THE 'RESCUER'

I met her at the hotel bar, she was sitting with her boyfriend and looking in every direction but his.  Her eyes met mine and held them long enough to feel significant.  Her boyfriend waved his hand in front of her face, clicking his fingers until he won her attention.
“That's better,” he said edgily, “what do you want to eat?”
“Whatever you say,” she replied.
He sighed; “Have the salad, meat’s wasted on you.”
I thought a beautiful woman like that could do better.  When she went outside, I did too and we stood in the warm night air.  She was Chloe, a primary school teacher and his name was Will.  We talked about my work as a college lecturer in physical education and the differences between the age groups we taught.  Eventually her cigarette burned down to her fingers and she had to go back.

I noticed that evening and at breakfast that he was never far from her, hovering, one hand usually on the small of her back.  It felt claustrophobic.  Her clumsy hand movements, soft voice and downcast eyes made me think she may as well be his prisoner.  The staff told me they had arrived at the weekend, that he was a venture capitalist, he talked to her disrespectfully in front of the waiters and the woman who cleaned their room had found blood on sheets and towels.  Jigsaw pieces incongruous on their own, built a nasty picture when put together.

At dinner the next night, it was clear that she was driving him crazy trying to appease him.  He’d ask her opinion and she’d say 'I don't mind', 'whatever you think', 'shall I have salad again?'  In the end he stood in the middle of the restaurant and shouted at her.  There was no point in him paying for this holiday if she wasn't enjoying it, if she couldn't even decide what she liked.  She wasn’t a pleasure to be with, she was fucking dull.  Then he marched outside and she followed.  I waited a moment and hurried out too.  She was lying in the courtyard and he was standing over her.  I'd seen enough.  He was muttering some excuse about pushing her in anger and her falling, I wasn't having it.  It wasn't long before he was on the ground, nose bleeding.  The waiters had to drag me away.  I looked at Chloe, she couldn’t be in any doubt of my ability to take care of her now, she'd seen the mess I'd made of Will.  I could tell by her face I'd won her.

Will couldn’t prosecute, he didn’t have a leg to stand on; he took an early flight home.  Chloe went back to my room and the next morning had breakfast with me.

“Now,” I said, trying to catch her eye, “what do you want?  There are eggs, pancakes, french toast …”
“Whatever you say,” she said softly, staring at the wall behind me, hands shaking slightly, “whatever you say.”