by Gill Mather
"Well perhaps we can at least have a cuddle."
"I won't be able to stop thinking about what he said to you."
"Grace darling. None of it matters to me. I don’t care what you've done. It's…"
Grace stiffened and her face appeared from the depths of the pillow.
"What I've done. What do you mean what I've done?"
"Well nothing. It was just daft things like that you swore sometimes and didn’t like housework and cooking. That you don't believe in God but go to church." He found his arousal wilting instantly.
"But you said what I've done. That means something specific."
Don didn’t know what to say. He didn't want to lie to her but wasn't prepared to list all the horrible things Greg had said. He thought about possibly the least unpleasant things and, turning to her, he said:
"He said you used to take drugs and smoke, but that doesn't bother me at all. Why should it? Obviously I'm not white as the driven snow myself. I had the odd spliff at uni and got blind drunk quite often. Frequently actually. All the usual things. I don’t expect you to have no past at all. But all I care about is now, not what happened to either of us years ago."
"Did he tell you about the prosecution?"
Don sighed. "Yes."
"It wasn't my fault. I was miles away when I put some items in my bag by mistake instead of in the trolley. My bag was sitting in the trolley open and I didn’t realise where I was putting the things. I was thinking about Greg and Cindy and how they'd been all over each other at a function we'd been to. But apparently they look, the store detectives, for people with open bags in their trolleys. It was mortifying to have to go through a criminal prosecution. I pleaded guilty just to get it over and done with and not have it dragging on for months. My Solicitor tried to get me a caution so even though that would have been a criminal record he said, it would have been done in private and people wouldn't have known, but the police wouldn't have it. They wanted to charge me and do it through the court. I was lucky not to lose my job!"
"Grace I'm quite sure you didn’t mean to do it and it doesn’t bother me one bit. And I certainly wouldn't be thinking about it while we’re making love."
"Well I would be. I expect he said other things too. Tell me what else he said."
"I think that was it. He mentioned the episode when you went round to Cindy's house, but you'd told me about it already."
"Really? Nothing else at all?"
Don didn’t want to lie to her but he had to. "No I don’t think so. Please let me hold you. I can't bear not to. Please."
"All right." And she lay stiffly in his arms and he knew her eyes were open and that she wasn’t going to sleep. He thought he heard faintly the sounds of Emma coming in the second back door at the other end of the house. Eventually he drifted off. He wasn’t sure how long it took Grace to fall asleep herself.
006 The Step-Siblings
WHEN EMMA WALKED into the pub Sunday evening, she thought immediately that she’d been conned by Alex and that none of them were there. They’d either be meeting somewhere else or not at all. She prowled around the dim interior for a time and then saw out of one of the windows that of course they were all enjoying the warm evening in the large pub garden. She had to stop being so paranoid. She picked out Alex’s spare profile instantly, hair as usual teased out in tufts at right angles to her head. But mainly because she was so animated and the centre of attention.
Emma bought herself a half of cider and took it outside, wishing she’d arrived earlier when there might not have been such a large group to watch her progress across the grass. She said “Hi” seeing a few people she recognised and sat down in a spare space.
“Go on then, introduce us,” said one of the lads to Alex. She must, Emma thought, know everyone. He was dark-haired and attractive with a few days’ growth of beard and he was smoking a roll up but Emma was far too flustered to take much notice of him.
“Oh right, hello. This is Emma,” Alex said to everyone. To Emma she said, “Sorry there’re too many people here to introduce them all to you but this,” she pointed to the rollie-smoker, “is Luke!”
There was obviously some significance to the pronouncement from Alex’s emphasis and everyone looked at Emma. And then at Luke. Luke put his hands up. “Whatever it is, I didn't do it!” he said. “Not this time.” He had a rather rough Essex accent. Not at all like Grace.
“That’s all I’m saying,” said Alex and giggled. “You’ll have to find the rest out for yourselves.”
Thankfully the talk moved on and Emma relaxed a little. They were obviously used to Alex’s pranks. She’d half believed that Alex had been having her on when she said that Luke was going to be here, but obviously not. That is unless of course it was a different Luke and Alex was playing a game with them both. Again she told herself to stop imagining things where Alex was concerned. This mistrust in every quarter was becoming ridiculous.
There was a music festival coming up that a lot of them were going on about, arranging lifts, who would take what gear, what time they’d leave, who’d sleep over at whose house the night before they left to make an early start. Emma felt a tap on her shoulder and looked to her right. She saw Luke leaning back behind two people in between him and her, his long left arm still outstretched.
“You going Emma?” he said.
“No. I don't know anyone here very well and I have to work next weekend.”
“Pity. I’ve got a nice two person tent and I’m not sharing it with anyone else at the moment.”
Emma blushed. From the corner of her eye she thought she saw Alex watching and smiling.
“Do you work with Alex then?”
“How d’you know?”
“I just assumed. She asked you here didn't she?”
“Yes she did. And yes I do,” said Emma. “I’m home from uni and I need to earn as much cash as I can over the summer for the next year.”
“Don’t mummy and daddy sub you then?”
“My mother’s dead and my dad isn't that well off. So no.”
“Oh, sorry. I didn't know that.”
“No reason why you should.”
“Listen, I’d buy you a drink, but at the moment I’m, like, between jobs and my mum normally gives me a few quid to go out but she’s not living with us right now.”
Incredibly Emma found herself offering to buy him a drink instead. If he was a slob as Alex had said, then at least he was a slob who was easy to talk to. He said he wouldn't refuse and that he’d come into the pub with her.
“So, how did you afford the ticket to the festival then if you’re so hard up?” she said to make conversation as they worked their way through the throng to the bar.
“It was booked a while ago when mum was still at home and she paid for it.” Emma wasn't sure what to say. He obviously didn't know whose daughter she was. Again, no reason why he should really. She felt at turns guilty and sneakily in control that she knew who he was but he didn't know who she was. She was kind of relishing the position. No doubt in her shoes, Alex would’ve made a great deal of capital out of it and milked it for all it was worth, but Emma was not of that ilk. However now that the subterfuge had been going on for an hour or so, neither did she know how to break it to him that her dad was the man her mum had run off with.
So she got the drinks and they chatted about this and that. Mainly what schools they’d been to and what friends they might have in common, what she was doing at uni, what Luke wanted eventually to do (to become a professional artist it seemed) and they ended up staying in the pub for some time. It was getting dark when they went outside with the second round Emma had also bought for them. She was starting to feel tired and was thinking about going home. Luke must have noticed her yawning.
“I’ll walk you home in a minute if you like. You did walk here didn't you?”
“Yes. But how’ll you get home? Wherever it is that you live.”
“I’ll come back here and get a lift. Or if there’s no
-one to give me a lift I’ll walk. It’s only about five miles.”
“Can’t your dad come and get you?”
“He’s out tonight. He dropped me off on the way.”
“Well, if you don't mind.” Emma didn't like some parts of the walk home. It was all right during the day but after dark the narrow lanes seemed less friendly. There were no street lights at all and she hadn't wanted to cadge a lift from her father though he no doubt would have been only too pleased to run her to the pub. He’d been making small friendly gestures, bringing her cups of tea in bed in the mornings and such like and saying how much he liked the way she’d done up the old room. She had tried to be neutral towards him. Not horrible, but not nice either.
They left soon after. Others were starting to leave too. She could feel Alex’s eyes boring into her back as they walked away together. Alex of course was as lively as ever. She never seemed to get tired.
“Wouldn't your dad come and get you?” said Luke as they walked past the houses near the pub.
“Well he’s probably busy working,” said Emma. She didn't want to tell him that she wasn't getting on with her father at the moment and was trying to keep out of his way.
“My dad’s off to China next week. He’s got a bloody good job which is great for him but he thinks I ought to do the same sort of thing. No way! I wanted to go to art school but he said he wouldn't sub me unless I did science or some sort of business studies course. No fucking way! He’s such a wanker. He won't let up. He just thinks everyone ought to do as he says. I guess my mum’s gone for a wimpy sort of bloke this time who won't try and boss her about. Still, I wish she hadn't gone.”
Emma smiled to herself at this description of her father. She was glad they weren’t far from her house. She was finding it increasingly difficult to keep up the pretence.
“Well here we are,” said Emma. She thought about asking him in. As Alex had said, it was much more convenient having her own entrance and her little pad away from the rest of the house. But she thought Luke might get the wrong idea if she asked him into her little room. He was nice but she wasn't about to start something with her father’s lover’s son. Or anyone for that matter. She just didn't feel like it right now.
If truth be told, so far she’d actually found sex quite difficult. Not at all as nice as you were led to believe it should be. But she suddenly found she'd surprised herself, thinking about sex while standing quite close to Luke in the dark. Lucky he wouldn't be able to see her blush. She looked up at him. Actually he wasn’t just OK, but handsome if you wanted to put a stereo-typed description to him. For a second she experienced something rather different than the normal semi-indifference she felt for the young men she’d encountered so far.
But Luke's attention was elsewhere. As she moved fractionally, the security light burst into life. Luke's dark eyes were focused on the front door of the house, more specifically at the plaque bearing the house name to the side of the door. It was brass impressed with the name “Mayfield Cottages” and it glinted at them in the artificial light that had been activated as they stood just in its field of vision next to the picket gate.
“Right then, goodnight Emma,” said Luke still looking at the house name then he raised his head and looked at the upstairs windows. She muttered a goodnight herself. She really should say something. But it was too late. He had turned away with his hands in his pockets and was striding off not in the direction of the pub but the opposite way, obviously starting his five mile trek home.
DON MOVED AWAY from the bedroom window, wondering who the young man was who’d come back with Emma but hadn't come in. He hadn't got a clear image of the youth. He was glad that Emma hadn't brought him in with her. It would be just a little uncomfortable having unknown strangers in his house, especially a young man. Heavens she could have one to stay the night and he mightn’t even know about it. The thought of his daughter engaging in carnal activity just a few metres away from his and Grace’s bedroom unsettled him quite a lot.
Grace he reasoned was different. It was after all his house. Grown up offspring had to accept that at a certain point they couldn't rule their parents’ lives any longer. And Emma had had ample opportunity to get to know something of Grace before she’d arrived back from uni. Don had tried during their telephone conversations and emails to tell Emma about her but Emma had been closed to the subject. Now if Emma was to get herself a boyfriend, Don doubted that any introduction of any kind would take place. She’d just have the young man to stay in his house and Don would have no say or involvement in the matter.
Don sighed and went back to bed. He put his arms around Grace and they lay together but didn't make love. They hadn't done that since last Thursday night before the Friday evening when they’d talked about Greg’s visit. He wondered whether to just get it over and done with and out in the open and tell her what Greg had said about the terminations and that again it didn't bother him. He didn't judge her about that or anything else. He wondered if those were the things she felt most uncomfortable about, if again it was true. He was slightly mystified why she would be so sensitive. He hoped he hadn't somehow obviously created some impossibly perfect image of her that she now felt she had to measure up to.
What he had been told about her didn't make her any less perfect to him anyway. If anything it made him feel more in sympathy with her; that she had vulnerabilities made her more lovable. He didn't know much about the subject but it was said that many women hugely regretted having had terminations, some even committing suicide. Perhaps Grace was being made to have to come to terms all over again with something unpleasant that she blamed herself for. He had noticed that in church today when the congregation were invited to kneel and pray that she had put her face in her hands and had screwed up her eyes as though praying in earnest. This was the thing. You could never know what other people were really thinking.
He wished now that he’d said something about the terminations on Friday and not lied to her. He should never have lied to her. Lying usually brought with it mental baggage and obstacles that became bigger and less surmountable as time went by. Apart from any anguish she may be feeling about the acts themselves, she would now be wondering if he knew and what he thought of her as a result. He rolled his eyes in the dark.
He opened his mouth to say something but realised that Grace had fallen asleep.
So he gave himself over, as he often did in bed before he went to sleep as well as in the night if he woke up and then again in the early mornings when he first came to, to recollections of the time leading up to their having got together. Recollections that he cherished. Last Christmas had been a miserable time with Carol so very ill. He had two sisters but they lived some distance away and he hardly ever saw them. He couldn't go and visit them and they obviously didn't want to be an extra burden to him by visiting him or maybe they thought they’d somehow get roped into Carol’s care themselves. So as ever it was just the three of them at Christmas. He often wondered how he’d managed to put up with this life for so long without cracking up but he knew really that he did it for Emma, so that she’d have a reasonable facsimile of a normal life. Because he loved her so much.
He was getting some respite from carers he had to pay for and, not having been able to go to church for some weeks, he had wanted to go to mid-night mass and be able to see Grace, albeit from a distance for this rather special service. He’d had to pay double the normal rate for carers over Christmas. Emma was at a party with old school friends and he was going to have to collect her later though more than likely Emma wouldn't have wanted to go to church anyway. Therefore he went alone to the church and he was glad he’d made the effort. After the service, despite the fact that it was so late, there had been mince pies and mulled wine in the hall at the back for those who had the staying power and the inclination, and many it seemed had.
Don had looked around for the husband of Grace but he didn't seem to be there and so Don had gone up to her and complimented her on the mince pie
s. He was so happy to see her that he chatted freely with her and this time told her about Carol. She was of course all sympathy. He had told her it probably wouldn't be long now and she had nodded and had looked suitably sad for him. For some reason, perhaps because it was Christmas night and a time that seemed invested with magical qualities not normally present the rest of the year, he’d asked her about her husband. He’d said something like what was her husband doing tonight as he wasn't obviously here and she had told him outright that she thought her husband would be with the latest of his long line of mistresses. Don was lost for words for a second. He’d imagined that some sort of problem existed but nothing on the scale suggested.
“Why do you put up with it?” he’d said after a time.
“Well he does it in an insidious way so it’s not always that obvious. Sometimes I think I’m imagining things. That’s certainly what he says about it. He’s always got some plausible excuse. Sometimes I think I’m going completely mad. It’s a big thing to break up a marriage. And there are the boys, though they’re grown up now. Only our younger son lives at home. And….er….I don't think Greg would make it easy for me to go. And where would I go anyway? I’ve been married so long. It’s all very difficult.”
“Grace, I’m so sorry to hear of your troubles,” he had said.
“Well, my troubles seem minor compared to yours,” she’d countered which he accepted was probably superficially true. But they had problems of a completely different kind. His would come to fruition and inevitably reach their crisis point whatever he did. Hers could on the other hand fester on indefinitely if she didn't or felt she couldn't do something about it. She had psychological barriers to stop her from getting out of her mess. In his case there were physical imperatives ensuring what the outcome would be. Grace was an emotional prisoner partly of her own making but the chains and shackles would be no less real for that. He himself would soon be free and he had wondered what he’d do with it when it came. His freedom.
