Chalet Girls

Maybe Eva is right and I‘m not ready to be out doing this. But I can‘t hide from the world forever and why should I have to? Plus, it‘s not like staying in on my own is such a great option. Being alone is when I feel most afraid.

On my own is vulnerable, unprotected and unsafe.

I get enough attention to reassure me I‘m reasonably attractive to men who are into willowy redheads, or want to be. I‘m willing to trade anything I‘ve got for someone who might make me feel safe. When Thomas‘s hand snakes down to my hip I lean in closer, craving the contact. Part of me wishes he was interested in small talk. This is giving me far too much time to think.

I don‘t give a flying fuck if I‘m being anti-feminist. Alone is unsafe. I learnt that the hard way, growing up essentially alone. Mum was there physically, but she was never great at being the grown-up. Some days she was great. When she was spiraling up she‘d cook me a meal like a normal mum and maybe want to watch a DVD with me or go shopping. But even then there was a manic quality to her happiness that created a distance between us. I could never quite believe it. I never knew how long it would last. On other days she wouldn‘t get out of bed or eat, or even drink unless I made her. When she took her medication things improved but I still felt shut out. She‘d feel better and then she‘d stop taking her tablets because she didn‘t feel as if she needed them any more. Then she‘d get worse again.

It was a seemingly endless repeating pattern.

I thought everyone grew up feeling alone, that it was normal to be afraid all the time. Until I was paired up with Debbie for a geography project at school and she took me home to meet her family. Then I realised what Mum and I had wasn‘t anything approaching normal.

We did a good enough job of pretending, though. I remember a social worker coming to see me once and I lied through my teeth. I had to protect Mum and our version of family. We were very lucky. The scarce visits had coincided with Mum‘s good days. Although being ‚lucky‘ meant I had to deal with everything alone. There was no dad on the scene to protect me, to help me, to be there for me. Well, he was around for a bit when I was a baby, but I don’t remember him.

Thomas guides me upstairs and we step out onto the terrace, the cold night air assaulting us. I shiver. My fantasy of a man who’ll take care of me and defend me against the monsters under my bed seems really foolish. Am I doing the right thing?

‘Shall we go back to my place?’ He pulls me closer.

‘Sure, why not?’ I smile, my heart hammering. So Thomas probably isn’t going to be the guy who sticks around to help me slay monsters, but at least tonight I won’t be alone in bed and that might keep the nightmares away for a while.

On the short walk back to Thomas’s flat he doesn’t bother to get to know me, but that’s fine by me. I will my body to respond to him when he gropes me in his apartment block’s lift, but I only feel numb as he runs his hands over my breasts, kneading them like they’re dough, tweaking my nipples so they hurt. And not in a good way.

A shiver of fear runs down my spine. I ignore it. I‘ve got to get back to normal. I need this. I give him the benefit of the doubt and try to kiss him back with enthusiasm. I‘ve committed to this and I‘ll see it through. Like an experiment. As we enter his flat my fragile desire ebbs away and I‘m starting to think I‘ve chosen the wrong man to experiment with. The surroundings are cramped and bare. There are dirty dishes in the sink and the place needs a good vacuum. This is nothing like I imagined; it doesn‘t match Thomas‘s charming veneer. A veneer that‘s showing a good few cracks now he‘s confident of getting into my pants.

A detachment creeps over me, a disconnected sensation that leaves me stone cold. Is it too late to change my mind?

Before I can speak he pulls my dress up to my waist and is tugging my knickers down with one hand and undoing his flies with the other. Before I know it he‘s nudging between my legs without even bothering to warm me up.

‘Condom,’ I gasp and try to pull away, but his fingers are digging into my upper arms, gripping in a way I know will leave bruises.

The forceful grip triggers a first flicker of real panic.

‘Oh, for fuck‘s sake.’ His handsome face clouds with irritation.

It‘s the irritation that does it.

‘We need to use a condom,’ I repeat, resisting the urge to flinch, fuelled by anger that he‘s trying to make me feel unreasonable in asking for basic protection. I stare round at the grubby flat and realise he‘s making me feel grubby too. ‘Tell you what, let‘s not bother, if it‘s that much of a problem to you.’

His cold, blue eyes glint maliciously and the grip on my arm tightens.

Rage surges up in me so ferocious it practically chokes me. Never again.

Never again.

Even if I have to fight with tooth and nail and every trick in my arsenal, I‘m not going to let another man hurt me without fighting back. The rage gives me strength to wrench out of his grasp and pull my knickers back up.

He follows me down the hallway as I make my escape. I can feel him behind me, his breath on my neck.

I spin around and confront him.

‘Don‘t you dare.’ I hiss the words, one hand on my hip, the other pointing towards his chest. Rage still surges through me, spewing molten lava.

Giving me strength.

‘You‘re a frigid bitch and you know what else you are?’ His upper lip curls.

‘I really don‘t give a flying fuck what you think of me.’ I barely recognise my own voice. My legs are trembling and I can feel the sweat trickling down my back. ‘But take one step further and I‘ll call the police. I‘m sure you‘ve left bruises on me they’d be very interested in seeing.’

The red marks on my arms sting. For once I‘m glad I bruise easily.

That halts him in his tracks but doesn‘t stop the stream of filth coming out of his mouth. I slam his front door on the words, trying to block my ears as I make my way down the stairs as fast as my shaky legs allow.

Soon I‘m walking through the snow, wondering if tears can freeze on your face. It certainly feels cold enough. I stick to the darker side of the street, wanting to skulk in the shadows. Hoping to disappear into a giant black hole.

‘Stupid, stupid, stupid girl,’ I whisper. This wasn‘t part of the plan at all. Am I so desperate for physical affection I‘m prepared to put myself through this?

God, I don‘t think I even want to know the answer to that.

I force myself to take a deep breath and focus. So, tonight was crap. But I have to put it behind me. I‘ve coped with far worse than this. Men much crueler than Thomas have tried to crush me and didn‘t succeed. I won‘t let them.

I always promised myself if something like this ever happened again I‘d fight back, no matter what. My trembling fingers itch to ring Eva but she‘ll tell me to come back home. I can‘t do that, it‘s too awkward to be at Eva‘s and, anyway, I can‘t bear to be in London right now.

I pause and squeeze my eyes shut so tightly I see stars. I have to get my emotions under control before I get back to Chalet Repos. You‘d think sharing a bunk room with three other girls would mean I felt less alone but it seems to highlight my isolation. I feel more trapped in my head than ever, without someone who gets me and knows how to draw me out.

They all know each other; I‘m the only newbie. It doesn‘t help that I‘m so used to holding things back I struggle to connect with other people in a way that means anything. I‘m worried they think I‘m aloof and snobbish. I hope they don‘t. Maybe they could become friends in time if I really make an effort.

I brush tears away from my cold cheeks. I‘m fine. I‘m absolutely, totally fine and my plan is going to work. I‘ll bloody well make it work.

From: debbie.johnson@gmail.com

To: beth.chapman@yahoo.com

Subject: Having fun?

Hi Beth,

Long time no hear! Let me have all your news, please. Apart from the photos you posted online when you first arrived you’ve given me nothing.

I really miss you. Mum misses you too and so does Mark. Did I tell you he’s got a new girlfriend? Emma is very bubbly. There’s just this one really annoying thing about her – she has this weird laugh, a bit like an asthmatic seal. But I suppose she’s okay really.

Have you met any sexy ski instructors yet? Or future husband material?

I know Mum says what you’re trying to do is anti-feminist, but I get it. If anyone deserves a rich man who wants nothing more than to take care of his wife, it’s you. You so deserve some good luck.

Give me some decent gossip and I might tell you about the rubbish internet date I went on last Saturday.

Love, Debbie xxxx

Chapter 4 (#u0adee322-f40e-5317-acd4-4956ab310f30)