City Girl (9 page)

‘What happened to my father?’ Devlin asked, unable to keep the bitterness from her voice.

Katie’s eyes were full of compassion as she saw her niece’s obvious torment. Gently she said, ‘Your ah . . . that is, Brian continued living in the North. I believe he married
and had two children. They emigrated because of the troubles, Australia I heard. He died of a heart attack last year.’

Devlin shook her head in disbelief, unable to grasp all she had been told. She actually had a half-brother and sister or maybe two brothers or two sisters. It was all too much to take in. Her
blond head drooped exhaustedly and, briskly, Kate urged her up the small stairs into the tiny guest bedroom. Devlin undressed automatically and climbed naked into the welcoming double bed piled
high with downy white pillows. Pulling the patchwork quilt up around her, she stretched her limbs against the softness of freshly laundered sheets and giving an exhausted yawn fell into a deep and
dreamless sleep, as the horrors of the past few hours were temporarily erased from her mind.

Five

A week later, a harder, more determined Devlin stood in front of the check-in desk at Dublin Airport. She was alone. As she thought of the events of the past week, she felt a
strange sense of relief that she had made her decision. She had stayed with Katie for two days. Her aunt had discussed all the options with her, offering her the haven of her home for the duration
of her pregnancy . . . and afterwards. Devlin knew that Katie was deeply opposed to her decision to have the abortion. She tried gently but firmly to dissuade her from the idea.

‘Tara could have had you aborted, Devlin, but she didn’t, so think hard about what you are going to do. I know the stigma of being an unmarried mother is a hard cross to bear,
especially in this uncharitable country. I’ve seen the way girls have been treated, thrown out of their homes, left to have their babies alone and dumped in lonely flats in Ballymun and the
likes. I know what you’re afraid of facing, alanna, but you’re strong, you can cope and I’ll always be here for you, so think hard . . .’

In a state of indecision Devlin had returned to her flat in Dublin, ringing Gerry at work to tell him she was home. An hour later Lydia arrived on her doorstep. They stared at each other
awkwardly and then Lydia said abruptly, ‘I apologize for my behaviour the other day. It was the shock!’

Swallowing hard, Devlin said, ‘That’s all right, I’m sorry for what’s happened.’

Lydia drew a packet of cigarettes out of her bag and lit one. Sitting gracefully on the edge of the sofa in her superbly cut Michael Gall suit, her hair beautifully styled, it was hard to
believe that this was the same ravaged sobbing woman who had ranted and cursed so stridently a few days earlier. Pulling deeply on the cigarette she said firmly, ‘I’ve told Gerry
I’ll handle this my way.’ Exhaling the smoke in a long thin stream, she said matter-of-factly, ‘I think an abortion is the best thing for you.’ Two bright spots had appeared
on her cheeks despite her meticulous make-up. The hand holding the cigarette was not quite steady.

Devlin walked over to the window and stood staring out. In spite of herself she was shocked and surprised. She had felt that Lydia would have been totally against her having an abortion on
religious grounds and she had dreaded telling her. But here she was, the same Lydia who went regularly to Sunday Mass and who chastised Devlin for not going, Lydia, who was on first name terms with
some of the bishops as a result of her charity work, Lydia who had been so shocked when it was rumoured that Jennifer Quinn had gone to England and had an abortion. This Lydia was now advocating
that her daughter – sorry, ‘adopted daughter’ – do the same.

Devlin smiled bitterly. How easy it was to judge other people until one of your own got into trouble. How easy to accuse other people of committing murder, as Lydia had, when she heard about
Jennifer. I wonder how she’ll justify the change of attitude, she thought. She didn’t have to wait long.

‘It’s a bit late for morals and scruples now,’ Lydia’s voice was crisp. ‘After all Devlin, you’re only twenty. There is no point in ruining your life with an
unwanted pregnancy. I mean I presume you are not going back to Portugal to confront the gigolo who fathered the child?’ The cultivated voice paused, and then, ‘What kind of life could
you give a baby? It would be unfair to both of you.’

She stopped to take another pull of her cigarette while Devlin struggled to keep her temper. Had she not known the facts of her adoption, had she thought she was Lydia’s own child, she
would have argued heatedly with her mother and pointed out her hypocrisy. How she longed to scream that the bastard who had impregnated her was none other than the supremely socially acceptable
scion of Irish medical circles and Dublin’s high society, Colin Cantrell-King and not, as Lydia so disdainfully put it, ‘a Portuguese gigolo.’ With great difficulty Devlin
restrained herself. She knew Colin was a valued client of her father’s and if he knew the truth he would feel obliged to speak to Colin about the matter. As a result Colin might withdraw his
business. It’s your problem, not theirs, she told herself, the empty cold feeling inside her making her feel utterly alone and frightened. Lydia’s voice impinged on her consciousness
like a malevolent laser piercing and probing deep inside her brain. She wanted to put her hands over her ears and scream at her to go away . . . leave her alone . . . Again Devlin struggled for
control. She was just not going to get into an argument with her mother. Breathing deeply, she heard Lydia say coolly, ‘You do realize of course Devlin that with your father’s position
in the bank, an . . . um . . . episode like this could be rather embarrassing. I mean after all we do keep a rather high profile . . . so if you insist on keeping the baby, I think it might be
better if we could be a little discreet about it. We’ll give you an allowance of course and do our duty by you financially.’

The silence that hung between them was broken only by the erratic tick of an old carriage clock on the mantelpiece.

We’ll do our duty by you financially. How kind, thought Devlin bitterly. But on no account let the neighbours see that I’m an unmarried mother just like the poor unfortunates you
hold coffee mornings for, the ones that are put on the streets with nowhere to go. Well, I might as well be one of them.

Lydia, seeing the expression on her daughter’s face, stubbed out her cigarette rather crossly, stood up and said in her best ‘I know what’s best for you’ tone, ‘I
think my first suggestion will be best all round, I’ll provide the money. I’m sure you could make discreet enquiries from Colin. Say you have a friend in trouble. I know it’s
supposed to be illegal but I’m sure you’ll get the information from him. I just hope he won’t put two and two together when you take the few days off.’ Giving one of her
sniffs she said agitatedly, ‘You can say we are going on a shopping trip.’

Lydia picked up her expensive Italian clutch bag and walked towards the front door, hips swaying gracefully. ‘Ring me tomorrow, dear, and let me know what you decide but, as I say, I think
you should consider my suggestion.’

Devlin bit her tongue. Say nothing. It’s your decision to make and no-one else’s, she thought in despair. Whatever else she had been expecting from her mother, she had never dreamt
that Lydia would condone, let alone suggest, her having an abortion. Watching her get into her Ford Capri, Devlin wondered what was Gerry’s opinion on the matter. Did he agree with Lydia
about the abortion or was he letting her handle it just to keep her happy? Lydia dominated him totally and always had done, yet it took a kind of strength to love and stay with a woman like Lydia
as Gerry did. She wondered sadly would there ever be a man who would love her totally and unreservedly. How would such a man cope with the knowledge of the abortion she was about to have? How would
he cope with her illegitimacy?

Not once in their conversation had Lydia referred to Devlin’s adoption, nor would she ever again do so unless Devlin brought up the subject. Had it not been for Katie she would probably
never have known the full truth. Never in all her life had she felt so isolated, so utterly rootless. From being somebody with an identity and family history she had become totally anchorless. She
felt she was floating around like a leaf in a storm. But, she decided firmly, it was time to take stock and face reality. From now on the only person she would depend on would be herself.

The following morning she informed Colin that she had decided to go ahead with the abortion. She watched as a brief smile of satisfaction crossed his features and she hated him.

Briskly he made the arrangements with a colleague in London and twenty minutes later was handing her a page from his note-pad upon which, scrawled in his flamboyant handwriting, were the name
and address of the doctor she was to go and see and the time of her appointment.

‘That’s all settled then!’ he said heartily in his best doctor to patient voice. ‘Now go and book a flight and don’t worry about a thing. It will be over and
finished in no time.’

Devlin observed that at no time had he looked her straight in the eye and as she watched him stride into his office she thought what a gutless bastard he was.

She was lucky and got a flight for the same day as her appointment. Ringing Lydia that evening she told her the date.

‘Oh dear!’ Lydia exclaimed in dismay. ‘That’s the date of the Central Remedial Clinic’s big do and I’ve promised I’ll be there. I wonder would Katie go
with you?’

Devlin grimaced at the vague tone of regret in her mother’s voice. Truth to tell she was almost relieved that Lydia wouldn’t be coming with her as the strain would have been
unbearable.

‘Don’t worry, I’ll be fine. Enjoy the do and I’ll ring when I get home.’ Her voice was a little dry.

‘Devlin dear, I hope you realize I’ll be sick with worry.’ Lydia’s voice now came sharply across the line. ‘Ring me from London and let me know the time your flight
arrives. I’ll collect you at the airport. Now give me your account number so I can lodge some money for you.’

‘It’s all right, Mum, there’s no need to,’ Devlin said heatedly.

‘I insist, Devlin,’ her mother replied sternly. ‘I told you your father and I would look after you financially.’

But he’s not my father and you’re not my mother, she wanted to say . . . and I don’t want to be looked after financially. I just don’t want to be rejected.

‘Do you hear me, Devlin?’ Lydia insisted. Devlin gave her mother the required information. If Lydia thought that was the best way to help it didn’t say much for her
sensitivity. Despite herself Devlin felt sorry for the other woman. Lydia, so cool and reserved and worried about what other people thought of her, unable to give or to receive affection. That was
probably why she had turned to drink. Maybe if she had had a child of her own it might have been different.

‘Thanks Mum,’ she said quietly. There was a pause and then the sound of a throat being cleared.

‘Just take care of yourself,’ Lydia said awkwardly, ‘and ring me when you are on your way home.’

‘OK,’ Devlin murmured wearily as she hung up and examined her side view in the mirror to see if there was any visible evidence of her pregnancy. There was nothing that she could see
and sometimes she wondered if she was really pregnant at all. Maybe she was imagining the nausea and slightly swollen breasts. Maybe she was having one of those hysterical pregnancies she had read
about and her period was ready to flood through her if only she could stop worrying about its arrival.

‘Idiot!’ she cursed her reflection. ‘Colin did the test. You’re well and truly pregnant, so go and get packing.’ Now she was going loony as well as everything else,
talking to herself. She viewed her wardrobe with distaste.

What kind of clothes do you wear to a murder? The thought came unbidden to her mind. Oh God stop it! Stop it! she screamed silently and flung herself sobbing onto the bed.

She did not hear Caroline coming in and wasn’t aware of her until her flatmate sat on the bed beside her and said hesitantly, ‘Devlin what’s the matter with you? Why
won’t you tell me? I’ll try and help if I can.’ She put a timid hand on her friend’s shoulder.

‘Oh Christ, Caroline, if I tell you you’ll be disgusted,’ Devlin muttered, her head buried deep in her pillow.

‘I won’t be!’ Caroline declared stoutly, wondering what could be so awful. Maybe Devlin had crashed the car. Her eyebrows drew down in a puzzled little frown. She could recall
nothing very odd about the car on the way in.

‘Tell me, Dev . . . I mean we are supposed to be friends and I always come to you when I’m in trouble.’ Caroline’s big brown eyes were earnestly staring into her own.
Devlin dreaded the distaste that would soon be evident in their depths. She had always enjoyed the way Caroline looked up to her in spite of her being two years older. Well, it was true . . . they
were friends and it was only fair to be honest and tell her.

Heavily she said, ‘I’m pregnant . . .’ and watched Caroline’s eyes grow bigger and slightly rounder.

‘Oh!’ was her friend’s inadequate response.

‘And I’m going to have an abortion at the end of the week,’ Devlin informed her brusquely, deciding, in for a penny, in for a pound.

‘Oh Devlin!’ Caroline managed to murmur, completely stuck for words.

‘There! You see! You are disgusted!’ Devlin accused, half-angry, half-dismayed.

Caroline shook her head vehemently. ‘No! Oh no, Devlin, it’s just such a . . . a surprise . . . Ah Dev,’ she put her arms around her friend’s shoulders. ‘How long
have you been keeping this to yourself? Why didn’t you tell me sooner?’

At the sympathy in Caroline’s voice Devlin started to cry again. ‘I was so ashamed,’ she gulped. ‘Oh Lord I’m turning into a right water-works lately.’

‘Well and no wonder,’ remarked the other girl soothingly, ‘with that burden to bear. Honestly, I’m mad you didn’t tell me sooner.’

‘I thought you’d be shocked,’ Devlin admitted faintly, much surprised by Caroline’s attitude.

‘Oh for heaven’s sake Dev, if Richard hadn’t so much respect for me I might be in the same position.’ She laughed. ‘Sometimes I’m so frustrated with him I
could almost rape him. He’s so . . . restrained.’