This Charming Man

by Marian Keyes

  ‘And his father was emotionally repressed,’ Marnie said. ‘Maybe he inherited that. Like I said…’

  ‘Lots of therapy?’ Dee asked.

  ‘Yes.’

  When the democratically elected eleven minutes had elapsed, I said, ‘Okay, let’s go.’

  We all climbed out and crossed the road. Dee shoved her face into the intercom camera and rang Paddy’s bell. ‘Paddy, it’s Dee. I was just passing and wondered ifI could have a quick word about tomorrow.’

  (Some bill or other was taking place the following day in the Dail.)

  ‘Sure, come on up.’

  The communal door clicked opened, the four of us filed in, Dee wished us luck and Marnie, Lola and I ascended the stairs to Paddy’s flat.

  We arrayed ourselves before Paddy’s door, me front and centre, Marnie slightly behind me and to my left, and Lola slightly behind me and to my right.

  ‘Like Charlie’s Angels,’ Lola whispered.

  But Charlie’s Eejits would be closer to the truth.

  I wasn’t scared. I was worse than scared. I’d entirely lost faith in the enterprise: the three of us – Lola, Marnie and I – wouldn’t alarm a mangy dog.

  ‘Paddy mightn’t let us in when he sees who we are,’ I said, although I suspected that was unlikely.

  Then the door opened and there was Paddy. There was a moment, just a moment, when his eyes went funny; they flickered over us, recognizing all three of us at once and his pupils did something, went either big or small, depending on what’s meant to happen when human beings discern danger, then the next thing he was doing his Paddy-on-parade smile. ‘Grace Gildee,’ he said. ‘As I live and breathe.’

  He took my hand and leant forward to kiss me, pulling me into the warmth of his home. ‘And you brought Marnie. Marnie, it’s been years and years. Too long.’ A kiss on the cheek for Marnie, a kiss on the cheek for Lola and he was welcoming us in. He looked, actually, genuinely delighted.

  It would have been better ifhe’d tried to slam the door shut on us and we’d had to run at it and shoulder our way in; at least then we’d have had a little bit of adrenaline behind us.

  ‘Come in and sit down,’ he said. ‘Let me call Alicia before she takes her make-up off. She’d be cross with me ifshe missed you.’

  He disappeared down a corridor and the three of us waited in the living room, Marnie in an armchair and Lola and I on the edge of the couch. ‘He’s trying to unsettle us by being nice,’ I reminded them. ‘Remember what he’s done to you. Don’t lose sight of it.’

  Lola’s knees were knocking. I took her hand. ‘You’re doing great.’

  ‘Sorry,’ she whispered. ‘I should have worn jeans. I didn’t know I’d be so scared –’

  ‘And remember: leave the talking to me.’ I’d practised my speech with Dee. Practised and practised. She’d acted the part of me and I’d played Paddy, then she’d played Paddy and I’d been me and I was afraid that Lola was so overwrought that she might hijack the carefully scripted situation by flinging herselfat Paddy’s feet and begging him to take her back.

  ‘Alicia will be here in a minute.’ Paddy had reappeared. ‘Now, what can I get you to drink?’

  ‘Nothing, thanks, Paddy,’ I said, trying to make my voice sound deeper than it was. ‘It’s late, we don’t want to take up too much of your time. I guess you’re wondering what the three of us are doing here.’

  ‘Always delighted to have three beautiful women in my home,’ he said easily.

  Slowly and deliberately and with a tiny hint of menace I said, ‘Paddy, the story you’ve planted with the Press about Dee Rossini harbouring illegals, we want you to drop it.’

  In an ideal world, he would say, ‘Why would I drop it?’ Which would be my cue to say, ‘Ifyou drop your story, we’ll drop ours.’

  But he laughed and said, ‘I haven’t a clue what you’re talking about.’

  ‘Drop it, Paddy,’ I said, trying to get the script back on track. ‘And we’ll drop ours.’

  He was meant to ask what our story was but he simply stretched one leg out and settled back in his armchair and smiled at me from under his eyelids; smiled and ran a lazy gaze over my body, lingering on my nipples, wandering down to my crotch.

  Silence endured.

  Out of the corner of my eye I could see Lola’s knees chattering against each other with renewed energy.

  The door pushed open and Alicia walked into the silent room and her gracious smile froze. Anxiously she asked, ‘What’s going on?’

  ‘I was just explaining to Paddy that ifhe drops his story implicating Dee Rossini in harbouring illegals, we’ll drop our story about Paddy.’

  ‘What story is that?’ Alicia asked. Thanks be to Christ that someone around here knew their lines.

  ‘Paddy hurts women. He punches them, kicks them and burns them. But you don’t need me to tell you that, Alicia.’

  She blanched – she’d thought she was the only one – and I knew then that this was going to work.

  ‘What women?’ Alicia asked quickly.

  I indicated Lola and Marnie.

  Paddy gave a little chuckle. ‘Who’s going to believe that fashion flake with the purple hair?’

  Shocked, Lola sucked in her breath. ‘Why are you so cruel?’ Her voice was shaking.

  ‘Lola, you couldn’t seriously… I’m a politician…’ Almost kindly, he said, ‘We had fun, didn’t we?’

  ‘Fun? I’m a human being, Paddy, not a toy.’

  ‘So why behave like a toy?’

  I’d lost Lola. Right on target and shot down in flames.

  Paddy turned his attention to Marnie.

  ‘Marnie Gildee? Still crazy after all these years?’

  ‘… I…’

  ‘You hit Marnie,’ I said.

  He sighed. ‘Anyone would hit Marnie.’

  ‘No –’

  ‘She had me driven mad. The crying, the fighting, calling round to my house day and night –’

  ‘– But you made her like that, and you did it too –’

  ‘Then she slept with my best friend; he was like a brother to me.’

  ‘No long-term damage, though. Seeing as he’s brokering dirty deals with the Globe on your behalf.’

  I was saying that at the same time that Marnie was exclaiming at Paddy, ‘But you slept with Leechy. You did it first.’

  Paddy rolled his eyes at her and turned to me, as ifwe were the only two responsible adults in the room. ‘It was all a long, long time ago, Grace. We were kids, messed-up kids. It’s not going to fly. Is that the best you can do? This pair?’

  ‘No, actually, not just this pair,’ I said. It was time for my secret weapon.

  Everyone – even Paddy, I have to say, which was gratifying – looked startled.

  I leapt from my seat and grabbed Alicia’s hands. I opened them both palm upwards, rock-solid certain that one of them would have a small circular scar. But there was nothing there. Both her palms were unmarked. I shoved up her sleeves. No bruises. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.

  Immediately, I moved away from Alicia, trying to pretend that I hadn’t approached her at all, that the exercise of gazing at her palms had been a spontaneous but quickly abandoned attempt to tell her future.

  Centre floor, all eyes on me, my heart was pounding so hard my ribs, my actual ribs, hurt. I’d been sure about Alicia. Now all my lifelines were gone – I had nothing, and my vision was misty from fear. It was like being in a nightmare where you’re in the shop buying a scratch card and you suddenly look down and find that you’re naked.

  I twisted about, seeking salvation. The only secret I had left would do as much harm as good ifI revealed it. The ensuing fallout would be devastating; I couldn’t do it. Who was Dee to me, anyway? Much as I admired her, she wasn’t worth blowing my life up in my face for.

  Everyone was still looking at me expectantly, like this was a whodunnit. Gripped by another wave of panic, I considered grabbing Lola and Marnie and hustling them out of the door and bac
k down the stairs and across the road to the car. They’d be angry and confused, of course. But I’d take them for a pizza. Over the years I’d noticed that pizzas seem to take the sting out of things for most people. Wine, too. They’re a good double act. Then I’d explain everything. Well, not everything. But part of everything. Without giving anything away. And ifthey began to complain again and they’d finished their pizza, I’d get them tiramisu. And more wine. And perhaps a Baileys coffee…

  But the right thing needed to be done.

  And even ifit didn’t, pride wouldn’t let me give in.

  I sighed – at the sound everyone seemed to perk up with renewed keenness – and resigned myselfto whatever was going to happen. ‘There’s someone else,’ I said, the words like stones on my tongue. ‘A third woman. Who’s prepared to tell her story.’

  ‘Who?’ Marnie asked.

  ‘Yes, who?’ Lola asked.

  Poor Lola and Marnie, they were expecting me to pull something truly magical out of the hat, some woman to walk through the door and declare silkily, ‘Surely you haven’t forgotten about the time you beat the shit out of me, Paddy!’

  ‘Yes, who?’ Alicia asked.

  Paddy said nothing. He watched, a small smile on his mouth.

  ‘Me,’ I said.

  ‘You?’

  ‘Why would he hit you?’ Marnie asked.

  ‘Because…’ There was no way out. I had to say it. ‘I wouldn’t sleep with him.’

  My words fell into stunned silence. Paddy closed his eyes and smiled to himself.

  ‘Did Paddy want to sleep with you?’ Marnie asked slowly, as ifshe was listening to herselfspeak.

  Paddy opened his eyes and said lasciviously, ‘Oh yeah.’

  Marnie went the colour of death. ‘Did you always fancy her?’ she whispered. ‘Even when you were going out with me?’

  ‘Yeah.’ Paddy stretched lazily. ‘Always. When I was fucking you I was thinking of her.’

  ‘No, he wasn’t! Don’t mind him, he’s just trying to turn us against each other.’ For God’s sake, it was nearly fifteen years since Marnie had gone out with Paddy. When was she going to stop behaving like it had just finished?

  ‘Paddy and I were working together on his biography and he put the moves on me because he does it to everyone. And when I didn’t go for it, he gave me a slap, put a cigarette out on my hand and told Spanish John to burn out my car.’

  ‘You were working on his biography?’ Marnie said faintly.

  ‘Come on now, Grace,’ Paddy said. ‘You were hardly fighting me off.’

  ‘When was this?’ Marnie asked, her voice thick.

  ‘Last summer. Until September.’

  ‘September,’ Lola spoke up. ‘But he got engaged to Alicia in August.’

  Marnie rounded on Alicia. ‘How do you feel about that, Leechy?’

  ‘Fine,’ Alicia said, ‘because none of it is true. And don’t call me Leechy, I always hated it.’

  ‘But he’s just told you he wanted to sleep with Grace –’ Lola exclaimed, at the same time as Marnie said to Alicia, ‘Well, I didn’t name you Leechy. Someone – who was it? Some baby couldn’t pronounce Alicia –’

  ‘My sister.’

  ‘So don’t act like we decided to change your name. Everyone called you Leechy. For as long as we knew you.’

  ‘I’m Alicia now.’

  ‘Actually,’ Marnie said with uncharacteristic spite, ‘Leechy suits you better. Because you were a leech, leeching around after Paddy –’

  We were in danger of losing sight of our common purpose here… ‘Marnie,’ I said. ‘Please.’

  ‘You were never my friends,’ Leechy said. ‘I was always left out. It was always you and Grace, then me tacked onto the edge –’

  You know, that really wasn’t true, but before I got sucked into it, Paddy got to his feet. ‘I’m off to bed.’

  ‘Wait, Paddy.’ I intercepted him at the door. ‘We’re not finished here yet.’ I tried to locate my slightly menacing voice once more. ‘Like I said, you drop your story and we’ll drop ours.’

  He laughed softly and shook his head. Not in refusal but at what a shambles the situation had descended into. I couldn’t blame him.

  We’d failed. Quite spectacularly.

  In disarray, we departed the flat and thumped down the stairs, none of us speaking to each other, to break the bad news to Dee.

  Marnie wouldn’t get in the car. Her face was closed and tight with humiliation.

  Dee and Lola, acknowledging the fracture between Marnie and me, had peeled away with talk of taxis, and left us to it.

  ‘Please get in the car, Marnie,’ I said.

  ‘It was such an important relationship to me,’ she said. ‘Can you imagine how I feel finding out he wanted to be with you?’

  ‘He didn’t want to be with me when he was with you. He loved you.’ Slowly I drove alongside her. ‘Please, Marnie, please, get in. It’s late. You can’t just walk around.’

  ‘I won’t stay in your house.’

  ‘Then let me drop you out to Ma’s. Please, Marnie, it’s not safe.’

  Eventually she got in and sat in rigid-backed silence. After ten minutes she asked coldly, ‘Does Damien know about you and Paddy?’

  ‘I didn’t sleep with him,’ I said. ‘There’s nothing for Damien to know.’

  ‘But something went on?’

  Yes, something had gone on.

  ‘You wanted to sleep with him? You considered it? You were emotionally involved?’

  I said nothing and she had her answer.

  ‘I bet Damien doesn’t know about that,’ she said.

  ‘Please don’t tell him.’ My voice was choked.

  She didn’t reply and I knew then that she might. I wouldn’t have believed that this situation was possible. Marnie and I, our loyalty had always been to each other, before everyone – anyone – else. But everything was fucked-up. Marnie was wounded and, with the drink and everything, she was a loose cannon. And Paddy de Courcy was in the mix and he twisted and destroyed everything he came into contact with. When we reached Yeoman Road, Marnie got out of the car and ran up the steps without saying goodbye to me.

  ‘Where’s Marnie?’ Damien, tense and expectant, was waiting up for me. ‘What happened with de Courcy?’

  ‘Oh God, Damien…’ I didn’t know where to start because I didn’t know where I could end. I couldn’t tell him everything, so I was afraid to tell him anything.

  I pressed myselfagainst him and wound my arms around his neck. The terror of losing him was so huge that I had to physically cling to him.

  He pulled me into a tight hold and rested his head on mine.

  ‘Tighter,’ I said.

  Obediently his arms formed a harder band around my back. ‘Was it a disaster?’ he asked into my hair.

  I nodded against his shoulder. ‘A disaster. But I don’t know ifhe’ll link the leak to you, I think it might be okay.’ I genuinely thought it would be. ‘Can we go to bed?’ I asked.

  ‘Come on.’ He helped me up the stairs like I was someone recovering from pneumonia. In the bedroom I stepped out of my clothes, leaving them where they’d landed on the floor, and climbed between the sheets. Then Damien got in and I curled myselfaround him, against his hard, warm body, like it might be the last chance I’d ever get. I closed my eyes and became very still, wishing I could stay in that moment for ever.

  Then Damien shifted and pulled back far enough to look into my face. ‘So are you going to tell me what happened?’

  ‘Would you mind…? Could we leave it for tonight? I’m just so…’

  He looked disappointed, hurt, something…

  ‘Sorry.’ I backtracked. I couldn’t not tell him. Not after all he’d done to help. ‘What am I thinking? Of course I’ll tell you.’ But I couldn’t tell him everything and that made me so unbearably sad. Then unbearably frightened.

  ‘No, leave it,’ he said. ‘You’re wrecked. Go to sleep. Tell me in the morning.’
/>   ‘The funny thing is there’s nothing really to tell. He totally belittled Marnie and Lola, they just fell apart, they’d be no good in any interview, and he obviously hasn’t laid a hand on Alicia. It was a fiasco. He’s unscareable.’

  ‘De Courcy.’ Damien turned out the light and sighed into the darkness. ‘It’s a mistake to tangle with him.’

  ‘Yes.’ I knew.

  When I picture it in my head – and I don’t do it often – there’s a soundtrack: an orchestra oflush strings swelling, building to a climax which bursts into the fullness of its rich beauty as I turn and see Paddy for the first time.

  I was almost seventeen years old and Mick the manager was introducing me to the barmen the night I started work at the Boatman.

  ‘That’s Jonzer,’ Mick said. ‘Jonzer, say hello to Grace.’

  Jonzer stared like I was the first human being he’d ever seen. His arms hung loosely by his sides but his fists were clenched and one malevolent eye was set lower in his face than the other. Deliverance banjos plucked a few chords in my head.

  ‘And that’s Whacker,’ Mick said. ‘Whacker, Grace, new bargirl. Lives in Yeoman Road.’

  Whacker opened his mouth and bared his teeth in a snarl.

  ‘And over there,’ Mick said. ‘That’s Paddy.’

  My breathing, which had been going about its rhythmic business year in, year out, causing me no worry whatsoever, suddenly seized up and broke down and I was paralysed by the devastating combination of Paddy’s beauty, his life force and his dazzling smile.

  I was so overawed that I thought Paddy should be the Boatman’s manager. It seemed contrary to the natural order of things that he was just a barman. He was obviously so far superior in every way to runty unpleasant Mick that I had a little conversation in my head where I agreed with myselfthat ifI was the Boatman’s owner I’d sack Mick and replace him with Paddy.)

  Thanks to Ma’s indoctrination, I didn’t believe in love at first sight. However, one look from Paddy had been enough to turn me into Queen Sap, even worse than Leechy, officially the most (self-confessed) sappy girl Marnie or I had ever met. I wanted him more than I had ever wanted anything and I was terrified that I wouldn’t get him.

  The normal thing would be to talk about it but I was trying to make sense myselfofthe cataclysmic effect he had on me before I told anyone else. I couldn’t contemplate hours of girly analysis with Marnie and Leechy, lying on the bed, thinking up ways to make Paddy fancy me. My urge for him was immeasurably more visceral and adult than any of the other crushes I’d had and there was one thing I was certain of: sparkly mascara was not the answer.