‘This is absolutely ridiculous.’

 ‘What is?’ My eyes leave the canvas lying in front of me on the floor to look at Paul, who is lounged, on one side, on the sofa, arm bent at the elbow crushing a cushion against the armrest, head propped up in his hand, and watching the news.

‘Some idiot’s proposal for a change in the tax system. He’s saying high earners should pay more income tax to help the poor. Since tax is calculated as a percentage of your earnings it is obvious we already do, this without mentioning the highest tax band we qualify for .’

I arch my back and stretched my legs. I’ve been sitting cross-legged on the floor, bent over the canvas I’ve been trying to pencil in for the last fifteen minutes, and my joints feel strained. ‘I’m sure he’s talking about an increase in tax rate.’ I smile.

His face scowls a ‘I know that’ at me.

I shift, kneeling down and sitting on my heels. I pick up the canvas and start examining it closely. The sketch doesn’t look too bad, all it needs now is a touch of colour. I turn to Paul. ‘It’s not exactly as if you can’t afford it.’

 ‘That’s not the point,’ he says. ‘It’s the principle of it. We give out much more than we receive in benefits already. Why should we pay even more?’

I shrug, pursing my lips and heaving my eyebrows. ‘Because it’s your moral duty as well-educated, highly regarded citizens to bring a greater contribution to the prosperity of your society?’ I tease him, but he doesn’t seem amused.

‘A moral duty, yes, I agree. But imposing a higher tax rate on us is hardly a polite reminder of our civic responsibilities, to me it looks more like a punitive measure and I can’t understand why I have to be penalized for earning more than the average. I’ve always had to work hard for what I have.’

‘I’m sure you have. But it’s very unlikely that someone, however rich, would volunteer to pay more than they’ve been asked for. Don’t you think so?’

He opens his mouth, ready to say something, but his reply is halted by a loud bang coming from outside. I startle, my hands involuntary let go the canvas which falls to the floor.

‘What the hell…?’ Paul jumps off the sofa in a flash and moves to the window. I get up and follow him as punching noises and shouting are muffled in through the walls.

Standing beside Paul, I look out the window. The murky light stemming from a dejected street lamppost pitched few yards down the road exposes the shape of a man hunched against Paul’s car, which is parked in front of the flat. My stomach churns in horror as I watch two more discernible hooded silhouettes mercilessly kicking the life out of him.

‘Adi, call the police,’ Paul says rushing towards the door.

‘Where are you going?’ I try to stop him. ‘Don’t go outside, please, Paul, wait until they get here.’

He frowns at me. ‘You must be joking. They’ll kill him by the time the police arrive. Just do as I said. Now! Ask for an ambulance as well,’ he demands hastily.

Terror’s spreading fast through my veins as my eyes watch him sliding his feet into his shoes. My hand is badly shaking when I pick up the phone and dial 999. I try to steady my voice which is slightly wobbling when I explain to the operator that there’s a disturbance outside my flat.

‘Please, ask them to hurry up,’ I plead after I give them the address. ‘My boyfriend’s gone outside to break up the fight.’

I’m already standing outside the front entrance by the time I put the phone down. I turn and glance at the door which I've left open behind me. Vicky’s asleep in the bedroom, luckily that’s at the back of the flat and the noises don’t pierce through that far, but I can’t move any further.

‘Ya deaf or just fuckin’ fick?’ one of the hoodies is snarling at Paul, standing, legs parted belligerently, in front of him. ‘Get the fuck back inside.’

‘I suggest you move away from my car,’ Paul eyes him coldly. How can he be so calm? I’m all a shivering wreck.

‘Yer car, is it?’ the guy sneers. ‘Did ya ‘ear that, TJ? This motha’ fucka’ ‘ere wan’s us to leave ‘is car alone’ he turns to his partner in crime whose hand is gripped around their victim’s throat. They both start laughing and TJ’s leg launches a hard kick onto the car, making the guy slammed against it groan.

My heart’s reduced to the size of a rice grain by now. I look around, most of the houses lined along the street are lit, but there seems to be no soul inhabiting them willing to come outside and help. There’s no sign of police yet either. Then everything happens so quick.

‘Right, that’s it,’ I hear Paul roaring. ‘Don’t say I didn’t warn you, you fucking slags.’ He lashes out at the guy in front of him, grabbing him by the front of his coat. I can see his fist rising in the air before dropping like a hammer onto the guy’s face. Oh God, I cup my face in my hands watching the guy stagger to the ground. Without giving him a second look, Paul moves past him and goes for the other one. ‘I told you to leave him alone,’ he yells. But TJ’s already abandoned his prey and is running fast down the road. By the time Paul turns around, the other guy has stumbled up and legged it after his friend.

I rest a hand on top of my chest, sighting heavily. Oh, thank God, thank God. I run to Paul and throw my arms around him, still shaking.

‘Hey, sweetheart, he cuddles me, kissing the top of my head. ‘Everything’s all right now, they’re gone.’ He turns to the man crouched down next to the car. ‘Are you ok?’

The guy nods slightly.

‘What’s your name, mate?’ Paul asks, squatting in front of him.

‘Ahmed,’ he mutters, grimacing when Paul touches his arm.

‘Come on, Ahmed, let’s get you inside.’ Paul slides his arm around his back and hoists him up. ‘Hold onto me.’

Inside the flat, I grab a couple of cushions from the sofa and piled them against the back of one of the armchairs. Ahmed’s thin body almost disappears amongst them when I help Paul laying him in it. I peep at him, he looks so young, it’s only a gleam of a man on his face and that’s mostly given out by the streak of beard crossing his lower chin. There is a nasty bruise sprawled beneath his left eye, his nose’s bleeding and his upper lip is cracked open. God knows what they’ll find underneath his clothes at the hospital. ‘You’ll be all right, Ahmed.’ I take his hand, squeezing slightly, and smile warmly at him. I don’t know, I just want him to feel safe. I’m grateful when he smiles back, true, weakly, but still a smile, a trusting one.

I go and check on Vicky, thank God she’s still asleep, before moving to the kitchen. I come back in the room with a bowl filled with cold water and a clean towel. ‘Here, let me clean your face.’ I don’t know how long the ambulance will be and I’m a bit concerned about the blood streaming down from his nose. ‘Can you move your head back a little?’ I ask, leaning over and gently pressing the wet cloth against it.

Paul’s standing by the window, looking outside. ‘I’ll show them in,’ he says moving towards the door when we hear the siren and see blue lights flashing outside. He comes back followed by two officers, a man and woman, both quite young. They identify themselves as they step in, but I’m too preoccupied with Ahmed’s bleeding nose to retain their names.

They start asking questions straight away and I let Paul do the talking. He calmly explains everything as it happened.

‘Do you live here, sir?’ the woman asks, eyeing Paul form head to toe. I bet she wonders what on earth someone like him is doing in this area.

‘No, my..’ he hesitates for a second, glancing at me, ‘fiancé does.’

‘It was very brave of you to go outside and get involved, sir,’ she carries on, smiling, but Paul’s not impressed.

‘Do you know how long the ambulance will be? He really needs medical attention,’ he cuts her short, looking at Ahmed.

‘It’s on its way, sir,’ the man standing next to me and Ahmed reassures him

‘Was anyone else with you in the flat when it happened?’ the woman keeps questioning.

‘Yes, Vicky, our daughter. She was asleep in the bedroom, still is actually. I don’t think she’d be able to help much though, she’s only eighteen months old,’ Paul smiles.

It’s not long before the ambulance arrives and I hand Ahmed over to the paramedics.

‘Well, we won’t keep you any longer,’ the policeman takes over from his colleague. ‘Are you prepared to come to the station tomorrow morning and give us a full statement?’ he looks at me first and then at Paul.

‘Yes, of course,’ Paul says and I nod in agreement.

They thank us politely for our help and time before leaving.

I crush onto the sofa after they’re gone. I lift my eyes to Paul who’s standing by the door staring at me.

‘You must come home, Adi,’ he groans. ‘You’re not safe here.’

Vicky and I have been living in this flat for three weeks now. Paul as well, but only part time. When I went to collect our stuff from his house in Chelsea and found him in the state he was in I couldn’t leave him like that. I know, I’m soft, he had hurt me badly, but I just didn’t have the heart to abandon him. I took him downstairs to the kitchen and made him something to eat.

‘What happened to Mary, Paul?’ I asked, sat down next to him and watching him eat. He was holding his sandwich with one hand, the other one was clenched onto mine.

‘I gave her the week off,’ he said looking at me.

‘Why?’

‘I don’t know,’ he lowered his eyes onto the plate in front of him, ‘I felt like being on my own.’

After he finished his sandwich, I made us both a cup of coffee. ‘You can’t carry on like this, Paul.’

We talked, I told him I couldn’t move back just like that, I needed time on my own, trying to get over what happened. He seemed to agree, but his face darkened when I stood up, ready to leave.

‘Don’t leave, Adi,’ he gripped my hand held into his tighter.

I smiled weakly at him. ‘I’m sorry, I have to.’ But then I told him he could come to see us later that evening. He looked very surprised when I mentioned we’d moved into our own flat.

‘Why? I thought you’ve been staying at Tina’s.’

I shrugged. ‘Well, I just wanted us to have our own place.’

‘But you do, this is your home’ he said, looking around.

‘Maybe,’ I said. ‘But I don’t feel this at the moment. Let’s just take things slowly for the time being.’

He has come to see us every evening ever since. The first few days he’d go home first, get change and come around after, spending two or three hours with us. But soon he started coming over straight after work and only leaving late at night when it was time for bed. I haven’t let him stay over night so far and our physical contact has been kept at minimum, a quick hug every now and then and the ordinary peck on the cheek when arriving or leaving.

Tina thought it was absolutely hilarious when she found out, by accident, what we had been up to. She came around the flat one evening, only a week after we had moved in I think. She gazed at Paul’s jacket thrown over the back of the sofa as she walked in.

‘You’ve got visitors?’ she asked.

I was just about to say ‘It’s Paul’s.’ when we heard him shouting from the bathroom.

‘Adi! Can you bring me the towel, please? I left it on the table in the kitchen.’

‘So,’ Tina started once I was back in the room, ‘you’re back together?’

‘Sort of,’ I muttered.

‘What do you mean sort of?’ she frowned at me. ‘You either are or you’re not.’

I had to tell her.

‘He has a few million pounds worth of house in one of the poshest area in London and he’s basically living here with you, in a one bedroom flat in Walthamstow?’ she laughed.

‘What’s wrong with that?’ I glared at her.

She ignored me. ‘You know what, you two are just something else. I better tell my tailor tomorrow to carry on with the dress.’

I bow my head and watch my hands nervously rubbing against each other on my lap.

‘I can’t,’ I whisper. ‘Not yet.’

‘Fine,’ Paul says, his voice slightly irritated. ‘If you don’t want to come home then don’t. But at least let me rent you a flat somewhere else in a safer area.’

‘But I’d lived here before,’ I raise my eyes up to his. They seem very dark and tensioned. ‘There’d never been any troubles.’

‘Yes, I know you’d lived here before. With Tina and Craig, not on your own with a small child. You are on the ground floor with no protection whatsoever against the windows, you have no alarm fitted in the flat, your neighbours seem deaf and blind when anything happens around here, can’t you see the danger you’re exposing yourself and Vicky at?’

I bury my face into my hands, cringing on the sofa. He moves over, sits down next to me and pulls me into his arms.

‘Adi,’ his deep tone voice sways me while his lips lingers over my hair and down on my face, ‘listen to me just this once. I promise we’ll keep things the way they are now for as long as you want. But, please, come home with me. I want you there, so I can look after you. I need to know you’re safe.’ 

I tilt my head and I reach out until my mouth touches his. We kiss, hungrily, lips moulding into one shape. It’s been such a long time. My fingers are feverishly undoing the buttons of his shirt while his hands are releasing the belt fastened around my jeans. Bare skin on bare skin, I can feel his heart pounding fast against mine.

‘I’ve missed you,’ he groans as he sinks. ‘So much.’

‘So have I,’ I whisper. ‘So have I.’