by Nesta Tuomey
Sheena stared and for the first time a spark of animation showed in her gaze. ‘But why, Claire? What will you do?’
‘Jane has agreed to let me stay at the apartment,’ Claire told her. ‘I’m going to try for a year’s leave of absence from college.’ She shrugged. ‘If I don’t get it... well, I’m staying anyway.’
‘But you’re brilliant at your work,’ Sheena protested. ‘What a terrible waste of your year at college.’ She paused and said doubtfully, ‘Though if you really hate it I suppose there’s no point in staying on.’
Hate it! One of the saddest aspects of her pregnancy was the interruption of her studies.
‘It doesn’t have to be a wasted year,’ she said, hating the need for secrecy, but how could she confide in one twin and not the other. ‘I’ll learn Spanish. I can always take it as another subject for my BA.’
Sheena said wistfully. ‘You make me feel such a failure.’
Claire shook her head, distressed. ‘Don’t say that. I’m just a slogger, Sheena If you had put even a tenth of the effort into schoolwork that you put into your painting you would have passed me out years ago.’
‘I never had the slightest interest in studying,’ Sheena admitted. ‘Remember how I was always copying your homework.’ She gave the ghost of a giggle. ‘You used look so anguished... too nice to tell me to feck off.’
Claire felt surprise that she had been so transparent.
‘Have you thought how you’ll live?’
‘Waitressing, giving English lessons. I don’t know. I haven’t really worked it out. I only know I’m not going back.’ She was surprised at how determined she felt.
Sheena digested this for a moment. ‘What will your mother say?’
Annette wouldn’t care, Claire thought. She would be just as glad to be saved the trouble and expense. Despite the three letters and two postcards she had sent her mother, she had received only one communication from her in all the time she was in Spain. Claire had been amazed at the tone of her letter full of acrimony and self-pity and vilifying Jane for asking Teresa Murray instead of herself to accompany them to Spain. As regards her father Claire felt great regret. He would be disappointed and might even raise objections to her opting out of college.
‘Fernando must be thrilled.’ Sheena’s face clouded. ‘Once I thought maybe Alejandro and I...’ She swallowed and made an effort to smile. ‘You and Fernando,’ she said. ‘Wow! I suppose I knew all along. It’s obvious he’s crazy about you.’
Claire got up to go, both relieved and saddened that Sheena thought Fernando was the reason she was staying on in Spain.
That same afternoon Terry swam out to sea in a hard overarm crawl. The cold green water was refreshing and the exercise welcome after weeks of inactivity. By the time he swam back to the shore and touched bottom, every muscle ached and the newly healed wound in his neck was throbbing.
He limped up the beach and rubbed himself dry, then zipped on his shorts and climbed the steps to the road. He went into a cafe overlooking the sea and ordered coffee and a ham roll. Terry stood at the counter enjoying the snack then reached in the pocket of his shorts for a coin. He paid the barman and set off briskly to the hospital.
Every afternoon Terry visited Sheena for an hour or two, striving to make the most of his last few days in Spain, and sometimes again in the evening. He felt very protective towards Sheena and was just as worried as his mother about her hearing voices. There had been a guy from his unit who went off his head that way. Terry wondered if his twin would talk about it to him, but so far she had never said a word and he felt reluctant to be the one to bring it up. But again like Jane, he was prepared to do anything that might help her. For the first time ever though, he and Sheena had begun to speak of their childhood and, with this openness between them, were discovering a new delight in each other. Only once did they touch on the family tragedy that had shadowed all their lives, and from the little Sheena revealed about that troubled time, it was clear she was in ignorance of the true state of affairs. When she sighed and said, ‘Wasn’t Daddy wonderful? If only he hadn’t died,’ Terry had not disillusioned her. Let her keep her unsullied memories, he thought.
He strolled through the hospital garden and was glad to find Sheena stretched in the sun. ‘You’ll soon be the colour of mahogany,’ he joked, bending to kiss her. Although never physically demonstrative towards his twin, of late, Terry was making a big effort to be affectionate. She was so touchingly vulnerable since her ordeal that he felt she couldn’t get enough reassurance that she was loved.
Sheena acknowledged his remark with an unhappy smile. Her tan was another of the things she had lost pleasure and confidence in. She was reminded too much of her sexual fling with Alejandro, which had led on to the horrors with Miguel. Now she loved the sun only for the total relaxation she experienced when exposed to its healing rays.
‘You’ve just missed Claire,’ she said, changing the subject. ‘She was here until a few minutes ago. Fernando was picking her up.’
‘Oh yeah.’ Terry affected indifference. Sheena often wondered what had gone wrong between her twin and Claire. They had seemed so mad about each other.
‘Did she tell you that she’s not going back home?’ Sheena could not hide her amazement. ‘She’s opting out of college and staying on in Spain. Fancy! Brainy old Claire. Who would ever have imagined it?’
Terry frowned. ‘Claire never tells me anything,’ he said gruffly. ‘She hardly speaks to me anymore.’
Sheena gazed at him. ‘Do you still care for her?’ she asked curiously.
Terry stood up abruptly and walked a little way up the path, without answering. He was stunned by what his twin had told him. Claire staying on in Spain! It seemed to confirm all his fears that she had fallen for the Spaniard.
When Claire had come hurrying out of the hospital she had almost bumped into Terry. She had seen him coming in the distance, striding towards her on the opposite side of the street, and quickly climbed into the car beside Fernando.
Fernando was silent on the drive back to the apartment, but Claire guessed what was on his mind. As soon as he had parked the car and switched off the ignition, he laid his hand on her arm and said with quiet intensity.
‘El amor de mi vida, I can wait no longer. You must give me your answer now.’
Claire looked shyly down at Fernando’s strong wrist and finely tapered fingers. Now that the time had come she felt breathless and confused and not at all immune to the magnificence of the man.
‘You must know that I’m very fond of you,’ she began. ‘You have been kind beyond anything I ever expected. I honestly believe if we married you would do everything to make me happy, and it’s much more than I deserve.’
She saw his face lighten at her words and felt happy for him because in that instant she had decided to marry him. All too clearly Claire saw that she and Terry had lost their chance of happiness. Even if she were capable of it there was no way Terry could ever put the past behind them. He had clearly demonstrated that what had happened with Eddie would always overshadow their lives. But with Fernando she could begin again. He would love her unconditionally and provide for her child. Claire gave a shaky laugh, overcome by the ease of it.
‘And I will do all I can to make you happy as you deserve,’ she continued warmly. But even as she made this promise Claire suddenly felt the most extraordinary fluttering sensation in the pit of her stomach, as though her insides had been brushed by gossamer wings. She sat petrified, waiting to see if it would happen again, and when it did, knew with dizzying certainty that her baby had moved.
The change in Claire was dramatic. Her expression became ecstatic and she felt such a rush of overwhelming love for the child that she grew weak with longing and she could have both wept and shouted aloud for joy. It was like nothing in her experience, this first indication of life, and it swiftly brought her to the realisation that whatever she might have believed previously she could not now give herself to anyone, if n
ot the father of her child.
With a poignant little twist of her thoughts she remembered Song of Songs. She had not thought of it in a long while. How did it go?
Love no flood can quench, no torrents drown.
In her thoughts she unconsciously echoed the Spaniard’s words: love of my life. And if Terry never came back to her, Claire bravely faced the prospect, then she would live out her days lonely and alone, rather than ever settle for less than the best.
Fernando was regarding her with jutting lip and frowning countenance. She saw that he was puzzled and wounded by her complete forgetfulness of him and, contritely, attempted to explain her quixotic change of feelings.
‘I felt my child move inside me for the first time,’ Claire explained. ‘It made me realise that I’m not free to love you.’ She willed him to understand the enormity of what had happened and saw by his expression that he did, indeed, have some inkling of what it meant to her. As if in confirmation the child stirred again and Claire felt the same thrill of recognition.
‘How will you manage?’ His dark eyes watched her soberly. ‘You cannot survive without someone to take care of you.’
Claire’s face shadowed, reminded of her predicament.
Fernando said slowly: ‘I think you must still love the father of your child.’ And when Claire nodded, a sigh escaped him. ‘Ayee! I knew it!’
She watched him, helpless in the face of his despair.
‘And the man,’ Fernando went on heavily. ‘I know him too. Your friend’s brother. I think I have known it all along.’
So he’d noticed some tiny spark between Terry and herself. Despite her hopelessness, Claire was cheered to think that Terry might still retain some slight feeling for her.
‘What good fortune he has,’ Fernando pronounced sadly, and she was stricken by the unhappiness she saw in his melancholy gaze.
Claire wearily entered the apartment and wandered on to the balcony where Jane sat relaxing in the sun, sipping wine.
‘Join me in a glass,’ Jane suggested, and got up to fetch the bottle from the fridge. She was wearing a low-cut sun top and her skin was glowing from the sun.
Claire listlessly accepted a glass and sank down opposite her. Her head was aching and she felt inexpressibly sad. She had burned her boats and was now totally on her own. She felt like weeping. To have turned down a man like Fernando, who not only loved her but was prepared to accept her baby too, had not been easy and a fierce reaction had already set in.
‘No harm in a little wine now and then,’ Jane said, imagining that Claire was concerned about the possible effects of alcohol on the baby. ‘You look tired, my dear. It will do you good.’
Claire took a sip. The wine felt pleasant on her throat.
‘Ruthie has gone off to play with Adela and won’t be back till evening,’ Jane told her, adding with a grin, ‘So you can see I’m taking full advantage of her absence.’
Claire nodded, aware how clingy the little girl had been since Jane’s arrival. Only now was she beginning to relax guard on her mother. With a sigh, Claire laid back her head and closed her eyes.
Jane watched her face for a moment, then said impulsively, ‘Claire, my dear, won’t you tell Terry about the baby. I understand you reservations but in the months ahead you are going to need all the love and support you can get.’
Claire had no doubt in her mind that the future would be as lonely and tough as Jane suggested and even wondered if she could bear it without solace or support.
‘If you are worried about what your parents may say when we go back you really don’t have to go on living at home,’ Jane hurried on, as though by sheer dint of words she could remove Claire’s objections. ‘We’d love you to make your home with us - you have always been like one of the family and now with the baby coming it seems only right and fitting that we all be together. So long as your pregnancy is without complications, there’s really no reason why you shouldn’t continue in college until the spring. Why throw away a precious year of study without need?’
Why indeed? Claire ached with the effort of keeping still when she wanted so much to turn to Jane and fall weakly upon her neck in gratitude. Oh, if only she could do as she suggested, she thought. But it would be tantamount to forcing Terry to marry her. And even if he didn’t feel so obliged her presence in his home would be a constant reminder. He would only grow to hate her.
Jane watched her for a moment then added with sweet persuasiveness, ’And there’s another thing, Claire. I wonder do you realise just how much we’re going to need you when poor Sheena comes back home. You and she have always been such friends and, without a doubt, she’s going to need every bit of love and understanding we can show her.’
This argument, above all others, would have swept away the last of Claire’s resistance if it weren’t for her deep-seated insecurity regarding Terry. She dumbly shook her head and Jane made no further attempt to persuade her.
The sunshade was angled between the chairs and the sky, blocking the fierce afternoon sun. The transistor radio, with its volume turned low, was on the table along with the empty wineglasses. Ruthie’s cat stretched belly to the sky, occasionally rearing up to swipe a lazy paw at a darting butterfly. Jane had gone to lie down and Claire was drowsily thinking of following her example when the door of the apartment snapped open and quick footsteps passed through the lounge. Startled, she looked up to see Terry towering above her.
‘What’s this crap about you staying on in Spain?’ he demanded. ‘Sheena just told me. I thought she was making it up.’
Claire drew breath to speak but before she could say anything he burst out again. ‘It’s because of him, isn’t it.’ Bitterness salted his voice. ‘Saint Fernando of the Gonzalez millions.’
It hurt that he should think of her as mercenary.
‘Why else would you want to stay on in Spain only to marry him?’ His voice was shaking with a mixture of doubt and pain.
Let him believe it, Claire thought wearily, trying to control the quaver in her own voice as she said, ‘I just don’t want to go back to college, that’s all. I’m going to learn Spanish and let the future take care of itself.’
‘The future as Señora Fernando Gonzalez,’ Terry said savagely. ‘I never thought money meant all that much to you, Claire.’ He turned sharply away. ‘Show’s how wrong you can be about someone.’ The door of his bedroom slammed.
Claire stared down at the distant beach through a blur of tears. Nothing was changed, she reminded herself in desolation. Jane had said she was more sinned against than sinning, but Terry did not regard it so leniently. He had left her in no doubt of his feelings. Sick and perverted, he’d said. The words burned in Claire’s brain. No matter how she tried to convince herself otherwise, she knew that some day he would once more fling them in her face. It was only out of her great love for him and the memory of the happy time they had once shared together, that she was never going to give him that chance again.
Each day that was left to them, Claire stayed out of the apartment as much as she could and when she was there tried to adopt an easy manner with Terry, including him in all her remarks as if there was nothing wrong between them. But there was no reciprocation on his part, no effort to heal the split.
She had no doubts in her mind that she was right not to tell him about the baby, yet there were times when she caught him gazing at her with such a pained expression in his golden eyes that it took all her strength not to break down and tell him the real reason for her decision to stay in Spain.
Fernando continued to call to the apartment, not reconciled to losing her. Despite Terry’s air of brooding disapproval whenever the Spaniard appeared, Claire did nothing to discourage him for she was lonely and he was her only support. Even Jane was withdrawn, neither condemning nor approving.
One night Claire walked with Fernando through the town. When they stopped at a bar and found Terry already there, drinking with a group of young people, she forced a smile and moved on. She
was aware of the sympathy in Fernando’s dark eyes, but she refused to allow herself the luxury of his consolation. At such times, Claire was surprised at her own strength, but since feeling her baby move, she experienced new resilience and hope, as though nature was affording her the necessary reserves needed to maintain this precious new life developing within her.
The next day was Terry’s last before returning to his squadron. As usual he went to see Sheena in the afternoon and did not return until teatime. When the meal was over and Claire had finished clearing the teacups, he said to his mother:
‘Well, Mum, it was good being with you, but I can’t wait to rejoin the team tomorrow and see a bit of the action. I’m getting really pissed off with the Spanish scene. Nice but deadly dull about describes it.’
‘I’m sorry you feel that way but you could have livened it up with a visit to Seville or Granada,’ Jane pointed out.
‘Hell, that’s the last thing I’d want,’ Terry exclaimed, making no effort to hide his disdain. ‘The Costa del Sol has been a real eye-opener. Nothing but wealthy Spaniards with their flashy hotels and apartment blocks capitalising on the gullibility of tourists.’
Claire got up to go, feeling sickened by his attack.
‘Claire!’ Jane called after her anxiously. ‘How would you like it if we went out later for a drink?’
‘Thank you but I won’t be here.’ Claire opened the door of the apartment as she spoke. ‘Enjoy yourselves!’ Closing the door after her, she went down the steps, unable to bear the pain of being so physically close to Terry and yet estranged.
The evening was warm with only the hint of a breeze off the sea and the sun was like a huge blood orange hanging low in the sky. Claire found herself taking the road behind the apartments, which led up a narrow trackway to the promontory overlooking the beach, which she often took in the cool of the evening. She felt angry and sad, and desperately wanted to get away on her own. Terry’s scornful and unfair attack on Spain and the Spaniards had brought it home to her how far apart they had grown, and the knowledge only accentuated her misery.
