Like One of the Family (11 page)

Hugh swung his feet on to the floor and shivered. Elsewhere in the bungalow the polished boards were warmer underfoot but in this room, which was really little more than a boxroom, lino had been put down. He looked longingly at the washbowl and then at the sleeping hump in the bed. Terry would almost certainly tell everyone if he used it. Hugh shuddered. He would be mortified if Claire found out. He opened the door and crept down the stairs.

The house was very quiet. At the turn in the staircase he looked through the banisters and noticed the fire still burning. Someone had piled on more sods and the flames were leaping high up the chimney with no guard in front of the fire. One stray spark and they could all burn in their beds. He was about to run on down when something in the corner moved, so slightly he might have imagined it, a sod of turf shifting in the creel or hot ash settling in the grate. Then he saw the bodies on the rug. For a moment he could not distinguish who they were. He peered closer and, in the shifting firelight, recognised Claire's long blonde hair fanned out on his father's bare stomach. He had always thought that hair so pretty. At that moment she lifted her head slightly and he saw what she was doing.

Hugh crouched down in the shadows and began to cry softly to himself. It was the first time he had cried since Hero died. He turned, almost in slow motion, and with great effort, got his legs to carry him back upstairs. He crept into his room and quietly closed the door. Careless of Terry, or anyone or anything in the world, he peed in the bowl and got back shivering under the covers. When he closed his eyes he could not rid himself of the vision of Claire and his father.

Claire went through the morning feeling like she was going to get sick. Her throat kept gagging as though she had swallowed some of the stuff. She hadn't wanted to do it but Eddie had insisted, pressing her head down lower and lower until her face was pushed into his pubic hair. ‘Please...' she had said in a low voice. ‘Oh please!' But he had kept her at it. She was afraid if she refused or told him how much she hated it he would be angry with her and might even tell Jane to send her home. She hung over the toilet bowl dry-retching and would have stayed in there longer only Terry was banging on the door, wanting to get in.

Claire came out and went into the bathroom, which was separate from the toilet, to brush her teeth, taking a long time over it and repeatedly rinsing out her mouth. The memory came back to her, indelibly etched on her brain. She spat again and again, coughing until her throat hurt, remembering the force with which he had driven into her mouth. She felt violently ill again.

‘Claire, my dear, are you all right?' Jane asked, coming in after her and gently closing over the door. When Claire looked up, white and exhausted, from the washbasin, Jane thought she had never seen such abject misery on a human face before.

Jane was too familiar with the early stages of pregnancy to be in much doubt about what was the matter with Claire, and was both shocked and saddened. How could it have happened to Claire? she wondered. She was so young, not yet fourteen, still a child. Such a tragedy. Jane couldn't have felt more depressed if it was Sheena or Ruthie.

She persuaded Claire to come into her bedroom gently examined her. What she saw confirmed her suspicions. Claire's breasts were blue veined and rather fuller than normal, with a thickened, orange peel texture to the nipples.

‘Good girl,' she said, her heart aching for the shame she saw in the girl's eyes, ‘Now there's one more thing I'd like from you.' She gave her a bowl and told her to go into the toilet. Later that morning Jane got a home pregnancy testing kit from the local chemist. As she had suspected, Claire was pregnant.

From the girl's bewildered attitude Jane surmised correctly that Claire was not fully aware what had happened to her. Like most youngsters of her age, her periods were scattered and light, and she wasn't even sure when she had her last one. From what she could tell from her brief examination, Claire was at least ten weeks pregnant.

Jane sighed and cursed nature's ill-conceived system, whereby girls hardly more than babies themselves were given fully effective reproductive equipment long before they were mature enough to cope with it.

Jane decided to take a trip back to town to consult a colleague who specialised in the area of rape crisis and decided to take Claire with her. There was only a few more days of the holiday left and she was anxious to get the girl home before her condition became apparent to the others.

Jane decided she would say nothing to Eddie. In such a crisis, she considered, men were rarely much use. Eddie would more than likely tell her that it was Annette's business, not hers. Jane had no great confidence in Annette's ability to cope with this particular kind of situation, but while she was in town she would have a chat with her. Another suspicion was beginning to form in her teeming brain. She was visited by a memory of how upset Claire had been after her father had walked out on them and, putting this and a few other impressions together, believed she knew who the father of Claire's baby might be. And if her suspicions were correct ... Jane shuddered at this new aspect of the situation and the effects of it on the unborn child.

Claire packed her case with lowered spirits. She felt somehow as if she were in disgrace. It was nothing Jane had actually said but Claire sensed her reserve. She closed down the lid, thinking how happy she had been the day they arrived and what fun it had been taking out her belongings and laying them on the shelves, along with Sheena's and Ruthie's things. How she wished she could reverse time and be starting all over again. She stood, eyes closed, swaying slightly until Sheena and Terry came running in to tell her that Jane was ready to go.

‘I'm to bring your case down,' said Terry importantly. He swung it off the bed and went rapidly out of the door. Claire and Sheena looked at each other.

‘See you the very minute we get back,' Sheena promised, almost recovered from her disappointment at being left behind. ‘Why can't I come too?' she had asked her mother indignantly. ‘I'd love to visit the book fair in the Mansion House,' Jane's excuse for bringing Claire. Only her mother's promise to bring her back a treat had succeeded in soothing her feelings. Now she put her arms around Claire and gave her a hug.

‘I'll miss you, Claire-bear,' she said wistfully. ‘It'll be dull here with only the boys and Ruthie.'

Claire hugged her back, feeling immeasurably cheered. She went to say goodbye to Ruthie and blinked back easy tears as the little girl clung fondly about her neck. Of Hugh there was no sign. When she went out to the car Jane was in the driver's seat and Eddie was lifting their cases into the boot.

Annette was taken by surprise when she opened the door to find Jane and Claire on the doorstep. She had not expected her daughter back until Saturday and now here she was on Tuesday afternoon. Annette could not help feeling cheated. She had counted on two whole weeks. Nothing ever worked out the way you expected.

While Claire went up to her room Jane sat down with Annette in the kitchen and proceeded to quiz her about Claire's health. Had Annette noticed anything amiss with the girl lately? Was she depressed or unusually nervous or unable to sleep? Was she as affectionate as she usually was?

Annette shook her head. She felt vaguely apprehensive and at the same time irritated by Jane's questions. They could have equally applied to any one of them, she thought. They were all of them going through a difficult time since Jim deserted them. Christopher had started smoking. She had smelled it the minute she came in the front door. When she went upstairs he had been sitting on the edge of the bath with the window open, puffing away. All his class were doing it, he'd said defiantly. Annette was shocked. He was only eleven, for God's sake! She herself wasn't sleeping well. And she often felt depressed these days. Why was Jane going on like this about Claire, who had just been away on holiday?

‘Get to the point, Jane,' Annette sighed.

‘It's just that she seemed rather depressed away on the holiday,' Jane said, ‘I was wondering if you had seen any signs of it yourself just before she went away. Whether you had noticed her any less affectionate or outgoing? You know, not so inclined to give you a hug?'

‘Claire has never liked being hugged, not by me at any rate. Anyone would think I was her enemy. She has always been prone to nervous outbursts and nightmares, but if there is anything seriously wrong, please tell me.'

Jane debated whether or not to give her the whole truth. It was a tricky situation. She could hardly say that she suspected Claire's father of abusing her. Jane had met Jim only once or twice and he had seemed nice enough. She could be making a terrible mistake. She decided the best thing might be to edit her declaration until she had discussed the situation with another doctor.

‘I've noticed she's a bit run down, getting dizzy spells,' Jane hedged. ‘She could be anaemic. I'm arranging for a colleague of mine to take a look at her.'

‘Is that all?' Annette was relieved. ‘Why didn't you say so? I was beginning to think she had leukaemia or something dreadful.'

Jane got up. ‘Can I take it you're in agreement if I book her into hospital overnight?'

‘Surely it's not that urgent?' Annette looked surprised.

‘No point in putting it off,' Jane told her. ‘Now is as good a time as any. Don't forget she'll be back at school next week.'

‘Whatever you think, Jane. You're the doctor,' Annette said, half-joking, half-resigned, and secretly glad for anyone to take on the burden of looking after her children. She saw Jane out, then fortified herself with another cup of coffee before steeling herself to go up and hear all about the wonderful seaside holiday.

That afternoon Eddie took his sons to play at the local golf course. On the drive there he noticed that they seemed unusually subdued. Normally, Hugh noisily vied with Terry for his father's attention but today he did not even seem to be listening to anything Eddie said. And Terry for once had little to say.

Glimpsing Hugh's pale, woebegone face in his rear-view mirror Eddie blamed his son's apathy on too many late nights.

‘Bed early for everyone tonight,' Eddie announced with a sardonic grin, and waited for an outcry. When none came he was amazed. ‘And that includes you too, Terry my boy,' he added, in case his eldest son believed his seniority would save him.

‘Sure Dad,' Terry said, gazing absently ahead. Eddie sighed and drove through the entrance to the club in silence.

That morning Terry had come upon evidence that Hugh had been been too lazy during the night to visit the toilet, and vigorously tackled him.

‘Smelly little wimp,' Terry had jeered, disdainfully flicking drops from off the end of his fingers. Instead of humbly begging his pardon, Hugh had suddenly backed him on to the bed with such force that his head cracked against the brass bedstead. Next thing Terry felt an iron, unrelenting knee on his windpipe.

‘Shut the fuck up!' Hugh said in a coldly menacing voice, ‘or I'll make you bloody well drink it.'

‘Oh yeah?' Terry croaked, but with a lot less force.

Who did Hugh think he was anyway handing out threats like that? He had a bloody nerve!

Terry hoisted the bag containing the golf clubs on his shoulder and as they strolled on to the first tee, debated whether to raise the urinary incident. He cast a speculative glance at his brother's preoccupied expression and regretfully decided to hold his tongue. You could never be sure with Hugh just how he'd react. Terry frowned. For a while this morning he had felt - not scared exactly - but well, apprehensive. Definitely apprehensive. Despite himself, Terry felt the beginnings of a grudging respect for his younger brother.

Hugh played badly, every shot wide of the mark. By contrast Terry seemed inspired. On the second hole he placed the ball only an inch short of the green and, with his second shot, lobbed it into the hole. Terry was noisy with delight.

‘Remind me some time to show you how to win, Hugh,' he boasted.

‘I thought you already had,' Hugh said thoughtfully. Terry flushed and walked in sulky silence to the next tee.

Eddie played his shot. It landed on the green. Pleased he turned and ruffled Hugh's hair. The boy twisted away. When Eddie picked up his clubs again and moved on, Hugh was careful to avoid going close to his father.

Some hours after Jane had arrived back in town she sat in a small clinically furnished room with its surrounding walls covered by posters on every aspect of pregnancy and birth control and outlined her suspicions to the quietly listening woman who was her friend and colleague.

‘Although I am not absolutely certain that it was the father, and short of asking the child outright I have no way of knowing for sure, yet somehow it all seems to fit. She was terribly upset when he left and yet relieved too in a way, saying she hated him and was glad he was gone. The mother also revealed one or two things which strengthened my conviction: namely the girl's inability to express physical affection, as well as her tendency to nightmares and nervy and irrational outbursts. Classic symptoms of this kind of tragic situation.'

‘It certainly bears all the hallmarks,' Detta said thoughtfully. ‘How old is she?'

‘Her birthday is around about the same date as my daughter's and Sheena won't be fourteen until the middle of June.'

‘Only kids,' Detta said soberly. ‘What I would be most concerned about is her mental state if she were forced to carry the baby full term.'

‘My feelings exactly,' Jane agreed. ‘Some years ago when her baby sister died Claire suffered severe trauma at the time and is not entirely recovered from it yet. I honestly believe her present dilemma could be the unhinging factor.'

‘So Jane,' Detta gave her an appraising look. ‘are you saying she should have a termination?'