Escape From Evil - Cathy Wilson [69]
‘I’ll give you a job,’ he said. ‘I manage a hotel. If it’s work you want, then I’m your man.’
I couldn’t believe it. Was there no end to this man’s surprises?
I’ve thought about this moment thousands of times and, honestly, it was never a case of love at first sight. But I can’t deny there was a lot about this man that I found very attractive. So, when he added casually, ‘There’s a bed for you there as well,’ I leapt at it. He didn’t say if it was sharing with him or not – and I didn’t care. The fact that it was in his power to offer me anything at all, I found very seductive.
My life with Simon was over. In truth, it had been since I’d met this man who was older than my father. We’d run our course and it was time to part. Simon couldn’t offer me half the things this stranger had promised. Where were his war wounds or tales of outwitting the law in half a dozen countries?
I admit, I was intoxicated. I’d been looking for an escape route from the drudgery of life with Simon, a way out of the hellish flat I was too scared to be in on my own and a new job. Suddenly this amazing man was offering me all three.
That wasn’t all he was offering me, but I didn’t care. The whole package was too good to turn down. By the time the summer of 1986 had turned into autumn, I’d moved in with my knight in leather armour. I’d moved in with Peter Tobin.
TWELVE
The Signs were There
For the second time in six months I was in a hired van loaded with my bottom drawer treasures and a combination of suits from my short-lived job and my bike garb. As Peter and I pulled up outside the large chunk of seafront terrace that was to be my new home, I was excited by the prospect of a new beginning. No knife-wielding druggies, no immature boyfriends with irritating friends and no more tedious builders’ tales. It was a new dawn.
Going into the block, I was surprised not to see a reception, but assumed we’d used a trade entrance. Even that seemed strangely impressive. He has his own door! The corridors didn’t seem to be in the freshest condition and when Peter stopped and unlocked a door I thought, Is this it?
Then we stepped inside and my nerves vanished. It was a nice flat, lovely even, and certainly the best one I’d ever lived in. It had a big lounge, six or seven steps leading up into a kitchen and dining area and then you went down a corridor at the side and there was a bedroom and a loo at the back. The pièce de résistance, however, was the view from the dining-area window – miles of glorious beach and sea. I was literally speechless. Standing there, staring out at the lapping waves, my head was filled with all the possibilities that lay ahead. Life was going to be fantastic. And, I was pretty sure, it was going to be with Peter.
If I’m honest, enjoying that view from a pretty impressive flat had probably doubled, trebled even, the allure of the man I’d impetuously decided to set up home with. One day I’d been living with Simon, the next here I was with a chap more than twice his age. But whereas Simon had been in almost as bad a position as me financially, my new partner could offer me a job and this amazing home. It all counted in his favour.
I still hadn’t really got to the bottom of our sleeping arrangements. I presumed Peter thought we were a couple and I was prepared to go along with that. It sounds crass now, but at the time I thought, It’s the least I can do. He’s doing so much for me.
My other boyfriends had been chosen on the strength of their looks – and look how they’d ended up. I couldn’t say I fancied Peter, but I was infatuated by the idea of being in a grown-up relationship with him. That in itself was enough for Peter to take on some allure in my eyes. My friends were doing A levels or hanging out with teenagers as skint as they were. He was offering me the chance of something different, something mature. Something my parents had never had.
I couldn’t, then, hand on heart, claim I was blinded by love. Not at first. I was blinded by something though because as impressive