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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 h
ad 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.

F
ive 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.

She was still standing nervou
sly by the window when the phone rang, making her jump and let out a little gasp of surprise.  She snatched it up and said breathlessly, ‘Yes?’

‘Kate?  Hi, it’s me, Michael.  How are you?’  It was Riordan, his voice rich and deep and warm, and inexpressively good to hear right then.

Kate let out a sigh of relief, too happy at hearing a friendly voice to wonder how he had her number; she hadn’t given it to him.  Her mobile, yes, but not her home number.  She didn’t know who or what she had been expecting but his calm, assured voice soothed her and she said, a touch shakily, ‘Michael.  Hi, how are you?’

‘All the better for hearing your voice,’ he said with the sedu
ctive note in his voice that might have set her tingling the night before but which right now was about the last thing she needed to hear.  ‘My flatmate will be home tonight, alas, so I thought I’d invite myself round to your place for a repeat of last night.’

‘
Flat mate?’ she said distractedly.

‘My brother-in-law
, Josh,’ he explained, ‘It’s his flat you were in last night, not mine.  I’m only staying here until the rebuild is finished in my own house and, well, I’d rather keep you two apart.  Therese has only been dead a year and she
was
his sister, after all.  People can be funny about things like that.  Er, are you okay?  Your voice sounds odd.’

‘I’m glad to hear
your
voice, if it comes to that,’ she said with a high-pitched laugh, ‘I’m having a weird sort of day.’

There was a sharp, inquisitive note in his voice as he asked, ‘Why, what’s going on?’

‘Well, I was burgled last night and... Oh, let’s just say I haven’t had the best day of my life.  And just now, as I was pulling my curtains, I saw a man standing just across the street.  He was just standing there staring straight in at me and it freaked me out a bit.  In fact, I was thinking about calling the police.’

‘You were
burgled? 
I don’t believe it!  What, while you were with me?’

‘Yes, unfortunately.’

‘Well, I’m more glad than ever that you came back to my place last night.  If you’d been at home you might have been hurt.  I only wish you had stayed the night.  It was quite a shock to wake up and find you gone.  But we can talk about that later; the important thing is this guy hanging around outside your house.  He’s just standing there, doing nothing?’

‘Yes,’ Kate hesitated, ‘It’s probabl
y all very harmless but I live in a cul-de-sac and the park in the middle of the square is private, and kept locked.  Only residents have keys and we just don’t get strangers hanging about here.  He might be just waiting for someone who’s not home yet but...’

‘Exactly,’ he said firmly,
‘But he might not.  But
it’s too much of a coincidence that you were burgled last night and now you have a stranger hanging about outside, looking in your window.  You say you haven’t rung the police?’

‘No, not yet.’

‘Right, I’ll do it.  And it might sound obvious but don’t answer if he knocks on the door.  You’d be surprised by how many otherwise sensible people do just that, out of sheer force of habit.  Just sit tight until the police get there.  I have a lot of pull and I’ll get them there a lot quicker than ringing 999 would.  I’m on my way!’

With that he was gone, leaving Kate feeling unsettled and a bit startled.  And not entirely pleased at his casual assumption of authority over her.  He had just burst into ac
tion and taken charge, and under normal circumstances she would have resented that.  But at least he hadn’t dismissed her as a foolish, scared girl jumping at shadows.  Too tired and drained to even think any more she sat down by the phone, fighting an almost overwhelming feeling of
what next?

    Kate sat by the phone for what seemed an eternity, her nerves jangling and all her senses hyper-alert, though exactly what she was so anxiously awaiting she couldn’t have said.  Was the stranger going to kick his way into her apartment and murder her?  Hardly.  But whatever her mind might tell her, her heart was pounding so hard she could see the front of her blouse vibrating, and she found herself wishing that the police would arrive even if it were just to complain about her wasting their time.  To her it seemed that the cavalry was taking an age to arrive, but in reality only a minute or so went by before a ring on the doorbell made her jump. 
Who the hell can that be?  The police? 
She checked her watch; surely not; there hadn’t been time.

She sat frozen in place, incapable of rational thought.  The bell rang again, longer and more insistently, and from sheer force of habit she got to her feet a
nd reached out to grasp the catch.  But she did not open the door, instead sitting back down on the phone stool.  She hadn’t needed Michael’s warning to tell her that to open it would be at best foolish and at worst dangerous.  The problem was that she felt such a fool at being too scared to open her own front door that she nearly did it simply to avoid embarrassment.  After all, what if it were Lucy or Brendan Kelly from upstairs, checking on her?  Or even Peter again, unlikely though that was?  What kind of idiot would they think her?

Of course, the important question was;
what
if
it
were
not
one
of
them? 
Thank God I’m not a man,
she thought,
If I were I’d
have
to open that door or I’d never be able to face myself in the mirror again. 
But even so her self-respect would not allow her to sit there shivering like a frightened child; she had to do
something.

She moved towards the front door
again, intending to peer out through the new glass panel at the top and try to see who it was out there.  But she was halted in her tracks by a deep, coarse voice calling urgently through the woodwork, ‘Kate Bennett?  Open the fuckin’ door!  I know you’re in there because I saw yeh in the window!  Come on, open up!  I want to talk to yeh!’

The voice halted her in her tracks again; it sure a
s hell wasn’t the police, nor was it anyone she knew.  Yet it certainly sounded as if he knew
her
.  She stepped up to the door and, feeling something of a fool, called out through the letterbox, ‘Who is it?’

‘Never mind who it fuckin’ is
!’ came the voice again, and it was clear that he was trying to keep his voice as low as possible, ‘Someone who wants to talk to yeh, that’s who!  It’s important but I’m not going to shout it out for the whole bleedin’ world to hear!  Now open the fuckin’ door or I’m off!’