Kate knew she was being a bitch and hated herself for doing it but she knew that she couldn’t let him get even a toehold back in her life. If she did she might not have the strength to push him back out again; once had been hard enough, twice might be impossible. So she forced herself to say coldly, ‘I’m sorry for being so ratty, Peter, but it’s been over between us for some time now and I don’t like you interfering in my affairs. And I don’t like the thought of you and Trevor discussing me behind my back. What else did he say about me?’
He looked surprised and protested, ‘Come off it, Kate, I knew Trevor before I knew you! Hell, I knew him before you did, back in school. I talk to him all the time, but not about you. When I arrived back in Ireland of course I rang him. Did you really think he wouldn’t mention that you’re working for him now? Or that you were burgled last night? What’s the matter with you?’
She sat on the couch and tiredly closed her eyes, ‘Sorry, I suppose I’m being paranoid. And I forgot that you and Trev were in school together. I know it’s early but it’s still been a long day. And I didn’t sleep much last night.’
His face softened and he sat on the couch beside her, gently touching her hand, ‘That’s okay. It must have been awful for you to come home and find you’d been robbed. And you never were very good at handling stress, were you?’
She opened her eyes long enough to glare murderously at him but he just laughed and said, ‘I’ll deal with Harry and the window guy. You sit here and rest, and when they’re gone I’ll make you a coffee.’
Oh well, at least he didn’t offer me a nice cup of tea. She closed her eyes again and felt the whole sofa move as he lifted his massive bulk off it and left the room. His sheer size was, of course, one of the problems; when things went wrong –and they always seemed to- it was tempting to simply rest her head against one of his broad shoulders and let him deal with it. And what that, and her attraction to one of his size, said about her father issues she preferred not to think. And of course he knew how her innate strength seesawed against the weakness planted in her by her abusive childhood, because he knew her better than anyone. Better than she knew herself? Possibly. And that was one of the reasons it was so important not to get involved with him again.
They had known each other slightly in Ireland, through Trevor, but although both had felt an instant attraction for the other when they first met neither had mentioned or acted upon it. It was only when they had bumped into each other a couple of years later in a pub in Oxford that they had hooked up.
After Kate had graduated she had been desperate for a job -any job- that would give her the five years in a public hospital she needed before being allowed to obtain her Ph. D. In the end lack of opportunities had forced her to leave Ireland and take a position at the Oxford Mental Health Institute, far from her friends and family. After two years of more-or-less unrelieved loneliness, working in a highly stressful environment, she had been delighted to see a friendly, familiar face from the past and had practically fallen into his arms. What he was doing in Oxford was less clear, as he only told her that he was working on a refurbishment project in one of the colleges. In fact, Kate had never been entirely clear exactly what he did for a living. He had told her right at the beginning that he was an estimator for a big building firm, but that had meant absolutely nothing to Kate, and his subsequent attempts to describe his job hadn’t made matters much clearer. But that hadn’t mattered; they had simply clicked together right from the start, and within days they were inseparable, within weeks living together. Before Peter the longest relationship she had ever been in had lasted only four months, and that had been with Trevor Jordan. With Peter it had been different. In the beginning she had been madly, dizzily infatuated with him, but when the first wild excitement had worn off she had not ended the affair, as so often before. Instead a deeper attachment had formed, and as well as her lover he had become her best friend. Kate had never been able to bear even the idea of a long-term relationship, but with Peter there had been no sense of commitment, no sense of this is the man I’m going to spend the rest of my life with. Instead he had just slowly and easily become as much a part of her life as the color of her hair. Occasionally she had panicked and tried to end things, feeling they were getting too serious, but somehow he had always won her back by the very casualness of his approach. And he had learned early on never to mention the future, and to avoid words like forever.
Even after the incident with Arthur Straub they had stayed together. In fact, for a while it had brought them even closer, if that were possible. When Kate had decided she wanted to get away from everything, to bury herself in the countryside and try to write, Peter had made no protest, but had quietly packed up and gone with her. By that stage she had finished work at the Oxford asylum and completed her Ph. D. and after what had happened with Straub she knew she couldn’t go back to her police consultancy work. And it had always been in the back of her mind that she one day wanted to write. They had moved to a remote part of Dorset and for a while things had been better than ever, even though Peter had been forced to give up his job. He hadn’t complained, though, and had set up his own little building company in a nearby town with the same quiet assurance with which he did everything. He had done pretty well, too, and when her books had become successful their future had seemed secure. And yet that was when things had started falling apart. Out of the blue -in her eyes, at least, though they had been together almost six years by then- Peter had asked her to marry him, and she had instantly rejected his offer. Instantly, without even considering it. He had been hurt and angry at her refusal, which in turn had angered Kate. In her view everything had been just fine, and she had seen no reason to alter their situation. Besides, she felt that he had no right to be angry, that he had no right to expect more from her than she was willing to give.
Peter had seen things differently, if just as simply. They loved each other; he wanted to marry her. He wanted them to settle down and -a thought which filled her with panic- have a family together. They had had not one but a series of furious rows, which had culminated in her ending things. He had not taken her seriously at first, had thought that they would get back together a few days later, when their mutual anger had faded. After all, this was what had happened before, after other fights. But this time Kate had irrevocably made up her mind and had moved out of the flat they shared. She could not and would not be owned, and the more he persisted the more determined she had become to banish him from her life forever.
Even after he had realized that she was serious this time he still had not given up, insisting that they were meant to be together, and that he would not let her let her throw away their relationship. Even after she had returned to Ireland he had continued to ring her and had even come over twice, refusing to admit that things were over. He even tried to blame her for their split-up, saying that it was her fear of commitment that had caused her to run, and even claiming that she still loved him but was simply afraid to admit it. All these things were reasons why she couldn’t afford to give him a toehold back in her life now. It had been eight months since their break-up, and six months since her return to Ireland, and he still was not totally gone from her life; how long would it take to be free of him if she now weakened even once?
How long she sat on the couch she didn’t know but she must have dozed off, for the next thing she was aware of was Peter shaking her gently awake, a steaming mug of coffee in one hand. And it was dark outside the window as well as in the gloomy room.
‘Here you go, love,’ he said softly, as soon as he was sure she was fully awake. ‘Get that down you.’
Unreasonably, and unexpectedly, tears flooded her eyes. To cover them, and the accompanying confusion, she took a deep drink from the mug, forgetting that he always served it scalding hot. The pain that instantly flooded her burnt mouth cleared her mind, and gave her an excuse for the inexplicable tears.
‘Oh shit, that’s hot!’ she gasped breathlessly, her face screwed up
in pain.
The look of self-reproach on his face was almost comical as he said, ‘Oh shit, Kate, I’m sorry! I should have warned you it was hot! Are you okay?’
Kate couldn’t face his concern, wasn’t able for it, so she waved her hand dismissively, ‘I’m fine, honestly. How long have I been asleep?’
‘About an hour. The workmen are all gone, by the way, and this place is as secure as it’ll ever be. I got Harry to put in the loudest alarm in the world so you needn’t worry about another break-in.’ He grinned, ‘It’s loud enough to summon dead policemen, never mind the living.’
She smiled back involuntarily and for a fleeting moment felt a return of some of their old intimacy. But luckily she was able to quickly stifle it.
He might have been a builder rather than a psychologist but he had always been able to read her like a book, and now he saw the change in her expression and sighed, ‘Do you really hate me so much?’
Fresh tears threatened to spill over and she had to keep her voice harsh to hide the emotion in it, ‘I don’t hate you, Peter, you know I don’t. I just don’t want to be with you anymore.’
‘I’ve come to realise that,’ he said dryly, ‘Even a thicko like me will get the message eventually, if it’s beaten into his head long enough.’
There was a long silence and then he said softly, ‘It’s still good to see you again, though.’
‘Stop it!’ she said wearily, putting her mug down onto the occasional table hard enough to slop half its contents onto the polished surface.
He recoiled as if slapped and said angrily, ‘Stop what? I only said it was good to see you again!’
‘Yes,’ she said through frozen lips, unable to look at him lest her resolve faltered, ‘And that’s just it. You’re always seeing me again. Why can’t you just accept that things are over between us and move on?’
‘I have,’ he said simply but with dignity, his face unreadable in the near darkness, ‘I’m not here to try and win you back.’
‘No?’ she sneered, hating herself for doing it but somehow compelled to provoke him.
A harsh note entered his voice as he retorted, ‘No. I came here to do you a favour, as a friend, to prevent you from being robbed again. And maybe hurt next time. I would have done the same for any of my friends and I’d expect you to know that about me.’
She did, but she couldn’t help replying snidely, ‘Dorset’s a long way to come to do a friend a favor. Or did you just happen to be in Ireland?’
He looked at her as if she had lost her mind, anger darkening his face. ‘Yes, as a matter of fact, I did. I’m not over to see you, I’m here because...’ He hesitated, then said, ‘Oh, never mind. Just believe me when I tell you that my being in Ireland has nothing to do with you. Okay? You seem to have forgotten that all my family and most of my friends are here. And before your paranoia runs amok, I rang Trevor today to invite him out for a pint, not to pry into your affairs. He told me what had happened so I came around to try and help you out. Don’t worry, it won’t happen again.’
He spoke stiffly but she could see the pain in his eyes. A deep pain she wrongly assumed was because of her. So she said, ‘I’m sorry, Pete, I don’t mean to be a bitch. I just want things to be clear between us.’ She closed her eyes, instantly hating herself for weakening at all. I should have just told him to get the hell out! If he looks at me like that one more time I’m going to cry, and I’ll never forgive myself for that.
But he did not look at her at all. Instead he looked out the window into the darkness beyond. After what seemed a very long time he said simply, ‘One of the reasons I came here today was to tell you that I finally got the message. No more phone calls. No more letters. No more visits. Nothing. You’ve finally convinced me to let go.’
She should have been delighted. Or at least relieved. She had tried so hard for so long to get him to accept that it was over, and now he finally had. She should have been pleased. Instead she felt utterly desolate. Abandoned. As if he was finishing with her.
‘Well, good,’ she said at last, hoping her voice didn’t sound as bleak to him as it did to her, ‘It’s for the best, you know.’
He looked at her with his dark eyes hooded, his expression inscrutable, ‘Is it? I hope so, for both our sakes. Otherwise it’s one God-awful waste of our lives. Of our love. A love I still feel, and which I think you still feel. Or would, if you let yourself.’
Try as she might she couldn’t think of a single thing to say in reply. She couldn’t look at him, either. If she looked at him she would want to hold him, and be held by him, and she couldn’t risk him seeing that in her face.
‘I always thought we were meant for each other,’ he said in a slow, matter-of-fact voice yet pain-filled voice that somehow cut her to the quick, ‘I thought we’d spend the rest of our lives together. Since we met I’ve never wanted anyone but you, and I thought you felt the same about me.’ He gave a painful grin, ‘I don’t know why. God knows I’m no oil painting, and not many women would consider a lumbering great oaf like me a catch, but there you go.’
Since most of her friends had been openly envious of her relationship with him, and had at one time or another privately expressed a desire to haul him into bed if she ever tired of him, Kate could have given him an argument there but didn’t trust herself. But then, his unawareness of his own good looks was part of his appeal. Some people found his size intimidating but once they got to know him most women found his powerful frame comforting rather than threatening. Certainly Kate had always, when in his arms, felt warm and safe and protected. A single tear stole down her cheek, unnoticed in the gathering gloom.
‘I really did think we’d be together forever. And when you finished things I thought...’ His voice tailed off but then he said firmly, ‘I know all about your childhood, and the problems you’ve had. And though I’m not the shrink here I thought that you always ran from commitment because you were afraid to fully trust anyone.’ He frowned, ‘No, that isn’t quite right. I know you trusted me. It was the finality of marriage, the thought of permanence. Maybe the fear of being let down by...’
He struggled to continue for several moments but then gave up, ‘Ah, to hell with it. I know what I’m trying to say but I can’t find the right words. Anyway, the point is I’ve realized that, whatever the reason, you aren’t going to change your mind. I’ve realized that you can’t change people, or help them, you can only help them to help themselves. If they want it. And you won’t be helped.’ He frowned again, ‘That isn’t quite right, either. I know exactly what I mean but I can’t quite get it into words. Anyway, the bottom line is that I’m calling it quits. I can’t take it any longer. The frustration of believing that you love me but wouldn’t stay with me because of your personal demons was driving me mad. Now it’s time to move on.’
The finality in his voice was chilling and she had to repress a shiver. One way or another he had been in her life...well, it seemed like forever. Even though for months now she had viewed him as a nuisance, not having him there was almost unimaginable. It was like living on a mountain all your life and waking up one morning to find that it had vanished from beneath your feet. It just didn’t seem possible.
He got to his feet, ‘I’ll be in Ireland for another week or so but don’t worry, I’ll stay out of your way.’
In a way the lack of bitterness in his voice, the lack of any emotion, hurt more than anything, and she hung her head and made no reply.
‘And when I go back to England it will be for good. Good-bye, Kate.’
There was no grand exit; he simply turned and walked out of the room and out of the apartment. And the instant he left Kate started crying, for no good reason that she could see. The old curse, May you get what you wish for, crawled through her mind and she shivered again, all the way down to her soul. It occurred to her to ring Michael, to run to him for comfort, but she rejected the idea immediately; she wasn’t that weak. The simple truth was that Peter was the one she had always
turned to when she needed help, and now she had no one to take his place. Not even Trev, because he wouldn’t understand. Worse, he might understand only too well. What she needed was a girl friend to have a heart-to-heart with, but she had long since lost touch with her old college friends, and hadn’t yet re-established any links with them since her return. Or made any new friends, for that matter.
She sat and cried for some time, but the tears brought no relief. This wasn’t something she could just weep out of her system and forget. This was... She stopped herself there, unwilling to pursue that line of thought. Quite simply, she didn’t want to consider how important this was to her. Eventually she pulled herself together and stood up. Feeling sorry for herself was helping not at all, and she was determined to snap out of it; she could worry about dying alone later. The apartment was totally dark by now and she began turning on lights and pulling curtains mechanically. And as she was drawing the sitting-room curtains she noticed, in the gathering darkness outside, the figure of a man standing across the street. He was leaning against the park railings under a streetlight, staring straight down at her, framed as she was by the sitting-room light. She drew the curtains shut with a jerk, her heart suddenly pounding; who the hell was that? Could he be the burglar, returned to...to what? That was the question that scared her. She wasn’t usually paranoid, but between the burglary and being shadowed by Wilson her nerves were pretty frayed just then. And he wasn’t a neighbor or a casual passer-by; he had very definitely been staring in at her.
Five minutes, she decided, and if he doesn’t go away by then I’ll call the police. And she immediately felt better for having made some sort of positive decision; she was tired of simply reacting to people and events in her life. It was time she started taking control.
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