In The Mirror I Saw Her

"I couldn't see any harm in having a bite to eat with him, so I said yes; that was my first mistake. We went to the pub near the lecture hall - you know, the Irish one. What's it called - O'hannahan's or something? Anyway we ordered and sat talking. He didn't lay the guilt trip on me at first, just talked about when we were kids together and about my dad. I was so bloody stupid I couldn't see what he was leading up to. After we ate he ordered more drinks and we still kept on chatting."

"I'm going to be honest here; I don't remember how many drinks I actually had. Some of the crowd came in and sat with us for a while. They bought drinks as well so I kind of lost track a bit. You know what it's like in those Uni pubs - everyone drinking all the time."

"Look, I'm not accusing Gordon of doctoring my drinks or anything. But I can usually handle my beer better than that. By about six o'clock when I went to go home I was really unsteady on my feet. Gordon, more in a brotherly way than anything, told me he'd better walk me to my flat, I was that unsteady on my feet. I couldn't very well refuse; I could hardly stand up, but that was my second mistake.

"He drove me to the flat, helped me inside, sat me in the lounge and then went off to make me some coffee. I can remember him bringing me the coffee and I did notice that he didn't have one himself. That's important, if you are going to believe what I think happened later. That single coffee cup has bearing on all this."

Once again Susan took a quick look into my eyes. I wondered why she couldn't look at me all the time. Then I remembered the embarrassment I'd felt when I'd broken a window as a child. I hadn't been able to look my father in the face as he chastised me about it. It had been an accident, but it happened because I'd been stupid. I'd been playing football right by that window; what you might call a recipe for disaster or an accident that was guaranteed to happen. Susan must have realised that she'd walked into what happened that day with her eyes wide open and she was embarrassed to explain it all to me.

"Gordon sat on the sofa with me and then he started going on about broken promises again. I know I should have asked him to leave then. I should never have gone to lunch with him and I should never have allowed him to drive me back to the flat. My only excuse for the last one is that my judgement was impaired with the alcohol.

"He really laid the guilt trip on me then. Keeping on about how we'd come so close, so many times, but he'd always stopped, because I'd promised him he'd be my first when we got married. But looking back now with a clear head, it wasn't Gordon who brought things to a halt. It was me reminding him of that promise, I'd made."

"I don't know.... I honestly don't remember whether I agreed to go to bed with him or I passed out and he carried me there. It was all like I was dreaming of when he and I were together. Even the way he spoke and the things he said were like he used to be when we were young. Except that he didn't stop when I reminded him of that promise. Then I was suddenly aware of what was happening. Gordon, to put it bluntly, was fucking me on our bed. That's how I thought of that bed, Peter; that was our bed."

Susan started crying again. But this time she took a considerable amount of time to get herself under control.

"He was kissing me and telling me how much he loved me and then he said, 'He's not going to have you. You're mine,' and started driving into me so hard that he was hurting me. That's what you heard, Peter. Not a scream of lust, but screams of pain. I had bruises all over my legs and pelvic area to prove it. That's why you weren't charged with assaulting Gordon. The policewoman I spoke to said that I could have had Gordon charged with rape. No one was going to believe those bruises were caused during consensual sex.

"Gordon agreed to tell the police that his injuries were caused when he fell down the stairs. Providing I didn't press rape charges. Anyway he was fucking me one minute and then he wasn't, You were there hitting him every time he tried to stand up. I think he broke his cheekbone when his head smashed into my dressing table so hard that he broke it. You were shouting, he was shouting and I think I was shouting as well. But god only knows what any of us actually said. Then as quickly as you appeared, you were gone again." Susan looked up yet again but she didn't break contact with my eyes after that.

"The ambulance came. God knows who called them; I know I was in no condition to. And then the police turned up and Gordon and I were carted off to hospital. That's about it. There was a lot of talk between myself, a nurse and the doctor, about my bruises. So they called a policewoman in, I told her all about you finding Gordon and me in bed together, and how I was terrified you were going to get into trouble.

"It was the policewoman's idea to scare the backside off of Gordon with the rape accusation. She was very nice to me, that girl. You know, she went looking for you at the police station later, but you'd already been released. It was her who found out that you were here and told me; I think she could get in trouble for doing that."

"Is that it? Can I get back to my drinking in peace now?"

"No please, Peter; bear with me for a few more minutes, please. I was kept in the hospital overnight, and then because I was feeling so upset about it all, I went to Marge's flat with her when they released me. Somehow Professor Kolinsky heard about what had happened and she turned up at Marge's flat. Actually Ron Fillmore was looking for you because you hadn't turned up at the institute. Jean Kolinsky put two and two together and came looking for me to see if I knew where you were. I gave her the whole sorry story.

"It was Jean who went to my flat and took the coffee cup to the labs. The point is, Peter; they said there were traces of some chemical in there beside my bloody sweeteners. Those damned sweeteners though stopped them finding out what it was. Jean wondered whether Gordon put something in that coffee, that made me lose that half hour or so. But there is no way in hell to prove it either way."

"There's something else you should know as well. Ron Fillmore says that a local newspaper reporter turned up on that dig the morning before all this happened. Ronny told us that he distinctly remembered telling the guy that he had to close the dig down, because he'd dug as far as his permit would allow. He says he's sure he told the guy that the whole team and that includes you, would be pulling off site and going home the following morning."

I'll give you one guess who that damned reporter was. He set it all up. Peter, Gordon must have guessed that you'd come straight round to my flat. He did whatever he could that day to ensure you'd find us, him and me, in a compromising situation."

"I was stupid and I let it happen. So I've really got no one to blame for losing you, but myself. But I can't live with the thought that you're going to destroy your career over this, Peter. If you don't show up at the institute before long, Ronny Fillmore will have to dismiss you. You must go back, Peter. You'll never get another place like you've got there."

"You don't have to worry about me. Jean Kolinsky has arranged for me to finish my studies at Newcastle. I won't be around to embarrass you. I'm not going home to mother anymore either. I told her that you were on that dig and she must have informed Gordon; how else would he know where to find you.

"Now I'd better go, I've got a train to catch; I've said what I came here to tell you. The most important thing is for you to get back to work at the institute before it's too late. I wish you the best in the future, Peter. I'll always love you, you know."

Susan reached out and took the hand that was holding my almost empty glass. She pulled it towards her and gently kissed the back of it. Then she stood and walked out of the bar.

I sat there for a while staring into my empty glass, trying to get straight in my mind what Susan had just told me. But suddenly I was disturbed by George placing a full glass on the table and taking my empty away.

"Better bring me a scotch, George; a big one. I think I need it."

George just nodded in reply and went back towards his little domain. I picked up the pint and downed most of it in one go. But as I lowered the glass from my face I saw an old man drop into the seat opposite me. The old bugger must have been well into his eighties.

"Well, son, what are you going to do?" He asked.

"Sorry?" I replied, not understanding what that old codger was talking about.

He reached into his shirt pocket and pulled out a hearing aid. "Sorry, son, but this thing picks up every bloody word said within twenty yards. I couldn't help but overhear what your young lady said to you."

"Now I know it's none of my business, but I'd hate to see you make the same mistakes as I made. You see I was out in the far east during the war, got married the day before the buggers shipped me out. Five ef-ing years I was out there and when I came back, well, I was told that my wife had stepped out on me with a bleeding Yank. Only once, she swore on her mother's grave, in all the five bleeding years I was gone. But I was a proud bugger, too ef-ing proud; I dumped her and walked away.

"She found someone else eventually, and had a couple of kids by him as well. Me, I couldn't find anyone I loved like I'd loved her. I've spent the last sixty years regretting the bloody day I walked away from her. It was my bloody pride and I knew it but, you see, I couldn't get passed it."

The old boy stopped speaking when George came over with my whisky.

"An' then, about ten years ago now, someone told me she was in a hospice. Dying of cancer she was! I don't know why I went to see her, but it was something I felt I had to do. She was just as pretty as the day we walked down that aisle together and, Jesus, if she didn't tell me she'd always loved me. She told me she'd married that other bloke because she wanted to have children, not because she loved him. She even named both the kids after me and my mother."

The old boy stopped speaking for a moment and fixed me with his eyes.

"Don't make the same mistake that I did, son. That glass your holding won't keep you warm on a cold night. All it will do is destroy you. Think about what that girl just told you. She didn't lie to you; she was straight out that she didn't know whether she did or didn't get into bed with him of her own volition."

"And think about what she didn't do. She didn't beg you to take her back, she knows how proud you are, so she didn't even ask. But she did ask you to go back to your job and she's moved herself away so that her presence won't embarrass you. All she's thinking about is you, son, not herself. If that ain't love, I'm buggered if I know what is."

The old guy's eyes settled on the whisky, and I pushed it towards him. It was gone in one gulp.

"One last thing before I leave you with your thoughts, lad. There's only one train left to go out of town tonight, and that don't leave until eleven. You've got an hour to make up your mind lad, whether you're going to be a sad old git like me, or live a full and happy life with a woman who loves you."

With that the old boy got up and walked away. I sat there for another twenty minutes or so trying to think what I should do. Then I stood up. I'd had enough drink for one evening and I needed out of that bar. But when I got out of the door onto the street, I discovered that I had an important decision to make at that moment. Do I turn left to my digs to pick up my stuff and return to my college? Or, do I turn right for the railway station?

You tell me, what would you do if you were me?

Life must go on.