“You mean I have to choose between you and Niall.”
“You’ve hit it.”
“I’ve already chosen, Richard. It’s just that Niall won’t accept it.”
“Then you’ll have to make him.”
As soon as I was back in my room I took down Niall’s postcard and tore it into small pieces. I flushed the whole thing down the lavatory. The following day you telephoned to say you were flying out to Managua that evening, and promised you would get in touch as soon as you were home.
Two days after you left, Niall returned.
XXI
What then followed was my own doing, the result of a decision. You had given me an ultimatum, one that I knew you meant. You forced a choice between you and Niall, and I chose Niall.
I had been wrong to think I could start a new life and leave Niall behind me; the plain fact was that Niall was haunting me, and would go on doing so until he had his way. I could no longer stand the torment, the feeling of being torn between you. I had had enough.
Like you, Niall saw everything in terms of the other man. What I had to do was prove I had grown away from him, and to do that I had to be alone with him. I hoped all this could be accomplished before you returned, but if that was not to be, then I was prepared to lose you.
This was not a cold decision. When Niall turned up I was still holding on, waiting for you to come back, but as soon as I saw him I realized what I was going to have to do.
He arrived outside my door, having let himself into the house with his key. I slid back the bolts, and he walked in. He looked well. He was clean-shaven, wearing new clothes, and was exuding some of his old air of self-confidence. He was in good spirits, and when I told him you were away he said only that he knew it would never have worked out. He moved back in on me as if nothing had changed, and although I would not let him stay that first night, afterward we were sleeping together again.
Where had he been? I never asked him directly, nor did we refer to the afternoon in St. David’s. Nothing was certain: if he had been in the South of France he had none of the suntan I would expect, but I noticed that the Gauloises he was smoking did not have the UK government health warning, as if they had been bought from a duty-free shop. He had brought me a liter bottle of Côtes-de-Provence, describing it as “the local plonk,” but a few days later I noticed a local wine merchant was selling identical bottles.
I never asked him about the postcard, I never mentioned the intrusions, the beating he had given me, the rape. Frankly, I was scared of what he would say.
If he really had been in France, what had been happening to me while I was with you? If he had been following us around, who sent me the postcard?
I was glad of the mental respite, the freedom to concentrate on one problem which I knew could be solved in the end. I would convince him we were finished, and I would get him out of my life for good, but as the time passed I realized it was going to take longer than the few days remaining.
The worst possible thing happened. You returned from your trip two or three days earlier than I had thought, and came to the house without telephoning first. I was in bed with Niall when I heard the house bell ring. Someone else opened the door, and I heard your voice. In panic, I leaped out of bed and pulled on my dressing gown, remembering in time to make myself visible. Niall lay naked on the bed behind me, visible to me, invisible to you. As you knocked on my door I glanced back at him and saw how his expression had changed. Moments before, we had been lying sleepily together, chatting idly, Niall smoking a cigarette; now he looked alert and frightened.
He said, “If that’s who I think it is, get rid of him.”
“Don’t do anything, Niall,” I said quietly. “Please don’t let him know you’re here.”
I opened the door, and you were standing there. I was too shocked by your sudden arrival to know what to say, but backed guiltily into the room, clutching the untied dressing gown across my body.
“You’re still in bed!” you said, and glanced at your watch. You looked tired and confused.
“I was having a lie-in.”
“Are you on your own?”
“Can you see anyone?”
“Niall’s been here, hasn’t he?”
“Tell him I’m here now,” Niall said. I looked back at him, and he was standing by the bed; his moment of fright had been replaced by a hard, determined expression. Knowing the worst of him, what he was capable of, I stepped between the two of you. Niall’s temper was unpredictable.
“Richard, let me explain—”
“No, don’t say anything—you don’t have to. I suppose I asked for this. God, what’s the bloody time? My watch is wrong.”
“It’s half-past eleven,” Niall said, and took my clock from the shelf and shook it in front of your face. I moved again, trying to elbow Niall back.
“It’s late morning,” I said. “I was just about to get up.”
“I was just about to get up you again,” Niall said, crudely.
“But you have been seeing Niall again, haven’t you?”
“I had to. You forced me to make a choice, and that’s all there is to say.”
“Then it’s finished, Sue.”
“You know what annoys me most?” Niall said, moving again. “It’s when he calls you Sue. Get rid of him.”
“Well?” you said.
“All right. Let’s leave it at that.”
“I just wish to God I knew what it is that Niall has over you. Is he going to run your life forever?”
“I told you,” I said. “Niall’s glamorous too.”
You looked impatient. “Not that again!”
“What do you see in this cretin, Susan?” Niall said.
I could no longer attempt to control a three-way conversation. I retreated, and went to sit on the edge of the bed. I stared hopelessly at the floor.
“Sue, what has glamour to do with this?”
“Not glamour,” I said. “The glamour. Niall has the glamour.”
“You can’t be serious!”
“It’s the most important thing in my life, and in yours too if only you knew it. We’re all invisible, can’t you get that into your head?”
In my misery I knew I was sinking into invisibility. I no longer cared, no longer wanted anything but to be rid of you both. Niall was standing beside you, ludicrously naked, his face set in that unpleasant combination of arrogance and inadequacy that showed when he felt threatened. You had a stupid look, as you stared around the room.
You said, “Sue, I can’t see you! What’s happening?”
I said nothing, knowing that even if I spoke you would be unable to hear. You stepped back, placed your hand on the door and opened it a few inches.
“That’s right, Grey. Time to fuck off.”
I said, “Shut up, Niall!”
But you must have heard, because you looked sharply toward me.
“He’s here, isn’t he?” you said. “Niall’s here now!”
I said, “He’s been with us ever since I met you. If you had learned how to look when I tried to show you, you would have seen him.”
“Where is he?”
“I’m here, you stupid bastard!”
Niall’s voice was suddenly stronger than ever before, and I realized that for the last few seconds his cloud had been thinning. It was more dispersed than I had ever seen it.
“I’m here, Grey!” Niall said, waving his arms, moving around. He kicked out at you with his foot, catching you on the shin. You reacted in surprise, and looked intently at Niall. He was closer to visibility than I had thought was possible for him, and I knew you could see him, or something of him. You whirled around, shoving Niall out of the way, snatched the door open and went outside, slamming it behind you. Moments later the street door slammed too. I sprawled across the bed and started to cry. I could hear Niall moving around, but I closed my mind to him. When I next looked, he was standing with his peacock clothes on, looking both defiant and shaken.