Breach of Faith

by Andrea Hughes

  “First of all, the procedure went very well. I assume you’ve had no complications since,” she raised her eyebrows enquiringly, “otherwise you would have called me.”

  I nodded, “a bit of bleeding but it stopped pretty quickly. Nothing since then.”

  “Good. Any abdominal pain?”

  I shook my head.

  “Excellent. Just keep taking it easy and everything should be fine. Now to the results. First and foremost, all tests came back clear.” Seeing my smile of relief she held up her hand. “Don’t forget, the CVS can’t test for everything. It’s also not one hundred percent accurate, it’s not a guarantee.”

  Doctor Bailey paused before turning back to my file. “Now to the other issue; the paternity test. Again,” she warned, “it’s not one hundred percent guaranteed, however DNA testing of a child’s paternity is extremely accurate.”

  Fidgeting with impatience, I felt my hand being held; squeezed tight. I glanced at Frank in surprise, it was the first time since this all started that he’d voluntarily touched me and I realised he was as much in need of reassurance as I was. Supporting each other, we turned to face the doctor.

  “The results for the sample taken from Frank Jones,” she glanced at Frank, “the results are positive.”

  Frank looked blank, I stared at him in horror, “positive?”

  Doctor Bailey nodded, her eyes still on Frank. “Congratulations,” she said quietly, “you’re going to be a father.”

  Sitting now on my mum’s kitchen stool, I heard those words echo around my head; Frank’s going to be a father.

  I hadn’t seen Frank since it happened, had hardly seen Will, busy as he was at work. That suited me fine; gave me a chance to think. Changing my flight to England had been surprisingly easy, especially considering how close it was to Christmas. Cancellation; three seats on the fourteenth. Did I want to take them?

  Did I want to take them?

  Too bloody right I’d wanted to take them.

  So I ran away, leaving Will and Frank back in Australia.

  “It’s your decision of course,” Mum interrupted my thoughts, making me jump. “Just don’t forget I’m here to help. I may not agree with what you’ve done …” She paused, a mildly disappointed look on her face, “…but I’m still your mum and I love you. If there’s anything I can do to help …”

  I felt tears prickling and gave my mum a quick, fierce hug, not trusting myself to speak.

  Patting me on the back, Mum pulled away and smiled. “Do you lot have any plans for today?”

  I sniffed and wiped the back of my hand under my nose. “Not really.” I smiled wanly, “I haven’t had a lot of chance to think about anything else recently.”

  Mum grabbed the local newspaper from the bench, flicking the pages and jabbing her finger triumphantly at page six. ‘Did you see this?”

  “Christmas Fair,” I read, studying the advertisement that had been thrust under my nose. “Children’s rides, farm animals, Father Christmas, free entry,” I glanced at my mother, eyebrows raised, “got an urge to sit on Santa’s knee have you?”

  Mum prodded me in the ribs with her elbow. “Actually, I was thinking of the kids. What d’you reckon?”

  I scanned the advertisement again. “Sounds like fun. But, if you sit on Santa’s knee, Gwen Hunter, I will disown you.”

  *

  I pulled a hanky out of my pocket and wiped Tom’s face. “I’ve never known anyone like you,” I scolded absently, “you get more tomato sauce on your face than you manage to eat.”

  Tom grinned and chewed as Kensie wiped prettily at her own face with a napkin, looking surprised when she encountered a piece of fried onion attached to her cheek. She picked it off and thriftily popped it into her mouth. “Can we have another one?”

  Mum looked shocked, “that burger was as big as you.”

  “Chips?” Tom asked hopefully.

  “Ice cream?” Kensie requested excitedly.

  “Coffee!” I declared happily. I looked at my children, we might get some chips later. As for ice cream … it’s the middle of winter, Kensie.”

  Kensie looked sulkily at Mum, “grandma?”

  Mum smiled at the little girl, “I’m sure we can find something tasty for you later. Right now your mum is going to buy me a nice hot cup of tea.”

  I made my way through the crowd to the tiny stall selling hot drinks, studying my surroundings curiously, absently noting the changes made to my home town since I’d left. The changes, and those things that had stayed the same, some of which were definitely in need of a facelift.

  It was good to get away, I mused, joining the end of the queue, glancing towards the bouncy castle where Mum was crouched down in front of Tom, removing his shoes. Kensie was waiting beside her little brother, shoeless feet itching to begin jumping.

  “Not sure that’s a good idea,” I muttered as both children climbed up and started bouncing madly, giggling hysterically to each other. Visions of recently consumed hamburgers filled my head, vomited up to cover the other dozen children also jumping gleefully.

  It’s fun, I thought suddenly, grabbing my drinks and moving away. The fair, the rides, the awful food. I sipped my coffee and grimaced, the bloody tasteless coffee too. It really was exactly what I needed to take my mind off all the other stuff. The children were having a great time too, which is what Christmas is all about, after all.

  And is Will having a good Christmas? Is he? Alone, deserted, bereft of all he needs and loves. Betrayed.

  “He’s working,” I muttered, “all Christmas, and he’s not alone, is he? He’s got Carl.”

  Ah, yes, Mr Wonderful. Tall, dark, attractive. Charming and sexy. He’s got so many things that you just don’t have.

  Realising I had stopped walking, I put my right foot to good use and stamped it hard on the soft ground. “You’re right about that,” I scowled, “I don’t have a cock.”

  There was a hoot of laughter and I turned to glare at the man beside me who was staring at my groin in fascination. Chortling, he winked before wandering off.

  I grunted, anger fading as amusement took over; did I really say that out loud? The voice in my head was laughing now and I stuck an imaginary tongue out at it, turned abruptly and strode out towards the bouncy castle.

  “Watch out!”

  The startled voice came just a moment too late and as I tangled bodily with its owner, I had had just one rational thought:

  Bugger.

  Chapter twenty one

  21 December

  It was all so elegant.

  First the dance, complete with twirl and little kick, his hand resting lightly on my arm; guiding, leading. My two left feet putting me slightly off balance, allowing him to grasp more firmly around the waist and pull me against him. All the while, my own hands refused to let go of the two warm polystyrene cups, as drips of hot beverage squeezed out from under the plastic lids. I silently hoped they were pushed down nice and tight.

  A slight tangle of feet and we came to a crushing halt, swaying lightly in the breeze, thankfully with tea and coffee still intact. The man still had one arm holding me close and I frowned; he was strange to me but uncannily familiar in a way I couldn’t put my finger on. Apologies hovered just as an amused voice spoke from above my head.

  “You felt a bit different last time we did this, Kate.”

  I choked, the words suddenly drying up in my throat. Strong hazel eyes stared at me, amusement glinting in the corners. A thick dark mop of short, wavy hair framed the vaguely familiar face.

  “Last time?” I realised my mouth was hanging open and together with outstretched arms and up-turned head, I thought I must look remarkably like a baby bird waiting for a juicy worm.

  I took a step backwards, staring intently at the newcomer. One eyebrow raised, he stared back, the amusement on his face pulling up the corners of his mouth, “don’t tell me you’ve forgotten me, Kate.”

  I started to shake my head. The feeling of familiarity was st
rong, so strong. There was something …

  “Angus?” I took a sharp breath in, a questioning smile slowly forming.

  The man grinned. “As I remember it, last time I held you like that you weren’t quite so womanly.” He looked pointedly at my chest.

  I laughed, “well, I was only fifteen at the time. My God, Angus, it’s been so long.”

  “Half a lifetime,” his soft English accent sounded suddenly familiar and appealing, captivating me and throwing me back in time almost two decades. “I heard you’d moved to Australia. Is this just a holiday or are you back for good?”

  “Holiday. Angus Paterson! How have you been? Have you kept in touch with anyone else from school?” I touched him gently on the arm, my eyes laughing into his.

  Angus chuckled and patted my hand, “how have I been? Well, what you see is what you get with me, Kate. I’ve stayed in touch with a few old mates from school; do you remember Ian? Or Craig?”

  “Craig, yes. We went to the same university but I haven’t seen him for years. Ian … God, all the girls were in love with Ian Lander.”

  Angus frowned and poked me playfully in the ribs. “And what about you, Kate Hunter? Were you madly in love with Ian?”

  I giggled, feeling a little like the teenager we were discussing, “Oh no, I never did like to follow the crowd. I had to be different.”

  Angus grinned, “I remember.” He glanced at his watch and a look of dismay crossed his face. “Damn, Kate, I’ve got to shoot off.”

  Disappointment shrouded me. Since arriving in England I’d felt as if I was being pulled in two directions; torn down the middle. Meeting an old boyfriend I hadn’t seen in twenty years made the mess my life had become vanish in a puff of smoke. For a few seconds I’d really felt young again, and Angus didn’t seem any different at all, like we’d never been apart.

  “Look, Kate, would you like to get together some time? Catch up on old times?”

  Immediately I nodded, “I’d love to.”

  “Where are you staying?”

  “With mum and dad.”

  Angus tilted his head in thought, “are they still living in the same place?”

  “Same town, different house,” I confirmed. Rummaging through my bag I found a pen and scrap of paper and began to write quickly. “Here’s the address and phone number,” I mumbled, holding the pen lid in my teeth. A quick hug and I sighed heavily as I watched my old friend disappear into the crowd. I stretched as high as I could but there was no sight of the dark hair. Angus had gone.

  Why didn’t you tell him? my omnipresent little voice enquired.

  I gritted my teeth, tell him what?

  That you’re married. He called you Kate Hunter; you haven’t been known by your maiden name for years.

  I frowned; it hadn’t registered at the time. Of course Angus would know me by that name and when he had referred to me as Kate Hunter it had just seemed natural.

  I don’t know, I thought finally, I guess it just wasn’t important.

  Catching sight of my mum out of the corner of my eye, I waved and began to shuffle through the crowd. I could sense the little voice concentrating intently upon something and just as I reached my mother and children, it piped up again.

  That crush you had on him at school, Kate, it’s still there, isn’t it? That regret you always carried that you’d never shared your body with him, never made love … all still there.

  “Hello,” mum called, “I was starting to think you might have got lost.”

  But you are lost, aren’t you Kate? What are you going to do now?

  *

  Mum sipped her tepid brew and looked thoughtful, “Angus? I think I remember him. Wasn’t he the short one, dark hair, part of that group of kids you used to hang around with?”

  I nodded, “that’s him, although he’s not so short now. He said we should catch up, lunch or something, talk about old times.”

  Lunch … or something? … or what? The little voice enquired.

  “Lunch … or something?” mum asked, “what exactly does ‘or something’ mean?”

  “Are you two collaborating now?” I asked sullenly, not sure whether I was asking my mother or that bloody voice.

  “What on earth are you talking about?” Mum looked startled.

  “Nothing,” I muttered, “just answering the bloody voices in my head. I may have made the mistake once and shared another man’s bed. Doesn’t mean I’m going to make a habit of it.”

  Mum looked a little worried. “Voices?” Then shrugged. “Love, I just want you to be careful. If I remember rightly, you had quite a crush on this lad.”

  I threw my hands in the air in exasperation, narrowly missing taking off an elderly man’s hat as I did so. “Mum, I was fifteen years old.”

  “Settle down, love. I was just saying –”

  “I know what you’re saying, but I am quite capable of having a meal with a man without feeling the need to take my clothes off and fall into bed with him.”

  Mum sighed, “I know, I’m sorry, Kate.”

  I nodded, the anger receding as quickly as it had come. “It’s okay,” I gestured towards my belly, “it’s the baby making me over-emotional and irrational.”

  We wandered for a time, taking in the sights, smells and tastes of the Christmas fair. Father Christmas made an appearance, making Tom squeal in excitement and drop his bag of hot chips into the bearded man’s big, black boot.

  “Mummy,” enquired Kensie, her eyes round as she watched Santa limping away through the crowd. “What did Santa just say?”

  I snorted in amusement, “well … Santa just said a naughty word because those chips were very hot on his foot. Come on, let’s get some more.”

  Driving home the two children snoring lightly in the back of the car, I turned to my mother. “It’s funny, you know.”

  “What is, love?”

  “I once read that when you meet someone again after many years, it doesn’t matter what they actually look like because a split second after meeting them again all you can see is the person they were before. It’s as if they never changed, never grew up.” I turned away to look out my window. It was the twilight hour, the hour when the world turned from glorious technicolour to infinite shades of grey, only the tips of the highest leaves in the tallest trees managing to catch the last of the waning light.

  “Sometimes I look at you,” I smiled, “and you haven’t changed at all in twenty or thirty years.”

  Mum laughed, “try telling your father that.”

  I snorted. “When I met Angus today I didn’t recognise him, not at first. But as soon as I realised who he was … it was like someone clicked their fingers,” I snapped my own making mum jump, “and we were back there; teenagers again. And when he hugged me, saying goodbye, even his smell was familiar, even though I haven’t smelled him in twenty years.”

  “So what does all this mean?”

  Yes, Kate, what does this mean?

  I shrugged, “nothing, I guess. It’s just such a weird feeling. There was something, though, something … unusual, different about him.”

  “Well, I expect it’s because it’s been so long since you saw him.”

  The car came to a halt at the top of the driveway and Mum turned lights and engine off, throwing the little interior into darkness. I shrugged again.

  “Probably,” I admitted dubiously, “I just can’t help thinking that there is more to it, that’s all.”

  Chapter twenty two

  26 December

  I closed my eyes and moaned; it was all happening so fast. Too fast. The fingers entwined in my left hand squeezed gently in reassurance, or maybe fear, but the voice came from the right, a harsh whisper, so close to my ear that I felt the little hairs move gently with the passing rush of air.

  “Push!” Will was urging, “push hard.”

  “Come on, Kate,” Frank’s voice now, from the left, and my fingers were crushed in a vicelike grip. “You can do it.”

  “Push
!”

  “That’s the way. When you’re ready.”

  “Push!”

  “Not long now, Kate. Not long now.”

  “PUSH!”

  I screamed. A full-bodied, throaty screech full of anger and pain, effort and longing, desire and hate.

  “You’re doing well, Kate, really well.”

  Both hands were on the verge of being crushed now. Both voices speaking at the same time, both wanting to be heard over the panting and moaning. I wanted to tell both men to shut up, to leave me alone. I wanted to scream and cry, swear at the top of my voice.

  Shut up. SHUT UP. Shut the fuck up!

  But all of a sudden, it didn’t matter. The voices were a blur, coming from a great distance, another planet, another solar system.

  And someone else had arrived.

  “Hello Kate.”

  Familiarity washed through me. Fighting the pain and ignoring the men on either side, I stared into warm, hazel eyes.

  “You looked a bit different last time I saw you, Kate.” He looked pointedly between my open thighs, seemingly entranced by my quivering muscles and shockingly stretched perineum. “Not quite so … womanly.”

  I gasped as another contraction wracked my body and I could feel the tiny bones in my fingers rubbing together. “You … look … the … same,” I panted.

  Angus smiled and patted my knee gently. “I’ll always look the same to you, Kate.” He squeezed my thigh. “The baby’s coming,” he told me unnecessarily.

  “Push!” Will interjected urgently.

  “Push,” Frank urged impatiently.

  My body shook with effort, every muscle tense, expectant. My hospital gown fell open, revealing chunky breasts, pink tipped and squirting milk. Screwing my eyes closed, I pushed with all my might.

  A slither, a slip, a rush of fluid and it was over.

  Silence. Then …

  “Congratulations, Kate,” Angus’s proud voice bounced through the heavy atmosphere in the room and I opened my eyes. He was holding the baby out, one hand beneath its tiny bottom, the other cradling its head. Angus was smiling and I felt an answering grin on my own lips as I pulled my hands free.

  “He looks just like his dad.”