it may sound strange, but I thought she might be jealous.’
‘You thought your mother might be jealous of your boyfriend? That’s not uncommon, you know.’
Red shrugged. ‘My mother confided in me, years ago, that the spark had gone out of her marriage to my father. She and I were always very close – we talked about these things. In the early days, Bryce seemed so perfect, so attentive, and she had told me how attentive my father had been to her when they were courting. I started to feel that maybe it was bringing those memories back for her.’
‘So you discounted your mother’s misgivings about Bryce?’
‘Possibly . . . I don’t know. I was truly besotted with him. I’d never met anyone like him who was so into me. I worshipped the ground he walked on. He was sometimes so kind, such fun to be with, and – God, this is embarrassing to say – but he was so incredibly sexy in bed. He pushed all my buttons – and found some I never knew I had. It wasn’t until after we had moved in together that I began to realize what a control freak he was. It seemed okay at first; he would take me shopping, and decide on my outfits – and pay for them. I was flattered, for a while. But then he started questioning me about every second of my day. Demanding to know where I had been. If I had been out with friends, he wanted to know what I had drunk, what I had eaten, who had paid.’
‘Right now, as you tell me all of that, what are you aware of?’
‘How stupid I feel that I lived with him for all that time.’
‘Notice, Red, that you simultaneously tell yourself that Bryce was a controlling, violent man because he himself was abused as a child, and also that you are stupid for having stayed with him. Both beliefs exonerate Bryce of responsibility and both place significant responsibility upon you.’
‘That’s because it was partly my fault.’
‘Do you know, I don’t think I’ve ever met a woman who was abused who didn’t believe, to some extent, that it was her fault. Do you think it could have been all of their faults?’
‘Of course not!’
‘What makes you different then?’
‘I knew things weren’t right even before he became violent. One morning when I got up to go to work, Bryce had taken all my shoes. He wouldn’t let me have any back until I had sworn my undying love for him.’
‘How did that make you feel?’
‘Well, at the time, although I was furious, I was flattered! I liked the idea someone loved me so much that he would do that. Call me naive. But it went downhill rapidly from there. The real turning point for me was – I didn’t know she had done this – but my mother had secretly hired a private detective to look into Bryce’s past. Bryce told me he was working as an Air Traffic Controller at Gatwick Airport. My mother gave me the detective’s report. Bryce had lied. He’d never worked in Air Traffic Control at all. He’d had a job, a couple of years earlier, on the ground staff at Gatwick, in the fire training area, and had been sacked after apparently endangering the life of another employee – and then punching his manager. He’d been deported from the US after getting in a fight with a previous girlfriend and doing a three-year jail term there for violent assault. He’d also said he used to be a pilot in the US. But he’s never had a pilot’s licence.’
The psychologist shot a discreet glance at her watch. ‘I’m aware of the time, Red. We have just a few minutes left and certainly not enough time to unpack all that you have just told me. Can we bracket it and put it on the agenda for our next session?’
‘ Sure.’
Dr Biddlestone spent the last couple of minutes of the session making sure Red felt sufficiently well grounded to cycle home, then she said, ‘I’ll see you on Monday, Red.’
‘8.30 a.m.?’
‘8.30 a.m.’
Bryce, who had listened to every word, transmitted from her bugged phone, made a note in his electronic diary to be sure to be
‘You thought your mother might be jealous of your boyfriend? That’s not uncommon, you know.’
Red shrugged. ‘My mother confided in me, years ago, that the spark had gone out of her marriage to my father. She and I were always very close – we talked about these things. In the early days, Bryce seemed so perfect, so attentive, and she had told me how attentive my father had been to her when they were courting. I started to feel that maybe it was bringing those memories back for her.’
‘So you discounted your mother’s misgivings about Bryce?’
‘Possibly . . . I don’t know. I was truly besotted with him. I’d never met anyone like him who was so into me. I worshipped the ground he walked on. He was sometimes so kind, such fun to be with, and – God, this is embarrassing to say – but he was so incredibly sexy in bed. He pushed all my buttons – and found some I never knew I had. It wasn’t until after we had moved in together that I began to realize what a control freak he was. It seemed okay at first; he would take me shopping, and decide on my outfits – and pay for them. I was flattered, for a while. But then he started questioning me about every second of my day. Demanding to know where I had been. If I had been out with friends, he wanted to know what I had drunk, what I had eaten, who had paid.’
‘Right now, as you tell me all of that, what are you aware of?’
‘How stupid I feel that I lived with him for all that time.’
‘Notice, Red, that you simultaneously tell yourself that Bryce was a controlling, violent man because he himself was abused as a child, and also that you are stupid for having stayed with him. Both beliefs exonerate Bryce of responsibility and both place significant responsibility upon you.’
‘That’s because it was partly my fault.’
‘Do you know, I don’t think I’ve ever met a woman who was abused who didn’t believe, to some extent, that it was her fault. Do you think it could have been all of their faults?’
‘Of course not!’
‘What makes you different then?’
‘I knew things weren’t right even before he became violent. One morning when I got up to go to work, Bryce had taken all my shoes. He wouldn’t let me have any back until I had sworn my undying love for him.’
‘How did that make you feel?’
‘Well, at the time, although I was furious, I was flattered! I liked the idea someone loved me so much that he would do that. Call me naive. But it went downhill rapidly from there. The real turning point for me was – I didn’t know she had done this – but my mother had secretly hired a private detective to look into Bryce’s past. Bryce told me he was working as an Air Traffic Controller at Gatwick Airport. My mother gave me the detective’s report. Bryce had lied. He’d never worked in Air Traffic Control at all. He’d had a job, a couple of years earlier, on the ground staff at Gatwick, in the fire training area, and had been sacked after apparently endangering the life of another employee – and then punching his manager. He’d been deported from the US after getting in a fight with a previous girlfriend and doing a three-year jail term there for violent assault. He’d also said he used to be a pilot in the US. But he’s never had a pilot’s licence.’
The psychologist shot a discreet glance at her watch. ‘I’m aware of the time, Red. We have just a few minutes left and certainly not enough time to unpack all that you have just told me. Can we bracket it and put it on the agenda for our next session?’
‘ Sure.’
Dr Biddlestone spent the last couple of minutes of the session making sure Red felt sufficiently well grounded to cycle home, then she said, ‘I’ll see you on Monday, Red.’
‘8.30 a.m.?’
‘8.30 a.m.’
Bryce, who had listened to every word, transmitted from her bugged phone, made a note in his electronic diary to be sure to be
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