‘I’m glad you could come,’ she said. ‘Harry told you why?’
‘He told me. But I can’t stay long. I’ve got a class in ten minutes.’
‘Oh well, this near the end of term —’
‘I’ve got a class in ten minutes,’ Genevieve said stubbornly. ‘I can’t stay long.’
‘Would it be easier to come back this afternoon at the end of school?’
‘No,’ Genevieve said, and stared at her with eyes as opaque as pebbles. There was no expression anywhere, except for the aura of stubbornness that surrounded her.
Hattie sighed. ‘I’m on your side, you know, Genevieve,’ she said. ‘I really am.’
‘Are you? Then why did you get my mum to come here and go on at her about me?’ Genevieve seemed more animated now and Hattie took the chance of standing up. She’d stayed where she was for fear that Genevieve might react like a wild bird and fly as soon as she moved; but remained where she was, still halfway in through the doorway. ‘She told me, you know! I do find out things.’
‘I wanted to help you,’ Hattie said. ‘I was afraid for you. I thought you might die if you didn’t start eating. I once looked after a girl like you who did die. She didn’t mean to, but it happened all the same. She had a heart attack because she was so starved.’
The girl didn’t move and Hattie leaned against her table, the picture, she hoped, of casual relaxation. ‘I don’t want that to happen to you, so I was trying to see if there was any way I could help you. You wouldn’t talk to me, so I asked your mum.’
‘Well, she can’t help, so that was a waste of time.’
‘Is there anyone who can help?’ Hattie asked softly, trying to hold eye contact with her, but Genevieve slid her gaze away, looking out of the grimy window.
There was a long silence and then she said, ‘Harry could.’
‘I thought so,’ Hattie said, and smiled. ‘He’s very attractive, isn’t he?’
The girl looked at her now. ‘Is he?’
‘I think so. Don’t you?’
She only shrugged and Hattie sighed again, casting around for something to say, and then was startled as the girl’s voice cut across, harsh and direct.
‘Will it work?’
‘Will what work?’
‘Telling them I’m pregnant. Will it work?’
‘I’m not sure what you mean. What effect do you want it to have?’ Hattie said carefully, and the girl made an odd noise through her teeth, full of scorn.
‘I want to get away, of course! Out from them for always. I never want to be there ever again. I can do my A levels from somewhere else, Harry says. He’s got it all worked out. We can do our A levels together, living at his house. His mum won’t mind, she never minds anything, and we don’t have to do them here, at school, we can do them from a college, because we’re both over sixteen, and then we can get grants and go to university together. It’ll be —’ She stopped and her face, which had begun to lighten, settled back into its old expressionless mode. ‘It’ll be very nice.’
‘I’m not sure whether telling them you’re pregnant would have that effect. They might think you needed more protection, not less. They might try to keep you at home even more,’ Hattie said. ‘You know them best. What do you think?’
The girl’s lips curved and for the first time she looked happy. ‘Not when they see Harry. It’s him, you see. He hates black people. Always has. He says horrible things about them. If he thinks it’s Harry he’ll go mad.’
‘You expect him to throw you out?’
‘Why not? Other fathers do that.’
‘But your father isn’t like other fathers, is he? Genevieve? Is he?’ She persisted because the mulish look had returned. ‘Is he, Genevieve?’
‘How do I know? I’ve only got him. I haven’t had any others, how can I know?’
‘You know. You’ve lived with him all your life. You’ve told Harry what he did to you. It isn’t what fathers ought to do to their daughters. Is it?’
Genevieve was leaning against the door jamb now, still keeping her exit clear, not risking coming right in. ‘If you say so.’
‘If I say so? Oh, come on, Genevieve! It’s not up to me to say it! You’re the one who had to put up with it.’
‘It wasn’t all bad,’ she said eventually, not lifting her head. She had both hands in front of her against her white blouse, inspecting her nails minutely, turning her hands over and back, over and back again. ‘Not all of it. I told Harry that. He didn’t understand. He doesn’t know children need lots of cuddling and kissing. His sort of people don’t do it.’
‘Did your mother ever do it, Genevieve?’ Hattie said, and this time the girl seemed to flinch.
‘We’re not talking about her.’
‘Why not?’
‘She’s the one who ought to be got at, not me!’ Genevieve’s voice became shrill suddenly. ‘It’s her, not me, who ought to be sorting it all out, but you can’t talk to her, she won’t listen, no matter how hard you try she won’t listen. I’ve tried and tried to tell her. I said to her, I can tell you why it’s best to be thin, but she wouldn’t listen, would she? So don’t you go on at me about her. It’s her you ought to go on at, not me.’
‘I’m not going on at anyone, Genevieve,’ Hattie said quietly. ‘I wish you’d come in and sit down. It’s very difficult talking like this.’
‘I don’t want to talk,’ Genevieve said. ‘So there’s no need to come in, is there?’
‘Well, what do you want?’ Hattie went back to her own side of the table. Maybe the girl would feel less threatened if she did that, she thought. Maybe I’ve come too close to her physically.
But Genevieve didn’t move. She stood staring at Hattie and now there was some expression there, a sort of thoughtfulness and then she said, ‘I tell you what. You come with us, and tell them.’
‘What?’ Hattie said blankly. ‘You want me to —’
‘That’s it.’ Genevieve began to look positively animated. ‘They’ll believe you. If you really want to help me, you come and tell them with us, together, that I’m pregnant. That’d do it. They couldn’t say it wasn’t true if you told them, and they couldn’t hurt Harry either. They’d go mad and they couldn’t do anything because you were there. I’d be able to go out with Harry and never come back, even take some of my things with me. It’d be great. I should have thought of it before. If you want to help me, that’s what you’ll do. I’ll tell Harry —’ and she half turned as though to go.
‘Hold on!’ Hattie called urgently. ‘Not so fast! I haven’t said I can do that! It wouldn’t be — it wouldn’t be true, would it? Or could you be —?’
‘No!’ The girl sounded disgusted. ‘We’re not like that, me and Harry. We’re different. Of course not. But if you come with us and tell them —’
‘Will you start to eat, Genevieve?’ Hattie said. ‘If I do this, will you go and live with Harry and eat the sort of food I tell him to give you?’
She stood there at the door, still half turned away, and sighed, a long, soft sound. ‘It’s not as easy as that,’ she said, and for the first time she sounded normal, like any other person holding a simple conversation. ‘I only wish it were.’
‘I know, Genevieve,’ Hattie said, and once more risked coming out from behind her table. ‘I truly do. I’ve looked after a lot of people like you. If you’ll let me, I think I can get you well again. Make your periods normal …’
Genevieve looked at her over her shoulder and Hattie could have wept. There was an expression of longing there, a painful crying need, and she put out a hand and risked setting it on the girl’s shoulder. ‘It doesn’t take too long to do that. Not if we can get your weight up a bit.’
‘It’s silly, really,’ Genevieve said. ‘All the others say it’s such a nuisance, go on and on about having the curse and how they hate it, but I think it’d be nice. I’d like that. It never happened, you see, not properly.’
‘If you began to give up eating early, befor
e your periods were supposed to start, then it would have that effect,’ Hattie said. ‘We have to reverse it. It can be done.’
Genevieve said, never taking her eyes from Hattie’s face, ‘You’ll come then? With me and Harry? Tell them like we said? And you’ll wait till we’ve got out, so they can’t stop me?’
‘God help me,’ Hattie said helplessly. ‘It’s the most unprofessional thing I ever heard of in all my life.’
‘Yes, but will you do it?’ Genevieve was staring at her with eyes wide and dark with hope, and Hattie stared back at her, and thought, When will you stop meddling, woman? When will you learn to let people sort themselves out? Now look what you’ve gone and done!
‘Be careful, Hattie,’ Sam said. ‘He could be — well, let’s not be melodramatic, but he’ll be a very threatened man, won’t he? Especially if you do what you say you will.’
‘I’ll do it,’ Hattie said sturdily, covering up the trepidation that was filling her. ‘I’ve got to. He’s got to feel threatened himself, so much that he’s paralysed. If it’s not enough, he’ll lash out, maybe. If it’s really tough stuff he gets chucked at him, then maybe he’ll be flattened.’
‘And maybe he won’t,’ Sam said grimly. ‘I wish you’d let me come with you.’
‘No!’ Hattie was scandalized. ‘I’ve been sufficiently out of order telling you about it at all. If they thought I’d done that and then included you on the visit, I’d never get anywhere. They trust me and that means you have to trust me to take care of myself.’
‘Oh, God,’ he said. ‘Phone me as soon as it’s all over, will you?’
‘Of course I will,’ she said. ‘And thank you for caring.’
‘Don’t be such a bloody fool,’ he said and managed not to reach out for her. But it was difficult.
‘Tomorrow,’ Harry said, and came in and closed the door behind him. ‘If that’s all right with you? I’ve got it all fixed up with Jenny. She’s told her mum she’s bringing a friend home, that’s all. Just a friend.’ He laughed richly. ‘She’s flapping like a hen, Jenny says. It’s the first time she’s brought anyone home, she says, since she was in primary school, so her mum’s not used to it. Her dad gets in about half past five, so as long as we’re there by five we’ll be well settled in.’
‘Does it have to be this way?’ Hattie asked with some distaste. ‘Can’t we just do the honest thing and say we have to talk to them both and —’
Harry shook his head. ‘Jenny says that if he sees a black person on the doorstep he’ll slam the door in my face. And I know he’d do that anyway when he sees it’s me.’ And again he laughed, a fat bubbling sound of pure pleasure. ‘I have to be in there and well settled in, as I say. It’s the only way. As for cheating on her mother’ — his face hardened — ‘she’s no better than he is. Why care about her feelings?’
Hattie frowned. ‘Genevieve didn’t say her mother had abused her in any way.’
‘It all depends on how you measure it, doesn’t it? She knew. She didn’t let Jenny tell her about it, but she knew, Jenny says, and that made it worse. She joined in without being joined in.’
‘She colluded,’ Hattie said a little absently, and Harry made a small bow, sketching his old grand manner.
‘Ma’am, I beg to present m’compliments and gratitude for the degree of understanding you display, and —’
‘Stop it, Harry,’ she said sharply. ‘I’m in no mood for that.’
‘My apologies,’ he said and waited for more.
She frowned and said, ‘Why will he do that anyway, when he sees you?’
‘I’m sorry?’ He looked politely confused.
‘You said he’d slam the door in your face as soon as he saw it was you. Does that mean he knows you? Have you already met?’
‘He’s a Governor of the school, isn’t he?’ Harry said. ‘It’s always possible.’
‘I suppose so.’ She was thinking again, but then she shook her head. ‘I’m still not happy about this. You know that.’
‘I know it. But you’ll do it for me and for Jenny, won’t you?’
‘I’m doing it for Genevieve herself, not for you,’ Hattie snapped. ‘Let’s get that very clear. We made a deal, she and I. You’re part of it, but the deal’s between us. She’ll eat as I direct if I help this way. It’s the only reason I’m doing it, but I can’t pretend I like it. It’s unprofessional and dishonest.’
‘Oh, deary me,’ Harry said softly. ‘Such crimes to set against people who’ve only done what they’ve done.’
She reddened. ‘Well, I know, but I’m doing it, aren’t I? Just don’t push my patience too hard. I’ve got my own breaking point and never you doubt it.’
‘Oh, I don’t,’ he said, and turned to go, and then held out his hand to shake hers. ‘Put it there, Mrs C. I’m grateful to you for coming this far with us, no matter what happens.’
She took his hand automatically and shook it and then looked down. He had several pieces of frayed and grubby sticky plaster applied to his thumb and first two fingers, and she turned his hand over in hers and said, ‘What’s this?’
He tried to pull his hand away and then, as she held on more firmly, looked at her and his eyes were wide and dark. After a moment he relaxed and laughed.
‘I scrubbed ’em too hard against some wood while I was doing some work with the decorations in the hall,’ he said easily. ‘It’ll be OK.’
‘Those dressings are disgusting. And if it was wood you’ve probably got splinters.’ She was comfortable again suddenly, back in the role she knew best, a brisk and knowledgeable nurse who understood injuries. ‘Come here and I’ll deal with it for you. You can get a nasty infection in an injury like that.’
‘It’s really not important.’ He moved towards the door. ‘And I have to go. I’ve got a class soon, and —’
‘This won’t take more than a few moments,’ she said firmly and reached for his hand, and in the small room he couldn’t evade her. ‘Come and sit down here and let me see what’s going on.’
She had already brought out her neat little first-aid and dressing box and had it open on her desk and after another moment of hesitation he came and sat on the table beside it, obediently holding out his hand.
‘It’s just a graze,’ he said again. ‘Nothing to fuss over.’
‘I’ll be the best judge of that,’ she said crisply. ‘Now, let me see.’
The plasters came off, leaving their sticky residue, and she reached for a swab and cleaned the skin at the edges of the dressing, and then for the first time looked closely at the graze.
And then bent a little nearer and pulled his hand forward so that the light from the centre fitting overhead — not very bright but all she had — was directed straight on to it.
‘How did you say you did that, Harry?’ she said quietly.
He lifted his head and looked at her. ‘A wood graze. I was fixing the dais to take some greenery for Mr Chanter.’
She shook her head and reached for another swab and soaked it in cetrimide, and gently began to clean the injuries. The black skin on the outer part of the fingers shone with the gloss of the soapiness of the cetrimide, and the pallid skin on the inner aspect looked thickened and red in the poor light. She stopped when she’d cleaned it all and then straightened her back.
‘You’ve got some explaining to do, Harry,’ she said. ‘Those aren’t wood grazes, and don’t insult me by trying to pretend they are. Those look to me like acid burns. And they’re just where they’d be if you’d opened a bottle clumsily and splashed yourself: the thumb and the first two fingers. So, how did you get that? Are you going to tell me?’
Thirty-three
The silence between them seemed to go on for ever; Harry sitting there with his hand held in hers, clear in every detail in the pool of light from the ceiling fitting, and Hattie looking at his face with its beautiful lines and the curve of the downswept lashes that were so thick and curly they could have been a woman’s, but for all that the most m
asculine of faces. It’s small wonder that Genevieve is so besotted with him, she thought, and then dragged her mind back to the here and now. She was alone with a person she now firmly believed had tried to kill one of the other members of staff; how could she sit here thinking of what he looked like?
He moved first and looked up at her and there was actual amusement in his eyes. ‘I fair mucked that up, didn’t I, guv’nor? Should I say, “It’s a fair cop, I’ll come clean”?’
‘This is no time to be funny, Harry.’
‘But it is funny! I get everything else right and then I go and give myself away with dirty bandages.’ He shook his head. ‘And I’m usually so fussy, you know. You never even saw me in dirty trainers.’
‘Perhaps you wanted me to find out,’ Hattie said. ‘That’s what some experts say. No such thing as accidents and forgetting, only deliberate actions.’
He sighed softly. ‘You could be right. It helps to talk to people. I’ve no one to talk to.’
‘Are you mocking me?’ she said sharply, hearing the amused tone still in his voice. ‘Because I’m not the pushover you might think I am. I can make mistakes in my judgements but I’m not afraid to say when I have, and if I’ve made a mistake about you and you ought to be handed over to the police, then handed over you bloody well will be!’
‘Oh, I don’t doubt it,’ he said, shaking his head. ‘Please can I have another dressing on this? I don’t like looking at it — it’s ugly — and then I can sit down comfortably, and so can you.’
The effrontery of it amazed her. This boy was not long past seventeen yet he sat here with the aplomb of a man three times his age, and a man of enormous strength and wisdom, and she marvelled at him; but even more at herself, because she obeyed him and reached in her box for the dressings and the antiseptic.
‘Start talking,’ she said as she worked with her bandages, fixing a neat clean strip of plaster to each digit. ‘And don’t play games with me. I want the whole story —’
‘And nothing but the story,’ he ended. ‘I know. And I won’t waste my breath or your time any other way. I think you’ll have the — heart, I suppose, to see why and what. And after all there’s small harm done.’
Dangerous Things Page 35
