. It was the twenty seventh of November, one of the rainiest days so far that year. Karen could remember this. For ever afterwards, every little detail of that particular day would be engraved on her memory. They'd all been sitting in the large, spacious coffee lounge at lunchtime. It was far two wet outside for even Denny and Shaz to think of venturing to the local pub. Karen had been sitting, having her lunch with Mike, and the others had been spread out in little groups all round the room. As Crystal took a swig of the apple juice she usually brought from home, she suddenly looked over at Danny and gestured to him. When he looked up she said,
"What about here?" She waved her hand to encompass the huge amount of floor space in the centre of the room. Danny, his eyes widening, took the hint.
"Not a bad idea, Sherlock," He said to her with a smile.
"What's not a bad idea?" Asked Nikki sitting down next to Danny with her coffee.
"using this room to practice. We're not going to find anywhere better." Nikki looked a bit sceptical.
"Are you sure Meyer would let us?" She asked.
"Only one way to find out," Danny said standing up. "I'll ask Mike first, sound him out."
Karen remembered she was about to ask Mike something about what they were doing that weekend, when Danny came over.
"Mr. Barrett, can I ask you something?" Mike looked at Danny assessingly.
"Of course."
"Do you think Mr. Meyer would let us use this room to practice in? You see, now Barbara sometimes plays stuff on my old keyboard, we're kind of running out of space." Mike knitted his brows.
"I suppose anything's possible. You could always ask." Mike saw Anton appear in the doorway and gestured to him. "Anton, Danny here has something he'd like to ask you." Danny could happily have cursed Mike to hell and back again, but he took his boss in his stride. Meyer strolled over and looked quizzically at Danny.
"Mr. Meyer," Danny began, "You know that some of us have set up a little group of guitars and singers?"
"yes, I had heard," Meyer replied.
"Well, we were wondering if we could use this room to practice in, because we're running out of space at Shaz and Dennies." Anton's eyes swept round the spacious ground floor room of his office building.
"How many are there of you?"
"There's me, Shaz, Denny, Nikki, Victoria, Crystal and Barbara." Interesting combination of personalities, thought Anton.
"And how often would you want the use of this room?" He was successfully managing not to give Danny any indication of whether or not he would give them the go ahead.
"Say, a couple of evenings a week?" Anton again ran his eyes over the room and the people who Danny had listed.
"As long as it doesn't disturb anyone working here, including me, and as long as you lock up after you, I don't see why not." Danny's reaction was immediate.
"Wicked! Thanks." As Danny moved away to tell the others, Anton briefly smiled.
"I think you've just made his week," Said Mike. Moving away to make himself a coffee, Anton said over his shoulder,
"I just hope they don't make me regret it."
Karen had felt so contented with life that afternoon. She was in a job that she loved, she was seeing a man whom she was beginning to realise she loved, and even though she had to put up with the still jealous comments from Jim Fenner, this was simply an annoyance she could put up with. At five thirty, Mike came in to her office.
"You know I'm going to see my daughter this evening?" He said.
"Yes, I've got plenty of proofs to keep me quiet," Said Karen, rubbing her temples to try and get rid of the beginnings of a headache. Mike looked out of the window at the still pouring rain.
"You'll be careful driving home later, won't you?" She smiled.
"Of course I will. Just you make sure that daughter of yours doesn't pour you too many glasses of wine." Still sitting behind her desk, she pulled him down and he kissed her.
"Yvonne's going to an antiques auction where she's hoping to catch that dodgy dealer unawares, so you'll probably be the only one here."
"Suits me fine," Said Karen ruefully. "No distractions." She gave Mike one last hug and he left her to it. She worked for a couple of hours her headache getting slowly worse. Knowing that Anton also wasn't in the building, she lit a cigarette and stood by her wide open window, hoping that the freezing November wind would help to wake her up. But this wasn't to be. When she sat down at her desk, she leaned her head on her hand, scanning the story in front of her, but she was soon asleep from sheer exhaustion. As is often the case with an approaching migraine, Karen slept very deeply. Awaking two hours later, tired and stiff, she decided to call it a night. Switching off her computer, and collecting her things together, she opened her office door and moved to switch off the light. Before she could, a hand appeared out of nowhere and grabbed her wrist. There was something unmistakable about that touch, she'd have recognised it anywhere.
"What the hell are you doing here?" She said with an involuntary shudder.
"I thought it was time you and I had a little chat," He said, clearly slurring from the amount of whisky he'd consumed whilst waiting for her to decide to go home. He pushed his way in to her office and kicked the door shut.
"I have absolutely nothing to say to you," Said Karen, the faint edge of fear creeping it's way in to her soul.
"You might not have now," Slurred Fenner, "But I think you might have when I've finished with you."
"I think you should go home and we'll talk when you're sober," Karen said angrily.
"If I want to talk now, then that's what we're going to do," Fenner's voice getting harder every minute.
"We've done all the talking there is to do," Said Karen, trying to reason with him.
"Oh you're not going to talk," Said Fenner icily. "You're going to listen for a change." He made a lunge for her and managed to get one arm round her and his other hand over her mouth. Karen began to struggle, but she couldn't match his drink-induced strength. He moved her towards the desk, and scattering papers all over the floor, pushed her back on to it. All the time she struggled, but to no avail. He tore savagely at the buttons on her blouse, making them land in all four corners of the room. His hands were all over her now, using his own mouth to cover up her screams. As she roughly removed the barriers of her skirt and underwear, he growled out,
"Perhaps maybe now you'll start listening to me. You've had this coming for a long time." Knowing she couldn't possibly stop what was coming, Karen hit back at him with,
"Is this what you did to Dockley, and Hicks and god knows how many others?" His only response to this was to slap her, hard. Then she asked in desperation, "Why are you doing this to me?"
"Because," Fenner replied holding her down with one hand and unfastening his trousers with the other, "Everything we did was always on your terms. I think it's time I got what I wanted for a change."
"Please," She begged him. "If you stop this, I'll listen to you for as long as you like."
"It's too late for that, sweetheart," He growled, leaning over her. All she could do was plead with him, beg him not to go through with what she knew he was going to do to her. When he forced his way inside her, she wished she could die, there and then so as to stop this torment he was putting her through. when he finally moved away from her, still breathing hard, she rose from her prone position on her desk, pulled on her clothes as quickly as possible and not waiting to see what else he might do, ran out of her office and down the stairs. It was only when she reached the car park that she realised her car keys were still in her office, along with her handbag. Well, she would simply have to do without it because no way was she going back in there to have him do that again. She continued running, finding energy surely produced by Adrenalin She ran down the street, the tears running down her face, wondering just where she could go.
Yvonne had had a successful evening. She'd observed her dodgy antiques dealer bidding and purchasing at an auction of pretty cheap goods which certainly weren't antiques. Her next task would be to unobtrusively try and find out how much this guy would be selling them for. It was still raining when she began to drive home, but she was warm and safe inside her red Mercedes with the windscreen wipers doing their job. As she neared the street where the Post had it's office, she saw someone running down the street. As she got closer, she could see who it was. Her exclamation of "Shit!" was accompanied by the screeching of tyres as she drew up beside Karen. Yvonne was out of the car almost before the engine had stopped. She caught hold of Karen's arm.
"Jesus! What the hell happened to you?" Karen couldn't answer. Yvonne looked her over. her blouse was clearly torn and the rest of her clothes looked like they'd been put on in a hurry. Karen was shivering both from the cold and from shock. Yvonne opened the passenger door and gently helped Karen in to the car. She grabbed the car rug from the back-seat and wrapped it round Karen's shoulders. As she returned to the other side of the car, she caught sight of the purpling bruise on Karen's cheek. A cold fear ran over her. She got behind the wheel and turned on the engine. Warm air began coming out of the heater. Making sure her head and fog lights were on, she turned to Karen and took her ice cold hand.
"Karen, what the bloody hell happened?" Karen simply stared back, willing her own emotions not to let her give in. "The last time I saw you," Yvonne said, "You were planning to work late." This seemed to undo any resolve Karen had to keep her feelings in check.
"I did," She said, the tears coursing down her cheeks like the rain had all day. "Really stupid thing to do that was," She said, the irony of the situation taking over.
"Did this," Yvonne gestured at Karen's general state of disarray, "Happen whilst you were still at work?" Karen nodded. In blinding clarity Yvonne saw what must have happened.
"It was Fenner, wasn't it?" She said gently.
"Yeah," that word of final acceptance at what had happened seemed to make Karen slip deeper in to depression.
"What happened?" Yvonne asked again. Karen's tone was scathing to say the least.
"do I have to spell it out to you, Yvonne, he raped me." Then she took a deep breath. "I'm sorry, I shouldn't take this out on you." Yvonne squeezed her hand.
"It's okay," She said quietly. Then, "what do you want to do?"
"My car and house keys are still in my office. Please can I come home with you?"
"Of course," Said Yvonne, releasing the clutch and moving the car towards her house.
When they reached her house, Yvonne made them both strong cups of coffee. Karen, still wrapped in the car rug, seemed to gather some warmth from the mug in her hands. Karen appeared to have retreated in to a world filled only with her own darkest thoughts. Yvonne took the half empty mug from Karen's hands and placed it on the table. This seemed to bring Karen back to the world of the living.
"I'm sorry," She said, "I just can't stop reliving it." Then she realised just how cold she was. "Would you mind if I had a shower?" She asked. Yvonne, whose daughter was a police officer knew only too well that a shower could remove all evidence of a rape from a woman's body. Karen saw the contemplative look on Yvonne's face.
"Please don't look at me like that," She said. "There's no way I'm going to the police with this." Yvonne, not realising her expression had been so readable, said,
"do you not think it would be a good idea?" Yvonne tried to ask diplomatically. Karen shook her head decisively.
"No. Trust me, I want as few people as possible knowing about what happened in that office. I can't think of a worse place to be working at the moment. They'd all be fighting to cover the story." Yvonne thought this was a bit much but Karen was resolute. Yvonne showed her to the bathroom and handed her a pair of pyjamas and a dressing-gown. Whilst Karen was in the shower, Yvonne wondered just how someone as level-headed as Karen could turn in to a complete nervous wreck so quickly. Her anger began to boil when she thought of Fenner. She'd have his balls on a skewer if it was the last thing she did.
Karen stood and looked at herself in the full length mirror in Yvonne's bathroom. There were bruises on her arms, thighs and ribs. Her left eye was beginning to close from the brutal slap he'd given her. She stood under the shower and scrubbed every inch of her body. No amount of soap and hot water could rid her of the feeling of filth he'd left her with. She scrubbed parts of her skin raw, but still felt tainted, loathsome, as though an evil presence had penetrated her body and now refused to leave. The tears began to flow again when she realised that this is what he must have wanted. He had wanted her to feel cheap, used and dirty. When she returned to the lounge, she spied Yvonne's glass of Scotch. Helping herself to one, she sat down in one of Yvonne's deep armchairs.
"How do you feel?" Asked Yvonne, then feeling like she could have kicked herself. "I'm sorry," She said, "Stupid question. The truth is, I don't really know what to say."
"Well, that makes two of us," Said Karen. "It might sound strange, but I don't think it's really hit me yet. I guess I've got all that to come."