ABOUT CONTROL FREAK
There is no doubt that, from day one, ‘Control Freak’ was going to be a work of fiction. Why? In my experience most people are not interested in, or find it laborious, reading what might be called a ‘text book’ or ‘technical book’. In this case, that would be a book that dwells in the main part on the law, and/or facts. Whereas most people love a good story. And I hope that they, most people, will find ‘Control Freak’ both interesting and enjoyable to read, while at the same time learning about, and becoming familiar with what goes on in an abusive and controlling relationship (if they haven’t had their own experience). The book does not contain any, or many, acts of graphic violence, and this is on purpose. Because not all abusers rely on violence alone, to exert their control over their partner.
The story revolves around Josephine, a young woman who grew up in County Donegal in the North West of Ireland, in a small community, who leaves home and moves to a large town, in the hope of escaping, what she considers to be a boring existence, and finding a job, some excitement, and possibly, love. She does, in the form of John, who is a little older, but good looking, charming, witty and romantic. As often happens, she becomes besotted, infatuated, and thinks she is in love. But is he in love with her? Turns out he is, and proposes. She accepts. They are married. That’s when things begin to change, when John begins to change, as early as the first morning of the honeymoon.
The book, purposely, relies heavily on dialogue to tell the story, partly because I believe all good stories begin, and are passed on, by word of mouth, and partly because I believe it makes the story easy to read, as well as giving some insight into the thoughts and feelings of the characters. I hope that I have produced something that is ‘a good read’. Judge for yourself.
Thanks to my son Charlie McGlynn, Writer & Artists, for the excellent cover art for 'Control Freak'.
The story revolves around Josephine, a young woman who grew up in County Donegal in the North West of Ireland, in a small community, who leaves home and moves to a large town, in the hope of escaping, what she considers to be a boring existence, and finding a job, some excitement, and possibly, love. She does, in the form of John, who is a little older, but good looking, charming, witty and romantic. As often happens, she becomes besotted, infatuated, and thinks she is in love. But is he in love with her? Turns out he is, and proposes. She accepts. They are married. That’s when things begin to change, when John begins to change, as early as the first morning of the honeymoon.
The book, purposely, relies heavily on dialogue to tell the story, partly because I believe all good stories begin, and are passed on, by word of mouth, and partly because I believe it makes the story easy to read, as well as giving some insight into the thoughts and feelings of the characters. I hope that I have produced something that is ‘a good read’. Judge for yourself.
Thanks to my son Charlie McGlynn, Writer & Artists, for the excellent cover art for 'Control Freak'.
Chapter 1: MORNING HAS BROKEN
Josephine realised, before she opened her eyes, that she was somewhere else, somewhere different, somewhere wonderful. She could sense the sunlight, feel the warmth enveloping her, even though she lay naked, uncovered. The bed was comfortable, more comfortable and softer than any she’d ever slept in. A long way from her own humble divan at home. The sound of someone breathing to her right, breathing slowly, softly. It was soothing, not frightening. Of course, she realised, she’s in the Caribbean. On her honeymoon. “Heaven, I’m in heaven”; the words just came to her. Typical. She was always singing to herself, in her own head or sometimes so that others could hear. Then she would have to say, “Sorry, I was just singing again. I can’t help myself.”
But back to the present. Was she dreaming? She closed her eyes tightly, so tightly it almost hurt, before opening them wide. The ceiling was white, pure white, the room bathed in sunlight, the brightest sunlight she had ever experienced, or so she thought. It made it hard to focus. Maybe it was a dream. She pinched herself in the ass.It hurt. She had grown her fingernails for the wedding. No. She wasn’t dreaming. She turned her head to her left. A blurred face came slowly into focus. Her husband. That thought filled her with delight. He looked so peaceful, child-like but handsome at the same time. She thought how lucky she was. She was so excited, it woke up every nerve in her body. He was facing her, his left hand gently clutching her left breast, his right hand under his head.
She wanted to get out of bed, but didn’t want to disturb him. She took his hand gently by the wrist and carefully sitting up, so as not to disturb him, put it on her warm pillow. He stirred, but didn’t open his eyes. She waited. He was still asleep. She crept out of the bed and went to the bathroom. She wanted to shower, freshen up. She closed the door quietly behind her. When she had finished, she wrapped a towel around her and went back to the bedroom.
He was awake, leaning on one elbow and looking straight at her. She felt his stare. A lustful look. She momentarily undid her towel while biting her lip. A quick flash of flesh.
His eyes widened.
“Get into bed,” he said, pulling back the duvet.
Ooh! He was being so masterful, so demanding. She liked it. She dropped her towel and did as he asked. What happened next is private. It’s also very rude.
When it was over and he was satisfied, and to tell the truth she was, too, she leapt out of bed and grabbed some clothes, intending to get dressed.
“What are you doing?” That took her by surprise.
“I’m putting on some clothes. I can’t go out naked, can I?” she said, laughing, as she approached the bed, resting both hands on it and looking into his eyes.
“Get back into bed. ”His voice was even but stern. There was no smile.
“You’re such a stud. But we can do that again later. A bit of afternoon delight. Let’s go out now. I so want to see this wonderful place you have taken me, breathe in the atmosphere.”
“Get back into bed,” he repeated in the same voice. Why was he not getting it, she wondered? Was he just playing with her? Okay, let’s play.
“No!” she said jokingly. “You’ll have to make me.”
As he began to move, she jumped back playfully, as if to run away. He was quick, too quick. He had literally pounced out of the bed, grabbed hold of her by the arms, twirled her around and was staring straight into her face. His expression was unfamiliar.
Before she knew it, he had released her by throwing her backwards onto the bed so hard that it took her breath away, but not in the way Berlin sang about it. He was standing there, staring at her naked body. She felt him get on top of her. It hurt, but she hadn’t enough breath to tell him to stop. She wasn’t sure what he was going to do. Was this his idea of foreplay? He hadn’t done anything like this before. He had always been gentle with her.
He was straddling her while holding her arms by the wrists above her head. She was looking up at him, looking into his eyes, looking for some inkling of what he was thinking, what he expected of her. Was he being dominant? Was he into S&M? Did he save it as a surprise? She decided to play him at his own game.She closed her eyes expectantly and gave him her sexiest pout. She felt his hot breath on her face.His forehead was touching hers.They were nose to nose, like Eskimos. Their lips didn’t touch. His head was pressing hard against hers, so much so it began to give her a headache. She was about to say something, when he beat her to it.
“Josephine,” he began. She could feel his voice more than hear it. “I want to sleep some more. I get grumpy when I don’t have my sleep. You’re my wife now. I expect you to do what I want to do, what I want you to do. Love, honour and obey. Do as I say, when I say. Understand? If you want this to be a happy marriage.”
“What the fuck?” she thought, but didn’t vocalise.
“I’m going to lie down now. You’re going to lie still, and sleep, if you want to. Just as long as you don’t disturb me.”
Then he let go, rolled off her and lay down beside her. They were both still naked, uncovered.
The tears began to roll down both cheeks. She couldn’t stop them. “What,” she wondered, “had just happened?”
She didn’t dare look at him. She kept her eyes on the ceiling. She felt herself begin to shiver. This was strange. Feeling chilly in such a hot climate. The room hadn’t become colder, but something had, someone had. But why?
This is her honeymoon, their honeymoon. It’s supposed to be the happiest time of their lives.
Why does he want to spoil it? She didn’t know what to do. She replayed the history of their wonderful courtship in her head. The first night, the proposal, all the times they laughed together. All right, the wedding night itself wasn’t the romantic deflowering she dreamt of as a girl, but then they had already known each other in the biblical sense. The wedding had been such a hoot: drink really did flow, and boy did it flow into John. Not that she was any sober sides herself. On the bright side, they did both make it to the bridal suite. Just about. Josephine slept on top of the bed, in her wedding dress. John didn’t quite make it onto the bed. He was kneeling beside it with his head on her lap. She thought it kind of cute how they both still managed to be close to each other at the end of the night, despite their condition, especially John’s.
But now this. She glanced to her right, without moving her head. His eyes were closed. She could tell by his breathing that he had fallen asleep. He looked normal, no sign of stress on his face. Perfectly relaxed.
“How could he just go back to sleep?” She felt like prodding him or shouting in his ear.
“Wake up. ”Not “wake up and make love with me”, like the Ian Dury song. Rather “wake up and explain yourself.”
“But then she thought of what he had said about doing what she was told if she wanted this to be a happy marriage. She did. She wanted this to be a happy honeymoon. If she challenged him now and didn’t get the reaction or explanation she wanted, what would she do? Call the whole thing off, as Fred and Ginger had suggested? How could she? She couldn’t pack up and leave, go home. She didn’t have any money, any credit cards or debit cards. John had arranged it all, paid for it all. He had control of all the money. And anyway, where is home now?
John had rented a house for them, close to her work. She had given up her apartment. She had nothing. Well, she thought she had everything. A husband who was completely in love with her and she with him. A husband who had just threatened her. Or did he? He had told her in no uncertain terms to do what she was told if she wanted them to be happy. He didn’t threaten to harm her in any way. He was like a stern parent.
“Do what you’re told now, Josephine,” she could hear her father say. But there was never any indication as to what would happen if she didn’t.
According to John, they would be happy if she did. She wanted them to be happy. She wanted to be happy. She wanted him to be happy.
“Don’t worry, be happy.”Is that what she should do, needed to do? All this thinking was making her head throb. She closed her eyes and tried to stop. Yoga classes she had attended prior to the wedding had taught her how to put things out of her mind, how to breathe, naturally, evenly. Everything drifted out of her mind, up and away.
Time passed. She opened her eyes. Her instincts told her John was no longer beside her. She stretched out her hand. Nothing. No one. Then a sound, the sound of running water. He was showering. She had time to get out of bed and this time get dressed quickly. Before he would notice, could notice. She didn’t want to seem upset, so she decided to cleanse her face and apply her make-upin extra quick time. As she sat in front of the dressing table mirror, she could see that her eyes were still red from crying herself to sleep; her mascara that she hadn’t bothered to remove the night before was running in lines down her cheek, just like Lady Gaga on the cover of “The Fame Monster”. But she hadn’t any more time to think, the sound of running water had stopped. She had to work fast.
When John emerged from the bathroom, he was dressed in shorts and a t-shirt with the words “World’s Best Husband”. She had bought it for him as a surprise wedding gift.
“Good morning, darling! Why don’t you get ready for breakfast while I go and stretch my legs?”
No mention of this morning’s incident. All done, all forgotten. He approached her, and, bending over, leant his face into hers. She turned her cheek and closed her eyes. She felt her body tense up. He put one hand gently on the back of her head and, pulling her towards him, pressed his lips firmly against hers.
“Don’t be long,” he said, as he was leaving.
“Is that an order?” strayed into her head. She almost said it.
“What was that?” he said, looking back at her as he stood with his hand on the door handle.
“I love you,” she said, thinking quickly.
“Love you, too,” he replied, blowing her a kiss with his free hand, before exiting.
“Did I express my thought there without knowing it? Or can he hear my thoughts? ”They did sometimes seem to know what each other was thinking.
She took a long, deep breath. John seemed to have got over whatever it was that had set him off. But he hadn’t apologised. And she hadn’t mentioned it. She didn’t want to upset the apple cart. Partly because she was unsure of what would happen. Would he call it a day, call the whole thing off? How would it be if the dream was to end here? The shortest marriage in the world. Or maybe not. She had read, in some trashy magazines she had found at work, of husbands and wives cheating at the wedding reception. She had to admit that that would have been worse. John hadn’t cheated. He wants to be married. He wants to be happily married. But here she was lingering a bit too long. He might think she was doing it on purpose. Would that make him angry again? She didn’t want him to be angry. Although she had imagined their marriage would be the most wonderful marriage in the world, she knew in her heart that there would be little disagreements, arguments even. Not that she had expected anything like that so soon. When they talk about a honeymoon period, surely, it’s supposed to be trouble-free. And so she resolved it would be. Forgive and forget. He had been under a lot of stress, working extra hours coming up to the wedding so that they could have the best honeymoon they could have. She should be understanding. They need to understand each other as well as love each other. Her inward smile began to return. And, according to the mirror, her outward one, too. She wasn’t going to worry, she would be happy. Now and forever.
She moved to the window. She could feel the heat of the sun on her face. Closed her eyes. It felt soothing. Opening her eyes, she saw him. He was talking to one of the waitresses, smiling, laughing, probably joking. He was like that with women: charming, polite, endearing. Not like this morning. He was gently holding her hand. She felt somewhat jealous, although she didn’t think for a moment that he would ever be unfaithful. After all, they were just married. But what about those men who cheated at the wedding reception? Stop it, Josephine. Her thoughts were wandering again.
John glanced up at the window. He saw her. She waved.
“Better hurry,” she thought. Halfway out the door, she stopped, turned and grabbed her sunglasses from the dressing table, and put them on.
When she emerged from the lift, he was standing, waiting. He didn’t seem impatient or annoyed. He smiled. He loved her. It was as if she was walking up the aisle towards him all over again. He took her hand. She felt elated. They walked hand in hand to the breakfast room. He guided her to a table, pulled out her chair for her and ensured she was seated comfortably, before going to get the food. It was a buffet breakfast, but no ordinary one. There was every kind of fresh fruit, freshly squeezed juices, choice of coffees, teas, cooked food. A banquet. John chose the food without asking. Brought it to her. It didn’t bother her. It was what she would have chosen herself and more than she could possibly eat. Although she found that somewhat wasteful, it was time to forget about things like that, forget about everything except themselves, about each other. She enjoyed breakfast, basked in the sunshine and in the moment. For the rest of the day they explored their surroundings, got to know the staff and their fellow guests. John did most of the talking; he was good at that. She was happy to let him, happy to listen to the sound of his voice, regardless of what he was saying. How did she get so lucky? That night in bed, John was gentle and caring but passionate, just as he had been the night before. After, they slept in each other’s arms. The next morning, John was up and at it early, before her. When she awoke, he leapt onto the bed beside her, kissed her passionately and told her how much he loved her, how lucky they were to have found each other, that she was his soul-mate.
The rest of the honeymoon was fantastic. They had gone on long walks. John was back to his best, laughing, joking, making her feel the centre of attention. One night during the hotel cabaret, he got up on stage and did karaoke. He couldn’t sing, but that never mattered to John.
“Baby, I love you,” he sang, or rather spoke, or did something between speaking and singing. But when he had finished, he took over.
“Folks,” he not so much spoke as shouted, “I’d like to introduce you to my wonderful, beautiful, fantabulous wife, Josephine.” She blushed and smiled as he pointed her out.
“Come up here, Josephine, come on.” That was unexpected.
She felt embarrassed, but knew he wouldn’t get off until she complied. She got up and joined him. He welcomed her on stage as if he was running the show. He was. At that moment he was. They let him. The funny thing. Everyone was enjoying it. It didn’t matter that he couldn’t sing. The organisers were loving it.It became interactive: others were getting involved, but not as involved as John was. But then there were not many Johns in the world. Maybe no other.
“A round of applause for the lovely Josephine, who is now going to join me in singing ‘I Got You, Babe’.” Everyone applauded.
“OMG!”
Before she could react, the music had begun. A microphone had been thrust into her hand. Even though she had, as a child, stood in front of the mirror, hairbrush in hand, singing along to her favourite songs, she knew she wasn’t a singer. But then she couldn’t be worse than John. She knew the words because her and John used to sing along to it when they had had a few drinks and were playing music randomly.
“Here goes nothing,” she thought, before piping up.
“They say we’re young…”
The people were clapping. Thank God.It sort of drowned out the singing.
When it was over, she actually felt good. John had pulled her into him all through the performance, and the song never seemed to end because they both kept singing “I got you, babe” over and over and over again. Until they became breathless. It was good while it lasted, but there was a little bit of relief at the end. A bit like sex.
“Did I just think that?” Josephine was surprised at herself. But not that much. She had come out of herself. Oops. Was that another faux pas? She was giggling to herself, when John noticed. He kissed her full on. She reciprocated. He was surprised. If ever there was a perfect moment in their marriage, this was it. The crowd were cheering, standing. It was the best night of the honeymoon and one of the best of their life together. She was waiting for them to shout “more”. It wasn’t that kind of crowd. But there was a disco of sorts afterwards. She and John danced and danced until they could dance no more. And so, to bed. And…Well, in the words of Shakespeare, “All’s well that ends well.” Breathless.
Apart from “the incident”, the honeymoon was everything she anticipated and more. They had gone scuba diving. She had never done that before. John had. She was scared at first, but she thought of all those wildlife programmes she had watched on television, the ones filmed under the sea, and how magical and wonderful it all seemed. This was her opportunity to experience it for real, and she might never get another chance. She would do it. John held her hand the whole time. Once she was down there, it was so amazing she did actually forget her fears, but never let go of his hand. When they came up and got back on the boat, she was speechless. All she could think was “what a wonderful world”.
They had swum, every day. They lay on the beach, the water washing over them just as in “From Here To Eternity”. Was that where they were heading, she wondered. Eternity, together? They went into the water hand in hand and came out of the water hand in hand. She was so happy, she wished there was someone there to take their picture. There was. John had arranged it. John had insisted on hanging it opposite the bed. For their eyes only. She didn’t know whether John liked it because he looked good in it or because she was looking at him as if she would never leave him. Or both.
But back to the present. Was she dreaming? She closed her eyes tightly, so tightly it almost hurt, before opening them wide. The ceiling was white, pure white, the room bathed in sunlight, the brightest sunlight she had ever experienced, or so she thought. It made it hard to focus. Maybe it was a dream. She pinched herself in the ass.It hurt. She had grown her fingernails for the wedding. No. She wasn’t dreaming. She turned her head to her left. A blurred face came slowly into focus. Her husband. That thought filled her with delight. He looked so peaceful, child-like but handsome at the same time. She thought how lucky she was. She was so excited, it woke up every nerve in her body. He was facing her, his left hand gently clutching her left breast, his right hand under his head.
She wanted to get out of bed, but didn’t want to disturb him. She took his hand gently by the wrist and carefully sitting up, so as not to disturb him, put it on her warm pillow. He stirred, but didn’t open his eyes. She waited. He was still asleep. She crept out of the bed and went to the bathroom. She wanted to shower, freshen up. She closed the door quietly behind her. When she had finished, she wrapped a towel around her and went back to the bedroom.
He was awake, leaning on one elbow and looking straight at her. She felt his stare. A lustful look. She momentarily undid her towel while biting her lip. A quick flash of flesh.
His eyes widened.
“Get into bed,” he said, pulling back the duvet.
Ooh! He was being so masterful, so demanding. She liked it. She dropped her towel and did as he asked. What happened next is private. It’s also very rude.
When it was over and he was satisfied, and to tell the truth she was, too, she leapt out of bed and grabbed some clothes, intending to get dressed.
“What are you doing?” That took her by surprise.
“I’m putting on some clothes. I can’t go out naked, can I?” she said, laughing, as she approached the bed, resting both hands on it and looking into his eyes.
“Get back into bed. ”His voice was even but stern. There was no smile.
“You’re such a stud. But we can do that again later. A bit of afternoon delight. Let’s go out now. I so want to see this wonderful place you have taken me, breathe in the atmosphere.”
“Get back into bed,” he repeated in the same voice. Why was he not getting it, she wondered? Was he just playing with her? Okay, let’s play.
“No!” she said jokingly. “You’ll have to make me.”
As he began to move, she jumped back playfully, as if to run away. He was quick, too quick. He had literally pounced out of the bed, grabbed hold of her by the arms, twirled her around and was staring straight into her face. His expression was unfamiliar.
Before she knew it, he had released her by throwing her backwards onto the bed so hard that it took her breath away, but not in the way Berlin sang about it. He was standing there, staring at her naked body. She felt him get on top of her. It hurt, but she hadn’t enough breath to tell him to stop. She wasn’t sure what he was going to do. Was this his idea of foreplay? He hadn’t done anything like this before. He had always been gentle with her.
He was straddling her while holding her arms by the wrists above her head. She was looking up at him, looking into his eyes, looking for some inkling of what he was thinking, what he expected of her. Was he being dominant? Was he into S&M? Did he save it as a surprise? She decided to play him at his own game.She closed her eyes expectantly and gave him her sexiest pout. She felt his hot breath on her face.His forehead was touching hers.They were nose to nose, like Eskimos. Their lips didn’t touch. His head was pressing hard against hers, so much so it began to give her a headache. She was about to say something, when he beat her to it.
“Josephine,” he began. She could feel his voice more than hear it. “I want to sleep some more. I get grumpy when I don’t have my sleep. You’re my wife now. I expect you to do what I want to do, what I want you to do. Love, honour and obey. Do as I say, when I say. Understand? If you want this to be a happy marriage.”
“What the fuck?” she thought, but didn’t vocalise.
“I’m going to lie down now. You’re going to lie still, and sleep, if you want to. Just as long as you don’t disturb me.”
Then he let go, rolled off her and lay down beside her. They were both still naked, uncovered.
The tears began to roll down both cheeks. She couldn’t stop them. “What,” she wondered, “had just happened?”
She didn’t dare look at him. She kept her eyes on the ceiling. She felt herself begin to shiver. This was strange. Feeling chilly in such a hot climate. The room hadn’t become colder, but something had, someone had. But why?
This is her honeymoon, their honeymoon. It’s supposed to be the happiest time of their lives.
Why does he want to spoil it? She didn’t know what to do. She replayed the history of their wonderful courtship in her head. The first night, the proposal, all the times they laughed together. All right, the wedding night itself wasn’t the romantic deflowering she dreamt of as a girl, but then they had already known each other in the biblical sense. The wedding had been such a hoot: drink really did flow, and boy did it flow into John. Not that she was any sober sides herself. On the bright side, they did both make it to the bridal suite. Just about. Josephine slept on top of the bed, in her wedding dress. John didn’t quite make it onto the bed. He was kneeling beside it with his head on her lap. She thought it kind of cute how they both still managed to be close to each other at the end of the night, despite their condition, especially John’s.
But now this. She glanced to her right, without moving her head. His eyes were closed. She could tell by his breathing that he had fallen asleep. He looked normal, no sign of stress on his face. Perfectly relaxed.
“How could he just go back to sleep?” She felt like prodding him or shouting in his ear.
“Wake up. ”Not “wake up and make love with me”, like the Ian Dury song. Rather “wake up and explain yourself.”
“But then she thought of what he had said about doing what she was told if she wanted this to be a happy marriage. She did. She wanted this to be a happy honeymoon. If she challenged him now and didn’t get the reaction or explanation she wanted, what would she do? Call the whole thing off, as Fred and Ginger had suggested? How could she? She couldn’t pack up and leave, go home. She didn’t have any money, any credit cards or debit cards. John had arranged it all, paid for it all. He had control of all the money. And anyway, where is home now?
John had rented a house for them, close to her work. She had given up her apartment. She had nothing. Well, she thought she had everything. A husband who was completely in love with her and she with him. A husband who had just threatened her. Or did he? He had told her in no uncertain terms to do what she was told if she wanted them to be happy. He didn’t threaten to harm her in any way. He was like a stern parent.
“Do what you’re told now, Josephine,” she could hear her father say. But there was never any indication as to what would happen if she didn’t.
According to John, they would be happy if she did. She wanted them to be happy. She wanted to be happy. She wanted him to be happy.
“Don’t worry, be happy.”Is that what she should do, needed to do? All this thinking was making her head throb. She closed her eyes and tried to stop. Yoga classes she had attended prior to the wedding had taught her how to put things out of her mind, how to breathe, naturally, evenly. Everything drifted out of her mind, up and away.
Time passed. She opened her eyes. Her instincts told her John was no longer beside her. She stretched out her hand. Nothing. No one. Then a sound, the sound of running water. He was showering. She had time to get out of bed and this time get dressed quickly. Before he would notice, could notice. She didn’t want to seem upset, so she decided to cleanse her face and apply her make-upin extra quick time. As she sat in front of the dressing table mirror, she could see that her eyes were still red from crying herself to sleep; her mascara that she hadn’t bothered to remove the night before was running in lines down her cheek, just like Lady Gaga on the cover of “The Fame Monster”. But she hadn’t any more time to think, the sound of running water had stopped. She had to work fast.
When John emerged from the bathroom, he was dressed in shorts and a t-shirt with the words “World’s Best Husband”. She had bought it for him as a surprise wedding gift.
“Good morning, darling! Why don’t you get ready for breakfast while I go and stretch my legs?”
No mention of this morning’s incident. All done, all forgotten. He approached her, and, bending over, leant his face into hers. She turned her cheek and closed her eyes. She felt her body tense up. He put one hand gently on the back of her head and, pulling her towards him, pressed his lips firmly against hers.
“Don’t be long,” he said, as he was leaving.
“Is that an order?” strayed into her head. She almost said it.
“What was that?” he said, looking back at her as he stood with his hand on the door handle.
“I love you,” she said, thinking quickly.
“Love you, too,” he replied, blowing her a kiss with his free hand, before exiting.
“Did I express my thought there without knowing it? Or can he hear my thoughts? ”They did sometimes seem to know what each other was thinking.
She took a long, deep breath. John seemed to have got over whatever it was that had set him off. But he hadn’t apologised. And she hadn’t mentioned it. She didn’t want to upset the apple cart. Partly because she was unsure of what would happen. Would he call it a day, call the whole thing off? How would it be if the dream was to end here? The shortest marriage in the world. Or maybe not. She had read, in some trashy magazines she had found at work, of husbands and wives cheating at the wedding reception. She had to admit that that would have been worse. John hadn’t cheated. He wants to be married. He wants to be happily married. But here she was lingering a bit too long. He might think she was doing it on purpose. Would that make him angry again? She didn’t want him to be angry. Although she had imagined their marriage would be the most wonderful marriage in the world, she knew in her heart that there would be little disagreements, arguments even. Not that she had expected anything like that so soon. When they talk about a honeymoon period, surely, it’s supposed to be trouble-free. And so she resolved it would be. Forgive and forget. He had been under a lot of stress, working extra hours coming up to the wedding so that they could have the best honeymoon they could have. She should be understanding. They need to understand each other as well as love each other. Her inward smile began to return. And, according to the mirror, her outward one, too. She wasn’t going to worry, she would be happy. Now and forever.
She moved to the window. She could feel the heat of the sun on her face. Closed her eyes. It felt soothing. Opening her eyes, she saw him. He was talking to one of the waitresses, smiling, laughing, probably joking. He was like that with women: charming, polite, endearing. Not like this morning. He was gently holding her hand. She felt somewhat jealous, although she didn’t think for a moment that he would ever be unfaithful. After all, they were just married. But what about those men who cheated at the wedding reception? Stop it, Josephine. Her thoughts were wandering again.
John glanced up at the window. He saw her. She waved.
“Better hurry,” she thought. Halfway out the door, she stopped, turned and grabbed her sunglasses from the dressing table, and put them on.
When she emerged from the lift, he was standing, waiting. He didn’t seem impatient or annoyed. He smiled. He loved her. It was as if she was walking up the aisle towards him all over again. He took her hand. She felt elated. They walked hand in hand to the breakfast room. He guided her to a table, pulled out her chair for her and ensured she was seated comfortably, before going to get the food. It was a buffet breakfast, but no ordinary one. There was every kind of fresh fruit, freshly squeezed juices, choice of coffees, teas, cooked food. A banquet. John chose the food without asking. Brought it to her. It didn’t bother her. It was what she would have chosen herself and more than she could possibly eat. Although she found that somewhat wasteful, it was time to forget about things like that, forget about everything except themselves, about each other. She enjoyed breakfast, basked in the sunshine and in the moment. For the rest of the day they explored their surroundings, got to know the staff and their fellow guests. John did most of the talking; he was good at that. She was happy to let him, happy to listen to the sound of his voice, regardless of what he was saying. How did she get so lucky? That night in bed, John was gentle and caring but passionate, just as he had been the night before. After, they slept in each other’s arms. The next morning, John was up and at it early, before her. When she awoke, he leapt onto the bed beside her, kissed her passionately and told her how much he loved her, how lucky they were to have found each other, that she was his soul-mate.
The rest of the honeymoon was fantastic. They had gone on long walks. John was back to his best, laughing, joking, making her feel the centre of attention. One night during the hotel cabaret, he got up on stage and did karaoke. He couldn’t sing, but that never mattered to John.
“Baby, I love you,” he sang, or rather spoke, or did something between speaking and singing. But when he had finished, he took over.
“Folks,” he not so much spoke as shouted, “I’d like to introduce you to my wonderful, beautiful, fantabulous wife, Josephine.” She blushed and smiled as he pointed her out.
“Come up here, Josephine, come on.” That was unexpected.
She felt embarrassed, but knew he wouldn’t get off until she complied. She got up and joined him. He welcomed her on stage as if he was running the show. He was. At that moment he was. They let him. The funny thing. Everyone was enjoying it. It didn’t matter that he couldn’t sing. The organisers were loving it.It became interactive: others were getting involved, but not as involved as John was. But then there were not many Johns in the world. Maybe no other.
“A round of applause for the lovely Josephine, who is now going to join me in singing ‘I Got You, Babe’.” Everyone applauded.
“OMG!”
Before she could react, the music had begun. A microphone had been thrust into her hand. Even though she had, as a child, stood in front of the mirror, hairbrush in hand, singing along to her favourite songs, she knew she wasn’t a singer. But then she couldn’t be worse than John. She knew the words because her and John used to sing along to it when they had had a few drinks and were playing music randomly.
“Here goes nothing,” she thought, before piping up.
“They say we’re young…”
The people were clapping. Thank God.It sort of drowned out the singing.
When it was over, she actually felt good. John had pulled her into him all through the performance, and the song never seemed to end because they both kept singing “I got you, babe” over and over and over again. Until they became breathless. It was good while it lasted, but there was a little bit of relief at the end. A bit like sex.
“Did I just think that?” Josephine was surprised at herself. But not that much. She had come out of herself. Oops. Was that another faux pas? She was giggling to herself, when John noticed. He kissed her full on. She reciprocated. He was surprised. If ever there was a perfect moment in their marriage, this was it. The crowd were cheering, standing. It was the best night of the honeymoon and one of the best of their life together. She was waiting for them to shout “more”. It wasn’t that kind of crowd. But there was a disco of sorts afterwards. She and John danced and danced until they could dance no more. And so, to bed. And…Well, in the words of Shakespeare, “All’s well that ends well.” Breathless.
Apart from “the incident”, the honeymoon was everything she anticipated and more. They had gone scuba diving. She had never done that before. John had. She was scared at first, but she thought of all those wildlife programmes she had watched on television, the ones filmed under the sea, and how magical and wonderful it all seemed. This was her opportunity to experience it for real, and she might never get another chance. She would do it. John held her hand the whole time. Once she was down there, it was so amazing she did actually forget her fears, but never let go of his hand. When they came up and got back on the boat, she was speechless. All she could think was “what a wonderful world”.
They had swum, every day. They lay on the beach, the water washing over them just as in “From Here To Eternity”. Was that where they were heading, she wondered. Eternity, together? They went into the water hand in hand and came out of the water hand in hand. She was so happy, she wished there was someone there to take their picture. There was. John had arranged it. John had insisted on hanging it opposite the bed. For their eyes only. She didn’t know whether John liked it because he looked good in it or because she was looking at him as if she would never leave him. Or both.
REVIEWS
"I don't read books that often, until a friend suggested Control Freak. I thoroughly enjoyed it. In fact it felt like every ending of a chapter reminded me of the Eastenders *Doof, Doofs*.
I had to turn the page to see what happened next.
It was well written and kept me on the edge of my seat."
"Scary to say quite a lot of this book reminded me of me except I am not Irish. It actually helped me to forgive myself for being raped though. Still working on the forgiveness after 40 years but I think this book has got my foot over the last hurdle!! It is just a great book!! Love the humour!!! Keeps you going all the way to the end even when it tries to lose you a bit. Read it I reckon you'll like it, A Lot!!! Please write more!!!"
"I was recommended this book and it didn’t disappoint. From the beginning I was drawn into the story and was very quickly hooked. So well written and certainly an eye opener for me knowing that this came from real experiences seen by a solicitor. My heart goes out to people that go through this."
"If you're looking for a good book, I would highly recommend this one. what an absolutely amazing read, it had me gripped from start to finish, I love it when a book does that."
"Amazing book!! I loved the reference to songs and I found it hard to put down. Obviously not for someone with no sense of humour or the love of music. Loved it can’t wait for the next one."
"Brilliant. Loved this novel had me gripped from the first page."
I had to turn the page to see what happened next.
It was well written and kept me on the edge of my seat."
"Scary to say quite a lot of this book reminded me of me except I am not Irish. It actually helped me to forgive myself for being raped though. Still working on the forgiveness after 40 years but I think this book has got my foot over the last hurdle!! It is just a great book!! Love the humour!!! Keeps you going all the way to the end even when it tries to lose you a bit. Read it I reckon you'll like it, A Lot!!! Please write more!!!"
"I was recommended this book and it didn’t disappoint. From the beginning I was drawn into the story and was very quickly hooked. So well written and certainly an eye opener for me knowing that this came from real experiences seen by a solicitor. My heart goes out to people that go through this."
"If you're looking for a good book, I would highly recommend this one. what an absolutely amazing read, it had me gripped from start to finish, I love it when a book does that."
"Amazing book!! I loved the reference to songs and I found it hard to put down. Obviously not for someone with no sense of humour or the love of music. Loved it can’t wait for the next one."
"Brilliant. Loved this novel had me gripped from the first page."