The pub door swung open and I watched as the man I’d been waiting for stepped inside. Dark hair, brown eyes and a big smile.
‘Gemma, good to meet you,’ he said, giving me a hug. It was November 2013 and I’d got chatting to David Barr, then 38, a few weeks before on Facebook. We’d swapped messages, then chatted on the phone. David was intelligent and well-spoken. He’d been to uni and worked in security.
David lived 30 miles away from me in Mold, Flintshire, but we’d met for a drink in my local pub. He was good-looking, but shy and modest, which I found attractive.
Before I knew it, it was late. David had a long way to drive home, but my house was nearby. ‘Do you mind if I crash on your sofa?’ he asked. I hesitated. I wasn’t looking for a one-night stand, but I felt safe, so I agreed.
The next day, we went for lunch, and the following weekend, when he cooked dinner at his flat, I felt myself falling for him.
Three months later, David moved in with me, bringing a holdall containing his clothes and some dumbbells. While I worked long hours at a food manufacturer, David was between jobs. He cooked, cleaned and pottered around the house.
But as the weeks went by, he started drinking during the day, and I’d come home to find him drunk and the house a mess. We argued about housework, and one night, in March 2014, when I asked David to help wash up, it escalated into a row. He grabbed my jaw and held a dumbbell against my head. ‘What are you doing?’ I cried. He froze, let me go and apologised. He hadn’t actually hurt me and he was so sorry afterwards, I put it down to a one-off. But I grew wary of upsetting him.
SUDDEN VIOLENCE
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