“But…didn’t you think it would all come out one day?”
“I didn’t think about it at all. That was the trick to being Sinclair, Beth.”
“Total denial?”
“If you like.”
“But….don’t you think…because of the way you have to control every detail of every single thing in your life…that that is a legacy of being Kevin? That he is still very much part of you; still dictates how you act? And how you relate to people? And lovers?”
“I beg your pardon; I thought it was French and History you were studying, not Psychology,” he says snippily, but then his tone relaxes and he says, “Yes, yes, you’re probably right.”
“Did you ever get any kind of therapy? Counselling?”
“No, I didn’t feel the need. It was enough for me that I’d finally taken ownership of my life. From the frightened child who had lurched from one chaotic situation to another to the shining academic star for whom no challenge was insurmountable. It was the most intoxicating, exhilarating feeling.”
“Power?”
“Yes, power. You know I like it.” He half-smiles at me and I twitch my lips back.
“Is that because you had so little when you were growing up?”
“Sexually, no. I think that’s just hard-wired somewhere. In my personal day-to-day life, yes. Of course. My childhood was a frantic struggle to get a handle on some sense of who I was and where I was heading. I was neglected, unloved and angry. At first I tried to seize power through violence and fear. I intimidated the other children in the home; attacked the staff. Was expelled from two schools. But ending up in court – seeing the real possibility of a life spent in institutions – was an epiphanic moment for me. I could not take on the establishment; I could only play it at its own game. My lawyer was also an inspiration. She gave me a glimpse of a future that could be entirely different. She was the first person to see my intelligence, my potential. I determined that I would dig my way out of the hole. I overcame all the obstacles that stood in my path. When the other kids in the home were all out sniffing glue and feeling each other up, I was teaching myself French from scratch. I made social services harass the Grammar School until they agreed to let me sit an admission test. And the rest was…dare I say it…history.”
“You’re completely self-made. The press should be applauding you, not making you out to be some kind of dodgy creep. So you are a real person, not a construct. But where all this falls apart is when you start to feel close to someone. Am I right? You can’t take the risk. The danger of them finding you out and rejecting you is too great?”
“Partly.” He shrugs. “I like Sinclair; I’m comfortable with him. It stands to reason that any woman I become involved with is also attracted to…Sinclair.”
“Can’t you accept that somebody might accept you for the whole of who you are?”
“Trust.” He smiles. “I had a girlfriend when I was an undergraduate. She was my first. I’d been too busy getting into Oxford for sex before that. Like everyone else on the course, she assumed I was from a middle class background. I told everyone my parents were dead, so they didn’t enquire too far beyond that. We’d been seeing each other for about a year when I decided to level with her. Tell her the awful truth. She was sympathetic, of course, but about a week later she finished it. Said she didn’t think relationships where the couple were from such diverse backgrounds stood much of a chance of survival. Said my pain and anger would be bound to come out one day, and she was afraid I might lash out at her.”
“Oh…God. I’m sorry! That was….hard.” I lean my head up against his shoulder; his face is all twisted and distant.
“Indeed. So I changed my name and never mentioned it to anybody again.”
“Lack of trust became your default setting.”
“Yes. The 24 hour power-exchange relationship became the ideal that I pursued. A woman who was completely submissive to me on every level would pose…no threat. I couldn’t find one though. I thought perhaps you…”
“You reeled me in under false pretences, Sinclair. You did not say that that was your ultimate aim. You promised me one thing and then set about trying to force me into another.”
“I know. I’m sorry. I hope you’ll be able to forgive me in time.” He pauses. “The plan went badly wrong almost from day one anyway.”
“Why?”
He winds fingers through my hair. “I fell for you. Stupidly quickly. It shouldn’t have happened; I didn’t mean for it to happen. There was just something about you that slipped under my defences.”
“I didn’t know.” There are tears in my eyes as I look up at him.
“When you c
ooked that awful meal…dressed to the nines…and you told me over dinner that you couldn’t believe Sainsbury’s didn’t stock chanterelles…” A burst of odd, giggly laughter escapes him that sounds almost like a sob. “I was so touched. Ridiculous girl.”
“I was infatuated with you. I know. It was just a crush to begin with. But it’s so much more now. I love you very much, and I’d like….if we could…”
“Are you serious? Would you give me another chance? It’s more than I deserve, I know…”
“Sinclair, when you said that you knew what I wanted – for you to hurt me, to own me, to love me – you made me gasp. It was absolutely true. And it still is. It was just that I had more physical pain in mind for the hurting bit rather than this horrible emotional wringer you’ve put me through. I can’t imagine ever wanting anyone else the way I want you.”