by Inelia Benz
Jennifer’s mother was right of course, but Heather always seemed to know when to use her unusual gifts and when not to.
The baby girl looked up at the older women and tried to talk.
“There she goes again, she’s trying to say something, I’m sure of it.”
“Can you let them in Mom? My hands are all wet.”
“What on earth are you talking about?”
“There is someone coming to the door, that’s all.”
“I still don’t see why you can’t wait until people ring the bell before announcing them, it is so unnerving,” Mrs. Stone said as the bell rang.
Harry Johnson had been a regular visitor since Jennifer and Heather had left London, he was convinced Heather was Owen’s daughter and had taken the liberty to legalize a joint custody document wherein he had a say in what happened to Heather until Owens return. It hadn’t been difficult to have the judge rule on his behalf due to the circumstances surrounding the birth of the child plus his firm’s reputation. With joint custody he had visiting rights. He kept these to once a fortnight due to the distance he had to travel.
Jennifer had been very annoyed at what she saw as his busybody attitude and his lack of trust in her, but her mother had convinced her that the arrangement was very much in Heather’s benefit. It would be so until Owen made an appearance and put everything in its place. Until then Heather would enjoy financial security, a good education and basically everything that money could buy.
And what difference did it make? Esther had pointed out, Owen and Sean were related after all, if the father had abandoned her at least the uncle cared enough to give her what the father had refused.
But Jennifer was afraid that if Mr. Johnson were somehow able to prove Owen’s paternity outright he would take Heather from her. It was just a feeling, but it was strong.
“wropgasd,” said the baby as her grandmother let the gentleman into the living room, “jewm,” she added grabbing the teddy bear the older man was carrying.
“Heather, don’t be so rude.”
“It’s quite alright Miss Stone, she is right, the toy is for her. I chose it myself.”
Behind him followed his assistant Paul, a young graduate fresh out of university whom Harry thought would be appropriate company for this task.
Harry always felt uncomfortable in the Stone household, Mrs. Stone was a quarter his age, Jennifer was still in her twenties and Heather just a baby. Someone to balance the age gap seemed to be required and he chose Paul for the job. He was also hoping Jennifer and Paul might find each other interesting. He would be much more comfortable if the girl was paired off with someone he could trust. His overzealous interest in her life was of course related to the fact that Owen junior had not made any contact with him the last few months and sooner or later Jennifer would forget him and find someone else, taking Owen’s baby with her. This would have suited Harry very well, but Owen’s wishes were very clear on the matter, he wanted to be recognized as the child’s father.
Jennifer of course still denied any romantic involvement with her previous employer but as far as Harry was concerned anyone who met baby Heather knew whose blood she carried in her veins. Besides the fact that the man she alleged to be the father had never existed. Even Owen Senior had confirmed it; he only had one grandson, Owen Junior.
“Please, sit,” the older woman said.
“This is Paul. He is new to the firm and will be assisting me with this matter.”
“Nice to meet you Miss Stone, Mrs. Stone,” Paul stretched out his hand, and took it back as the older woman’s face reflected her namesake.
Jennifer sat on the chair by the window with Heather in her arms carrying the large teddy. She wished the two men would leave as soon as possible.
“Pardon?”
“I haven’t said anything,” Jennifer said, remembering to think quieter.
Baby Heather started pointing at the old man and making little gooey noises.
“What house would that be dear?” Harry asked leaning toward the child.
“Don’t take any notice Mr. Johnson. She probably wants the pen you are holding,”
“Pen? Oh, this pen, I don’t remember taking my pen out. It must be my mind playing tricks, I’ll be retiring soon you know.”
Jennifer made a very quiet mental comment about that.
She didn’t know how Mr. Johnson had understood Heather, no one but herself had been able to before.
Heather started crying and hid her head in her mother’s arms.
“Babies,” Jennifer said, comforting her.
“Well, let’s get to the business at hand,” the old solicitor said facing Jennifer. “Have you read the school catalogue I brought you last time? It is the very best girls’ school in London, and seeing as you won’t consider boarding school this is the only one I would think fit for a girl of Heather’s intelligence and background within walking distance of the O’Neil residence where you can live as it is now yours. ”
“As I have pointed out in the past Mr. Johnson, Heather is only a baby. By the time she is of school age she will go to the local school here in Skerries,” said Jennifer.
Her mother sat up on cue, “look, Mr. Johnson, I don’t know how you do things in your country, but Heather lives in and is growing up in Ireland, and we, the Irish, don’t like our children to go to that type of school. And also, we like to keep our children home at least until they are three, we then take them to nursery schools, and not to high power learning institutions where babies learn to be tomorrow’s executives,” Esther said and stood up, calling the visit to an end.
“Mrs. Stone, I know how these things work, and I can assure you that this school is not exclusive to the executive classes, on the contrary, it is mainly subsidized by concerned individuals to give our brightest children, regardless of background, the very best start in life. The baby class only has ten vacancies, and they are decided upon by a thorough intelligence test, which I am sure baby Heather here will pass unaided.”
He waited until the older woman sat down again and continued, “if you had bothered to read the catalogue you would see that the school I am talking about is aimed at child prodigies. It is one of the best schools in the world!”
“If I may say something?”
Everyone turned to the young executive sitting in the corner, “it might be a good idea if Miss Stone and Heather were to visit the school, I could take them,” he said looking from Harry to Mrs. Stone.
“That is if Miss Stone doesn’t mind…” he added.
They all stared at Paul who started blushing under the scrutiny. The boy certainly had a lot to learn, thought Harry. He turned back to the two women and found that Jennifer was also blushing. This was absolutely great; he smiled to see his plan working out better than expected, and without any previous instructions to the young man. As he looked at Jennifer’s mother he realized it was time to call the visit to an end.
“Yes, that would be okay, I guess,” Jennifer answered looking at Paul then her mother.
Mrs. Stone stared at Harry and said, “I’ll come too.”
Paul took out his mobile phone, “I’ll ring them now and see if we can go over this afternoon.”
But Harry pulled his arm down and shook his head in disapproval.
“Phone them from the office, and make an appointment for next week, we are not in London now Paul.”
As the two men left, Jennifer watched them through the window.
“Don’t even think it girl,” her mother said.
“Think what?” Jennifer asked looking at her mother, “oh, him, no. I just got embarrassed for him, everyone looking at him like that.”
She only had eyes for one man and until he said he didn’t want her, or someone showed her his tombstone she would be true to that love until the day she died.
Jennifer had no real intentions of letting Heather go to school. She couldn’t risk Heather pulling one of her tricks in front of strangers. But there was no harm in
having a look at the school, it would keep Harry Johnson happy which would mean less visits from him for a while.
Heather goo eyed.
“We are home, love.”
“What do you mean we are home?” Esther asked, not having understood her granddaughter’s baby talk.
Heather goo eyed some more.
“That’s not our house Heather, it used to be a house where I worked, but it belongs to someone else.”
Esther stared at her daughter. She was worried because Jennifer was not the same since her return. They said talking to oneself was the first sign of madness, she hoped Jennifer wouldn’t show any more of those signs.
Jennifer took her baby upstairs, picked the teddies from the floor and threw them on the cot. “Now, naptime darling, and remember, Mommy is going to classes this afternoon, so when you wake up I won’t be here, but granny will be. Be good and don’t do any of your tricks near her okay?”
“mgorr”
Jennifer put her baby in her cot and gave her a kiss.
She looked at the tiny baby dig her face into the new teddy and drift quickly to sleep. Heather was such a good baby. Jennifer had watched other people’s babies and they were nothing like her little princess. It was nice to be a mom, although she did miss going out to parties and having her friends round. Her friends had mostly ignored her when she returned. But it didn’t matter. She was beginning a new journey, new people to meet, a new life to carve out.
She kept the appointment the next week. The school was an overrated nursery. She could tell that Mr. Johnson was simply trying to get her back to England because he was too old to keep an eye on Heather from afar.
She was polite and firm in her refusal to accept the school place for her baby.
Mr. Johnson had insisted they stay at Oak Place, “it is yours after all,” he had said. Esther seemed to agree on this point.
On the way back to the house she stopped at the other firm of solicitors, but they had been unable to find any record of Sean O’Neil. Owen O’Neil could be accounted for, and so were his parents, grandparents and great-grandparents for as long as there were records kept, but nothing for his twin brother Sean.
Jennifer began to wonder if it had all been a dream. If it wasn’t for the fact that she was holding the result of that affair in her arms she would have convinced herself that Sean had never existed. The woman gave her the folder with the information, an address in Brazil and a bill for services rendered.
The old house was clean and aired. Mr. Johnson had contracted a cleaning firm to keep it in living conditions. Her plants were all alive as well. Jennifer put Heather to bed and joined her mother in the kitchen. As she sat at the table she remembered the last time she had seen Owen. Why had she been so horrible to him? Owen was a good person. He had been good to her and she had made him go, pushed him away.
“This is such a nice house Jennifer,” her mother said putting the plates on the table, “pity to just leave it. Our house would fit in the dining room.”
A ray of sunshine broke through the clouds and into the room, making a crystal ball she had hung in front of the window fill the kitchen with rainbows.
“It is in your name now you know, I don’t see what is wrong with taking a present like this, after all, Owen is Heather’s uncle, it isn’t like this wouldn’t belong to you if Sean had stuck around. Besides, this is probably peanuts to someone as rich as Owen, he probably has hundreds of houses like this one all over the world.”
“Mom, I don’t think Sean was Owen’s brother after all,” Jennifer said reaching into her backpack for the folder, “unless this is one of those cases of swapped babies at birth.”
Her mother read the folder’s content with interest.
“There’s an address here, why don’t you write?”
“And say what? Dear Mr. O’Neil, you don’t know me but I am your nonexistent grandson’s girlfriend and I just had his baby, your great-granddaughter, if you see him, could you please tell him to come back to me?”
“Jennifer, please.”
“Sorry mom, sorry. It’s just that I can sense something terrible is happening, or has happened to Sean or to Owen, or to both of them, and I don’t know what to do. It’s as though all this is a kind of front, a pretend situation to keep us happy and quiet.”
Esther was very worried. Her fears were coming true. Jennifer was definitely losing her mind.
“I am not losing my mind mom, this is strange, but I can sense something is not right.”
“There was always a psychic streak in our family dear, remember what I told you about the night your nana died while I was here in England, I saw your late granddad light as day, standing there at the end of my bed, your mother’s died, he said, don’t worry, everything is okay, and he vanished. I turned round and told your dad that my mother had just passed away. The next day I got a phone call giving me the news.”
Jennifer poured the tea, “I have to find them mom, I am taking that money Mr. Johnson offered and I am going to find them.”
“Brazil?”
“It’s a start.”
“Just because you are a mother now doesn’t mean you can go gallivanting around the world on your own, without my permission.”
“Of course it does mom.”
A tremor shook the city, followed by several others.
Somewhere Owen’s body shook violently.
But no one could see him.
Heather started crying.
A black cloud covered the sun, the rainbows disappeared.
“Did you feel that?” Asked Jennifer, she looked around to see if anything had fallen.
“There is a cold draft coming in from somewhere, I’ll go and close the windows, I think there’s a storm on the way, you go and see to Heather,” Esther answered.
It wasn’t what Jennifer was referring to, but her mother was right, there seemed to be a storm on the way, the air was thick with it. She wasn’t one for omens but the way she had felt something dark and powerful fly over the house had made the hairs on the back of her neck stand on end. Maybe she shouldn’t go to Brazil. Maybe she should just go back to Skerries and forget all about the O’Neils.
She went for Heather and found the baby girl wrapped up in the pink shawl Owen had sent her. She had quieted down. Jennifer picked her up and asked her what was wrong.
Being able to understand her baby was something that had also taken Jennifer by surprise, but she put it down to female intuition. She remembered quite clearly that when she was a baby she was able to speak perfectly but no adults could understand her, only a little girl down the road could. She couldn’t remember how old she was herself, but she must have been very young. The other girl would come over sometimes and act as translator for her.
The dark thing had scared Heather too, “don’t be frightened my love, mommy’s here,” she said hugging Heather close to her.
“Right, all done,” her mother said coming into the room.
Somewhere in the house a glass shattered and a door opened.
“What was that,” Jennifer whispered.
“I think it might be robbers, call the police,” Esther said reaching for the phone, it was disconnected.
“My mobile is in my bag,” said Jennifer, but realized her backpack was in the kitchen. “Right,” she said and stood up straight, “you take Heather and lock the door behind me, and I’ll go and see who it is.”
“No! Don’t go out there, lets lock the door and wait here until they leave, confronting robbers is the fastest way to get you killed or raped there is,” saying this Esther locked the bedroom door and put the key in her pocket.
They sat, waited, listened for the smallest of noises.
Three hours later Jennifer left the room carrying the large candleholder she had brought down from the attic, never thinking it would serve as a weapon.
She checked the service door then worked her way up the stairs to the hall, checking every room in turn, mobile in hand, trying to get through to
the police.
She came to the study door and found it open, “Owen!” she shouted and ran in. There was no one there. She turned around quickly thinking there was someone behind her, but there was no one there either.
By the time the police arrived the women had checked every door and window, there were no signs of a break-in, no broken glass, Jennifer explained that the study had been left locked by her employer when he left several months earlier and that there was no key that she knew of in the house that could open it.
They took their statements, told them they did the right thing, and to change the locks on both access doors as soon as possible. Someone had obviously come in thinking the house was empty and heard them, leaving the premises immediately. They would be checking with the cleaning firm and solicitors to make sure all keys were accounted for.
“It’s a good explanation, the only explanation,” said Esther when the police left, “we’ll put chairs against the doorknobs tonight, to make sure they don’t come back and we’ll call the locksmith in the morning.”
That night Jennifer found sleep impossible, Owen’s study door had opened all on its own. There was no reason why she could not go in there now. It wasn't as if she had opened the door. She could search for clues. It was in the early hours that she finally decided to search the study. She went in quietly, carrying Heather in her carrycot with her, that way she would be able to feed her if she woke up, and her mother wouldn’t find out what she was up to. She felt nervous about the intrusion. She was so used to staying out of the office that going in seemed like she was breaking Owen’s trust. It took her a few minutes before she got up the courage to switch on the light. The study reminded Jennifer of Owen, all new looking but radiating oldness and experience.
He had it well organized, one corner filled with computers and gadgets, some of which she had never even heard of. Two walls were covered in bookshelves, most of the volumes in languages she couldn’t work out. In the middle of the room a couch which looked a couple of centuries old. There was also a large desk, some shelves with all sorts of strange artifacts and a half finished plate of food growing an interesting variety of fauna.
