Saturday evening, Christmas Eve
A squeal from the counter took the attention of them both, they turned as one to see the fat tea lady rush over to congratulate them. Romantic occasions such as this belonged to swanky restaurants under candlelight and the sound of violins, these moments were in short supply for dingy tea rooms next to a shabby commuter tube station, vibrating with the rumble of passing trains.
"Say 'yeah', swee'art, I kin tell 'e's loverly, an' you two makes such a perfick couple."
Oh, the thoughts running through Marina's head at that moment. It was as if time stood still at that instance. She was stunned, literally, she thought, as if she'd been tasered with 50,000 volts. Every nerve ending in her body was going off "pop!" If she had been standing instead of sitting, she knew she would have fallen flat on the ground, left twitching from the shock.
Of all the things that she had speculated that Daniel would says her, a proposal of marriage was the absolute last possible thing she would have anticipated.
'Never this,' she thought, 'never in her wildest...'
She had expected that he would deliver a short, sharp goodbye, to end the Good Samaritan goodwill gesture of the other night, when she was rescued by him from freezing in the snow. She had outstayed her welcome, she expected him to say, mostly due to the urging of a daughter who must, of course, be indulged at all costs. It must have been clear to her father that Sophie was troubled, but now she had her sister for the comfort that Ginny would bring to her in the next week. Marina's utility value had become a liability and Daniel was letting her go gently. That's what she expected. It was also what she wanted in part, knowing that being in such close company to the man she had always loved would tear her apart in torment if she stayed with him any longer.
But, could she accept this unexpected proposal?
No, of course not! How could she? No, she couldn't. Better to break it off, short and sharp, maximum pain to them both for the shortest possible time, like cutting off the end of a decaying limb, in order to save the rest of the body.
At the same time, in paradox, this was the proposal which outdid all of her wildest dreams, being asked to spend the rest of her life with the one man she knew she loved. Unexpected and out of the blue, only it was over thirty-three years too late. But no amount of time past could heal the chasm of hurt between them. A hurt that surely lay at his hands.
But then she had to consider that this was a man she believed had no inkling of what she felt inside about him. Surely he must realise that she knew of the affront to her. Perhaps he thought she would have no memories of the rape. Indeed, he would be right, she had none, and that would have remained the case, if only that single determined little sperm of his hadn't fertilised her virgin egg.
Did this proposal really mean, then, that he genuinely loved her? Did this mean that when he did what he did to her, that he didn't realise that she wasn't fully compos mentis?
But no, he must've known and not only was that much obvious, he had continued with his violation anyway until he had finished taking his full pleasure to completion with her unconscious virgin body. And he took no precautions, he was willing to risk impregnating her without the slightest regard of the consequences to the victim. Consequences that had effectively put her life on hold ever since.
No, it was completely impossible to agree "yes" to his marriage proposal.
How could she possibly accept such a man? How would such a promise be made, without him accepting that premeditated evil that he had committed, without him comprehensively understanding exactly what his planned drugging and raping had done to her?
How could she accept a vile man who deposited a child in her womb? Even if he was unaware that he had created an unborn child, who died so tragically within her, the act had in someway she hadn't understood, poisoned both mother and child so that she nearly died too? How could she reward such a man with a promise of her affection, someone whose actions had made her so ill that she couldn't even attend their poor child's funeral? How could she live with a man who had fathered a child that the mother had not even known where he was buried, left her abandoned with no place to go to empty out her grief, a grief now freshly brought to the surface by his outrageous offer? Her grief, a feeling she had borne ever since, never so strong as it was now, came winging its way to the surface caused by this heightened insistence that she becomes his wife.
How could she live with such a monster?
She might be in love with him, to the exclusion of all other men, but love was an irrational unconscious emotion that she could do nothing at all about. She was fully aware that you love who you love, accepting that you cannot help yourself. But, using rationale, knowing what she knew about how Daniel had treated her when she was vulnerable and at his mercy, she knew she couldn't possibly unite with him in any meaningful relationship.
The tears rolled down her cheeks, yet still she remained silent. How, what can she say?
The tea lady looked on stupidly, clueless to what was transpiring and why; to her it must appear so simple, just accept the proposal at its face value and live happily ever after, as man and wife, as equals under law and in the eyes of the Lord.
Daniel squeezed her hand. He was still hanging on in there, resting on his bended knee, anxiously awaiting her answer to his proposal.
'He's probably,' Marina thought, 'wondering why I haven't just fallen into his arms and accepted him. It is a good offer: a beautiful ring, a handsome man, a lovely house, a wonderful family. It is an offer to become part of something beautiful, but it is all built on foundations of the shifting sand of an abuser of young women.'
She suddenly felt tired and faint, and involuntarily sucked in a deep breath and sobbed at the utter futility of her life, a life lived less than her dreams had promised. Half a lifetime so far of service, and a future half destined to be alone and lonely.
Daniel leaned forward and took her into his enveloping arms to comfort the woman he had just sworn that he loved with all his heart and to protect her all her days.
"Poor lamb," the tea lady said, "she's so happy, she can't tell yer. Shall I fedgh yer bowf anovver cuppa, then, Hon?"
Daniel shook his head.
"What's wrong, sweetheart?" Daniel asked her softly.
Her thoughts were in turmoil, each thought sparking new arguments but all were based on the impossibility of accepting such a proposal of marriage.
"I can't marry you, Daniel," sobbed Marina, as Daniel held her, rocking gently in her chair, "I can never marry you."
"Perhaps it is a little too soon, my love," Daniel said, "forgive my impatience, will you? I will give you as much time as you need to think about my proposal. It was wrong of me just to spring it on you like this. I just couldn't let you go without at least saying something, and I thought..."
"I don't need time to think about it. I know, and have always known, that I can never marry you, Daniel," Marina said, conscious that the tea lady was hovering, dropping her voice low so only he could hear, "and you know the reason why, don't you?"
"Why not, Marina? I thought that you ... but maybe I misinterpreted your signals, both then and now. Don't you love me at all? Could you not -?"
"Yes, of course I love you, I have always loved you, Daniel. I have fallen in love with you twice, back then in my innocence and again a couple of days ago even knowing what I know. I believe that I will always love you and never love anyone else as much as I love you. But you know why we could never be together. Do I have to point it out to you?"
Marina indicated the tea lady with a movement of her head.
"Would you mind if we could have some privacy?" Daniel asked the tea lady, softly.
"Sorry, love. Yeah, cos yer can. She's jus' 'avin' the ji'hers, it mus' be all a bit sudden-like fer the poor lamb. Jus' giv'us a shart if yer wants anyfink."
Daniel turned back to Marina, released her from his hug and held both her hands. He was still resting on one knee.
"Now, my love, I must admit to you that I do not understand what I have done to upset you, so you will have to tell me, I'm afraid. I'm just your average dumb bloke, not very good at reading unspoken signals. You will have to spell it out for me."
"So, Daniel," she sat up straight in the chair, trying to restore calm to her voice. "Do you remember the last time I spoke to you, those 33 years ago?"
"Yes, of course I do, like it only happened yesterday. We said goodbye, we had a good hug and then we parted. I thought our separation would be for just a term, a short University term until Christmas."
She looked at him, freed one of her hands from his light grasp and began dabbing at the drying tears on her cheeks with one of the rough serviettes from the dispenser on the table.
"And...?" She was still trying to calm herself, letting him speak while she breathed deep and even, trying to slow her heart back to normal.
"And, then I left the hotel. I didn't feel like going back to the party, my mind was in such turmoil. When I came back at Christmas, to work the holiday season, you weren't working in the snack bar any more. I asked Deirdre where you were, and she said that you had left about a week earlier because your family were moving away. I spoke to the -"
"No, I didn't mean then," Marina was quite calm now, her flow of tears ended, her strength and resolve returned. "What I meant is what did you do after you kissed me and said goodbye ... and handed me that spiked drink you were carrying?"
The bridge of silence she had maintained all these years was finally breached and it was actually a relief to start getting everything out in the open. All she needed now was for Daniel Medcalf to admit what a beast he was, or at least the beast he had once been to her.
"Yes, I did kiss you, I remember that, but it was only a little peck. But then you mentioned a spiked drink?"
Daniel looked intently into her eyes, which were dry now and staring back at him defiantly, silently.
"What do you remember, Marina, exactly, from what happened that night, immediately after I said goodbye to you?"
"Nothing, I remember absolutely nothing at all after saying goodbye to you and you walking away. But I know with certainty what happened to me, though. What I want is for you to admit what happened and why you did it. I never could come to terms with it. Surely, it wasn't something that you could forget? I could never forget."
Anger had started to creep into her voice, which she fought to keep under control.
