offered her coffee, which she had refused, before filling the jug kettle at the sink to make her own.
Say something
.
She’d returned the kettle to its base and switched it on.
Now.
‘I can’t live with this.’
Christopher sat down. ‘Oh, God.’
‘You’ve given me no choice,’ Lizzie said.
‘Oh,
God
.’ His eyes filled.
‘You can “oh, God” me all you like.’ She felt strengthened by his weakness. ‘And you can cry your eyes out, but it won’t change what you did to me.’
‘What did I do?’ He took off his spectacles, dropped them on the table, his eyes now aghast. ‘Lizzie, darling, what did I do to you?’
‘You know exactly what you did.’
‘No.’ He shook his head, gripped the edge of the table with both hands. ‘
No
.’
Lizzie’s fear altered, grew to different levels, for the children as well as herself, and she sat down opposite him. ‘Are you claiming not to remember what you did to me less than
six hours ago?’
He waited before answering. ‘Not exactly.’
‘So you do remember?’ Disgust filled her, and she began to rise.
‘No, wait, Lizzie. Please. You don’t understand.’
‘No,’ she had agreed. ‘I don’t.’
‘I don’t always,
entirely
, know what happens when I feel that way.’ He shook his head again. ‘I don’t mean black-outs, just. . . details.’
‘Like putting your hand around my neck and—’
‘But I stopped.’ Christopher fumbled with his spectacles, put them on again.
‘Only after I threatened to call the police.’ Lizzie felt sick at the memory. ‘It was
assault
, Christopher. You hurt me, and you frightened me.’
‘What can I say,’ he said helplessly, ‘except that I’m truly sorry?’
‘Sorry won’t cut it,’ she said, ‘not this time.’ She took a breath. ‘Nor will lying about not remembering
details
.’
‘You don’t understand,’ he said again. ‘How can you? And you can’t begin to understand that, in a way, my coming to you like that is a kind of
compliment.’
‘
Compliment
?’ Outrage made Lizzie feel quite dizzy. ‘You must be mad.’
‘I know,’ he said. ‘I know it’s hard to see what I mean. I don’t suppose you’ll accept it even after I try to explain.’
Lizzie had ceased to speak then, had sat there silently at their kitchen table, saved just a little, she decided later, by a sense of being somehow outside herself, as if none of it was entirely
real.
It was a compliment, Christopher said, because it meant that at long last he was doing what he had always wanted to do: trusting her with his deepest secrets.
‘I thought, you see,’ he said, ‘that I might never be able to do that, that I had no alternative but to keep on taking that side of myself – those needs – to
strangers.’
‘Strangers?’ Lizzie echoed softly.
‘Prostitutes.’ He saw the devastation in her face. ‘Lizzie, it was just as repugnant to me.’
‘I doubt that very much.’ Her voice shook.
‘How could you imagine otherwise?’
‘I don’t want to imagine it at all.’
Christopher reached across to try and take her hand, but she snatched it away, staring at him as if she’d never really seen him before.
‘I’ve tried so hard,’ he said, ‘ever since I first met you, done everything in my power to help make your life as happy and fulfilled as possible.’ He shrugged, as
if what he was telling her was normal, commonplace. ‘I suppose I’ve just begun thinking that maybe you might be willing to try and do the same for me.’
‘How?’ Suddenly Lizzie sounded almost shrill. ‘By fulfilling these
needs
of yours? By taking the place of these other poor bloody women, these
strangers
?’
‘I made a mistake,’ Christopher said, bleakly. ‘A terrible mistake.’
‘And that’s supposed to stop me leaving you?’
‘
Leaving
me?’ He was horrified. ‘You can’t leave me, Lizzie.’
‘I can’t stay with you. I can’t live with a man so out of control he can assault me when
Say something
.
She’d returned the kettle to its base and switched it on.
Now.
‘I can’t live with this.’
Christopher sat down. ‘Oh, God.’
‘You’ve given me no choice,’ Lizzie said.
‘Oh,
God
.’ His eyes filled.
‘You can “oh, God” me all you like.’ She felt strengthened by his weakness. ‘And you can cry your eyes out, but it won’t change what you did to me.’
‘What did I do?’ He took off his spectacles, dropped them on the table, his eyes now aghast. ‘Lizzie, darling, what did I do to you?’
‘You know exactly what you did.’
‘No.’ He shook his head, gripped the edge of the table with both hands. ‘
No
.’
Lizzie’s fear altered, grew to different levels, for the children as well as herself, and she sat down opposite him. ‘Are you claiming not to remember what you did to me less than
six hours ago?’
He waited before answering. ‘Not exactly.’
‘So you do remember?’ Disgust filled her, and she began to rise.
‘No, wait, Lizzie. Please. You don’t understand.’
‘No,’ she had agreed. ‘I don’t.’
‘I don’t always,
entirely
, know what happens when I feel that way.’ He shook his head again. ‘I don’t mean black-outs, just. . . details.’
‘Like putting your hand around my neck and—’
‘But I stopped.’ Christopher fumbled with his spectacles, put them on again.
‘Only after I threatened to call the police.’ Lizzie felt sick at the memory. ‘It was
assault
, Christopher. You hurt me, and you frightened me.’
‘What can I say,’ he said helplessly, ‘except that I’m truly sorry?’
‘Sorry won’t cut it,’ she said, ‘not this time.’ She took a breath. ‘Nor will lying about not remembering
details
.’
‘You don’t understand,’ he said again. ‘How can you? And you can’t begin to understand that, in a way, my coming to you like that is a kind of
compliment.’
‘
Compliment
?’ Outrage made Lizzie feel quite dizzy. ‘You must be mad.’
‘I know,’ he said. ‘I know it’s hard to see what I mean. I don’t suppose you’ll accept it even after I try to explain.’
Lizzie had ceased to speak then, had sat there silently at their kitchen table, saved just a little, she decided later, by a sense of being somehow outside herself, as if none of it was entirely
real.
It was a compliment, Christopher said, because it meant that at long last he was doing what he had always wanted to do: trusting her with his deepest secrets.
‘I thought, you see,’ he said, ‘that I might never be able to do that, that I had no alternative but to keep on taking that side of myself – those needs – to
strangers.’
‘Strangers?’ Lizzie echoed softly.
‘Prostitutes.’ He saw the devastation in her face. ‘Lizzie, it was just as repugnant to me.’
‘I doubt that very much.’ Her voice shook.
‘How could you imagine otherwise?’
‘I don’t want to imagine it at all.’
Christopher reached across to try and take her hand, but she snatched it away, staring at him as if she’d never really seen him before.
‘I’ve tried so hard,’ he said, ‘ever since I first met you, done everything in my power to help make your life as happy and fulfilled as possible.’ He shrugged, as
if what he was telling her was normal, commonplace. ‘I suppose I’ve just begun thinking that maybe you might be willing to try and do the same for me.’
‘How?’ Suddenly Lizzie sounded almost shrill. ‘By fulfilling these
needs
of yours? By taking the place of these other poor bloody women, these
strangers
?’
‘I made a mistake,’ Christopher said, bleakly. ‘A terrible mistake.’
‘And that’s supposed to stop me leaving you?’
‘
Leaving
me?’ He was horrified. ‘You can’t leave me, Lizzie.’
‘I can’t stay with you. I can’t live with a man so out of control he can assault me when