Fear or Fancy&nbsp;When the room went dark she heard her name: ‘Patricia, Patricia, where are you?’ This simple question contains a myriad of possibilities, depending on the speaker’s pitch, tone and intention. For example, a mother calling her child at dinner time; or, a lover chasing his girlfriend in the woods during a playful game of, “catch me if you can”; or, a father when he sees the mess in the bathroom made by his teenage daughter. And then there is the low, slow, sinister sentence with a slight rising intonation at the end. If Patricia hadn’t been scared when the lights went out, she was now. Patricia was a person who was loved by all the people she came into contact with. That is to say with one exception: her ex. He had recently been released from prison after serving a, relatively short, sentence for money-laundering and domestic abuse. In both cases it was Patricia who had provided the evidence the police needed. He had sworn revenge and Patricia was scared that this was it. Tears slowly filled her eyes and every sinew in her body was on red alert. She tried to block out the various scenarios playing in front of her mind’s eye, but to no avail. They’d taken hold and were not planning on letting go. She thought back to a film her ex-husband had been watching, while she was doing the ironing in the same room. She saw how animated he became at the scenes of violence, especially those directed towards women. After one particularly gruesome scene, he’d turned to her and said in a playful tone of voice:‘This will happen to you if you ever leave me’.She felt like throwing the iron at him, but she managed to control herself, knowing that she would end up on the receiving end anyway. She had her telephone in her hand, but was scared to use it, fearing it would give away her hiding place. Her fight/flight response was also kicking in, which made her even more scared. She saw herself running through the dark room, screaming at the top of her voice, only to be rugby tackled by her burly ex-husband who would then take great delight in teaching her a lesson he thought she needed, and which she knew wouldn’t teach her anything. She quietly rummaged around in her purse until her fingers felt the canister of pepper spray. She had started taking this with her every time she left the house. She knew it was illegal, after all, she was a solicitor, but it was a precaution she felt she had to take. She listened carefully, but all she heard was the sound of the evening traffic. People heading home after a hard day’s graft into the bosoms of their families, to be succoured and looked after. Patricia felt a pang of jealousy emerging through her fear. Why had she never been capable of sustaining a loving relationship. Having that one special person being-1-there for her, and her alone. Her body being made love to, instead of being made to suffer at the longings and whims of someone physically stronger, but mentally weaker than herself. Today had started out well enough. An app from her new flame: a pumping heart as a way of saying thank you for the lovely meal they’d shared the previous evening. Patricia was still having doubts about this relationship. After all: “once bitten, twice shy”. In actual fact, he confused her. Being used to men – that is to say, a man – who was violent, self-obsessed and a beer-slugging, infantile misogynist to boot, and suddenly going out with a caring, wine-drinking intellectual who listened to her and was also interested in her. She had had an inkling that not all men were like her ex, but she was knocked off balance when seated opposite a man who was totally different in every aspect. The fact that he was ravenously good-looking in his three-piece suit, only served to bewilder her even more. ‘What was that noise?’ Somebody was tentatively searching for the light switch. Oh! Why hadn’t she come home earlier, instead of working till it was pitch black outside. She adored her new house, but she now experienced its drawbacks: an enclosed garden without any lighting and the street lampposts where on the other side of the street and the one opposite her front room had been vandalised two days ago. As soon as she had heard her name called, she had dived behind the settee. She was still there doing her utmost to control her breathing. Her fear had her now completely in its grasp. She could smell her own body odour and she was worried that it wouldn’t be long before she also lost control of her bladder. She gripped the canister of pepper spray even tighter and prayed a silent prayer. Just at that moment, she heard a thumping noise as if a pile of books had fallen onto the floor and a male voice cried out:‘Ouch! What the f…’Immediately, Patricia jumped up, switched on the table light next to the settee and pointed her pepper spray at the man lying prone near the door. He looked up at her and the both cried out simultaneously:‘What are you doing?’The man she’d had dinner with the evening before, was now lying prostrate on her floor with a pained expression in his eyes. Patricia shouted at him:‘Why are you in my house? Why did you switch the lights off? What do you want? I’m going to call the police’.He carefully pulled out his warrant card from his jacket pocket and said:‘The police are here love. I popped around to bring you a bunch of flowers and invite you for a drink. As I was parking my car there was a power cut in the street and you’d just gone into your house, but you’d forgotten to close the front door. I ran across the road and called out to you, but you didn’t answer. The lights came back on in the street, but your lights were still off so I went to check your fuse box and then came in and tried to find the light switch. I was worried something had happened to you. It -2-was then that I tripped over something on the floor. Please put that canister away. I’m here because I like you and not because I want to hurt you. Although I could arrest you for carrying an illegal weapon’. He said this with a twinkle in his eyes. Patricia’s adrenaline level was still sky high and she, hysterically, told him about why she had been so scared and all the horrible thoughts that she’d been having. He gingerly stood up and took her in his arms, saying:‘Don’t worry. I’ll make sure nothing happens to you. Anyway he can’t hurt you as we locked him up again this afternoon for attacking a policeman. He was only out on parole so now he’s going down for a long time. Patricia just hugged him tightly, taking in his manly deodorant, but also aware of her own sweaty smell. She looked up at him and said:‘I need to have shower, care to join me?’&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;-3-

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Fear or Fancy

Davemahoney

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Fear or Fancy

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David Mahoney

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