A/N Much apologies at the tardiness, I have so much on at the moment that this story has taken a back seat. So sorry to loyal readers. Will finish this regularly now, I'm back. Promise.

Chapter Twenty Six

Isobel seemed to almost mechanically relay all that she knew. It seemed like a movie, or a book, and not something that had happened to her. As she told the officers all about leaving the farm with her art work, waking up in the back of Richard’s car, the drive to she didn’t know where. Then it got harder, Richard’s ranting, his anger. She played down his feelings towards Marc, the last thing he needed was to have that spelt out. Richard hated them both for different reasons, and it was easier to make this all about her. He was white beside her, terrified as he heard the details; she needed to make this about her, and nothing to do with him. If he blamed himself he’d be inconsolable, and she needed his strength and his support.

The police officers recorded every word, occasionally stopping to clarify a word or an incident. And Isobel kept going. She told them how he hated her; how he’d told her that they were going to die there, together, as the ultimate act of revenge. All the while Marc sat squeezing her hand, encouraging her.  Then it got difficult, and as she spoke of the beating, the way he’d tossed her around like a ragdoll, then the rape, he stopped squeezing and she could almost feel him physically withdraw, the room seemed a colder place. She tried to gloss over the details, but apologetically the officers questioned her in great depth, every minute detail of the torture and abuse laid out for all to see, all to judge. It was only then that she felt truly annoyed.

She’d honestly believed she was going to die, so to be there, alive, with Marc...she was grateful, But as silence took over the room she suddenly felt dirty, tainted, and a victim of both the ordeal, AND the almost interrogation afterwards.

The detective thanked her once she’d finished her sordid tale. They both seemed shocked by the details of her trauma, and repeatedly told her how ‘well’ she was doing. As they gathered their things, prepared to leave, to go home to a world where this was just another ‘day at the office’, prepared to leave her in the mess that was her life, they assured her that they’d be in touch, just as soon as they had any more information. Because whilst they assured her that Richard was dead, in all honesty they were waiting for the identification of the body to ensure it was him, and were still combing the scene to make sure he hadn’t escaped the inferno.

As they left she turned to Marc, he was stony faced beside her, staring into the distance. She reached out and took his hand, and whilst he gave her a gentle squeeze, he didn’t turn to look at her. She was too tired to deal with that, and she knew he had a lot to come to terms with. So as she felt her eyes fluttering, she gave into her fatigue and slept.

It was an excited squeal that disturbed her and when she opened her eyes it was to see Sylvia and all the kids in front of her. As she opened her eyes Taylor turned white.

“Mum?”

Suddenly Isobel realised how dreadful she must look, her head was covered in bandages, who knew how the rest of her looked. She probably resembled one of the zombies from Scooby Doo, smiling she rolled to face the three pairs of worried eyes.

                “Do you like my new hat?”

Lucas stepped forward, “it’s a hat?”

She nodded, “of course. I knew you were coming so I asked the doctors to make me look scary. Did it work?”

Taylor nodded, then rushed over to hug her. Pulling her daughter on to the edge of the bed, Isobel ignored the pain in so many parts of her body as she buried her face in her daughter’s hair and absorbed the smells and sensations of the one person she thought she’d never see again. Within moments they were joined by Lucas and Sophie, a group hug of sorts, and suddenly it was all good again. This was what she’d wanted to live for, the children she loved so much.

They all stayed for an hour or so, and whilst she loved seeing them all, Isobel was shattered, and hated to admit that she was glad to see them go when they left.

As they left she turned to Marc who had been silent during the whole encounter, exhausted and smiled, “they all look well considering!”

He nodded solemnly, “kids are resilient...” He stood, “I need to get going.”

                “Marc!” She called out, “you haven’t looked at me since this afternoon!”

Turning to look at her, his face was flushed with sadness, “sorry Iz, I just can’t deal with this.” As the door slammed behind him, she felt tears roll down her face. He was her rock, he was supposed to make this better, he was the one who promised to be there for her, to care for her. After everything, he was falling apart now!

                “Don’t go!” She called out, but he had already left.

Being alone was a dangerous thing; Isobel could feel every pain, every inch of the body damaged by that man. She couldn’t think about him, not really. She was more concerned with Marc and his refusal to discuss what happened. All the time she’d been under Richard’s control, she longed for the moment when Marc was there to make it all right. She remembered running from that burning building, and seeing him hurtling towards her, she’d almost known he’d be there, because she couldn’t imagine a world without him.

                “Knock knock,” the words accompanied a hand tapping on her door.

Isobel looked up to see Orla. Her friend looked dreadful, pale and drawn.

                “Is this the effect of the extra three children on you?” Isobel tried to make a joke but Orla hung her head.

When she tried to laugh, she instead burst into tears, “I was so worried, I can’t imagine what you’ve been through...”

Isobel hugged her in the best way she could, slightly lopsided but still eagerly, “it wasn’t pleasant Orla, I won’t lie. But I’m alive! So is the baby. At one point I didn’t think either of us would make it. Nothing hurts now, I promise.”

She wiped her eyes, “did he hurt you?”

Isobel nodded, “he hit me a few times, and he did rape me Orla. But,” she added as her friend looked ready to cry again, “I don’t care. It was nothing new. He did that to me years ago. THAT was worse. I was scared of him, fearful of what he did, I hid behind it for years, but I’m not this time, I’m not letting this spoil things love. He’s gone, he was horrible, he hurt people...but there’s so much to live for.”

                “I wish I could be as strong as you, you’re amazing.”

Isobel smiled and squeezed Orla’s hand, “I’m not. Isn’t this just being a mother, the children are the important thing. We have to carry on.” She sighed, “Marc isn’t coping either, he’s just thinking about all that happened. But I wish people would see things from my point of view. YES it was hell, but it’s over, I’m alive – so I’ve got a few scrapes and bumps, but I am here, this could have been SO different. Why does no one see that?”

She readjusted her position with a grimace, “When I first met Richard he scarred me so that I avoided life for five years, can you even imagine how bad that was? And what a waste! I avoided living, making new relationships because of the fear of what he did, the power he had. I was wrong. He shouldn’t have influenced my past, and he does not deserve to influence my future, and he won’t.” She reached to the locker beside her bed and handed Orla the picture of her new son, “this little man survived it all, isn’t he beautiful?” Orla nodded through the tears, “I owe it to him to get on with things, not do to him what I did to Taylor. Hide him away.”

She took the photo and smiled, “he’s beautiful. Have you told Marc this?”

Isobel shrugged, “he’s avoiding me!”

Orla nodded knowingly, “it must be hard for him to deal with, I mean he wants to protect you, and he didn’t...must be hard to cope with.”

                “Male pride Orla! That’s all that is. It’s neither relevant nor practical. He walked out of here tonight without a backward glance. Just because he found out what actually happened, the gritty details. Before that he was here, holding my hand, being all that he said he would. My injuries are the same; my mental state is the same...the only thing different is the way he’s coping.”

                “I can’t even begin to imagine how Tim would deal with it.” Orla took Isobel’s hand, “I had no idea how I’d be with all this.”

Isobel agreed, “but we’ve been through this as a couple already the damage of hiding things, and he KNEW what it meant to me, what it took to bring all that out in the open, now he’s turning away. It’s not right Orla!”

Later she wandered down to the baby unit, their little man was battling on, he was breathing well, thriving as well as they’d expect, all she could do was watch him grow.

                “Do you want to hold him?” A voice from her left penetrated her brain and she looked up to see a nurse beside her.

                “Can I?” When she nodded she added, “but he’s so tiny.”

The nurse smiled, “he is, but not as small as the smallest we’ve had. He’s doing really well and some warmth from his mother works wonders. Shall I show you?”

As the nurse placed him on her chest above the neck line of her pyjama top her skin prickled at the sensation of that warm tiny body next to her heart. As she stroked his velvety skin she felt tears course down her cheeks, this was what she’d lived for, this is all she’d wanted was this little boy to be safe.

The next morning, the splint was removed from her leg and she was allowed to walk around as much as she liked, her shoulder, neck and face were still heavily bandaged, but she already felt SO much better. She needed to get home, to deal with her family. The kids needed her home, needed normality, and Marc needed a stern talking to.

                “When can I go home?” she asked the doctor as he came on his morning round. The man was flummoxed, expecting her to want to stay in hospital for days; instead, she wanted to leave.

He shrugged, “there are no real reasons why you can’t stay. The baby will be here for a while.”

She nodded, “but I have so much more to deal with at home, I can visit him, we live less than an hour away. I’ll visit all day, but I can recuperate so much better at home.”

                “Ok, I’ll look into it.”

An hour later, the doctor agreed she could go home, but no one had planned to visit that morning and Marc wasn’t answering the phone, so she called the house. Mrs Edwards answered.

                “Hi Mrs E!”

The older woman sighed with relief. “Oh Isobel! How are you and that little fighter?”

She smiled at the genuine concern from someone she’d had hostility towards in the past, “I’m fine, he’s struggling on, but doing better than the doctors expected. Is Marc there?”

                “No he’s had to go to London, something to do with the garage fire.”

Isobel sighed, “Ah, that explains why he’s not answering his phone! I’m coming home later. I’ll get a lift...”

                “Eric can collect you if you want, he’ll be more than happy to help,” she offered without an afterthought.

Isobel was finding it difficult to move around too freely, and the thought of climbing into Marc’s four wheel drive compared to Orla’s low and small car, the only other person she could imagine visiting, meant there was only one solution, “Mrs Edwards, that sounds like heaven, could be bring the four wheel drive? I think I can get into it better!”