ME AND JACK - A short story by Aggers
Posted: 10 Jun 2014, 12:16I think Jack fell in love with me the first time he set eyes on me. Perhaps it was the colour of my hair or my eyes that attracted him – there certainly was plenty of eye contact. To me, without a doubt, he was the most wonderful man I had ever met. It was as if we both knew that we were made for each other. From that day onwards we were inseparable – or so it seemed.
We started living together immediately. Jack had lived alone until I came along and he seemed delighted to have someone to talk to. We spent many of the long winter evenings in front of a lovely blazing fire, listening to the radio, watching the telly or just gazing into the glowing embers. It was sheer heaven for the two of us to be together in such idyllic surroundings. Sometimes, if it became too hot for us to sit directly in front of the fire, we would nestle close together on the settee.
Jack obviously wanted me to be happy living with him and took care to purchase the sort of foods I liked when we went shopping at the supermarket, which we did once a week. He liked to buy little surprises for me and would get me to wait outside a shop while he bought them, so that I wouldn’t see what they were. It must have given him great pleasure to see my look of appreciation when he placed in front of me the meal that he had prepared with such loving care.
Our favourite activity was walking in the country. We would walk for miles together, only stopping to chat to some of his friends we would occasionally meet on the way. I could see that Jack was proud of me, for he would swell with pride when people commented on my good looks.
For me, there was only one small thing that gave me cause for concern. Jack was very demonstrative in showing his affection and would caress me for hours on end. He had such wonderful hands and knew just how to use them to give me the greatest pleasure. I just prayed that he would never stop. Yet, in spite of his obvious love for me he could not bring himself to let me share his bed with him. He insisted that I slept alone in my own bed. It didn’t make sense to me.
One day disaster struck and my wonderful world was turned upside down. I accidentally knocked an expensive-looking vase off the hall table and it smashed into little pieces. Jack was extremely angry and, to my great amazement resorted to physical violence and hit me – quite hard and several times. I was mentally stunned. I had never imagined that Jack could treat his loved one in this manner. My bubble had well and truly burst. I felt awful.
That evening we went for a walk through the fields. Jack sat on his favourite stile, as he often did, while I wandered on examining the wild flowers in the hedgerow. When I reached the end of the field I looked back. He was still there, puffing away at his pipe. ‘Has he turned into a psychopath and will he beat me again tonight?’ I thought. I was still smarting – physically and psychologically. Had the time had come for us to part?
I walked into the next field, where I was hidden from his view and started to run – and kept running until I came to a small wood. He would never find me among all these trees. I stood perfectly still and listened. I heard him shouting my name but I kept quiet and eventually he stopped calling and all was still, except for the evening songs of the birds. Soon darkness fell and I felt decidedly cold and hungry but I was determined not to go back. Finally I lay down under an big oak tree and fell asleep.
Morning came and I wandered out of the other side of the wood and along a country lane, feeling hungry and sorry for myself. After a while I saw a little cottage with smoke coming from the chimney. Perhaps someone there would take pity on me. It was worth a try.
Before I had reached the front door it opened and a kind looking old gentleman addressed me.
‘Hello, young lady. You look as though you’ve been out all night! Come inside into the warm.’
I hesitated. He certainly looked harmless enough but you never know these days – who would have thought that Jack would have beaten me? Then I felt the warm air coming through the door, laced with the glorious smell of food and I didn’t need asking twice. I entered his cosy, warm living room and made for the fire. The place was not as comfortable as Jack’s was but, as they say, beggars can’t be choosers. The kind old man rustled up some breakfast, which I demolished in record time. Then I made myself comfortable and caught up on my beauty sleep.
When I awoke he said he would give me a ride in his car but, to my surprise, took me to a police station. I was even more surprised and alarmed when they locked me up in a cell like a common criminal. I started to cry. Perhaps I should not have left Jack after all. Then a young sergeant entered.
‘Come along, young Miss, let me take you back to where you belong.’
I tried resisting but to no avail. He was a lot bigger than I was. I was unceremoniously bundled into a police van and in a few minutes found myself back at Jack’s house. The sergeant escorted me to the front door. When Jack saw me he was overcome with emotion and made quite a fuss of me. I must confess that, against my better judgement, I responded in like fashion. It was as though all was forgiven on both sides.
Jack gave the policeman a cup of tea and thanked him for bringing me safely back home.
‘That’s all right, Sir, it’s all part of the service you know! It was a good job you had put your postcode on her collar – that saved us a lot of time. By the way, I suggest that the next time you take the young lady out you keep her on a lead.’
He did, too!
That night Jack didn’t beat me but gave me my favourite flavour of Pedigree Chum.
We started living together immediately. Jack had lived alone until I came along and he seemed delighted to have someone to talk to. We spent many of the long winter evenings in front of a lovely blazing fire, listening to the radio, watching the telly or just gazing into the glowing embers. It was sheer heaven for the two of us to be together in such idyllic surroundings. Sometimes, if it became too hot for us to sit directly in front of the fire, we would nestle close together on the settee.
Jack obviously wanted me to be happy living with him and took care to purchase the sort of foods I liked when we went shopping at the supermarket, which we did once a week. He liked to buy little surprises for me and would get me to wait outside a shop while he bought them, so that I wouldn’t see what they were. It must have given him great pleasure to see my look of appreciation when he placed in front of me the meal that he had prepared with such loving care.
Our favourite activity was walking in the country. We would walk for miles together, only stopping to chat to some of his friends we would occasionally meet on the way. I could see that Jack was proud of me, for he would swell with pride when people commented on my good looks.
For me, there was only one small thing that gave me cause for concern. Jack was very demonstrative in showing his affection and would caress me for hours on end. He had such wonderful hands and knew just how to use them to give me the greatest pleasure. I just prayed that he would never stop. Yet, in spite of his obvious love for me he could not bring himself to let me share his bed with him. He insisted that I slept alone in my own bed. It didn’t make sense to me.
One day disaster struck and my wonderful world was turned upside down. I accidentally knocked an expensive-looking vase off the hall table and it smashed into little pieces. Jack was extremely angry and, to my great amazement resorted to physical violence and hit me – quite hard and several times. I was mentally stunned. I had never imagined that Jack could treat his loved one in this manner. My bubble had well and truly burst. I felt awful.
That evening we went for a walk through the fields. Jack sat on his favourite stile, as he often did, while I wandered on examining the wild flowers in the hedgerow. When I reached the end of the field I looked back. He was still there, puffing away at his pipe. ‘Has he turned into a psychopath and will he beat me again tonight?’ I thought. I was still smarting – physically and psychologically. Had the time had come for us to part?
I walked into the next field, where I was hidden from his view and started to run – and kept running until I came to a small wood. He would never find me among all these trees. I stood perfectly still and listened. I heard him shouting my name but I kept quiet and eventually he stopped calling and all was still, except for the evening songs of the birds. Soon darkness fell and I felt decidedly cold and hungry but I was determined not to go back. Finally I lay down under an big oak tree and fell asleep.
Morning came and I wandered out of the other side of the wood and along a country lane, feeling hungry and sorry for myself. After a while I saw a little cottage with smoke coming from the chimney. Perhaps someone there would take pity on me. It was worth a try.
Before I had reached the front door it opened and a kind looking old gentleman addressed me.
‘Hello, young lady. You look as though you’ve been out all night! Come inside into the warm.’
I hesitated. He certainly looked harmless enough but you never know these days – who would have thought that Jack would have beaten me? Then I felt the warm air coming through the door, laced with the glorious smell of food and I didn’t need asking twice. I entered his cosy, warm living room and made for the fire. The place was not as comfortable as Jack’s was but, as they say, beggars can’t be choosers. The kind old man rustled up some breakfast, which I demolished in record time. Then I made myself comfortable and caught up on my beauty sleep.
When I awoke he said he would give me a ride in his car but, to my surprise, took me to a police station. I was even more surprised and alarmed when they locked me up in a cell like a common criminal. I started to cry. Perhaps I should not have left Jack after all. Then a young sergeant entered.
‘Come along, young Miss, let me take you back to where you belong.’
I tried resisting but to no avail. He was a lot bigger than I was. I was unceremoniously bundled into a police van and in a few minutes found myself back at Jack’s house. The sergeant escorted me to the front door. When Jack saw me he was overcome with emotion and made quite a fuss of me. I must confess that, against my better judgement, I responded in like fashion. It was as though all was forgiven on both sides.
Jack gave the policeman a cup of tea and thanked him for bringing me safely back home.
‘That’s all right, Sir, it’s all part of the service you know! It was a good job you had put your postcode on her collar – that saved us a lot of time. By the way, I suggest that the next time you take the young lady out you keep her on a lead.’
He did, too!
That night Jack didn’t beat me but gave me my favourite flavour of Pedigree Chum.
