This Charming Man (73 page)

Of course I forgave him. Everyone entitled to make one mistake. He was so distraught I thought, God, he really loves me.

No kinky sex that night. Fell asleep in each other’s arms. Well, he fell asleep. I was awake most of night because every snuffly breath I took through my punched nose felt like inhaling razors.

Next day, he sent two hundred white roses to my flat. Didn’t have enough vases to house them all. Had to use saucepans, wastepaper bin, empty wine bottles. Like the evacuation of Dunkirk.

The next time was different. He opened his front door to let me into his flat and suddenly I was tumbling against the walls, crashing into the cupboard in the hall and cracking my skull against the hardwood floor. Actually saw stars, a big burst inside my head, like fireworks.

Lay on floor for a time, stunned and incapable, Paddy standing above me, breathing like a bull. The cupboard had toppled over and everything – books, keys, all kinds of stuff – had spilled out of it.

Paddy helped me up – my head was ringing like church bells on a wedding day – and led me through cupboard debris into living room. Began shouting, ‘Lola, don’t fucking interfere with my SkyPlus settings.’

‘What?’ Hardly knew where I was. ‘Didn’t.’

‘You did. Had it set to record me on
PrimeTime
and you cancelled it.’

‘Paddy, didn’t touch it.’ Something was dripping down the side of my face. Blood. Must have cut myself. ‘Why would I?’

‘Jealousy. You resent time I have to devote to work.’

Was true, as it happened, but hadn’t touched his SkyPlus. Held my sleeve against my cheek to soak up blood. Bones hurting. Especially shoulder. ‘Maybe you forgot to set it, Paddy.’

‘Forgot! Is important! How would I forget?’ Very, very angry.

‘You pushed me!’ I said, sort of just realizing what had happened.

‘I what? You fell! Christ, this is all I need. You fuck up my recording, then start accusing me of stuff! You fell! Okay? You fell!’

Unexpectedly the downstairs doorbell rang. ‘Who the fuck’s that?’
Paddy demanded. Out into the hall, quick conversation on the intercom, then he was back in the room, more enraged than I had ever before seen him. ‘It’s the police.’

The police!

‘You fucking stay in here,’ he hissed.

Next thing he was out in the hall, opening the door. ‘Hello, officers, what can I do for you?’ Nice as pie.

Deep pompous-bogger voice said, ‘Neighbours reported a disturbance.’

‘What neighbours?’

‘Anonymous call. May we come in?’

Thought Paddy would get rid of them. Charming, persuasive, good at that sort of thing. So couldn’t believe it when two peelers sidled into the room. A man and a woman. Uniforms, fluorescence, terrible, terrible shoes.

They looked at me. ‘You like to tell us what’s going on?’

The woman was kindly. ‘What’s your name? Lola? What happened to your face, Lola?’

Paddy loomed behind them and said, ‘Officers, can my friend and I have a moment alone?’

The two peelers gave each other a look.

‘Please,’ Paddy said, with air of great authority.

The two peelers gave each other another look. Female peeler shook her head softly but male peeler said, ‘Okay, one minute only.’ Female peeler glared at male peeler, then she sighed and they backed out from room.

Through rigid jaw and with eyes alight with fury, Paddy said, ‘Now look at what you’ve done.’

‘I didn’t do anything.’

‘You have any idea how serious this is? You say a single word to either of them and I’ll be arrested.’

Arrested!

‘I’ll be up in court. It’ll be all over the papers. I’ll be sent to prison.’

Prison!
Prison
! I couldn’t send him to prison. This was the man I loved.

But he had pushed me…

If it hadn’t happened to me, if it had happened to some woman
and I’d heard her on the radio or whatever, I would have thought, Why didn’t she tell the peelers? Why did she just let her boyfriend hit her a clatter whenever he felt like it?

But when you’re in the middle of it, there’s a world of difference. I loved Paddy.

Sometimes – often, yes, often, in fact nearly always – he was lovely to me and the idea of me getting him arrested was… actually… inconceivable. Like him being abducted by aliens. People like me did not get our boyfriends arrested. It was so far outside what was normal in my life that I simply couldn’t imagine it.

Up to me to convince him to stop. Not to involve
the police
.

Paddy stepped forward, picked up my hand and kissed it. Laid his forehead on it and whispered, ‘I’m so sorry.’

‘I won’t say anything,’ I said. ‘But you must promise you will never do this to me again.’

Kissed my hand again. ‘I promise,’ he said hoarsely. ‘I promise, I promise. I’m so, so sorry. This job so stressful. Little Lola, you don’t deserve this. Will never, ever do it again, I swear on all I hold dear, if you’ll only forgive me. I couldn’t bear to lose you.’

‘On your last chance, Paddy,’ I said. ‘Touch me again and I’m gone.’

The peelers were permitted to re-enter the room and Paddy gave them a smooth story about me up on a chair, trying to reach something on top shelf of hall cupboard, when I slipped, fell off and landed on my face, bringing cupboard down with me.

They knew we were lying. Male peeler cheery enough. ‘We’ll leave yiz to it, so.’ But woman peeler concerned. Kindly eyes. Reluctant to go.

Next day several hundred more flowers arrived at my flat. Neighbours complaining of smell.

Was adamant in own head that would break it off with Paddy if he did another violent thing to me, but next time was when was sick with flu and he’d insisted on having sex. Because I was always game for kinkiness, decided wasn’t his fault for thinking not even a bout of flu would put me off.

The time after that – the cigarette incident – was even more confusing. Of all the things that happened while I was with Paddy, that was the one that made me most doubt my sanity. How could anyone mistake a human hand for an ashtray? How likely was it?

But he was so insistent that it was an accident that I half believed him.

Next time, however, there was no doubt. I was waiting in his apartment for him to finish session in Dail. When heard his key in door, I just knew I was for it. ‘Where are you?’ he shouted, striding through flat. Found me in the bedroom, pulled me out of bed and threw me against the wall. I slid to the ground and he kicked me in my stomach. I vomited from force of it.

Discovered later that a bill proposed by New Ireland had been defeated in Dail. Hadn’t been aware that they were putting it forward. Should have known. My duty to know. This time no flowers. Next time no flowers either.

Worried and worried and worried about situation. Contemplated talking to someone, Bridie, perhaps. But – mad, I know – felt disloyal telling someone else about Paddy. Needed to protect him. He was complex man with abnormally stressful job.

Bridie would insist I broke up with him and I wasn’t ready for that. Everything simple in Bridie World – man hits you, you walk. But situation was complicated. I loved him and he loved me. Surely we could address the issues, try to fix them?

I had to take some responsibility for what was happening – takes two to tango. Needed to be more supportive of his work. Yes, it bored me, but was my duty to help him.

Also was ashamed, so deeply ashamed of being hit and of staying with him, that the words wouldn’t let themselves be said.

Then everything was lovely again. Relief, relief, oh merciful relief. Paddy adoring, tender, smiling. Sex, dinners, presents, weekend in Cannes, shopping, more presents, all of them kinky, champagne, sex. With Russian prostitute, admittedly. Threesome. Back home to Ireland. All well. New Ireland lost by-election. No one got hit. Everything back on track. We’d lost our way briefly, but was all in the past. Moving on, no need to tell anyone anything. Was elated.

One night we were having sex. Paddy was groaning, moving me up and down on him. Suddenly he stopped. He was looking at the point of contact. ‘You have your period?’

Hadn’t known. It had come early. And so what?

‘Dirty bitch.’ He punched me in my throat. Couldn’t breathe for so
long, I blacked out and it hurt to swallow for a full two weeks afterwards.

He was right, though – it
was
gross.

That incident was first in new phase when he began hurting me again, more frequently than in past. No longer considered leaving him or confiding in Bridie or Treese. I had changed. My indignation had died and the time when I was strong enough to leave him had passed.

Was desperate to return to early days when he was besotted with me, when I could do no wrong. The occasions when he’d been loving and tender had greatly outnumbered the bad ones – but I couldn’t find the way back.

Worked harder to be sexier, to anticipate his moods, his needs, to be more informed about politics, to be constantly available for him, day or night.

Was so anxious about keeping him happy that had no emotion left over to love anyone else. I forgot about Bridie, Treese and Jem, they were just drains on my time.

Tried to control everything in the whole world so that nothing would annoy him. But anything could spark his fury – a red traffic light, a fishbone in his dinner, me forgetting to remind him to do something that I’d known nothing about.

Then it all came to an abrupt end – the news broke that Paddy was getting married to another woman and would have no further use for me. Should have been happy to be free of him. But wasn’t. With him I felt worthless. But without him, felt so shamed, thought would never recover.

Text from Considine.

Considine’s kitchen eating wholesome-style stew
Final Considine mystery laid to rest. The goggles and shower cap?

For when he is cooking. Goggles to protect eyes from tearing up when
he is chopping onions. Shower cap to stop strong cooking smells pervading his hair. (Thought, but didn’t say, If you are so concerned about your hair, Considine, why you not comb it once in a while? But, like said, didn’t articulate it, as he had done kindly act of cooking me dinner.)

‘Delicious stew, Considine.’

‘Good.’ Man of few words.

‘I had visitor today,’ I said.

He looked up. I realized something in my delivery had sounded like coy way of saying had got my period. Very quickly said, ‘A journalist came to see me.’

‘About what?’

‘She wanted… She said… You know the boyfriend I told you, I mean Chloe, about? Well, she says I was not only one he… you know… hurt. She wanted me to go to Dublin with other women to… talk… to him.’

‘That is excellent!’

‘No, that is terrible!’

‘Why?’

‘Because am afraid of him.’

‘But you won’t be alone with him, will you? There will be other women there.’

Long pause. ‘You think I should go?’

‘Think you should definitely go!’

‘But what if it’s awful?’

‘What is worst thing that could happen?’

Sifted through feelings. Very worst thing? That he would hit me? No. That he would make me love him again? No. That he would leave me convulsed with longing? No. ‘That he would mock me.’

‘Is that so bad?’

Yes. Really was. ‘He made me feel so… worthless. I was… nothing. Useless, without any importance… I don’t feel like that now. Not saying am swaggering around thinking am fantastic but… don’t want to revert to clueless, helpless, worthless person I was when going out with him and when he dumped me.’

‘Would it help if you had company? If I drove you?’

Kindly, kindly offer. Who would have thought it, of cranky-arse Considine?

‘You know what I wish?’ I said. ‘Wish Chloe could come with me.’

Thoughtful silence, then he said, ‘If that is what it takes to make you go, Chloe will come with you.’

‘No,’ I said. ‘Am being silly. Forget I said it. But will you tell me why Chloe is out of commission at moment? Had thought Gillian had put her foot down, but not that, is it?’

‘No, nothing to do with Gillian. Just doesn’t feel right. Has happened in past. At times, very comfortable with Chloe. Other times… can’t believe am grown man dressing up in ladies’ clothing. Fair enough sentiment, no?’

‘Nothing wrong with grown man dressing up in ladies’ clothing.’ Stout defence. ‘But think I understand. Your offer very kindly.’

‘Because think you should go to Dublin. Is good opportunity. Other women there. Nothing to be scared of. If you don’t take this chance, you will be creeping around, afraid of bumping into him. Not good to be always looking over shoulder. Better to just deal with stuff.’

Men. So practical!

Found I was reconsidering bald refusal to go to Dublin. Considine’s generosity had surprised me into reopening negotiations in head. If he was prepared to dress up in ladies’ clothing even though had knocked it off, then he must really believe I needed to see Paddy.

‘Okay,’ I said slowly. ‘Hear what you’re saying. No offence, but I need second opinion.’

Who could I ask? Bridie? Treese? Jem?

No. None of them knew how bad things had got with Paddy. Would involve too much explaining. Would take too long. Would have to spend too much time agreeing that Paddy de Courcy was mad bastard. Would lose sight of objective.

‘My mum,’ I said. ‘She is dead.’ Even after all these years it choked me to say it. ‘Would normally go to graveyard to ask her opinion, but would take too much time.’

‘I see.’ Considine handling news of consultation with dead mother with aplomb. ‘So you need to get a sign from her, yes?’

‘Yes.’ Impressive deductive powers, Considine.

‘How about…? Let’s see. Toss a coin?’ he suggested. He produced euro from his pocket. ‘Heads your mum says yes? Tails your mum says no?’

Marvellous idea. ‘But give me a moment.’ I walked towards darkened window at back of house, stared out towards foamy sea and asked,
Mum, tell me what I should do
.

I turned around to face the room. Considine had moved away, close to the front door, giving impression of maintaining respectful distance. ‘Go,’ I said.