From The Moment I Saw Him ....

by MacDonald, Catherine

He pulled me roughly into his arms, and his mouth clamped down on mine. It felt awkward, scratchy and unloving. I was reminded of his violence after the Arethusa incident, and squirmed away. He stepped back, and hit me, hard, across the face.

  I was too surprised to utter any protest. Hand to my smarting cheek, I collapsed on to one of the chairs by the table.

  “How dare you treat me like this? Just because some boy you’ve always had a crush on crooks his little finger, you think you can walk away and leave me to look a fool. You’ll be the one to look foolish before I’ve finished with you.”

  His face was grey with rage.

  I couldn’t believe what was happening. I was prepared to accept blame and recriminations for having changed my mind, but I was frightened by the violence in his face, and the memory of those warnings about his ruthlessness came back vividly to me.

  “Please, Ian, there’s no need for this. Can’t we sit down and talk about it calmly?” I faltered, still holding my face - it hurt. He glowered at me, and made no move to do as I asked.

  “I want to know what happened,” he demanded.

  I stammered out the tale of Nick’s illness, the phone call from Rosine, the realisation that my feelings for Nick were unchanged.

  “I never meant for any of this to happen,” I confessed miserably. “But I’ve had to confront the truth - and that is I love Nick more than I love you. He needs me more than you do, Ian. I’m so sorry that things have turned out this way, but they just did.”

  “And suppose we’d been married when he came back?”

  This question had occurred to me as well.

  “I - I would have stayed married, once I’d made the commitment,” I said. “But - I would still love him the most. I can’t help it, he’s in my blood somehow - it’s difficult to explain.”

  He swore under his breath, and walked to the window, looking out with furrowed brow on to the street below. I felt the side of my face with anxious fingers. The whole of my jaw hurt after the force of the blow. I couldn’t think what to say to make the situation less fraught.

  After a short pause, he turned to scowl at me again.

  “I suppose you’re shacked up in your dreary little East End bolthole,” he said sneeringly. “You haven’t wasted much time.”

  I was silent. It was true, I had moved swiftly back to my heart’s original anchorage, but what was the point of further shilly shallying?

  He moved back from the window, and sat on the edge of the chair opposite me.

  “I thought you loved me. You said you would marry me. I’m not accustomed to being lied to and deceived.”

  “I didn’t intend to lie to you, or deceive you, Ian. It was sheer accident that Nick came back into my life. But - you know what? I’m beginning to be very glad that he did, because I don’t much like the person I’m seeing now.”

  He sprang up, and for a moment, I thought he was going to strike me again. I shrank back in my chair with a whimper, and this appeared to stop the upraised hand.

  “Hit me all you want, Ian.”

  I sidled away from the chair, hoping I could circumvent him and reach the door. I was beginning to feel very frightened. “Hitting me isn’t going to get me to change my mind, even if it does make you feel better. It’s not a very manly thing to do, is it?”

  He stood there, panting. I think he was beginning to feel ashamed of his actions.

  “Eithne.” He spoke softly now. “Please tell me you forgive me, and this is all some nightmare. Can’t you understand how upset I am? I know we can still be happy together....”

  He stretched out his hand to me.

  “I’m afraid I don’t believe that any more,” I said, and ran for the door.

  I saw Mia at the other end of the corridor, looking for me, and I hared down the carpet towards her. She looked at me in horror.

  “Jesus Christ, Eithne, what happened to your face?”

  I grabbed my jacket and bag.

  “Quick, Mia, let’s get out of here. Go by the side stairs, don’t leave me alone, whatever you do...”

  We turned and ran until we were out of the building and in the dim safety of the wine bar.

  Chapter 25

  I sank on to the banquette. By now I was in a state of shock. Mia went to get a bottle of wine, and I swallowed most of my glass at once.

  “For God’s sake, Eithne, tell me what’s going on,” she demanded.

  Hesitantly, I ran through the complicated tale of my change of heart. She looked pleased when I told her about getting back with Nick, she looked appalled when I described the scene I had just had with Ian.

  “I always said he was a bastard,” she exclaimed. “I’m so pleased you’ve finished with him - can you imagine what he’d be like as a husband?”

  Now I had escaped, I felt like a deflated balloon, and tears began to trickle down my cheeks. My face was very sore where Ian had hit me. I could feel bruising coming out, and my legs would not stop trembling.

  “I can’t go back to the agency today, Mia. I don’t know if I ever can.” I was really crying now. “I know it’s all my fault, but I couldn’t help it.”

  Mia hugged me, and waited until I had regained some semblance of self-control. She said,

  “Don’t even think of going back today. When you feel a bit better, I’ll go and find Robin and tell him what’s happened, and then I’ll take you back to Wapping. Do you know where Nick is at the moment?”

  I shook my head. The nature of his work meant that I never quite knew what Nick was up to on a day to day basis, unless he was up against a copy deadline and pounding at his typewriter at home.

  “Never mind. You’ll be quite safe here, have another drink.”

  “Don’t go just yet, Mia.”

  We sat in tense silence for a while. Although I was horrified by Ian’s behaviour, I also felt very guilty for having been the agent which had brought it about. I remembered how sweet he had been the day he persuaded me to go to Paris; it now seemed very wrong of me to have agreed to marry him without being completely sure of my feelings. How could I have made such a mistake? I was ashamed at having wrought this carnage around me.

  I tried to explain some of this to Mia, but she wasn’t having any of it.

  “You thought it was the best thing at the time. I disagreed, but you’d based your decision on the facts as you saw them. So you were wrong - when Ian calms down, he’ll realise he’s had a lucky escape too.”

  She put down her glass. “Now I’m going to find Robin.”

  But when she came back, Robin was with her. He looked upset when he saw me.

  “Fuck Ian. Your poor face..... I’ve a good mind to tell everyone what a brute he is.”

  “Please, no, Robin,” I begged. “I don’t want this to go any further. But I can’t bear the thought of seeing him again just yet. Would you mind if I take a few days off so the dust can settle? I’m afraid I’m going to have to leave after all, I can’t see it being feasible that we work in the same place now.”

  In fact, it was Robin who accompanied me back to Wapping, and Nick was at home when we got there. I left it to Robin to give Nick an outline of what had happened, while I tried to soothe my sore cheek with an ice pack. I had a nasty suspicion that a tooth might be loose.

  When I reappeared, Nick cradled me in his arms, and gently kissed my wounded face.

  “I suppose Eithne can’t sue him for assault?” he demanded, his countenance very dark.

  “No - I want to forget it ever happened,” I said. “Anyway, I feel guilty about it, it’s my fault he got into such a state.”

  I had taken a strong dose of pain killers, and felt better now they were beginning to work.

  Robin stayed on for tea, and then drinks. I was pleased to see him getting on very well with Nick. It looked like they might be kindred spirits. As evening approached, Robin telephoned his girlfriend, and we all went out for a meal. I put on half a tube of foundation to disguise the trauma on my cheek, and the camaraderie of the ev
ening went a long way to restoring my sense of happiness. As long as I had Nick, and good friends like Robin, I could get through this difficult time.

  My face slowly started to mend. Luckily, there had been no permanent damage done. I took the following Monday off, but Robin rang me on the Tuesday to say that Ian had decided to return to the States on a semi-permanent basis - there was the possibility of a link with a West Coast agency also in the pipeline - and so I was safe to return to work. I think Ian was unwilling to put up with the loss of face resulting from the end of our affair, and this seemed the best way out. If all the negotiations went well, he had the option of staying in America for some considerable time, in the role of managing director for the partner company.

  When I returned, Rob Mackerras asked to see me.

  “I can’t say I approve of your behaviour, Eithne,” he said reprovingly. “Ian and I go back a long way, and I think you’re mad to turn him down in favour of your old flame. But with Ian away now, we need some continuity of people, especially on a newer account like John Warrender, so it’s probably best if you stay on for the time being. Just lay off the rest of the staff, will you?”

  I thought this was extremely unfair, but bit my tongue.

  “Please don’t be annoyed with me Rob, I’m so very happy,” I said.

  Of course, there still remained the task of informing everyone else of my broken engagement and the return of Nick into my life.

  A perfect torrent of disapprobation fell upon my head, from family, close friends, and colleagues, the whole of account management and the secretaries at Mackerras Mackay. Everyone thought I had taken leave of my senses: my parents and Deidre were horrified by what I had done. The only exceptions were Robin and most of the creative staff. They said that I’d had a narrow escape.

  I don’t know what Ian’s family thought. They never contacted me to express an opinion either way, but I suspect his mother was delighted.

  Nick wrote another article for Sphere, which was published in one of its last editions, about our rapprochement and starting a new life together in London. It brought in another sackful of mail - I couldn’t quite understand why people were so interested in our lives - including some rather unkind comments about broken promises from a minority of disgruntled readers, prophesying doom.

  Nick and I didn’t care. We retreated to our riverside home, and were blissfully, blissfully happy.

  Chapter 26

  After the turbulent times of early summer, we were glad when life took a more peaceful course.

  Nick quickly established himself at The Telegraph, where he became popular with his colleagues and with readers. I was proud of his success and enjoyed the other benefits of his job, where we got to rub shoulders socially with stimulating people in interesting places. It was a privileged life, but different to the somewhat sterile one I had experienced with Ian.

  “Ian was the ultimate grown up in some ways,” I reflected. “But life was very black and white with him. With Nick, it’s a constantly changing kaleidoscope.”

  Life at Mackerras Mackay quickly returned to normal, as we were all too busy to spend time worrying about thwarted private lives. Ian occasionally returned for board meetings, but I contrived to be well out of his way when this happened, and he made no move to seek me out, much to my relief.

  Nick and I rapidly became accustomed to living together - in some ways, it was as if our separation had been a matter of weeks instead of years. He never talked much about his life in America, and I think his last twelve months there had not been very happy. The magazine was failing, and he was homesick for England. I knew he had girlfriends, but was secretly pleased when he admitted that he had never been as involved with anyone else as I had been with Ian.

  After some months, I reminded Nick of his promise, and we went to Hatton Garden, where he bought me a sweet Victorian ring set with rubies and pearls, totally unlike Ian’s diamonds (now returned to their purchaser.) I loved it, even though Nick referred to it as the “disengagement ring”, and I knew it would be some time before I could persuade him to take that final step. Any fantasies I might have harboured about churches and elaborate white dresses were swiftly dispelled, as I realised that Nick would only contemplate a register office ceremony. I didn’t care, so long as I felt it was going to happen one day.

  We were leading a charmed life, both of us with good and interesting jobs, happy in our home and social life, and very much in tune physically and emotionally. Sometimes, I would wake in the night, and gaze at Nick, sleeping peacefully beside me, and think that I could not possibly be more content, that I had everything I ever wanted. All the sad times in our past were snuffed out like a candle, only the happiness remained.

  The months turned into years, and nothing changed to disturb the calm tenor of our existence.

  I was pleased to hear one day that Ian had married. I thought that implied he and I could meet again, if required to do so, without further recriminations. Rosine and Andrew attended the wedding, an expensive “do” at the Savoy, of course. When next I saw Rosine, I was curious to hear about it.

  “Jane isn’t as pretty as you, Eithne, but her family are awfully well off,” Rosine told me. “Also - she’s several months pregnant - I’m not sure how pleased Ian was about that, but he’s done the decent thing, and Jane’s father has bought them a huge house in North London for when they come back from America, so he’s not done too badly out of it. She seems very happy, anyway.”

  “I hope they both are,” I said, truthfully.

  Nick had been listening to Rosine’s account, and he sent me a covert grin as she described the wedding and reception.

  “Do you ever wish you’d chosen Ian instead of me?” he asked, pulling gently at my hair. “I don’t think I can afford the Savoy. You’ve missed out on the high life, my darling, we’re living the low life here, I think, but it’s very nice, all the same.”

  I could only agree. However he chose to describe it, life with Nick was sweet and we were close and content. I never regretted my choice, and was eternally grateful for the events which had brought us together again.

  A few months before my twenty-seventh birthday, I went down with a bad throat infection. I was off work for a week, and needed a stiff course of antibiotics to help me recover. Some time afterwards, I found I was suffering from peculiar symptoms, and visited the doctor again, only to discover that I also was pregnant. I had not realised that antibiotics could render the pill ineffective, and this is what had happened with me.

  After the first shock, I was excited. During the previous year, a number of our friends had married - Jo and Simon, Robin and his girlfriend Sarah - and various other friends were starting to have families. Now we would be part of this happy band.

  Just the thought of having Nick’s baby made me ecstatic. However, Nick’s reaction was not exactly what I had hoped.

  “Bloody hell, Eithne. I thought the pill was completely safe,” he exclaimed, his face clouding, much to my disappointment. “Do you want to keep the baby? I’m not sure I’m ready for children.”

  Tears sprang to my eyes. I was very emotional anyway, due to my hormones, but I thought this was cruel of him.

  “You’re not seriously suggesting I get rid of our baby, Nick? I couldn’t possibly do that - I know it wasn’t planned, but now it’s happened, I’m so happy - at least I was happy until you said that......” The tears spilled over and ran down my face. Nick swore softly, and put his arms round me.

  “Oh, Eithne - please don’t cry. It came as a shock to me. I don’t know anything about babies. I can’t envisage our life changing to accommodate one. If I’m honest, I don’t want to share you with anyone else. But I expect I’ll get used to it.”

  He heaved a sigh.

  It wasn’t the most auspicious start. He realised that I would expect him to stop smoking, and that caused a certain amount of friction between us to begin with. Then, as the weeks went by, his attitude slowly began to change, and although I knew
he was not fully reconciled to fatherhood, I hoped that when the baby arrived, he would be as happy as I was. He had led a kind of Peter Pan existence for so long, and now it really was time for him to grow up and accept his responsibilities.

  Both sets of parents began to put pressure on us to marry, and I was anxious that we should do so before the baby came.

  Nick had recently accepted a more challenging role with The Telegraph, not exactly as a War Correspondent, but investigating the effects of military conflict on indigenous populations, and reporting on the sufferings of the many refugees from violence. It was a time when there were many war zones, especially in Africa, and he began to be away more often than he was at home. He found the job exciting and felt it was vitally important to cover these issues, but I missed him dreadfully, feared the dangers inherent in this new work, and was very concerned that he would not be there for the baby’s birth.

  I contacted the local register office, and started to make plans for our wedding day. The baby was due in October, and I booked a date in mid-September, not wanting to leave it any later. I would not exactly be a blushing bride, as it was, unless you counted blushes of shame. I attended to give notice of the marriage on my part and now I had to make sure that Nick did the same.

  Then he came home to tell me he would have to postpone his appointment at the register office, as he had the opportunity to make a flying visit to Angola, in the company of some award winning, up and coming photographer.

  By this time, I was almost seven months pregnant, and had just started my maternity leave. I was hot, and cross, and very fed up with what I thought, perhaps unjustly, were Nick’s prevarications.

  “Don’t they know about the baby at work?” I demanded, slumped on the balcony and feeling heavy and fretful. “I rather hoped your editor might allow you the time to ensure your child is born in wedlock rather than outside it - or perhaps they don’t care about that sort of thing?”

  “Oh, Eithne.”

  Nick hauled me to my feet, and put his arms round me - quite a difficult task now, owing to my bulk. He kissed me, and I gazed into his dark eyes, which still had the power to make me go weak at the knees.