Chapter 3. Paula's story
Paula hesitatingly began her story but finding he just listened and didn't
condemn her, the words began to flow out along with floods of tears. "My mother
died when I was twenty-three, my father had left us many years before, so many
that I can hardly remember him. I worked at the chicken factory earning a
pitiful wage but for a while I was able to keep paying the rent on my mother's
house. It was a struggle but I went without new clothes and food except there
was a plentiful supply of chicken pieces at the factory. When I was about thirty
I changed jobs to cleaning in a factory. It was night work and the pay was
better so I was even able to save a little but the firm went bust and I was on
the dole. I got another cleaning job but it was only part time and poorly paid.
It was during this time I met Bob Murdock. We seemed to hit it off and
eventually I moved in with him. All seemed fine for about four years but then
our relationship seemed to die. He went out by himself a lot or worked late. I
suspected he had another woman and I was right. One weekend she came to the
house with a car load of gear. Bob introduced her a Sandra and told me she was
taking my place. I could either leave or stay in the spare bedroom until I found
somewhere else. Needless to say, it came as a great shock. I had suspected
another woman but I didn't expect to be pushed aside in such a brutal way. My
part time job was insufficient to afford a room so I had to stay and at times
watch them kissing and fondling together. I looked for other work but I've no
qualifications and only limited skills and with other firms closing the number
of opportunities were few and always there were many applicants."
"One Thursday afternoon I was in the kitchen when Bob came in and we sat and had
a cuppa together. Sandra came in and was furious with him and accused him of
making up to me. Next day I had a job interview. I knew I wouldn't get it but I
had to go through the motions to keep the job centre happy. When I returned I
found my stuff in a couple of suitcases and a few plastic bags outside the door
with a note telling me to 'piss off'. The locks had been changed so I couldn't
get in the house. I couldn't carry the cases and bags so I just put them in the
garden shed and took the few items I could carry."
"I had no idea where to go or who to ask for help. I wandered into the park. It
was a fine day. I just sat on a bench an sobbed. No one came to help until an
old man, a tramp, came and sat beside me. 'You on the street too?' he asked. I
suppose so I replied. He gave me a swig from his bottle and sort of took me
under his wing. At night he showed me where to find shelter and where to
scrounge food. I met others like him. Sometimes I slept in squats, others under
bridges. I became more and more addicted to drink. It was the only way to
relieve some of my suffering. It blotted the horror of the situation from my
mind. Occasionally I would be picked up by the police and taken to a hostel,
more often they just moved me on. It wasn't too bad during the summer but now
with the weather becoming colder it gets more and more difficult to find a dry
place to sleep let alone a place that had some warmth. I heard one of the men
talking about going into the country and finding a barn to sleep in so I set off
but only got as far as the tunnel last night." She finished her story. Tears
rolled down her face.
John turned her head towards him, looked into her blue eyes and said, "Paula,
after hearing your story I can understand your mistrust for men but not all men
are the same. I know you do not trust me. Why would you? A stranger who took you
in for the night and then pasted your backside with a slipper. But you cannot go
through the rest of your life drinking yourself blotto just to obliviate the
need to trust. You have to trust someone, you especially have to trust yourself.
You've had a really bad experience but put it down to experience. Leave it
behind you and climb out of the cesspit you have gotten yourself into. Sorry
that sounds like a sermon. Come help me in the kitchen until lunch."
They worked together cleaning the kitchen. John really wouldn't have done it but
it seemed to lift Paula's spirits just to be working and the smell wafting from
the bread machine made her feel at hungry but at the same time she felt at home.
He noticed she eyed the sherry bottle a few times but didn't touch it. Working
helped distract Paula from the turmoil in her mind. Her head ached. She felt she
needed another shot of drink but every time she sat down she was reminded of the
consequences. She thought about staying. What would it be like? Would he really
cane her if she touched alcohol? Probably. Would he be kind to her? Would she be
able to stay? Would he throw her out when he'd had enough of her or found
another? Too many questions that no one could answer.
Lunch consisted of soup from a tin and slices from the freshly made loaf. John
gave Paula the lions share to give her something inside if she went on her way.
She hadn't given any indication of what she would do. It seemed she couldn't
make up her mind. Lunch over, he lowered her clothes from the ceiling rack .
They were dry. She dressed in front of him.
"Paula, I am going to walk to the village post office. I will be gone about half
an hour. It is still raining outside but if you want to leave then you are free
to do so. Take the rest of the loaf and there is a block of cheese in the
fridge. If you go then I wish you luck and hope you find someone, somewhere,
that will look after you and take care of you. If you are here when I return,
then I will take it that you have decided to stay and accept the conditions I
set." John pulled the girl to him and kissed her forehead. The kiss lasted
longer than a normal good-bye kiss. "Good luck be with you."
Paula was gone when he returned. So was the bread, cheese and the half bottle of
sherry. He was disappointed. She had only been with him a few hours and yet
something seemed to have been snuffed out of his life. He debated whether or not
to look for her but he couldn't do that. He had given his word to allow her to
leave. It was her choice. Still he worried over how she was doing.
