The decision had been made. After much procrastination I had made it. Now I just had to do it. What to say though...? I tried out various opening lines until I hit on one that might do. Then I rehearsed it against all the possible responses. Minutes ticked by as I sipped my coffee and stared at the telephone. I was shaking. It seemed odd that I should feel afraid now. When it happened, I was too drunk to be very frightened. It was so unexpected.

After all I'd heard and with the benefit of hindsight, it was exactly the sort of thing I should have expected - if only I'd been more astute, more of a student of human psychology. But I'm not. People puzzle me and make me feel uneasy. I have just a few friends: people who are tolerant of my inability to understand people. And I was in the process of losing one of those rare and precious individuals. The telephone call might be our last conversation. This was the source of my fear.

Finally, I braced myself for whatever might come and reached for the 'phone. Within two rings Rhian picked up. She sounded breathless and cheerful - enjoying a busy, productive day but happy to be interrupted for a chat with an old friend. My resolve wobbled. She'd been having such a tottering time before Moloch turned up and now she seemed happy. How could I plunge her back into chaos and despair? I reasoned that it wasn't really a choice. If I didn't do it, someone else would - and it was my responsibility. I hadn't kept the attack to myself. Other friends were aware of what had happened. The very friends who had already been chased out of her life by Moloch.

They'd led me to believe he would be rude and unpleasant to me. He would make himself objectionable so that I would never want to visit or call again. That's what I was prepared for: ill manners, rudeness, sarcasm - that sort of thing. When we met, he was charm itself. I was so pleased that they were all mistaken and Rhian had finally found herself a solid, reliable and considerate man. He could hardly have been more different than the crude, despotic psychopath my friends described.

We had a very relaxed and friendly evening, the three of us. There were one or two signs I might have noticed, if I'd been the noticing kind. He was almost harshly stern with Rhian's little boy. The way he changed from smiling, congenial Matt to the evil Moloch, towering threateningly over the little three-year-old, might have given a more perceptive person a clue. But not me. Sean had been having a chaotic life, with Rhian sinking into alcoholism, before Matt came along and imposed order on their lives. I pushed down my surprise at this sudden change in the man's temper and put it down to the necessity for strict discipline in the short term. Then he started to exclude Rhian from the conversation. I was vaguely aware of this and puzzled by it. But we were on our third bottle of wine so my 'people senses' were even less acute than usual.

Rhian gave up trying to contribute to the conversation. It bothered me more the longer it went on. She's had her problems - surprisingly many of them for someone so blessed with good health, good looks and intelligence. I considered her to be one of the cleverest people - possibly even the cleverest person I knew. She was also the most interesting. And here she was being excluded from the conversation by a person who was not nearly so interesting. After perhaps an hour or two of being shut out of the conversation, smiling benignly and drinking steadily, Rhian went to bed.

Some little while later, and after far more wine than I was used to drinking, I too had to go to bed. Matt showed me to the guest room. Like all the internal doors in that house, it had no lock or bolt. That didn't concern me especially - not consciously - although I felt slightly uncomfortable about not being able to lock the bathroom door. Shortly after I fell asleep, the anxiety that had been tugging quietly but insistently at the back of my impaired mind, proved justified.

I'm not sure how long I'd been asleep. No more than half an hour I would guess. I was woken by someone climbing into the bed beside me. My mind was still befuddled by the large quantity of wine I'd drunk. It took a few moments to recall where I was and work out what was happening. Matt was saying something, breathing noxious, unwashed breath into my face and trying to grope me. I sobered up sufficiently, once the reality of this alarming scenario had sunk in, to take evasive action. With some difficulty I managed to clutch the bed-clothes around my body to exclude his questing hands. It was an imperfect seal but blocked perhaps 90% of his attack.

I objected loudly and he tried to hush me, warning that Rhian might hear if I wasn't quiet. It was perfectly obvious even to my inebriated senses, that Rhian must be out cold if she hadn't heard the fuss so far. And he must, presumably, have felt confident of that or he wouldn't have risked this outrageous assault. In any case, we carried on negotiations in hoarse whispers. I don't know why.

"Please go back to your own bed. I promise you, I don't fancy you even remotely. Not at all. Really. You're wasting your time."

"Go on. I know you do."

"No I don't."

"Rhian need never know. I won't tell her."

"I'll tell her if there's anything to tell. Go away now and I won't mention it to her. Ow! That hurt. Stop it!"

"Shhh. Not so loud. You're just playing hard to get."

"Will you STOP!"

"Shhh. It's erotic."

"No it's not! What the hell could be erotic about having some licentious drunk - a person I hardly know - forcing himself on me, digging his dirty finger nails into my back and gouging out lumps of flesh. Are you mad? Just go away!"

He laughed and started nuzzling my neck - then biting.

"Ohh! GET OFF! I won't need to say anything to Rhian. Where do you suppose she'll think I could have acquired a covering of angry red blotches on my neck during the night, complete with teeth marks?"

"Just relax. You'll enjoy it if you let yourself go."

"Matt! I'm not enjoying this. There are no circumstances under which I could ever enjoy this. You are not my type! I do not fancy you! But Rhian does apparently and she's just in the next room - in the bed she shares with you. She'll be so unhappy and disappointed if I have to tell her about this."

"You won't say anything."

"Not if you go right now."

With a heavy sigh he got out of the bed and left the room.

After a couple of minutes, I stepped out of the bed and got dressed. I considered driving home but realised I was still far too drunk to be safe. The roads around the narrow streets in this area were tightly packed with parked cars. I dismissed the idea for the moment. Then I looked for some way to barricade the door. There was nothing in the room that I could use. Reluctantly, I climbed back into the bed, fully dressed. It was impossible to sleep. Disjointed and incoherent thoughts chased each other round my aching head for 20 or 30 minutes, until the door opened and the genial host reappeared to resume his assault.

The whole episode was repeated. The dialogue was roughly similar to what had accompanied the first attack and the outcome was about the same. He was somewhat more hindered by the layers of clothing in addition to the bed-clothes gripped firmly about me. It lasted for about the same amount of time. No more than half an hour I must suppose, though it seemed interminable. Then he went away again.

He came back twice more after that. I cannot distinguish between the four incidents in my memory now, apart from the additional shock and surprise of the first attack.

The sky began to grow pale at about 4am. That was when I decided to leave - drunk or not. And I was still quite drunk, though more capable of rational thought by this point. I thought I could manage if I drove slowly and carefully at this early hour, when there would be few if any other vehicles on the road. I got home safely and immediately ran a bath for myself. I'd never felt so contaminated - so violated.

As I lay there, soaking away the sense of invasion, I continued baffled. That man didn't behave as though he liked me. He'd been friendly and kind - against all predictions - throughout the evening. Then, out of the blue, he attacked me and his manner had been brutal and cynical. What could have caused the change? I re-ran the evening in my mind: he said, she said, I said. How had we all behaved towards one another, what was our body language saying? I just couldn't think what I might have done or said to cause him to think I would join with him in betraying my friend. He must have imagined that I'd flirted with him, but I hadn't. And why had his manner been so coarse and cold? The answer must be that it wasn't sexual desire or affection that drove him, but something more sinister. My head hurt. I climbed out of the rapidly chilling bath and went to find some aspirin.

When I judged the hour decent for telephoning, I telephoned a close mutual friend. She was sympathetic, outraged and not in the least bit surprised. After establishing that I was mostly still intact mentally and physically, she couldn't resist a completely unnecessary "I told you so". The news crackled through the grapevine with a speed that bad and/or salacious news always does. Whereas I hadn't known what to do, I now had enough advice to fill a dustbin. Only one piece of advice was consistent from all quarters. I had to tell Rhian. I recognised it as the truth.

So now Rhian was chattering happily away on the telephone and I was shaking.

"Sadie?"

"Hmm?"

"Are you alright? You're awfully quiet."

"I was just thinking about something... Rhian?"

"Ye-es?"

"Rhian, just suppose you knew that my boyfriend had done something - oh, I don't know - say, tried to seduce you, or sexually assaulted some other woman? Would you think that I'd want to know about it?"

There was silence. I tried again.

"Well, I'll put in another way. Say it was Matt, for example - if he tried to seduce or sexually assault one of your friends, would you want them to tell you about it?"

The silence persisted.

"Rhian?"

"Did he hurt you?"

"Yes. A bit. The bite marks and bruises have faded now. Are you okay?"

"I don't know."

"Sorry mate."

"No. Don't. I'm sorry. So sorry Sadie."

"Did you know?"

"No."

"Did you suspect?"

"No."

"Really?"

"Well I.... No. I wondered if something was wrong when you left in the middle of the night without saying goodbye or leaving me a note or anything. That's all."

"I just wondered if you had some notion because you caught on pretty quickly as soon as I started to..."

"No I didn't. I can't think now. I don't know what to think now. It wasn't until you asked that question. I felt the blood drain from my face as you were saying it. And somehow I just knew you were talking about Matt when you gave yourself as an example. What did he do?"

I described what he did, how he kept coming back and how I'd left as soon as dawn started to break.

"I wondered. Now I know."

"I couldn't think what else to do."

"No. Of course not. I don't know what to do now. Just thinking of him makes my skin crawl. What should I do?"

"Ring someone. Kat or Ellie. Either of them will come and fetch you. I'd come but it would take me half a day to get there."

"Do they know about this?"

"It's not a secret I'm afraid."

"Okay. I've got to think. I'm ever so sorry he did that to you Sadie. Really sorry."

"Don't worry about that. It's not your fault. Just do what you have to do to keep yourself and Sean safe. If you're going to confront him with it, do it from a safe distance. Okay?"

"Okay."

"And give me a ring later to let me know you're alright."

"Alright."

"Are you alright now?"

"I think so. Yeah, I'm alright. I'm going to pack up some things and get away before he comes back. I'll ring you in a bit. Alright? Speak to you later."

When I put down the 'phone I found I'd stopped shaking. The job I had dreaded was done. I could relax. Except, I still felt tense. I'd lit the blue touch-paper and now there was a sense of waiting for the fireworks to begin. This was just the uneasy lull before the storm. It couldn't end any way but badly. I began to regret telling her. It seemed the only thing to do - until it was done and too late to take it back. Now I was haunted by all the trouble I had undoubtedly caused for someone I loved and valued. The overwhelming sense of guilt beat down upon me and, for the first time since that terrible night, I cried.

I was still crying when the telephone rang and I was informed by that good mutual friend that Rhian had called her. The cracks in the tentative plan were already beginning to appear. She must have telephoned Moloch at work as soon as she finished talking to me. She intended to have it out with him - tell him what she thought of him and then ring our friend to come over and fetch her and Sean. Neither of us expected that to happen. It didn't happen.

A couple of hours later the friend rang again to say Rhian hadn't 'phoned. There was a great drama over the next few hours in which Rhian's mother and sister, who lived hundreds of miles across the country, jumped into a car and speeded up the motorway to rescue her and the little boy from the man who was keeping them prisoner and not even allowing her to use the telephone. He couldn't fight all three of them and the threat of police involvement.

It was a great relief to know Rhian and Sean were free of that terrible man.

Sadly, as I feared, our friendship ended. There were one or two calls but they petered out and we lost touch. That was about five years ago.

This morning a hand-addressed envelope has arrived with a card in it. An early Christmas card. I recognise the writing. It's from Rhian! My heart's thumping. What a lovely surprise! Rhian, how are you? Is there a note with the card? Yes! And a photo.

Strange... Rhian and... is that Sean? Goodness, how he's grown. But who are all those other babies and children and... Moloch!

What does it say on the back? A list of names. Seven of them and, looking back at the picture, it looks as though Rhian's heavily pregnant.

Reading the note, my heart sinks.