Chapter 37
THIRTY-SEVEN
He beckons me to him, and I’m still powerless to resist. I sit down in the free chair and unwrap my cutlery from the linen napkin he’s brought up from the galley.
If this will be my last meal, at least I will enjoy it.
I put down the biro I had taken from my bedside table as, for one thing, that was never going to save me, but I also now have a knife if I need to use it.
We eat in silence. There’s quiche, slices of cold meat and a selection of cheeses. I stack little chunks of them on bits of bread, which I load onto my plate as if I’m afraid he’ll take it all away again.
“You do understand, don’t you?” he eventually asks, and he’s wrong, but that doesn’t mean I intend to answer him. “You understand that this was all for you?”
Perhaps it’s just the dawn gradually lightening the skies around the ship, but the whites of his eyes seem clearer than they have all night.
“Maybe…” I take a deep breath and try again. “I don’t know what you want me to—”
I’m relieved when he cuts me off. “You must realise that I brought everyone out here so that I could see you. I thought you would be more likely to come if the others were here. I was worried you never forgave me for what happened.”
For a moment, I think he’s going to say it.
The solemn expression on his face suggests he’ll admit what he did, but then he smiles his innocent smile and keeps talking.
“It’s not just guilt that drove me. I missed you.
I’ve thought about the life we could have had together so often.
You know, it probably stunted me in some way.
It’s like I could never move on from that time when we all lived together.
No matter how much success I found. No matter how famous I became – all I wanted was to travel back and put things right. ”
If we’d had this conversation the day before, I would have made the right noises in response, but I just let him talk now.
“I thought of calling or writing or visiting you so many times, but I didn’t know how to broach the feelings I’ve held on to all these years.
I’m sorry…” He stops himself for five seconds and then continues as if nothing happened.
“I’m sorry that I have to tell you in these terrible circumstances, but I refuse to waste any more time. ”
I can see how hard it is for him to say all this, but that doesn’t make it easier to hear.
“I never got to tell you that I loved you, Clara. You’re so different from every other girl I’ve known.
I’ll never forget the moment we met. You were happy to watch the rest of us, and you did so with the most incredible smile on your face.
You looked so contented in yourself, and I wondered how I could feel the same. ”
“I suppose that…” I say without knowing what should come next. “I suppose that everything looks easy from the outside.”
I keep eating as though there is nothing out of the ordinary about us sitting here together. The tiredness I’ve been ignoring all night suddenly hits me, but the food makes me feel a little stronger.
Ade seems more interested in me than what’s on the table. “I dated other girls, of course, but that only proved how far above them you were. Over time, I think I even became a little shy of you.”
“Of me?” I blurt out, as the very idea of such a thing is beyond my comprehension.
“I mean it. You are more beautiful than you will ever realise.” As much as I appreciate this sentiment, it sounds as though he’s reciting a cheesy song.
“When it was just the two of us, I found true contentment, but I didn’t share my feelings because…
” He puts one hand to his head as if he’s still suffering Tom’s blow.
“… because I was afraid I would mess everything up. It was easier to accept that you weren’t the kind of girl a rock star should date, and so I convinced myself we couldn’t be together. ”
I laugh at this, as it’s still so far from what I imagined. After the night we spent together, I was sure he’d made use of me because I happened to be the only girl home that night. I really don’t think I have it in me to believe this rosier version of events.
He can’t stop smiling as he tells his tale.
“I wanted to believe you really did like me, but I hated the idea of starting something and destroying the dream of what we had. That would have screwed me up even more than I am now.” He guesses what I’m thinking and quickly corrects himself.
“I’m not asking for your sympathy. I just mean that if we’d made a go of things and it hadn’t worked out, I would have lost my faith entirely.
I can’t imagine being a torch singer who doesn’t believe in the possibility of two people falling in love. ”
I consider giving a nasty response, but I do understand what he’s trying to say.
“I’m not expressing myself very well, am I?
” He gives a brief, sad laugh and I wonder whether he even remembers that our friends are dead on the decks beneath us.
There’s a perfectly round bruise on his right cheek where the skin has turned glossy, and I focus on it to remind me of what he did to our friend.
“What I’m trying to explain is that I was a coward, and I was selfish, but I did love you.
I do love you, Clara.” He sounds even younger than when we first met.
He sounds like a little boy confessing to a crush on his teacher.
“We can still be together.” There’s a sudden pitch change, and these words become a plea.
For a short time, I let my teenage self enjoy the idea that he’s telling the truth. For a few brief, delicious moments, I picture our wedding and the house we would have back in Britain. I think of the life we would share, travelling the world on this yacht.
But then I remember all the pain he’s caused, and I fix my eyes on him down the table. “That’s not going to happen, Ade.” I maintain an even tone but, really, I want to scream. “You brought me here for forgiveness and then failed to apologise for the very worst thing you did.”
“You don’t think I killed our friends, do you? I mean, apart from Tom.” He laughs again, as he apparently forgot he was a murderer for a moment.
“I’m not talking about this week.” The rage that has been building inside me won’t be held down any longer. “I mean back then.”
He turns his head to the side. “I said I was sorry for not being around when you found out about our daughter. And you know now how ashamed I am of not telling everyone how much I adored you. What more can I say than that?”
He rolls his sleeves up ever so carefully, and I have to look away now. I study the scene as if I’m taking in the view, but my eyes see nothing of the churning waters around the near stationary yacht.
“What do you remember of that night when we were alone in the flat and you kissed me?” I choose my words carefully. I don’t want to lead him to the answer. I need him to say it for himself.
I see his Adam’s apple move as he shakes his head. “It was the best night of my life.” His eyes are so wide, so full of emotion, that it looks like he will cry.
“Well the best night of your life was the very worst of mine.”
He pulls back, as if I’ve just taken the knife and tried to slash him with it.
“What do you mean? I remember the way you looked at me.” His breath becomes more ragged as he tries to solve this equation.
“I can still feel your lips on mine. And I will never forget how close my heart came to bursting as I stared into your eyes.”
I try to control my emotion, as I have for so long. I try not to show how every word he says is like a needle sticking into me, but there are two traitorous tears peeking out of the corners of my eyes and, in a few seconds’ time, they will tumble down onto the tabletop.
I have to tell him before they can give me away. “I said no, Ade.” I pull in a gulp of air between my lips before continuing. “You kissed me, and it felt like heaven, but then you started pulling my clothes off, and I said no.”
He smiles again, and it’s too much to bear. The look that I once found so charming makes me want to jump from the yacht, just as I did on our first day here.
“No, you’re misremembering.” His tone is so soft that it’s easy to believe he’s not trying to contradict me but support my unique perspective. “That’s not how it happened. I promise. I’ve thought about our time together so often. There’s no way I would have done anything to hurt you.”
“And I’ve thought of little else for the eleven years since.” I keep my voice low, but the fury still pours out of me. “I spent half of that time trying to put my life back together.”
He bites his lip and, in order to be the decent, sensitive person that everyone thinks he is, takes his time to consider my response.
“Honestly, Clara. I promise I have no memory of that. All I remember is how perfect we were together. I slept there in your bedroom, our bodies connected, and I felt so loved and understood. I was sure you saw it the same way.”
I close my eyes for a minute, as it’s one thing to hear all this, and another to have to look at him as he says it.
“You touched me, and I said no. You laughed and kept pushing, and I tried to pretend it was no big deal, but I wasn’t ready. I said it again and again, but you didn’t care.” I force myself to keep talking because I know I’ll lose my courage otherwise. “I said no.”
This refrain is followed by a sharp, desperate sound from the base of my throat.
As I struggle to find my words, he takes control.
“Listen to me, Clara.” He’s more serious now.
His brows knitted, he peers down his nose at me and says with all the authenticity he can muster, “I have never abused a woman like that. I unequivocally deny that I would ever have touched you if I didn’t think that was what you wanted. ”
This reply sounds rehearsed – perhaps even coached – and it enters my mind for the first time that he may have had this very same conversation with someone else.
My eyes flick open, and I bounce his words back to him. “Listen to me, Ade. I kept saying no, but you didn’t care. And there came a point when I couldn’t say it anymore. You pushed me onto the bed and removed my clothes, and I just froze. All I could do was pretend it wasn’t happening.”
He finally realises that I mean what I’m saying, and his pupils shrink as he looks up at the lightening clouds. “You wanted me. I know you did.”
I whimper in reply. Despite my best efforts to be strong, I whimper before I find my words again. “You’re right. I wanted to be your girlfriend. I wanted to make love to you one day, but that doesn’t mean that what happened that night was okay.”
He doesn’t reply immediately. He looks back at me, and I still want him to say that he remembers what happened and feels remorse.
“I am sorry for the feelings that you have carried with you all these years.” He chooses his words to avoid taking any responsibility, and each of them is a lie.
“That’s not an apology, Ade. You’re saying that you’re sorry for the way I feel, not for what you did or the pain that you caused.
I shut myself away afterwards and had to live with a pregnancy that I didn’t want and then the agony of losing a baby that I’d come to love.
I’ve spent most of the decade since in absolute fear.
I spent years in therapy to get over it – took every kind of medication the doctors would give me – but nothing truly worked.
You ruined my life, and all you can do is apologise for the way you say I’ve misinterpreted my own feelings. ”
There’s no more hesitation. He knows his script and will continue to recite it. “I hear what you’re saying, Clara. I promise I do. But the fact is that we remember two different experiences, so who’s to say which of us is right?”
I can stand it no more and scrape my chair back to stand up. My cheeks are wet. My pulse races.
“You ruined my life,” I say or perhaps shriek as I back away from him towards the staircase. “And that’s why I despise you.”