Soul Protector by Amanda Leigh Cowley

together. But
whenever I caught her giving me sideways looks, even at that young
age, I couldn’t mistake the pity in her eyes.
    I knew Mum and Dad’s
relationship was wrong. Each time Dad would come crawling back with
flowers, chocolates and promises that it would never happen again,
and for awhile things would be okay. Mum’s bruises would fade and
she’d start to let her guard down again, daring to hope that things
would be different this time. But sure enough, sooner or later he
would fall back into his old ways, and the pattern would repeat
itself.

    I helped myself to some more
roast potatoes, sighing at the memories.
    Mum cleared her throat.
“Gracie, we have some news,” she announced, shooting a quick look
at Terry. “We hope you’ll be pleased.”
    I paused, holding the serving
spoon in mid-air.
    “Terry is going to move in here
with me at the end of the month.”
    I dropped the spoon and it
clattered into the dish.
    “Wow. That’s fast.”
    Mum and Terry both flinched at
my reaction.
    “But it’s great news,” I added
quickly, trying to improve on my statement. “I’m really happy for
you both.”
    I jumped up and hugged them
both. And this time I meant it. Mum deserved this.
     
    On one occasion, when I was
eight years old and Michelle was five, Dad beat Mum so badly, she
nearly died. She had nine broken bones, a punctured, collapsed
lung, and a serious concussion. Within seconds of Dad scarpering,
Michelle and I braved it out of our bedrooms to be met with Mum’s
lifeless, bloody body sprawled in the hall.
    I rang 999 and managed to
stutter my way through our address, before crouching down and
holding Mum’s hand until help arrived. Michelle sobbed silently by
my side, while the image in front of us burnt its way into our
memories.
    Within minutes our cul-de-sac
had been awash with the flashing blue lights of police and
paramedics. There was a frenzy of action as the crew lifted Mum
onto a stretcher and whisked her into the back of their vehicle,
assuring us they would take good care of her. Nancy had squeezed
Michelle and me tightly to her, as she gently manoeuvred us away
from the spectacle and into her house.
    It took Mum months to recover,
but when she did, she had changed. She was stronger. All that time
away from him had done her the world of good. It wasn’t just her
body that had healed, her self-esteem was back too. She wasn’t
going to be his punch bag anymore and so for the first time ever,
she co-operated with the police and pressed charges against
him.
    Dad went to jail and when he
came out there was a restraining order forbidding him to go
anywhere near us, or our house. Just to make sure we were
completely safe, we moved two hundred miles south to Croydon, only
telling a handful of trusted friends and family. I was sad to be
leaving Nancy, but I understood why we had to go.
    Mum thrived away from Dad, and
found her vocation counselling other victims of domestic abuse.
Even so, I guess she would never have felt totally free of him, but
just eight weeks after he was released from prison he got knocked
down whilst drunk and never recovered from his injuries.
     
    Terry popped into the kitchen,
and reappeared with a trifle. Mum arranged three dessert bowls in
front of the dish and handed him the serving spoon. As I watched
the two of them together, I smiled. Things were getting better all
the time for Mum.
     
     
    ~~~
     

CHAPTER 8
    .
    The Office
    .
    On the Friday, when I got home
from Elevate, I knew there was no time to waste. Dan had seen me at
my worst and now he was going to see me at my best.
    I got in the shower and set to
work. I exfoliated my skin to within an inch of its life. Then I
removed any fuzz that needing removing. I washed my hair and used
one of those sachets of deep conditioning treatments to try and
control the frizz my locks fought so hard to retain.
    After my shower I took the lid
off the expensive moisturiser that I’d been saving for a worthy
occasion,