by Anita Waller
‘Do you know the biggest advantage with adoption?’ Pat said thoughtfully.
‘No, but you’ll no doubt enlighten me,’ Amy replied with a smile.
‘You stay slim.’ She patted her hips. ‘I didn’t lose it after I had Pilot.’
‘No sympathy. Go on a diet.’
Pat looked across the lawn towards Pilot and Lauren.
‘Can’t. Wouldn’t be much good anyway now. I’m er… expecting another baby.’
There was a lengthy silence from Amy before Pat spoke again.
‘Amy? Did you hear what I said?’
‘I heard. Why? Why do you need two children?’
Pat laughed self-consciously.
‘I don’t need two children. I want two children. Different thing altogether. In fact, I’d like more – possibly four.’
‘Oh.’
‘Aren’t you even a little bit pleased for me?’
Pat now felt angry. She hadn’t relished the idea of telling Amy but it had been worse than she thought. Amy seemed dead inside. Her long blonde hair stirred slightly in the breeze as she leaned forward to look at Pat.
‘Are you pleased?’
‘Of course I am. We have planned this child.’
‘Then I’m pleased for you. When’s it due?’
Pat breathed a sigh of relief. At last, a normal question.
‘Around Christmas. Hopefully just before Father Christmas comes. You’ll be able to enjoy that, this year.’
‘I always enjoy Christmas.’
‘But it’s different when you have a child. Completely different. Christmas really is nothing to do with adults, you don’t realise that until you have a baby.’ She paused for a moment. ‘Are you enjoying Lauren?’
‘She’s got some lovely clothes.’ Amy nodded.
‘That wasn’t what I meant. Dolls have lovely clothes – are you enjoying play times and such?’
‘Play times? Sure. Shall we take these dishes in?’
She stood and began to stack the tray with the crockery they had used for lunch, her movements hurried and efficient.
Pat looked at her for a moment and then called Pilot over.
She hugged him, hoping Amy was taking note; Amy turned away and began to walk towards the kitchen door.
‘Listen, sweetheart,’ Pat said to her son. ‘If baby Lauren wakes up, will you come and get Aunty Amy?’
The little boy nodded and ran back over to where he had his fort on the lawn. She’d been asleep ever since she’d arrived – boring. He wanted her to wake, and then perhaps she could play. He threw himself back into his game and promptly forgot the grown-ups.
Pat washed while Amy dried. The kitchen window overlooked part of the garden where Pilot was playing and where the pram stood in the shade cast by a large tree.
Amy watched Pilot stand and walk over to the pram then look at the baby before speaking to her. Amy continued to carefully wipe the plate she was holding, meticulously polishing it until it shone, her eyes never leaving the lawn.
Pilot reached into the pram and tugged at the baby. He struggled and managed to get her to a sitting position. She held out her chubby arms to him, one hand waving a pink dummy.
Amy carefully placed the plate neatly on the pile of other plates and picked up a fork. She rubbed it until it shone.
Pilot placed his arms around Lauren and tried to pull her, but her baby harness held her firmly in place. He let go of the child and bent inside the pram to undo the restraining hooks.
The fork was carefully placed in the cutlery drawer and she tidied the others already in there, aware of Pat on the other side of the large kitchen who was cleaning the work surfaces.
Amy’s eyes never left the pram and Pilot.
The boy reached into the pram and lifted the little girl. She waved her arms once more and he lost his grip, dropping her on to the grass.
Amy continued to dry the cutlery. She didn’t react until Lauren’s yell of pain and shock ripped through the air.
‘Pilot’s just dropped Lauren on the ground.’
The words were quietly spoken. At first they didn’t register with Pat. Amy carefully folded the tea towel and moved towards the kitchen door but Pat was there first and running across the grass before Amy had even left the kitchen.
Pilot was standing a small distance away from the baby, sobbing hysterically.
‘I didn’t want to hurt her, mummy,’ he was saying through his tears. ‘Wanted to play. Mummy – I wanted to play!’ His voice rose as he tried to explain but Pat pushed him to one side. The baby came first.
By the time Amy had walked across the lawn, Pat had turned Lauren so that she was lying on her back, still screaming and in obvious pain. She took a blanket from the pram.
‘She’s hurting somewhere,’ she said frantically. ‘I’ll deal with Pilot later – we have to get her to hospital. Here, wrap her tightly in this so that the arm moves as little as possible. I’ll go and get my car. You can hold her on your knee. She turned to her son, ‘Pilot, you’re in big, big trouble. You’re coming with us now, but I’ll sort you out later.’
‘No, please,’ Amy said, still not bending down to her daughter. ‘He only wanted to play with her, I’m sure. He didn’t realise he couldn’t hold her. He did try…’
‘You mean you watched this happening?’ Pat was incredulous. ‘You saw what he was doing and didn’t say anything? Just carried on wiping the bloody dishes?’
‘I didn’t think he would drop her.’ Amy shrugged her shoulders.
In that instant Pat decided her son would only receive a mild telling off – this could have been prevented.
‘Wrap Lauren up, for heaven’s sake, Amy, and give her a cuddle. I’ll get the car.’
John was distraught at the sight of the tiny plaster cast on Lauren’s arm. He’d had a hell of a day – first there had been Linda’s letter of resignation on his desk, then David had rung to discuss his new book and mentioned that he and Dawn had to go away to Edinburgh overnight. Now this.
He had risked ringing Dawn at the office to find out if she was going with David.
‘I didn’t know how to contact you – yes, it’s something that’s cropped up with Jean McBlair. Her agent’s proving difficult. I’m so sorry; we’ll have to put off that meal until tomorrow night.’
‘I needed you tonight, needed to talk to you. Linda’s handed in her notice, won’t say why, and now I can’t see you.’ He groaned.
‘Can’t be helped,’ she said. ‘I’ll see you tomorrow. Want a tip about Linda? Ask Amy if she knows any reason why she would want to leave.’
‘What do you mean?’
‘I don’t know. Just a hunch. Look, I’ve got to go. Got loads to do before we leave for Edinburgh. I’ll see you tomorrow. Love you.’
‘Love you, too much,’ he said and smiled into the receiver before replacing it on the rest.
He was thoughtful as he walked back down the stairs and into his study. How on earth could Amy have anything to do with Linda leaving? The girl had been upset when he had tried to discover the reason for giving her unexpected and sudden notice. In spite of the offer of a significant pay rise, she had refused to change her mind.
He opened the door of the study and stood watching Linda for a moment. She continued to type, fully aware of his presence.
‘Is it Amy?’
Linda looked up at the unexpected question. She felt her cheeks suffuse with colour and knew denial was useless. The expression on her face said it all. She didn’t need to speak.
‘Linda, is Amy the problem? Is that why you want to leave?’
‘I don’t want to leave,’ she said quietly. ‘I don’t have a choice in the matter. Just forget it, John, and let me go.’
She returned to her typing. John looked at her for several long moments before turning and leaving the room.
Amy was sitting in the garden, the pram some distance away. Occasionally a tiny arm covered in a cast could be seen over the edge of the pram. She was
enjoying the late afternoon sun waiting for the minutes to pass and for Linda to go home. Then she could feel more at ease. She hated having the girl in the house, hated…
‘Amy. A word please.’
She very rarely heard anger in John’s tone and turned in surprise.
‘Good grief, you sound out of sorts.’
‘That’s one way of putting it. Another way is bloody furious. Why is Linda leaving?’
‘Linda? Leaving? When did this happen?’
‘She handed in her notice this morning and I know you’re involved somehow. Amy, for God’s sake – she’s a good secretary and I don’t want to lose her. What have you said?’
Amy’s face was all innocence.
‘Said? Nothing as far as I know.’
So Linda had kept quiet about their conversation – John obviously didn’t know that she had asked the young secretary if she was having an affair with her boss.
The scene was imprinted in her mind – Linda’s chalk white face, then the burning cheeks as she had vehemently denied the accusation.
‘No!’ she had cried. ‘No, don’t ever think that!’
But Amy did think it. John had changed. It had to be another woman. The only other woman in John’s life was Linda, as far as she was aware.
For the first time, faced with an irate husband, she began to wonder if she had been right. Maybe he had met someone else… the girl had been pretty convincing. But it was irrelevant now; Linda was going and good riddance.
‘John, I don’t know what you’re on about. Granted, I’ve never really got on with her and maybe that’s her reason, but I can’t think of anything else. I’ve just never found her to be a particularly friendly person. I don’t think she likes me very much, so handing her notice in is probably for the best.’
John sat on the garden seat, holding his head in his hands. Sometimes he found it very hard to understand his wife.
‘You make life so difficult, Amy… Look, it seems that I can’t change Linda’s mind, she’s already found a new job, so to save this happening again, I suggest you choose our new employee. Will you see to it tomorrow? And, Amy,’ he said as he stood and began to walk away, ‘try and get one we will both like, huh?’
‘Sarcasm isn’t necessary, John,’ she said stiffly. ‘I’ll get on to the employment bureau tomorrow. You’ll have your new secretary by next Monday.’
28
Treverick was happy. He was in the right position, at the right time and his plan was moving along smoothly.
One day the Andrews family would realise their worst nightmares. All the years they had spent hoping he wouldn’t return would count for nothing. Nothing.
She’d got a baby now. He hadn’t allowed for that but it made no difference. It was a girl baby.
That bore thinking about…
29
Linda avoided Amy all week. John was aware of the undercurrents between the two women. As much as he hated to lose Linda, he realised that it was probably better she left, if there was no hope of amicability between secretary and wife.
Amy interviewed four applicants for the position and John left her to get on with it. He knew she wouldn’t tolerate anyone who was incapable of doing the work. He hoped she wouldn’t choose someone who had a face like the back end of a bus but suspected she might. Still, if she could type and correct his spelling mistakes…
Linda placed the cover on the typewriter and sighed. She was walking out on a very enjoyable job. And she was walking out on the best employer she’d ever have.
No use denying it any longer, she was going to miss him.
But it had been out of the question that she should stay. Amy had made life so difficult ever since the first day. Now Linda was admitting defeat.
She stood and walked over to the window, wondering where John was. Only two minutes to her normal home time. The study door opened and she caught the familiar smell of aftershave.
‘Linda,’ he said, ‘Are you absolutely sure?’
She nodded. ‘It’s time to move on.’
‘Then here.’ He handed her an envelope and she lifted an eyebrow in query.
‘It’s a reference, your wages and a bonus. And if ever you need help, anything… you know where I am. I just hope you know what you’re doing.’
She smiled but the smile didn’t reach her eyes.
‘I do, John. And thanks for this.’ She patted the envelope. Moving towards the door she turned. ‘Let’s not beat about the bush any longer. Mrs Thornton thought we were having an affair and that’s why I’m going. A word of warning, John, and believe me I’m not being clever, or nasty, or anything when I say this … be careful what time you go out in the afternoon. Vary your times. She’ll soon realise that my leaving doesn’t change things and when she finds out who the real mistress is, well… hell hath no fury, you know.’
‘You know?’
Linda dropped her eyes.
‘I know. And now I’m going. Take care, John. Remember what I’ve said,’ and she brushed a swift kiss against his cheek. ‘I won’t say goodbye to your wife.’
John could only stare at her.
As she reached the front door she paused.
‘She’s a very lucky lady, John. And I don’t mean Mrs Thornton.’
‘Your new secretary starts Monday morning.’
John lifted his head from the book and looked over at his wife.
‘Oh…er…good. Okay, I take it?’
‘Fine. Comes with excellent references and has very good speeds. Did Linda say anything before she left?’
‘She did, but nothing that would interest you.’
Amy felt tears prickle her eyes. She used to enjoy their evenings watching television or listening to the radio but she couldn’t cope with this new John. He’d always been so considerate, so loving, there for her whenever she needed him but now all he seemed to do was snap at her. She hoped things would change for the better once he got over Linda.
‘I spoke with Pat today.’
‘Oh?’ He didn’t bother to lift his head to look at her.
‘She’s fine. Not being sick or anything with this baby.’
‘Getting at something, Amy?’ He still didn’t lift his head.
‘No – should I be?’
‘Thought you might be hankering after a second child yourself.’
She looked alarmed.
‘No – oh no! I was just making conversation…’
‘Good,’ he said shortly, ‘because it’s completely out of the question. I won’t consider a second child until you start being a mother to the first one.’
Rain coming down in torrents, a girl falling part way down a cliff side and clutching at something, anything, an open hand of another girl. The second girl slowly opening her fingers, letting the first girl go, sliding slowly at first then gathering speed as gravity pulled her towards the bottom of the cliff; a broken body smashed to pieces on the rocks at the edge of the beach.
Pat screamed and sat up in bed. Sweat beaded her forehead and she screamed again.
‘Pat! My God, what’s wrong? Is it…?’
She turned to David for comfort.
‘No, everything’s okay. Just a dream, a nightmare.’ Tears ran down her cheeks and when he switched on the bedside lamp he realised the extent of her terror.
‘Come here,’ he said and pulled her close. ‘Want to tell me about it?’
She shook her head.
‘No. It’s over now. Just one of those silly dreams, being chased, that sort of thing. Turn out the light and hold me, I’ll be fine.’
But she wasn’t fine and she couldn’t get back to sleep. She didn’t know why she couldn’t tell David about what had happened all those years ago – maybe because he would want to take it further, tell John or something like that. It had to be kept away from her husband.
David’s small snores further prevented her from sleeping and in the end she gave up, creeping downstairs for a hot drink.
The nightmare had
evoked old memories and she knew without a doubt that what she had thought she had seen had actually taken place. Amy had deliberately opened her fingers and let Sonia go. There was a cold, cruel streak in her friend. Amy needed professional help but what could she do about it?
She wished the adoption agency had said no; Amy Thornton wasn’t fit to have a baby and Pat feared for Lauren.
With the rising of the sun she wandered out into the garden pulling her cardigan around her against the early morning chill. She walked to the summerhouse and went inside. The seats were comfortable and she curled up on a sun lounger, her thoughts muddled.
Could she perhaps talk to Brenda? She had to tell someone; a child’s future well-being was at stake. And then it suddenly hit her that it wasn’t Lauren’s physical well-being that was the problem, it was her mental state.
She was one of Amy’s possessions, kept scrupulously clean and tidy, presented for viewing at every opportunity to be admired and then filed back into the appropriate drawer ready for her next outing. Her mind would become scarred, perhaps irrevocably.
Pat shuddered at the thought. Childhood shouldn’t be like that, it should be fun and laughter with a lot of Ken Buckingham’s muck thrown in for good measure. She felt helpless, particularly when she recalled a conversation she had with John. He admitted nothing came before his writing. It was out of his control; his pen was his life. He couldn’t help Lauren, that much she knew. He would be a good father but from a distance.
By ten o’clock that morning she was in Brenda Buckingham’s kitchen at Stonebrook drinking a very welcome glass of water as she fought the nausea of early pregnancy. With her heart in her mouth, she started to talk.
And Brenda listened.
Brenda didn’t accompany Ken when he left for three days to go travelling around the West Country, his new venture bubbling in his brain.
He picked up a contract at the first hotel he visited; it was a very good Monday for Ken Buckingham.
