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Harold. Her make up was caked on so thickly but the bumps and bruises just glared through. Why does she tolerate it? Why doesn’t she admit it to us? I’ve even passed her leaflets about domestic violence, and then watched her discreetly throw them in the bin. It’s just become too hard to stand on the sidelines and see that happening to my child.”
    Harold pulled himself up wearily, placing a caring arm around her shoulders. “I know, darling, I know, and if that’s the case then you’ve done the right thing. In a way we only have ourselves to blame…”
    Beryl sat straight, abruptly, aghast. “Us! How dare you, Harold Waller! We brought both our children up to respect people and be respected in return, we…”
    “Ssshhh, you’re misunderstanding me. Darling, we have a wonderful marriage, we rarely argue, and even when we do it’s a sensible discussion rather than a shouting match. Sophie has grown up to believe that once married, forever married, you know, until death do us part. We’re her role models and that will have made her determined to make her marriage work.”
    Beryl sighed deeply, her body relaxing back into Harold’s warm shoulder. “I see your point.” The comment was resigned, but the emotion frustrated. “I just can’t bear to see her being treated so badly.” They both knew that no more words were needed, but she had to add the thoughts she’d had so many times over the years. “Darren’s always been rough around the edges, I mistrusted him from the very first time I met him.”
    Harold gently snuggled himself and his wife back down until their heads rested on the pillows once more, drawing the cool sheets over their shoulders, and he felt despair as the solemn tears rolled from her cheek to his chest. Holding her close he whispered gently. “Sophie’s an intelligent girl, darling. She’ll not take the mistreatment forever. One day she’ll come to her senses and leave Darren, but it’s up to her to choose the right time, not us.”
    Her voice was childishly innocent, despite her true age. “You really think she’ll leave him?”
    “One day, yes. Of that, I have no doubt.”
    Beryl closed her damp eyes, the warmth of his reassurance comforting her, and silently listened as his breaths grew deeper and further apart, eventually lulling her to sleep alongside him.
     

Chapter 3
Lucky for Some?
     
    After doing Beryl’s tarot reading I’d had a good chuckle to myself, certain that meddling with her life in such a way was going to cause her distress. So, when I saw her the following week I was stunned to find that I’d inadvertently helped her, and I silently chastised myself, determined to find out more about the family so that my attempts at destroying Harry and Beryl’s lives would work.
    It was an easy task, we didn’t even get as far as a ‘tarot reading’ or ‘psychic consultation’, because as soon as she sat at the table it was clear that this was a lady who needed to talk. Well, I wasn’t about to stop her getting things off her chest, was I! So I put the question to her, and she nodded her head gratefully. Rubbing my hands together with my secret glee, I leant forward and gently told her to go ahead.
    She told me about Sophie, how her husband Darren had been increasingly violent, how it was affecting her work as a solicitor, how much it was upsetting her and Harry, and how useless Sophie’s devoted brother felt, knowing his sister was being beaten and not being able to do anything to stop it. Now I knew why she had so readily accepted my advice the previous week: Darren was a bad sort. And for the next part in the saga, it seemed that they weren’t the only people who had an intense dislike for the man. She told me that her son had received a call from an incredulous Sophie the very next day, explaining the unbelievable event that had happened at her cottage in the early hours the next day.
    As Beryl explained, I could picture the scene in my head, her account