Like One of the Family (20 page)

At the end of the short pier, as if at some pre-arranged signal, they came into each other's arms and kissed. When the earth steadied they turned and went, hand-in-hand, back to the bungalow.

Claire felt she could never get enough of Terry's kisses. It was the afternoon on the school stage all over again, but with no witnesses. Not to begin with anyway.

They had come in to find the fire still smouldering where Jane had left it well banked.

In the beginning Claire had felt uneasy, though she didn't know why. She felt it had something to do with the flickering fire only she couldn't be sure. She wanted to stop Terry when he began poking and easing the sods, making them burn brighter. The fire had not been lit regularly on this holiday, not indeed since the days when Hugh took it upon himself to light it each morning. This night it cast an eerie glow about the room, throwing light on a footstool and on the spines of books in the bookcase.

A tall figure was poised motionless to the side of the bookcase, but it was merely Jane's belted raincoat, hooked on the back of the door.

‘Clairey,' Terry sighed, holding her very close.

His passion thrilled her but, at the same time, made her self-conscious. As she returned his kiss, she wondered how much longer she could hold out. She was like a foundered fish, desperately gasping air through its fins.

When he unbuttoned her blouse she made no attempt to stop him. He undid her bra and consigned it to the darkness. Her breasts jutted rosy and startlingly plump in the firelight. Terry gently stroked them, his expression a mixture of lust and reverence. Claire watched him, her own expression shy and proud by turns. It was a long time since her body had been so openly offered to another. She felt confused and, at the same time, conscious of a sweet aching desire to surrender.

She grew even more lax and allowed him to remove her skirt and petticoat. They were on the rug now. She had a sense of
déjà vu
. She shifted and made to sit up but he murmured pleadingly and she lay back again. He knelt between her legs, caressing the inside of her thighs with steepled hands, long sweeping strokes bringing her to a state of trembling arousal. Now he could have done anything with her, but Terry was holding back, unwilling in the throes of this new loving sensation to jeopardise their burgeoning relationship.

They were still in this position when Denis and Barney crept low under the window and reared up to look in through the uncurtained glass, blurry with condensation.. In his eagerness to see better Barney shoved Denis and a stone from the rockery dislodged, and thudded softly on the grass.

The noise, thought slight, was enough to recall Claire to herself and she came out of her daze and looked down in horror at her exposed breasts and pearly parted limbs. She snatched for her blouse and, holding it against herself, scrambled up. What was she doing here? Oh God, was she out of her mind? On the very spot where with Eddie...

With a shamed, inarticulate cry Claire gathered up the rest of her fallen clothing and ran up the stairs. Terry watched her in surprise, his senses drugged by heat and the sweet uprising of flesh, not at once connecting her exit and the faint noise beyond the window. Then came the ribald shout.

Terry's mind cleared instantly. He hastily adjusted his clothing and went outside and stood on the moonlit roadway, his eyes raking the area. His earlier euphoria was replaced by a raging disappointment. Bloody morons! If he laid hands on them he'd leave them for dead.

The road was quite clear.

Terry went back inside and shot the bolt, then remembering that Sheena was still out drew it back again. He put the guard before the fire and went upstairs. Outside Claire's door he hesitated, full of regretful longing.

Jeeze! He'd really blown the whole thing. Really messed it all up before it even got going. Remembering the sweet trustful way she had let him touch her naked body Terry felt like weeping. Oh Clairey. He turned away in despair and went into his room.

Terry threw off his clothes and went to the window. The sky had grown a shade lighter. Denis and Barney, he thought bitterly. Bloody bastards! As he reached his hand to jerk across the curtains, he looked down and saw the pair of them, hunched like predators, on the garden wall.

On Monday morning when his mother asked him, Terry was glad to drive her back to town. Claire avoided him, refusing to speak to him or let him explain. He didn't think he could have stuck it another day.

Left to themselves the girls passed the week much as usual. Sheena said that she was going to the disco with Killian, taking it for granted Claire would stay home and mind Ruthie.

Claire didn't much care if she never went to another disco. She was only sorry she had given in and gone to the last one. She would never forget Terry and herself hand-in-hand on the moonlit quay, talking, laughing, kissing. And then what had followed.

It wasn't fair.

Tears welled and fell on the toast she was burning. She threw it in the bin and cut more bread. She found it hard to concentrate on anything. All the time she kept seeing the firelight and her own naked body. She tried to put it out of her mind but it kept creeping back. She grew hot whenever she recalled their jeering shouts.

She piled scrambled egg on triangles of toast and carried the plates into the other room. Ruthie toyed with crumbling egg. It was not her favourite tea but sometimes it was hard to know what to give her.

‘Eat it up,' Claire told her. ‘It's good for you.'

Ruthie pushed it away. She didn't care if it was good for her. Upstairs, Sheena was an inordinate length getting ready for the disco. She came down at last wearing one of her mother's silk blouses that was practically see-through.

Sheena winked and did a pirouette before going off to meet Killian. Claire raised her hand and let it fall. When was the last time she and Sheena had held a conversation. Sheena hadn't even asked her how she had got on with her twin. It hurt to think how little interest her friend showed in her life. Sheena seemed to see or hear nothing outside her own pampered existence. Claire sighed and went to get out the draught board. She sat opposite Ruthie, absently moving pieces from square to square.

‘You're letting me win,' Ruthie complained. She hated it when any of them played down to her.

‘No, I'm not.' Claire contradicted. She made a determined effort to concentrate. Even so, Ruthie won four games out of five.

‘My game again,' she said triumphantly, ‘and I wasn't even trying.' She began straightaway laying out the pieces but Claire stopped her.

‘Why don't we play beggar-my-neighbour,' she suggested. Ruthie agreed enthusiastically. She loved cards even better than board games. Claire pushed all thoughts of Terry out of her mind and forced herself to pay attention but it was a relief when it was time to prepare the cocoa.

Claire tucked Ruthie into bed then went into her own room. She supposed it was better for the little girl to get used to sleeping by herself - Jane was trying to encourage her to become more independent - but she missed the warm feel of the little body curled beside her own. She took her time weaving the strands of her hair into one heavy golden plait. She snapped on a rubber band and tossed it back, got into bed and picked up her book.

She was reading a writer new to her - F. Scott Fitzgerald.
The Great Gatsby
was like nothing she had ever read. So elegantly written. Claire loved a good story but liked good style even better.

She turned another page and lingered on a passage. This wasn't a book to be read in a hurry.

Downstairs a door clicked open. Subconsciously, she noted it, her eyes still fixed on the page. It was early for Sheena and Killian. Sheena usually had to be dragged away from the disco while still calling for encores.

Claire read on absently, not really taking the story in, her ear idly tuned to the next sound of the creaking stair. Seconds later her bedroom door opened abruptly.

She looked up, not yet alarmed, and saw Denis leering at her from the doorway. Claire sat bolt up in the bed.

‘What are you doing here?' she asked, hearing the tremor in her voice.

‘Looking for you. What else?'

She decided to ignore what he'd said. This had nothing to do with her. If she admitted that it had she would start screaming. She got out of bed and stood facing him.

‘If you're looking for Terry, he's not here,' she strove to speak calmly, but was sorry as soon as the words were out. Now he'd know she was on her own.

‘But I'm not looking for Terry, am I?' Denis lowered himself on to the bed and bounced up and down, testing the springs. ‘Saw him going off in the car on Monday.'

Claire put a hand covertly to her nose. Close-up, the stench of stale beer and cigarettes was overpowering. She heard the stair creaking again and grew dizzy with hope. Barney appeared in the doorway.

‘‘What's keeping you, Denis?'

‘Go downstairs,' Denis ordered. ‘Go on. Look sharp.'

‘I want a beer.'

‘In the fridge. Take what you want.'

With a pleased grunt Barney disappeared. Claire heard him lumbering down the stairs. She gasped as Denis pulled her back across his knees and forced his tongue between her teeth. She gagged. When he slackened pressure she pulled back, choking and coughing.

‘I'll show you how good it can be,' he promised thickly. ‘Not like that crud McArdle. You'll see.'

‘Oh God,' Claire prayed. ‘Please help me.'

She twisted away from him and tried to run to the door. He caught hold of her plait and yanked her back. The pain was excruciating. She staggered against him and almost fell.

‘Let's see your tits.'

He grabbed her pyjamas top. Only he was so drunk he'd have had it off her back. She gasped as dirty sausage fingers squeezed her nipples. She shoved him away with all her strength but he easily overpowered her and knocked her back on the bed, then fell on top of her, holding her hands rigidly by her sides

Ruthie was calling her. Claire painfully turned her head, saw the little girl struggling in Barney's grip. He had his belt around her chest and he was laughing and letting her run a little distance from him, then jerking her smartly back to him. Like a cat toying with a small, frisky mouse.

‘Clairey,' Ruthie sobbed. ‘Please help me, Clairey.'

Claire made a determined effort to shake off Denis. She almost succeeded but he held on to her plait. Her mind was beginning to blank, but when she heard Ruthie screaming, her courage asserted. She kicked out and felt savagely glad when she heard his grunt of pain. Suddenly the pressure lifted and she gasped in relief.

Killian was in the room. Claire saw him striking Denis with a sweeping brush, great cracking blows across his head and face. Denis fell whimpering to his knees, blood streaming from his forehead. Sheena had her arms around Ruthie, unbuckling the belt, comforting her. Barney had run off. Claire sat up and drew in a sobbing breath. ‘Oh thank God,' she whispered brokenly.

That night they all slept together in the one room. Claire made Sheena promise not to say anything to Jane. Sheena protested, then seeing how upset her friend was, reluctantly agreed. Claire was afraid that Jane would think she had encouraged the boys to come into the house, afraid that Jane would think she wasn't a fit person to look after Ruthie.

It was almost dawn before they settled down to sleep. Ruthie did not hesitate between beds, just climbed in beside her sister. That she wasn't risking herself with Claire was obvious.

Claire felt a sense of isolation. She in her own bed and the sisters together. She did not sleep, just lay there, thinking that since she had come into their lives she had spelled nothing but trouble for the McArdles. Hugh, Jane and now Ruthie. She didn't at all see it the other way round. That would come later, but not for a very long time.

Jane arrived back on Friday evening and noticed at once how despondent the girls were. She tried to discover the cause but when one or two attempts to get them talking failed, she let it go and went tiredly to unpack her things.

Later, they sat about the kitchen table, saying little to each other as they listlessly ate the Friday night take-away. Terry hung about for a bit after the meal, hoping for a thaw in Claire's attitude, then took off moodily for his usual haunts.

Ruthie disappeared into the bathroom the minute he left. She was there so long that Jane sent Claire to see if she was all right. When Claire came back she said the door was locked and Ruthie wanted Jane.

Jane went out and spoke through the locked door. She asked if there was anything wrong.

‘Come on out,' Jane begged her, ‘We'll make cocoa and take it into bed with us. We'll be lovely and cosy and watch television together.'

Ruthie didn't answer.

Jane's neck ached from the effort of bending and speaking through the keyhole. ‘You love it. You know you do.'

There was no sound. Perhaps she wanted Claire. Jane felt a little jealous. She supposed it was only natural that Ruthie would want to be with the older girl, who spoiled her rotten all week. While she was away in Dublin working herself to the bone. Jane couldn't help a trace of self-pity

‘Very well,' she said, trying to hide her hurt. ‘Sleep with Claire, if that's what you want. Only come out now.'

The door remained closed.

In desperation Jane went up to Claire's room and was surprised to find the girl already in bed. Sheena had gone off earlier to the disco with Killian, admittedly with none of her usual bounce.

Claire laid down the book she was holding. Jane wondered why Claire hadn't offered to try and get Ruthie out of the bathroom.

‘I can't understand what's the matter with Ruthie,' Jane said, noticing that Claire looked unusually pale. She felt a sudden stab of conscience at leaving her so much with the little girl. Not that Ruthie was a difficult child but she was inclined to be demanding since her father died. Jane suddenly regretted not insisting that Claire go with the others to the disco.