Silence, total silence.

Never before had Catherine seen her own garden like this through her own kitchen window. As she stood, her hands resting on the edge of the kitchen sink, she wondered how, after 30 years in the same house, with the same garden, same view, it could suddenly feel so different?

Silence was not something she was used to. All these years she had spent looking out at her garden, hiding away from him, hiding in her kitchen.


This was her hiding place. This is where she'd stood for so many years, yet she'd never been free from him hiding here before. Never been free of his smell, the stench of beer that lingered around him, on his chair, and his clothes, his sweat seeping into the fabrics around him. The sound of his voice, cackling at something on TV, his hacking cough and snorting to clear his throat in that hideous way that made her skin crawl.

No, now, there was none of that. He wasn't there anymore. He had gone. The TV was no longer blaring. The smell of beer was no longer here on his breath, the threat of his temper no longer there to lash out. It was all gone.

The relief was like a weight lifting from her shoulders. Catherine realised that after all these long years, this garden that she'd so often looked at, longing to escape, she could finally enjoy. This house that she'd lived in for so long, could now become her home.

Catherine moved to the back door, inhaled deeply, and as she exhaled she turned the key and stepped out into the garden.

Her garden at last to enjoy.