Sex Crimes (27 page)

As to that creature in her womb, I cared nothing for it. It was a disease. A sexually transmitted disease caught from playing a dangerous game.

I knew that I would never have the relationship with my daughter that I wanted. She had mutated somewhere along the way, like a person who is in an accident and suffers a personality change. I don’t know this Libby and I will always mourn for my Elizabeth.

I felt crucified by my family. Tom had nailed my arms to the cross and Libby had hammered nails into my feet. I was ready to commend my spirit. I had friends in London. Friends who predated this madness. I too was a girl once, with promise and hope. I had wanted passion and love and adventure. I had wanted a home of warmth and laughter. I knew it was quite mad to be running back to that place, that place I had lived in at eighteen. On the brink of my life. Just before I met the Australian academic who redirected my life.

‘Good-bye,’ I nodded and went to meet the cab.

‘Mummy,’ she sobbed. ‘Please don’t go!’

I felt the hot prickle of tears but could not turn back. She was on her own. She and her father. They had made their beds and had to lie in them. This was not my job anymore.

‘Good-bye Elizabeth,’ I muttered, as the cab pulled away from my lovely house toward the International airport. ‘Or Libby, or whoever you are.’

4.

Chester McNaughton

Man, you know, I wasn’t like obsessing about it or anything but it was always in the back of my head. The baby. The little critter lying in Libby O’Neil’s belly. I hardly ever saw her. She didn’t come to school anymore. She was doing home schooling. The last time I saw her at Beekman, was on the Awards Night, when she turned up in a tight red dress with that enormous round gut.

I felt sorry for Lola because we’ve been dating for a couple of months and Libby turning up was a reminder of what we’d done together back at her father’s birthday party. Everyone knew. My testimony at the hearing had been leaked all over the media. At first they tried to suppress my name because I was only seventeen but it made no difference. It was everywhere. I actually got weird messages on Facebook from random strangers congratulating me on the baby and stuff. It was definitely weird. But, yeah, I’m eighteen now and it seems like every teenager around has heard my name in relation to the ‘scandal’ as my parents like to call it.

And yeah, Lola hated talking about it. I never mentioned Libby or the baby. Ever! She made it clear when we first hooked up that she was not interested in anything to do with the ‘Libby’ story. And then Libby rocks up to the Award’s Night advertising her status – pregnant. Very! Lola was a trooper to go on with the show and I think we did well. At the time I hoped Libby was squirming in her seat, seeing how much Lola and I care about each other. Take that!

I still didn’t think it was responsible for Libby to have the baby. She was too young and she clearly had mental problems. I’m not saying, like, I’m totally for abortion. I just think it depends and each situation is different. But even though it’s pretty certain now that I’m the father, that it’s my baby, I had no say in it at all. The law saw this as totally Libby’s decision because it was her body. I don’t think that’s fair because as my parents have pointed out, repeatedly, I’ll be paying maintenance for the child for eighteen years. Not that I mind, though. I’m not trying to get out of my responsibilities. If there is a child of mine that needs my support, I’m totally there, man.

School was over for good. I’d graduated from Beekman House and although the results weren’t in, I knew I’d done pretty well. I’d applied to get into a drama course at a few different Universities but my number one choice was for NIDA. That’s the top drama school in Australia, where Cate Blanchett and Mel Gibson went. I’m probably too young. They like you to be older I think. But my audition was good. I felt pretty confident.

Anyway, so school was over for us seniors and I was at the beach with Hobbsy and Lola when I got a call from Mum. She’d just heard that Libby O’Neil had gone into premature labour and wanted me to go to the hospital.

‘She won’t want me there,’ I said, surprised by Mum’s call.

‘Well, she apparently does. She’s scared. Her father is not answering his phone and her mother’s on her way to London. So Libby’s all alone and she’s very frightened. She called me, looking for you.’

‘Oh God,’ I groaned. ‘This is bad.’

I looked over to Lola who was rubbing lotion onto her chest. It was turning me on a moment earlier and then I had this phone call to deal with.

‘This is your child and it’s an emergency situation. The baby isn’t due for another eight weeks and that is very serious. This is my grandchild Chester McNaughton so you get your sorry bum to the hospital. Now!’ she shrieked down the phone at me.

‘Fine!’ I snapped back.

I got the details and started packing up my towel as I got off the phone.

‘I’ve got to go. Libby’s in labour and it’s too early and it’s an emergency.’ I said, not looking Lola in the eye.

‘What? What’s that got to do with you?’ Lola yelled, clearly pissed off. ‘She dissed you big-time, Chez, and wanted you to have nothing to do with this. She can get stuffed!’

‘Don’t make this harder than it has to be, Lola,’ I said, shaking the sand away from her.

‘No!’ she said standing up in front of me, hands on hips. ‘You are with
me
. I don’t want you going and holding her hand and watching her have a baby…you’ll get all bonded and then you’ll want to get back with her and be a happy little family….’

‘That’s ridiculous!’ I shouted back. ‘I have no interest in that little cow….’

‘Except she’s the mother of your child!’

‘Just leave off, okay, Lola?’ I begged. ‘I’m going and maybe you could wish me luck. My child’s life is in danger, you know. That’s a bit more fucking serious that you getting sunburnt tits. So if you don’t mind, I’m going to help out while my baby is born.’

‘Well fuck off and wish your girlfriend all the luck in the world,’ Lola screamed like a tantruming three year old. ‘Give her all my love and if you ever need a babysitter…just call…NOT!’

I’d never heard Lola swear or get upset like that. She was boiling over. Squealing like a lobster being cooked. But what could I do? I had to go.

At the hospital I was so nervous. A nurse showed me to the labour ward and everything was hushed and sombre. It sounds totally sucky but I really wished my mother was there to support me.

I’d said not a word to Libby since that show-down in her bedroom before all the shit hit the fan. She knew I’d given evidence against her and thrown doubt onto her whole Chris Bergin story. Now she was facing a charge of sexual assault and basically she’d jumped me and gotten pregnant and I felt like I’d been taken advantage of her too. I could totally relate to that Bergin dude.

The first thing that struck me was how tiny and frightened Libby looked. She was hooked up to all sorts of machines and had a belt strapped around her marble white belly. Pink stretch marks snaked around her sides and her big eyes looked up at me. Damn her mother and father for not being there, I cursed to myself. Poor kid.

‘Hey there,’ I said, not sure how she would react.

‘Hey Chez,’ she nodded and pressed her lips together. ‘Thanks for coming. You probably hate me but I didn’t know who else to call.’

I went over and stood beside her and gave her a forced smile.

‘So, what’s happening?’ I asked lamely.

The doctor standing on the other side of the hospital bed, piped up and answered that question for me while the machine beside him beeped and pulsed out changing numbers.

‘Libby’s waters have broken and she is in labour. We did give her some medication to try to slow things down and delay them so we could give her some steroid treatment to help the baby’s lungs which is our greatest concern with premature births but the labour is progressing quite fast. You are the father of the child?’

I looked at Libby. I was not even going to attempt to answer that.

‘Yes,’ she said between clenched teeth. ‘Yes. He is.’

‘Chester,’ I nodded at the doctor.

You know what? All through this thing, I’d just wanted that simple confirmation from Libby. I just wanted her to tell me straight that this was my baby and when she did that, something inside me just ignited. Came alive. It was like this was ‘real’ for the first time. This was my baby. I was its father and that was a powerful, powerful feeling, man. Right then I knew I’d be strong no matter what happened because I had to be. My Dad had always been there for me and right then I knew I could handle this. I’d make him proud.

‘Now, Libby,’ the doctor said,  addressing her. ‘At last check you were six centimetres dilated and you need to tell us if you feel the need to push.’

She gritted her teeth and squeezed her eyes shut, nodding.

The mid-wife introduced herself and showed me the humidicrib that had been set up for the baby to keep it warm.

‘And the baby will be taken to neonatal intensive care immediately to be assessed,’ she explained. ‘At thirty two weeks, possibly thirty-three, the baby has a good chance of doing well. A few weeks ago it would have been a different story.’

‘And what do I do?’ I asked feeling kind of helpless and clueless.

‘Just hold Libby’s hand and tell her she’d doing well. Keep her spirits up.’

I sat down on a chair beside Libby and tried to say all the right things. She was groaning and in pain and I watched the monitor that showed how strong her contractions were.

‘Have you thought of names yet,’ I asked, trying to make conversation while she was okay and not panting and crying out in pain.

‘I know it’s a boy,’ she told me and I felt a tremor of disappointment that I hadn’t found out at the moment of birth but never mind. ‘I liked Franklin for a while but now I don’t care. I just want him out of me.’

‘I like Franklin alright. How about something Shakespearean since we’re both such theatrical types? Something like Hamlet or Romeo?’ I laughed.

She thought about it.

‘I’m more into musical theatre but I do love Shakespeare. What about just plain old William after the bard,’ she suggested.

‘My grandfather was a William,’ I remembered aloud.

‘Me too,’ she nodded.

‘It’s pretty traditional. Our folks will approve,’ I smiled.

I knew that my mother was terrified that Libby was going to up and call the baby something stupid just for attention. Dingus. Or Mustafah or something. Or name it after a character from the Twilight Series.

‘I like it. William McNaughton. Very distinguished,’ she smiled and then doubled over, holding up her knees as she let out a deep groan.

I was a bit freaked out. She was going to give the kid my surname? I hadn’t even considered that. That was a pretty traditional thing to do, too. I watched as poor little Libby almost turned herself inside out with pain. Breathing and moaning through it all. I felt so helpless.

I won’t go into the gruesome details. But things got busy and the hospital staff all rallied around her as she struggled to get our son born. It was primal and visceral, man. Like nothing I could ever have imagined. Powerful and magical and just awesome. Libby did a really good job of it.

The little fellow was so tiny. Just this tiny little skinny thing. They took him away after we both had a quick look at him. I touched his skin, warm and soft and I cried a little bit just from the whole emotional crazy roller-coaster. William Chester McNaughton. He was healthy and strong for his size.

I stood upstairs in the intensive care unit and watched him sleep in his little plastic incubator thing. He had a tube out of his nose and little mittens on his hands. A diaper that looked like it could fit ten of him in it. He was very red and had a tiny amount of fair hair. He looked more like me than Libby, I thought. But I was probably biased.

‘Hey, William,’ I whispered to him. ‘I’ll be there for you man. No matter what, I’ll be there.’

The doctor said he was strong and was doing real well.

My Mum and Dad arrived and were able to have just a quick look. Mum was a mess. She just fell totally in love with little William. You’ve got to hand it to my folks. They’ve got class. They brought Libby a huge bouquet of flowers and treated her real nice.

Then later, after they’d gone, I went back to check on Libby and see how she was doing.

‘It’s bigger than I expected,’ she said softly, turned away from me.

‘What? The baby? William?’ I asked.

‘No,’ she whispered. ‘This whole thing. I’ve lost my parents, my friends, school, everything.’

‘It’ll all settle down and get back to normal. You just need to focus on this little man of ours and be strong for him. Stuff your parents. Mine are great and they’ll help us out. I’ll work part-time while I’m at uni and give you whatever I can for child support and I’ll look after him for you any time you want…..’

‘I don’t want him, Chez,’ she said, turning back to look at me.

There were deep, dark circles under her eyes and she looked like a train wreck.

‘What?’ I mumbled.

‘I don’t want to be a mother. Not ever. I don’t want him. You have him,’ she said flatly.

‘Come on,’ I soothed. ‘You’re just feeling blue…the doctor said you might feel like that. You’ll feel different after you have a rest and when you can hold William.’

‘I won’t you know, Chez,’ she said sadly. ‘I called you up to the hospital because I wanted you to be here,’ she said and the tears began to roll down her pale cheeks. ‘I knew I couldn’t do this. I couldn’t love him. I don’t think I can love anyone. That bitch of a psychologist was right. I’m not normal. I wanted to be. I wanted to have this little baby that would love me and I would love him forever. Unconditionally. But Chez…..,’ she said, looking deeply into my face. ‘I don’t feel anything. I’m a mother who should be filled with…..something….but I’m not.’

‘I’ll get the doctor, Libby,’ I said, freaked out, ‘…maybe you need a tablet or something. A sleeping pill. You just need to rest.’

I got up and patted her hand.