The New Neighbours (33 page)

Annabel nodded. “Thanks for being so understanding, Dad.”

“Yes, well… In the meantime you must give some thought to telling us who the father is. I assume your mother doesn't know? No, well we're going to have to find out in the end. You give it some thought, eh?” He looked at her for a long moment and then putting his arms round her said, “Oh Polly, how on earth did you let this happen? It's going to change your life!”

For the briefest span, Annabel considered telling her father the whole thing, including the robbery and the car chase, but her nerve failed her and she just said miserably, “I wish it hadn't happened, Dad, really I do, but it did.”

For a moment they sat in silence, then Annabel pulled free. She had noticed as they'd been eating that most of the CDs were missing, as was the hi-fi itself. Now she looked into her father's face and asked, “Dad, where's Desirée?”

He looked uncomfortable and replied with a shrug, “She's away for the weekend, I told you.”

“Just for the weekend, Dad?” pursued Annabel.

Ian sighed. “I'm not sure,” he admitted.

“You mean she's left you?”

“I honestly don't know.” He hesitated for a moment and then admitted, “She left last weekend, and I haven't heard from her since.”

“But what about her things, what'll she do about those?”

“She took them with her,” Ian said. “I was away all last Friday until late evening, and when I got home she'd gone.”

“And taken everything with her, clothes, books, what?”

“Everything of hers and much of what we'd bought together.” Ian sounded weary.

Annabel put her arms round him again. “Oh Dad, poor Dad, how awful for you, are you very sad?”

He returned her hug and then got to his feet, pacing to the window and back before saying, “To tell you the truth, Polly, no I'm not. Things hadn't been right for some time, and I think she'd found someone else. I'm not really expecting her back.”

“So you're all on your own. Have you told Mum?”

“No, I haven't,” he replied and added sharply, “and you're not to, either.”

“Oh Dad, why ever not? Perhaps you could…”

“No, Polly,” he cut her off. “It isn't as simple as that. We've changed, both of us. We aren't the people we were before Desirée came on the scene, and we can't just put the clock back. Our lives have diverged, and we've moved in different directions.”

“But she ought to know,” pleaded Annabel. “It's not fair not to tell her, 'specially now I know.”

“I'm going to tell her… I will tell her, but in my own time.”

“You mean if Desirée doesn't come back!” Annabel said bitterly.

“No,” he answered patiently, “when I've thought things through. And in the meantime, Polly, I really don't want you to tell her, or anyone else for that matter, about Desirée leaving.”

“Did she leave you a note?” demanded Annabel

“Desirée? No.”

“Or her door keys?”

“No.”

“Then I should have the locks changed,” remarked Annabel, bleakly.

When Ian dropped Annabel back to Dartmouth Circle, she tried to persuade him to come in, but he was adamant.

“No, pet. I'll ring Mum tomorrow and we'll arrange an evening to talk.” He gave her a hug and then holding her at arm's length, he looked at her seriously, “Please, Polly,” he reminded her, “don't tell her about Desirée, not yet. I'll tell her myself, I promise, when the time's right.”

So she had promised, but the knowledge was burning a hole inside her.

“I'm glad you're not having an abortion,” Sheila said, breaking in on her thoughts. “I know you'll think I'm an interfering old woman, but it's not something I think any woman should put herself through unless it's an absolute necessity.”

“No, well I'm not having one,” Annabel said firmly, and tried to think of some way to change the subject. “Look, Mrs Colby, I really don't want to discuss this with you. What I've decided I've decided, and it is as you said, none of your business!”

Surprisingly Sheila nodded and said, “Quite right. But I just wanted to tell you something that very few people know. Just Gerald and myself now, I suppose.” She set down her teacup and looking squarely at Annabel took a deep breath. “When I was your age I got pregnant too. In those days it was considered a dreadful thing to be a single mother. The father, not Gerald, of course, was a student who was lodging with my family. I didn't dare tell my parents, they wouldn't have been able to stand the shame of it, so, George, that was the student, he found a place where they would do something about the baby, no questions asked, for £200.” Sheila had Annabel's full attention now.

“A back street abortionist?”

“A back street abortionist. I just turned up, they gave me an anaesthetic and when I came round again it was all over and they sent me home. Only, of course it wasn't all over. Later that evening I started to bleed, and I was so frightened that I had to tell my mother.” For a moment Sheila's eyes became distant as she remembered the awfulness of that night and her mother's reaction, then she looked again at Annabel, “Well, to cut a long story short, I had to go into hospital and they saved my life, but after that I couldn't have any more children.” She glanced across at Annabel's horrified face. “Of course abortions aren't like that these days, but it isn't just the physical side of it, you know. A day hasn't passed that I haven't thought about that baby, and wondered what he or she would have been like. That child would be forty-eight if it were alive today, but I killed it because I was too ashamed to let it live, to give it the love it deserved. I killed my own chances of having more children, deprived Gerald of the chance of being a father, and I have to live with those regrets.”

Silence lapsed round them and then Annabel said in a small voice. “This is your secret. Why are you telling me this?”

“To encourage you,” Sheila answered quietly. “I assume the pregnancy was a mistake?”

Annabel nodded.

“Well, so it was, but you're brave enough to let your baby be born, Annabel, and though it will be very difficult for you, I'm sure when he or she is laid in your arms you won't have any regrets about your decision.”

“What happened to George?” asked Annabel.

“George? My parents kicked him out of the house and told him they never wanted to see him again.”

“And you? Did you want to see him again?” Annabel spoke in a low voice.

Sheila shook her head. “No,” she said. “No, I didn't want to see him again. He blamed me for the baby, and all he did was find the money for the abortion and then disappear.” She looked at Annabel speculatively and asked, “What about the father of your baby. What does he think?”

“He doesn't know,” her eyes met Sheila's, “he's disappeared as well.”

“I see.”

“But my parents are standing by me. I'm not facing this on my own.” She gave Sheila a shy smile. “Thank you for telling me, Mrs Colby. I'll keep your secret and I'll remember what you said.”

“Well now,” Sheila said briskly, “that sounds like a car.” She went and looked out of the window. “Yes, your mother has just pulled in, so, you'd better be off, or she'll be wondering where you are. Look after yourself, young lady.” The intimate moment between them had passed and Sheila reverted to the stiff awkward woman that Annabel recognised. Annabel got to her feet and picked up her bag.

“Thank you for the tea,” she said awkwardly, “and, well, everything.”

“Make sure the door shuts behind you,” instructed Sheila from the top of the stairs.

“Yes, I will,” promised Annabel, and did so, very carefully.

Ian Haven had been as good as his word and had rung Angela the day after he had seen Annabel.

“I think we should get together to discuss exactly what we are going to do,” he said. “I'd like to come round one evening this week, if that's convenient, when you are all three there.”

“Of course,” Angela agreed. “Why don't you come on Thursday? Come for supper if you like.”

When he arrived, he went into the living room where the fire was alight and the curtains drawn against the autumn evening.“Supper won't be long,” Angela said, returning to the kitchen. “Pour yourself a drink, and one for me too, please.”

“Where are the girls?” Ian asked.

“Upstairs doing their homework,” Angela replied. “I said I'd call them when supper was ready.”

Ian poured the drinks and carried them into the kitchen, where Angela was straining pasta and putting it into the oven to keep hot.

“What do you really think about Annabel?” he asked. “Be honest. We all have to be honest if we are to cope with this.”

“Honestly?” Angela put down the pan and looked at him. “Honestly, I'm horrified. She's rising eighteen and she's going to be saddled with a baby. She refuses to say who the father is, and she's determined to bring up the child herself. I'm not sure what this evening is really going to achieve, Ian, because she seems to have made up her mind on all the main issues already. I suppose they are her decisions, but I doubt if she can carry them through without our support. She'll live here of course, but that will affect Chantal as well.”

“Yes, well, I've had an idea about Chantal,” Ian said. “I know you aren't happy with her staying at the High…”

“Well, she's not going to Crosshills,” interrupted Angela, “so we've no choice.”

“We might have,” Ian said. “Chapmans have started to take girls this term. They've had them in the sixth form for a while now, but from this term they have taken girls in other years too. Of course, most of them are thirteen, but I've spoken to the headmaster and he tells me there are several other girls who are starting in the GCSE year. I sounded him out and he's prepared to take her if we want her to go.”

Angela stared at him. “Chantal go to Chapmans?”

“Yes.”

“What, straightaway?”

“Yes.”

Angela was staggered, “But how's she going to get there every day? There's no way I can drive her out there every morning, it's a twenty-mile round trip! She can't possibly go.”

“You wouldn't have to drive her there,” Ian replied. “There's a coach that does a pick-up of day children from various places in town. She could go on that.”

“Perhaps she doesn't want to move,” suggested Angela rather aggressively. This idea of Chapmans coming out of the blue had thrown her. She didn't want Chantal to stay at the High, but now Ian had come up with what seemed to be a viable alternative, she found it made her unaccountably cross.

“It's up to her and you,” Ian said reasonably. “All I've done is find a good school, within reach, that will take her. She might like the idea of a mixed school.”

Angela was sure she would, but all she said, rather ungraciously was, “I'll think about it. Please don't say anything to her just yet.”

“All right,” agreed Ian, “but I do think the sooner we canvass the idea the better. The term's already started and we don't want her to miss too much.”

“You make it sound as if you've already decided,” Angela said.

“Not if you're seriously against the idea,” Ian responded, “but I think it's worth serious consideration, specially if you really want to move Chantal anyway. It's all part of our forward planning, don't you think?”

Angela stirred the sauce thoughtfully. It might be just the answer, but she had the feeling she was being bounced into a decision and she didn't want to be. “Can we afford Chapmans?” she asked. “It must have higher fees than the High.”

“That will be my problem,” Ian said. “If you want her to go and she wants to go, then I'll manage it.”

Angela sighed. She was completely knocked sideways by his suggestion. “Let me think about it,” she said at last. “If I think we should bring it up this evening, I'll introduce the subject.”

“Fair enough, “ Ian said. “I'll take your lead.”

She turned back to the cooker and said over her shoulder, “Give them a call, will you? Supper's ready.”

Ian went to the stairs and called, while Angela took a large gulp of her drink. What on earth was Ian up to? How come he could suddenly afford the fees at Chapmans? Of course they were no longer paying fees for Annabel at the High, but even so they were going to need any money saved that way to help support her and the baby when it arrived. There had been little enough cash to go round when they had split up and he had two homes to run, that was why she'd gone back to full-time working, simply because she didn't want the girls to suffer for what their father had chosen to do. Perhaps he'd been promoted and was now much better off. It was something she was determined to tackle him about, but not this evening, this evening they had other things to discuss and plan.

It was a strange evening all round, Annabel thought. It was as if they were in a time warp, sitting at the table having supper as they had always used to. By common consent they didn't begin to talk about Annabel and the baby during the meal, though Annabel told them what it was like at college.

“In some ways it's much better than at the High,” she said. “They treat you like an adult. You're told what to do and you get on and do it. There aren't silly rules about what to wear, what you can and can't do about the place. You just turn up for lectures, there's no extras like hockey or religious studies and things. You don't have to stay if you don't have a tutorial or a lecture, you can just walk out. D'you know Dad, it's really weird, when I walk out of the gate I feel I'm skiving!”

“Well you certainly set the High on fire,” remarked Chantal. “Like, everyone keeps coming up to me and saying, ‘Is your sister really up the spout?' ”