The New Neighbours

by Costeloe Diney

  “Thank you for the tea,” she said awkwardly, “and, well, everything.”

  “Make sure the door shuts behind you,” instructed Sheila from the top of the stairs.

  “Yes, I will,” promised Annabel, and did so, very carefully.

  Ian Haven had been as good as his word and had rung Angela the day after he had seen Annabel.

  “I think we should get together to discuss exactly what we are going to do,” he said. “I’d like to come round one evening this week, if that’s convenient, when you are all three there.”

  “Of course,” Angela agreed. “Why don’t you come on Thursday? Come for supper if you like.”

  When he arrived, he went into the living room where the fire was alight and the curtains drawn against the autumn evening.“Supper won’t be long,” Angela said, returning to the kitchen. “Pour yourself a drink, and one for me too, please.”

  “Where are the girls?” Ian asked.

  “Upstairs doing their homework,” Angela replied. “I said I’d call them when supper was ready.”

  Ian poured the drinks and carried them into the kitchen, where Angela was straining pasta and putting it into the oven to keep hot.

  “What do you really think about Annabel?” he asked. “Be honest. We all have to be honest if we are to cope with this.”

  “Honestly?” Angela put down the pan and looked at him. “Honestly, I’m horrified. She’s rising eighteen and she’s going to be saddled with a baby. She refuses to say who the father is, and she’s determined to bring up the child herself. I’m not sure what this evening is really going to achieve, Ian, because she seems to have made up her mind on all the main issues already. I suppose they are her decisions, but I doubt if she can carry them through without our support. She’ll live here of course, but that will affect Chantal as well.”

  “Yes, well, I’ve had an idea about Chantal,” Ian said. “I know you aren’t happy with her staying at the High…”

  “Well, she’s not going to Crosshills,” interrupted Angela, “so we’ve no choice.”

  “We might have,” Ian said. “Chapmans have started to take girls this term. They’ve had them in the sixth form for a while now, but from this term they have taken girls in other years too. Of course, most of them are thirteen, but I’ve spoken to the headmaster and he tells me there are several other girls who are starting in the GCSE year. I sounded him out and he’s prepared to take her if we want her to go.”

  Angela stared at him. “Chantal go to Chapmans?”

  “Yes.”

  “What, straightaway?”

  “Yes.”

  Angela was staggered, “But how’s she going to get there every day? There’s no way I can drive her out there every morning, it’s a twenty-mile round trip! She can’t possibly go.”

  “You wouldn’t have to drive her there,” Ian replied. “There’s a coach that does a pick-up of day children from various places in town. She could go on that.”

  “Perhaps she doesn’t want to move,” suggested Angela rather aggressively. This idea of Chapmans coming out of the blue had thrown her. She didn’t want Chantal to stay at the High, but now Ian had come up with what seemed to be a viable alternative, she found it made her unaccountably cross.

  “It’s up to her and you,” Ian said reasonably. “All I’ve done is find a good school, within reach, that will take her. She might like the idea of a mixed school.”

  Angela was sure she would, but all she said, rather ungraciously was, “I’ll think about it. Please don’t say anything to her just yet.”

  “All right,” agreed Ian, “but I do think the sooner we canvass the idea the better. The term’s already started and we don’t want her to miss too much.”

  “You make it sound as if you’ve already decided,” Angela said.

  “Not if you’re seriously against the idea,” Ian responded, “but I think it’s worth serious consideration, specially if you really want to move Chantal anyway. It’s all part of our forward planning, don’t you think?”

  Angela stirred the sauce thoughtfully. It might be just the answer, but she had the feeling she was being bounced into a decision and she didn’t want to be. “Can we afford Chapmans?” she asked. “It must have higher fees than the High.”

  “That will be my problem,” Ian said. “If you want her to go and she wants to go, then I’ll manage it.”

  Angela sighed. She was completely knocked sideways by his suggestion. “Let me think about it,” she said at last. “If I think we should bring it up this evening, I’ll introduce the subject.”

  “Fair enough, “ Ian said. “I’ll take your lead.”

  She turned back to the cooker and said over her shoulder, “Give them a call, will you? Supper’s ready.”

  Ian went to the stairs and called, while Angela took a large gulp of her drink. What on earth was Ian up to? How come he could suddenly afford the fees at Chapmans? Of course they were no longer paying fees for Annabel at the High, but even so they were going to need any money saved that way to help support her and the baby when it arrived. There had been little enough cash to go round when they had split up and he had two homes to run, that was why she’d gone back to full-time working, simply because she didn’t want the girls to suffer for what their father had chosen to do. Perhaps he’d been promoted and was now much better off. It was something she was determined to tackle him about, but not this evening, this evening they had other things to discuss and plan.

  It was a strange evening all round, Annabel thought. It was as if they were in a time warp, sitting at the table having supper as they had always used to. By common consent they didn’t begin to talk about Annabel and the baby during the meal, though Annabel told them what it was like at college.

  “In some ways it’s much better than at the High,” she said. “They treat you like an adult. You’re told what to do and you get on and do it. There aren’t silly rules about what to wear, what you can and can’t do about the place. You just turn up for lectures, there’s no extras like hockey or religious studies and things. You don’t have to stay if you don’t have a tutorial or a lecture, you can just walk out. D’you know Dad, it’s really weird, when I walk out of the gate I feel I’m skiving!”

  “Well you certainly set the High on fire,” remarked Chantal. “Like, everyone keeps coming up to me and saying, ‘Is your sister really up the spout?’ ”

  “Chantal!” exclaimed her mother. “What a frightful expression! Don’t let me hear you use it again.”

  Chantal shrugged. “It’s what they say,” she said.

  “Well it’s not what you say,” said Angela fiercely.

  “Are they giving you a hard time?” Ian asked her casually.

  “Nah, not really,” Chantal said. “Some of the staff are a bit iffy.”

  “Iffy?”

  “Yeah, you know,” Chantal adopted a condescending tone: “ ‘and how is poor Annabel?…what a dreadful thing! Such a waste!’ I just tell them we’re all delighted.”

  “Oh Chantal, that isn’t very helpful.”

  “Well, I get fed up with them. Mrs Harman had me in today. I didn’t tell you, did I, Mum? She sent for me and said she hoped I was working hard because she’d heard some disappointing reports of my work recently, and it was up to me to maintain the honour of the family! I ask you! She really is losing the plot, you know, Mum.”

  Angela glanced at Ian and then said, “Well, actually Dad had an idea he wanted to put to you, Chantal.”

  “Oh,” said Chantal through a mouthful of pasta. “Like what?”

  “I just wondered if you’d like to change schools, and go to Chapmans.”

  “Chapmans!” cried Chantal dropping her fork, all thought of food forgotten, “But it’s a boys’ school, Dad.”

  “Not any more, it’s gone co-ed.”

  “And I can go there?”

  “If you wanted to, it could be arranged,” her father agreed.

  “But what about the fees? We can’t
afford them.”

  “You don’t know what we can afford,” replied Ian.

  “Well, I don’t know what you’ve got,” said Chantal bluntly, “but we haven’t got any money, that’s why Mum goes out to work full-time instead of mornings only, like before.” She looked fiercely at her father. “If you’ve got more money, Dad, you should be giving it to Mum!”

  He nodded seriously. “I know Chantal, and I will be. I’ve changed jobs at the office and I’m earning more. Mum won’t have to work full-time any more if she doesn’t want to.”

  Angela was speechless at this announcement. How dare Ian spring such a thing on her in front of the girls. He should have told her privately, so that she could give the new situation long and hard consideration. He could at least have mentioned it when they were discussing the question of fees before supper, but even as she thought this she realised that he hadn’t been going to tell them that just now, but had been pushed into it by Chantal’s reaction to his suggestion. Before she could think of anything to say that wouldn’t provoke a scene, Chantal had jumped in again.

  “Does Desirée know?” she demanded. “Is she going to let you give Mum more money?”

  “Yes, she knows,” Ian said.

  Now, Dad, now! thought Annabel. Tell them there isn’t any Desirée anymore. But though she fixed him with her eye and willed him to speak, he simply gave her the faintest of shakes of his head and said no more about her.

  “We won’t make any decisions about schools, this evening,” Ian said to Chantal, “but think about it. Talk to Mum about it, and then if you want to do any more, we’ll go and have a look at Chapmans. All right?”

  “Yes, Dad, OK.” Chantal answered, but she knew she’d already decided. If there really was a chance of going to Chapmans, she was going to leap at it. A mixed school! Heaven! The others at the High would be so jealous!

  When they’d finished eating they all continued to sit round the table and Ian said, “Now, we must decide how we are going to help Annabel and her baby.” He looked across at his daughter. “We need to decide a few basics and work from there, agreed?”

  Annabel nodded, wondering what he meant exactly.

  “Now, I am right in assuming you mean to keep this baby when it’s born. You aren’t going to put it up for adoption?”

  Annabel shook her head. “No adoption. I want to keep it.”

  “That’s fair enough in some ways,” Angela said, “as long as you’ve considered it from every angle, and that’s what Dad and I want to be sure of.” She reached across and took Annabel’s hand. “The thing is, a baby is a lifelong commitment. If you decide to keep it, you will be struggling to bring it up on your own. Oh, I don’t mean we shan’t all be here to help, but it will be your responsibility. You will have to look after it, earn enough to keep it, give your entire life over to it for the first few years anyway.” She smiled ruefully at her daughter. “You’re only just eighteen and you are going to be tied down by this child. It isn’t just a lovely warm pet, like a puppy… no, hear me out, darling,” she said as Annabel tried to interrupt indignantly, “it’s a whole new person and deserves the very best chance in life. What you have to decide, however difficult that decision may be, is whether what you can give it is best for the baby. Can you be both father and mother, or ought you to be standing aside and letting some couple, dying to have children of their own, take your place? They will lavish it with love, give it things perhaps you would want to but can’t, and bring it up in a secure family.”

  “My baby is not going to be adopted,” said Annabel firmly. “I know what you’re saying, Mum, but it’s my baby and I’m not about to give it away.”

  “Supposing, in a few years, you wanted to get married?” asked Angela gently. “The man you wanted might not want to take on a child that wasn’t his.”

  “Then I wouldn’t want him,” retorted Annabel.

  “Easy enough to say…” began Angela.

  Annabel broke in, “Look Mum, I hear what you’re saying, yeah? You think I should have the baby adopted, but I’m not going to, OK? I’m not going to give away my baby. If you’ll all be there for me, fine, but if not I’ll manage by myself, OK? Mum, OK?” Her voice rose as she spoke, and she pulled her hand away.

  “Steady, Annabel,” admonished Ian gently. “Mum’s only trying to be sure you’ve made your decision for the right reasons.” He looked across at Angela, who nodded wearily. “Right, well, you seem to have made that decision, so the next thing is to come on to some of the practicalities.”

  “I have thought it through, Dad,” Annabel said more reasonably. “I will go to college as long as I can, and then try and work at home for the first few weeks after the birth. There’s a crèche there, so that when I’m fit enough I can take the baby with me when I go for lectures and stuff.”

  Inevitably, the question of the father came up. “We need to know who it is, Annabel,” Ian said. “He should be contributing towards his child’s keep.”

  “I don’t know where he is,” Annabel maintained, “and he doesn’t know about the baby.”

  “But if you’d only tell us his name, perhaps we could find him,” persisted her father.

  “He’s irrelevant,” Annabel said stonily.

  “Of course he isn’t!” snapped Ian. “This child is his too.”

  Annabel felt the tears welling up in her eyes and she allowed them to spill down her cheeks. Her father was immediately contrite, and said, “Well, we’ll leave it for now, but if you’re thinking of claiming any sort of benefit, I think you’ll find the DSS will expect you to name him.”

  The evening ended then, with Ian getting to his feet and saying he must get back. Annabel and Chantal saw him to the door and waved as he drove away. As they returned to the living room, Chantal sighed and said wistfully, “It was nice having Dad here like usual.”

  Angela gave her a hug. “I know darling, but we can’t change the way things are.”

  Annabel had to fight the urge then, to tell them things had changed, that Desirée wasn’t there anymore. She’d promised Dad to let him tell them in his own time, but it was proving to be an extremely difficult secret to keep. But tonight she’d won her battles, and for the moment she was content with that. No one was going to take her baby away, no one.

  Seventeen

  Annabel was extremely relieved that her mother had been out when Oliver had delivered the note from Scott the following day She realised, of course, that Oliver didn’t believe that she didn’t know Scott Manders, but there was nothing she could do about that. When she went back upstairs, Chantal, who was curled in front of the TV said, “What did he want?”

  “Oh, nothing. He’d found a book in the Circle garden and thought it was mine. It wasn’t.” Even in her own ears this sounded a pretty feeble reason for his coming, but Chantal appeared to accept it and remained glued to her television programme, which enabled Annabel to disappear upstairs to read the note.

  Feeling safest where there was a lock on the door, Annabel went into the bathroom and drew the bolt across before she opened the grubby envelope Oliver had brought.

  Roxy Cafe. Monday 4.30. Scott

  It was Friday evening and she had the whole weekend to decide whether to go or not, and her decision changed from moment to moment. By the time Monday morning came, she had almost decided not to go. On the way to college, she turned into the side street where the Roxy Café was. It was a small coffee bar, at present serving breakfasts, but advertising lunches and afternoon tea. She stared at the place for a moment and then went on to college.

  Four-thirty saw Annabel back outside the Roxy. The windows were steamed up and the lights were on, but she couldn’t see if Scott was already inside. Still, she had to see him. During the day, she realised she had come to the decision gradually over the weekend. She would go and meet him and see what happened.

  When she opened the door she thought at first that he wasn’t there, but then she heard him call from a table in the corner. “Bel!�
�� She made her way across to him and sat down.

  “You want tea or something?” he asked, and seeing he had a thick, white china cup of tea in front of him she said, “Tea, yeah, thanks.”

  He collected it from the counter and as he waited for it, she was able to study him unnoticed. He seemed to have changed, wasn’t how she remembered him at all really. He was much smaller somehow, less formidable, more insignificant. He was dressed in his usual jeans and bomber jacket, with the usual stubble on his chin, but he looked different.

  Maybe it’s his eyes, thought Annabel as she watched him. They were forever shifting around the room, flicking to the door, as if he were afraid of being trapped in the café. He came back with the tea and putting it on the table in front of her said, “There you go.”

  For a moment or two they were silent, and to cover the awkwardness, Annabel drank a mouthful of tea. It was strong and so hot that she almost had to spit it out again. She felt it burn her all the way down the back of her throat, and she coughed.

  “You OK, Bel?”

  “Yeah, just the tea was too hot.”

  “No, I meant, you been OK? While I weren’t ’ere?”

  “Yes.” She looked at him levelly. “Where have you been, Scott?”

  “Inside,” he answered shortly. “Done for ’andling.”

  “Why didn’t you contact me?” she asked.

  “Why would I? You knew the score.”

  “Did I?” She pondered this for a moment. “Yes, I suppose I did, but not until that last day. Not really. And I didn’t know what had happened to you. I tried to find you. A woman at your house told me what had happened. Said you didn’t live there anymore, and told me where you were.”

  “And now I’ve come back. Chrissy, the woman you saw? She always keeps my room for me when I ain’t there, but she don’t tell no one, see? That’s why she didn’t let on to you.”

  “She said your brother was arrested too,” Annabel said.

  “Bazzer? ’E was, stupid git. It was all ’is fault, an’ all. ’E nicked a mobile phone and then when someone rings ’im up and tells ’im ’e’s won some cash, ’e give my name and address so that Mum don’t get ’er ’ands on it. The filth come round and find ’im at my place with the phone, but they ’ad a warrant and turned my pad over an’ all. Found some of my stuff. Bazzer got off with a caution and I got sent down.” He took along pull at his tea and then said, “What did you want me for anyway, Bel? You wasn’t in trouble, was you? They didn’t know about the computer job, still don’t for sure, but I know they’re watchin’ me.”