The Things We Do For Love

by Lisa Appignanesi

  The taxi in front had overtaken a car and turned abruptly left. He saw it skid, then right itself and proceed out of sight down the curving ramp. His driver followed at a snail’s pace. When they reached the bottom of the endless ramp, a proliferation of small roads opened up in front of them. On none of them could Stephen see Tessa’s cab.

  ‘Left. Doleva,’ he muttered.

  The driver did as he was ordered, carried on for a few dozen metres then pulled up short. He looked back at Stephen, shrugged, then declared, ‘That’s it. I’m not going any further. No customers in there.’ He gestured at dubious streets. ‘And I wanna get back home tonight.’ He pointed in the opposite direction. ‘Before we get snowed in.’

  ‘But…’ Stephen protested.

  ‘But nothing. You can get out here and look for another cab and freeze. Or I can take you back to the centre.’

  Stephen made for the door.

  ‘You’re gonna wait for a long time. And I’d take care of my money.’ His voice carried a snigger.

  Stephen peered around him through flurries of snow. He was in a street of numbered blocks which had no place on maps. Where was Ted taking Tessa? He forced himself out of the panic of dream into sobriety. He would never find them here on foot, never find them at all without an address.

  With a grunt of impatience, he got into the cab again. Ted was bound to turn up for the last session of the Congress. He wouldn’t know Simone had warned him. And he had asked to be on the platform for the plenary - so he could inject a little ‘hard sense’ into the proceedings. With a shudder which had little to do with the cold, Stephen wondered just how hard that sense actually was.

  Tessa looked around her with a feeling of growing unease. They had left tower blocks behind them and were now heading past a car graveyard, ramshackle warehouses. Scraps of metal and tires adorned with white caps littered the roadside.

  ‘Not anyone’s favourite part of town,’ Ted murmured, but when she turned to him, he had that good-natured smile on his face. It had been there, offering degrees of consolation, ever since he had saved her from those thieving little villains.

  She had explained to him then, told him where she was heading and with a shake of the head, he had offered to accompany her. ‘Poor little Tess,’ he had murmured as somewhat incoherently she gave him the gist of the story. ‘In love with a baby and not with me.’ And then he had said to her that since she was so intent, since he was leaving tomorrow, the least he could do was to help her. He had even cancelled his lunch appointment in order to do so.

  Tessa reclined back into the seat, felt his arm resting behind her head. Perhaps she had been wrong about him. She had underestimated him. He was so willing to help now.

  But she didn’t really want to think about Ted. All she wanted was to see Amy, make sure she was safe, make sure that man’s offer had been as real as she hoped it to be. Then she would convince him that the whole adoption procedure had to be engaged on legally. Yes, legally. Convince him with money, if need be. She didn’t like to think that Amy’s mother, Mrs. Prohasky would not so easily be convinced.

  They had pulled up now, in front of what looked like a series of abandoned warehouses. The driver was shaking his head, explaining in broken English that he had no idea if they were in the right place, but he couldn’t take the car any further.

  Ted asked him to wait for them.

  Even though it was only mid-afternoon, it felt oddly dark, the sky a deep slate grey, obscured by flying snow. She hadn’t known snow could cover the world so fast. Tessa put the tip of her tongue out and tasted it. Like soft sorbet. Beyond the dilapidated buildings with their corrugated roofs, there were trees, the underside of their branches sombre against the stark whiteness. Amy would like the snow when she was bigger.

  Tessa felt Ted’s arm fall protectively over her shoulder. They trudged along what might have been a path, between derelict buildings. There were no numbers or names, no markings of any kind except the scrape and scrawl of age. Like barns, Tessa now thought, not warehouses at all. In the distance one of them emitted a thin streak of smoke. Tessa pointed and they trudged in its direction.

  Two pint size children suddenly appeared from behind a building. Like jesters, they wore raggedy clothes in a bizarre mix of colours. Above their trainers, she could see a sockless stretch of skin. But they seemed oblivious to the cold. They paused to look at them only for a moment before scurrying off to a distant field.

  The presence of the children reassured her. She took a deep icy breath and watched the mist form around her face as she exhaled.

  At the building from which they had seen the smoke curl, Ted knocked, then pounded at the door. After a few moments, the top half of it creaked open an inch, then a second. An old woman, her face a mass of wrinkles, peered out at them, her eyes sullen with suspicion.

  Quickly, Tessa took the crumpled address from her pocket and passed it through to her, murmuring her request in an English she knew would not be understood, repeating the name Prohasky.

  The woman opened the door a little further and stared blankly at the piece of paper.

  ‘She can’t read,’ Ted muttered. He linked his arms in a cradling gesture, rocked an invisible baby back and forth, shouted the single word, ‘Pan’, ‘man’, as if she were hard of hearing.

  The woman didn’t move, but from the depths of the house, they heard a response, a baby’s long feeble wail, like a cat mewling.

  ‘Amy, Amy.’ Tessa felt herself begin to tremble. ‘Let us in, please, please,’ she pleaded to deaf ears. The woman had already begun to shake her head, shut the door, when Ted pushed it ajar, showed her the colour of his money.

  The woman’s eyes narrowed. A tentative hand reached towards the bill. Ted gestured, pushed at the door. ‘Pan. English… Anglicky Pan,’ he reiterated.

  There was the slip of a bolt and the black clad woman opened the door to them.

  The windowless room smelled of smoke and onions and poverty. By the faint light of a lantern, Tessa saw a largeish space which seemed to be subdivided by tattered grey blankets hanging from rope. A toddler sat on the floor beside a small coal fire and played with a slightly older child. They were piling hand-hewn blocks, one on top of the other in a precarious tower. On a formica-topped table stood an old iron pot, three potatoes, one of them half peeled. Two rickety chairs and some wooden crates were the sum of the furniture. The sound of a child whimpering came from one of these crates.

  Tessa stooped. She couldn’t help herself. Cradled amidst rough wool, she saw a small dark head. ‘Amy,’ she crooned. ‘Amy.’ She picked the child up and held her to her bosom, saw the eyes flutter open, imagined recognition. ‘It’s her,’ she murmured to Ted. ‘Look how sweet she is. Look.’

  ‘Mmmm,’ Ted grunted. ‘Seems a bit feeble. I’d have her checked out before I paid any money over.’

  Tessa wasn’t listening. She stroked the fuzz of hair on Amy’s brow, held her close.

  ‘What d’you want to do then, Tess? Your man’s evidently not here.’

  ‘Write, or rather print a note to him. Say I’ll meet him at the Church tomorrow. At noon.’

  The old woman was looking at them suspiciously again. Suddenly she started to rattle away in a thin high voice. Tessa smiled at her, attempted serenity. She hummed to Amy, made a hundred wishes as she gazed into that little puckered face. It was just as the eyes had closed that she heard the slam of the door behind her. She turned to see Amy’s mother standing in front of it. The brightly coloured dress that had imprinted itself on her mind peaked out from beneath an old black coat. Her eyes in the lantern’s glow looked round and beady. They moved warily round the room.

  In a moment, the younger woman had taken the situation in. She marched toward Tessa, lifted Amy abruptly from her arms. The child started to whimper. Ted began to speak, explained the situation, told Tessa all the while to mind her bag. The young woman interrupted, gesticulated wildly, stamped her foot. Ted stamped back so hard that wobbly boards rebou
nded.

  The toddler had crawled over to pull at the woman’s skirt. She brushed him away and with a fierce gesture pointed Tessa and Ted towards the door.

  ‘What do you want me to do, Tess? I feel like Solomon here.’

  ‘If only I could speak to her,’ Tessa murmured. ‘I’ll have to come back with Rachel.’

  ‘Who?’

  ‘It doesn’t matter.’ Tessa cast a lingering look at Amy, met her mother’s set face. Maybe she had been wrong. Maybe the man in the church hadn’t understood his cousin’s intentions. Tears filled her eyes. Through them, she rifled in her purse, brought out some notes. ‘For the baby,’ she gestured, pointed to the food on the table.

  The old black-clad woman took the money from her hand before the younger one could move. Her lips curled to show a single jagged tooth. In a stern voice, she muttered something to what Tessa supposed was her daughter. The younger woman barked back, pointed at Ted with an emphatic finger.

  ‘Come on, Tess. You don’t want this kid anyhow. It’s probably sick. You have to have it checked out.’ He cast an appraising glance at Amy’s mother, watched her angry fierceness. ‘Though that one would probably make a good donor mother. I should mention it to Marriot.’

  Tessa looked at him askance, didn’t have time to snap at him, for the door had just opened wide, letting in a whiteness which dazzled in the dark, confined space. In its light stood two men almost identical in their sombre, narrow features. Tessa could feel Ted’s fists clenching in readiness.

  ‘That’s him,’ she murmured. She stretched out her hand to the man from the church. ‘I’ve come. As you said.’ She tried to smile.

  ‘Good lady,’ his jagged face twisted into a grin which looked oddly boyish, then settled into suspicion as he looked at Ted. ‘Who is?’ he muttered.

  ‘A friend.’ Tessa put her arm through Ted’s.

  ‘Not police?’

  ‘No, no, not police,’ Tessa confirmed as Ted let out a boisterous laugh.

  The man stared at them for a moment, then ushered them towards the table, pulled out the two chairs, righted some crates, all the time barking something at the women.

  The old woman brought out a bottle of wine, four tiny glasses. Ted hovered, unwilling to sit.

  ‘You come. Good.’ The young man addressed Tessa. ‘You bring money?’

  ‘No money, yet.’ Ted boomed.

  All eyes turned towards him.

  ‘You see, your cousin doesn’t want…’ Tessa began.

  ‘Course she want.’ The young man stared at Amy’s mother. There was a rapid incomprehensible exchange between them in which Tessa took in only the word, ‘policia’. When it was over, the woman suddenly smiled at her, a wide, toothy smile, which illuminated her face. Slowly she walked towards Tessa and with a flourish placed Amy in her arms.

  ‘Cousin think police come,’ the man explained.

  Tessa looked down into Amy’s face. She stroked soft skin, smoothed hair, bent to touch her forehead with her lips, curled her finger into that tight little grasp, sheltered her slight form.

  She could feel the mother’s eyes on her. She looked up and met them for a long, silent moment. A wordless understanding passed between them. The woman nodded and with a rustle of skirts moved towards Tessa and placed a kiss on her cheek. Then, as if in embarrassment, she rushed to pick up the toddler and hold him firmly. Of course, Tessa thought, she already had two children.

  The man’s voice invaded her consciousness. ‘Good. Now you give money. Take baby.’

  Tessa struggled with her instincts. How wonderful it would be just to walk through that door with Amy in her arms. But that was the path of madness. She knew that, she told herself.

  She shook her head sadly at the man. ‘Not yet. I haven’t got all the money yet. And we need to go to a lawyer. Make it official.’

  ‘No police. I say no police.’ He glared at her.

  Amy’s mother interrupted. There was a quick vehement exchange between them.

  Tessa addressed her. ‘No police. You don’t understand. A lawyer. Advocate. To sign adoption papers.’ She scribbled in the air.

  ‘And a doctor.’ Ted muttered.

  ‘Advocate?’ The young man paid no attention to Ted.

  Tessa nodded. ‘To sign papers. Write. Adopt. Make English,’ she added in frustration.

  The man raked narrow fingers through long hair, looked at her with a mixture of anger and incomprehension.

  ‘Look, tomorrow. Twelve o’clock. Come to the church. I’ll bring a friend. To explain. Translate.’ She gestured her sense, then with a sigh went to tuck Amy into her makeshift bed. There was straw at its base. An old sweater served as a blanket. She drew it round the child. Silence had fallen on the room. In it she could feel the other’s eyes on her. I am not wrong, she told herself. It will be better for everyone this way. Amy cannot grow up in stealth.

  She reached for her bag.

  ‘Remember what I told you,’ Ted murmured. ‘Only a hundred dollars.’

  Tessa took the prepared envelope and handed it to Amy’s mother who passed it to her cousin.

  He counted the money. ‘No good. Need more.’

  ‘More tomorrow. At the church. St Cyril’s. Kostel St Cyrila. Twelve o’clock. Dvanact.’ She remembered her phrase book. ‘And more at the lawyer’s. Much more.’

  ‘Kostel? Church? Twelve o’clock? Okay. No police.’

  ‘No police,’ Tessa repeated and to emphasize the point, suddenly crossed herself, like a school girl - cross my heart and hope to die. She raised her glass to the assembled group, smiled at everyone in turn. Like a benediction, she thought, her smile lingering on Amy’s mother who now had her older son by the hand as well.

  Amy’s first mother, she corrected herself silently and felt her heart race. Almost.

  The taxi inched its way through what had become a veritable blizzard. But for the gleam of snow, it had grown dark. The headlights of oncoming cars beamed small pools of blurred light. Windscreen wipers moved with heavy slowness. In the muggy heat of the car, Tessa was aware of Ted’s silent scrutiny. She turned to him.

  ‘Thank-you for coming with me, Ted. It was kind of you. And very helpful. I might not have got there on my own.’

  ‘Sure. No problem.’ He was quiet for another moment, then murmured. ‘Now you’ve got your heart’s desire. Which isn’t me.’

  She was about to protest, to explain, but he stopped her. ‘I’m not dumb, Tess. I can sense these things.’

  He looked out the window, his head a little sunken. They had just turned off the dual carriageway into more familiar streets of pale nineteenth century houses.

  ‘No. You don’t want me. You want to go straight back to your old man. Play happy families.’

  It was true, Tessa thought. There was nothing she could say. She bent her head, gestured an apology.

  ‘And what about this, eh Tess?’ He turned towards her suddenly and placed his large hand, palm down, beneath her coat, covered her stomach. ‘What will Stephen say about this, if it happens? What will I say?’

  She shrank away from him. ‘I don’t know, Ted. One step at a time.’

  ‘Well, I know. I wouldn’t exactly welcome little wifey home with another man’s child tucked in her womb. On top of an adopted brat.’

  The heavy cynicism in his voice grated on her ears. She turned away from him, tears pricking at her eyes.

  ‘It’s okay, Tess.’ His arm made its way round her shoulder, drawing her close. ‘I’ll stay out of the way. Clear off and stay out of the way. If that’s what you want, I’ll do you that favour.’

  She made a murmuring sound, squeezed his hand.

  ‘But I think I should extract a favour from you in return. A little favour of some kind.’

  ‘Of course, anything. Just ask.’ Tessa felt guilt beginning to lessen. She smiled at him. ‘Anything within reason.’

  ‘Well, let me think.’ He gazed out the window, his face whimsical in the shadow of passing street lights. />
  ‘I know. I know just the thing. Stephen’s got this big fat address book tucked away inside his computer. Filled with the whole of the European scientific establishment. It could be enormously useful to me.’

  ‘Oh?’ Tessa baulked. ‘I don’t see how…’

  ‘Sure, it’s easy. I’ll just give you a couple of discs.’ He reached down for his briefcase, opened it. ‘And you can copy it for me. Copy everything. Stop off and do it right now. His hotel’s not all that far from here.’ He glanced at his watch. ‘He might still be at the Congress.’

  ‘I couldn’t do that, Ted. Anyhow, I don’t even know his code, don’t know how to go about it.’

  He laughed. ‘I’d forgotten what an old-fashioned girl you are.’ He drew her closer. ‘Tell you what. You just bring me his PC. The whole machine. I can do it in a jiffy. Now. Tonight. Whenever.’

  Tessa stiffened, shook her head. ‘It wouldn’t be right, Ted.’

  As he rifled through the briefcase, she saw the glint of silver. Her breath caught. A gun. Why would he have a gun? She moved to the far end of the seat.

  ‘And you think this is right?’ His hand clawed at her stomach.

  ‘If you want those addresses so badly, you could ask Stephen. I’m sure he’d give them to you.’ Her voice choked through her throat. She tried to control it.

  ‘Hey what do you take me for? You think I could face him now. Ask him for favours.’

  ‘It wouldn’t be right,’ Tessa repeated.

  ‘Well then, I’ll just have to come back and haunt you. We wouldn’t be quits.’

  Tessa stared at him.

  ‘And I have been good to you, haven’t I?’

  She nodded, unable to deny that.

  ‘But you won’t do anything for me. It’s because you think that husband of yours is so honourable, isn’t it. Pure as the driven snow.’

  His chuckle echoed coldly along Tessa’s spine.

  ‘Well I could tell you a thing or two about, Stephen Caldwell. Like all about a finger-lickin little Russian number he’s been keeping in Paris on and off over the years.’