Father Unknown

by Fay Sampson

  ‘Sure. Your daughter. I’ve been taking up too much of your time. Forgive me. I just got carried away.’

  ‘You stay on.’ Suzie smiled gamely. ‘You can ask them to get that lease out for you. It might be the family of your Adam.’

  ‘No. We’ll leave that for another day – if you’re still interested. I’ve had a great time.’ Her amiable eyes grew shrewd. ‘There’s something wrong, isn’t there? You were kind of freaked out over lunch. I shouldn’t have kept you.’

  ‘No. I enjoyed it. Really. But I have to go. Will you come back to eat with us?’

  Prudence’s eyes measured her. ‘You’ve been a great hostess. But I guess there are times when a family needs to be on its own. It’s OK. You don’t have to tell me what’s wrong. Besides, I met up with some fellow Americans at the hotel. They’ve invited me to the theatre with them this evening. I’ll call us a taxi.’

  ‘No. It’s all right. I usually walk home from here.’

  ‘And I could go back on the bus, like we came here. But, hey, I’m not short of money. I’m taking you home my way.’

  For all her protests, Suzie was grateful to let herself be shepherded into a taxi and whirled home in a matter of minutes. She felt the warmth of the American’s sympathy as they parted. Prudence had seen more from behind those tortoiseshell glasses than Suzie had realized.

  The house was quiet as she hurried up the drive. But then, Millie had never been a noisy child. If Tom had been home, the walls would be thrumming with music. What Millie played was discreetly masked by headphones.

  She unlocked the door. ‘Millie?’

  The silence lengthened. Then, a distant: ‘Hi.’

  Suzie climbed the stairs. She was frightened. The receipt she held in her hand could change all their lives.

  She stood in the bedroom doorway. The blonde stranger who was her daughter lay on the bed, headphones on. It was hard to tell whether her expression was hostile, or just wary.

  Suzie held out the paper. ‘We need to talk. Would you take those headphones off?’

  She sat down on the bed, not sure if she was invading Millie’s personal space, but wanting to convey sympathy, not condemnation.

  ‘I found this when I was sorting out the bathroom rubbish. Is it yours?’ A foolish question. Who else’s could it be?

  Millie looked at the receipt. Her expression did not change. ‘Yes.’

  ‘Have you . . . Have you used it?’

  ‘No.’

  ‘But you thought . . . You must have thought you might be . . . Do you still think . . .?’

  Millie’s grey eyes gave nothing away. ‘So what if I am? Is it any business of yours?’

  ‘Of course it is! How can you say that? You’re my daughter, for heaven’s sake!’

  ‘Parents don’t own their daughter’s bodies.’

  ‘We’re not just talking about bodies. Though that’s important, too. It’s people. You. You’re only fourteen, love. That’s not nearly old enough to be a mother. What were you thinking of? It shouldn’t even be a possibility. You’ve got your life in front of you. And if there’s a baby, you’ll have responsibilities to it. We all will. We’re its grandparents. And who’s its father?’

  ‘Supposing there is a baby.’

  ‘Well, is there? Why buy a pregnancy kit if you’re not intending to use it? And you must have done something to make you believe it could happen.’

  It was hard to keep her voice from rising. She hadn’t meant to sound censorious. She tried to move closer, but saw Millie shrink back. Her voice softened. ‘Look, love. I know this must have been a shock to you. But you need to tell us what happened. We can share it. You may have been foolish, but no one’s going to condemn you. We’ll stand by you and give you all the help we can. But you say you haven’t used the kit. Does that mean your period came? It’s all right now?’

  ‘And it would be all right if there weren’t a baby, would it?’

  ‘Well, no. I suppose it wouldn’t. You’re under age. Whoever it is shouldn’t be having sex with a fourteen-year-old. Is he someone we know? I didn’t think you were dating anyone.’

  ‘I’m not.’

  ‘Then . . .’ Worse thoughts were chasing through her brain. ‘Did someone force you? Were you . . .’

  ‘Raped?’

  Suzie stared at her daughter, at that small, unreadable face. ‘Millie. I need to know.’

  ‘You seem to be able to imagine plenty, without my help.’

  ‘Millie! You have to say.’

  ‘No, I don’t.’

  Suzie knew when she was defeated. She got to her feet. ‘I hoped we could talk about this together. Sort something out. Decide how to break it to your father. He’s going to be really upset.’

  ‘Fathers and daughters. Like we’re their property.’

  ‘How can you say that? Nick thinks the world of you.’

  ‘And you don’t?’

  ‘That’s not what I meant. You’re twisting everything I say.’

  ‘Or maybe you are.’

  Suzie gazed at those grey eyes in silence. Then she turned for the door and made her way downstairs. She felt sick. Her attempts to help had ended in confusing failure.

  Was she a grandmother, or not?

  ‘I’ll kill him.’ Nick’s black hair hung over his brow like a thundercloud. ‘Whoever did this, I’ll kill him.’

  They were standing in the garden, screened from the house by a blue-flowering bush of ceanothus. Suzie crumbled petals between her fingers. ‘Why won’t she say? Whether she’s pregnant or not?’

  ‘It shouldn’t even be a possibility, at her age.’ His deep-blue eyes shot up to hers almost accusingly. ‘You’d know, wouldn’t you? You’re a woman. There must be . . . evidence.’

  ‘I don’t mark off the contents of the bathroom bin on the calendar. It was only today. Just happening to read that receipt. Are you going to talk to her?’

  ‘Too right, I am. I’ll get his name out of her, if I have to screw her neck to do it.’

  ‘I don’t think coming down hard will help. You know Millie.’

  For all his violent words, still Nick stood irresolute. She felt a rush of compassion. This language wasn’t like him.

  She laid a hand on his arm, feeling the warm skin. ‘Look. I’m as angry as you are. But we have to stand by her. Whether she’s pregnant or not, something has happened we can’t change. We have to love her through it.’

  ‘You think I don’t love her? That’s what hurts so much. My little Millie.’

  Yes, she thought, with a flash of knowledge. Your little daughter. Millie was right. Fathers can’t help thinking they own their daughters. And now, Millie belongs to another man. Or at least a boy. That hurts you.

  ‘What I don’t understand,’ she said, ‘is who it could be. She doesn’t have a boyfriend. She said as much herself. I find it hard to believe she’d risk a one-night stand with a boy she didn’t care much about. Unless . . . Do you think it was someone older? Someone who could exert some kind of hold over her? One of Tom’s friends from the sixth form, perhaps. She might have had a crush on him. Or even . . .’

  ‘A teacher?’

  They contemplated the dark possibilities.

  Nick drew himself together. ‘I’m going to see her.’

  ‘Tread carefully. I tried, and I got nowhere. I can’t understand why she wouldn’t tell me. What it was she wasn’t telling me.’

  ‘I’m not sure we ever have understood Millie.’

  She watched his tall form walk towards the house and found herself praying he’d find the right words. It was just possible Millie might soften for her father in a way she hadn’t done for Suzie.

  As he disappeared indoors, Prudence’s words came back to her. ‘Guess she’ll keep you awake a few nights, worrying about a girl who looks like that.’ She hadn’t expected it to happen so soon.

  She sat on the bench by the pond, watching the sinuous flickering of goldfish and shubunkins. Their underwater dance did not relax
her as it usually did.

  When Nick came out of the patio doors, she read the answer in his hunched shoulders and the hands clenched at his sides. She wanted to hug him, but she was afraid to touch his tensely-strung body.

  ‘She’s still not saying, is she?’

  ‘No. But I’ll find out who he is, if it’s the last thing I do.’

  FIVE

  It had been Suzie who insisted they continue the search together. On the phone, she had brushed aside Prudence’s tactful assurance that she’d be fine researching on her own. ‘You’re right. We do have a problem at home. But I’ll be better filling up the time while Millie’s at school than brooding. And we never did get to see that lease for Hole.’

  ‘You don’t think we’ll get that snooty guy who thinks we should stick to microfiche?’

  ‘If they’ve filmed it, fair enough. But I doubt it. We won’t know if there’s more information to find than there was on the abstract until we see the document.’

  Now, as they walked down the road from the bus stop through the industrial estate to the Record Office, Suzie felt the motherly sympathy of the woman beside her. She was grateful that Prudence hadn’t prodded her to say what was troubling her, yet had made it clear she knew something was wrong and was concerned for her new friend.

  ‘It’s Millie,’ Suzie said suddenly, before she could stop herself. ‘She bought a pregnancy testing kit, but she won’t say why. She says she hasn’t used it. And she won’t even tell us whether she’s pregnant or not. Or who the boy was . . . Or the man.’

  It made her feel sick to put that dark thought into words.

  ‘So you guessed she’d been having sex?’

  ‘Well, of course! Why else would she buy that kit? That’s what makes it even more upsetting. We didn’t even know she had a boyfriend.’

  ‘And does she?’

  ‘She says no.’

  Prudence was silent for a long while. She looked at Suzie thoughtfully as they walked. As they turned into the car park she said, ‘You’re right. There’s something going on here. You want to pray about it?’

  Suzie was startled. No one had ever made that sort of suggestion to her, outside a church. ‘Well, I . . .’

  ‘Sure. I forgot. You folks over here are more buttoned-up about that sort of thing. Don’t worry. I can do it for both of us.’ She sat down on a bench outside the entrance and folded her hands in her lap.

  After a hesitation, Suzie joined her.

  Prudence’s tone was almost chatty. ‘Dear Lord, it seems like Millie’s gotten herself into some kind of situation that could lead to trouble. Love her like the Father you are. Guide her in the way she needs to go. And put your arms round Suzie here, and Nick, because they’re hurting for her. Give them the wisdom to say and do the right things for Millie.’

  Suzie murmured an embarrassed Amen.

  Yet, as she got to her feet, she felt more supported. Someone was helping her shoulder this burden. She couldn’t imagine any of her other friends making the same response, if she’d shared this confidence over a cup of coffee. But perhaps she underestimated them.

  Inside, they walked up to the enquiry desk. They exchanged conspiratorial glances. Would they really be allowed to see the original lease?

  This time, it was a younger woman who turned a helpful smile on them. Once again, Suzie passed across the paper on which she had written the catalogue number of the document.

  ‘Yes, it pays to see the original, if you can,’ the archivist agreed. ‘We can’t possibly put all the details in the catalogue. That’s just there to whet your appetite.’

  The lease, when it appeared, had been folded for so many years that the ink was wearing away on the creases. The archivist brought them weights to hold it flat.

  The handwriting was hard to read. Not only because of the fading ink, but because the letters were formed in an archaic way.

  Suzie frowned as she laboured to decipher it. ‘I can get the first bit. Sir George Salter of Haddon, knight. He must be the landowner. And Adam Clayson, husbandman. Well, we already knew their names from the abstract on the website.

  ‘What’s this “husbandman”? Does it mean he’s got a wife?’

  ‘No, that was the name for a small-scale farmer, less than a yeoman. The lease is for Hole, in the parish of Corley and the . . . I think that says watercourse . . . running through it. Well, that makes sense. If Hole is in a hollow, there’d be a stream down there, wouldn’t there?’

  She tried to read on, but it became more difficult, now that she had got past the words she already knew from the Internet catalogue. ‘Something something lawful English money, something two capons–that’s castrated cocks – or three shillings. So he had alternative ways of paying his rent.’

  She was suddenly desperate to get home. ‘Look, why don’t I ask if I can photocopy it? Then we can wrestle with it in our own time.’

  ‘Sure.’

  If Prudence was disappointed, she was trying not to show it.

  Nick slid an arm round Suzie’s waist as she chopped parsley in the kitchen.

  ‘I see you’re still doing your bit for Anglo-American relations.’

  Suzie pushed back a lock of falling hair. ‘I’m not sure I really meant to. I invited her back here for a meal, but I didn’t think she’d come. I didn’t press her. I was just being polite. I’d already told her why I was upset about Millie. I thought she’d do the tactful thing and leave us to ourselves tonight.’

  ‘At least Millie’s not giving her the cold shoulder.’

  Beyond the kitchen, they could see Prudence and Millie in the conservatory. Prudence had her back to them. Only her brown waves showed over the back of the sofa. They had a sideways view of Millie, curled in a cane armchair. The television was on, but the two were talking. At least, Millie occasionally turned her head and said something, if briefly.

  ‘I’m glad she’s making an effort to be polite.’

  ‘Millie cares about people, you know.’

  ‘I was afraid . . . I didn’t tell you. Prudence suggested we pray about Millie. On a bench, outside the Record Office. Wouldn’t it be too embarrassing if she tried to pray over Millie?’

  ‘Who knows?’ Nick’s grin warmed his eyes for her. ‘You never know with Millie. She might not be as negative about it as you might think.’

  ‘That’s what gets to me. I don’t really know my own daughter, do I?’ She chopped fiercely. ‘You might like to tell them that tea will be ready in five minutes.’

  ‘Will do.’

  They made polite conversation over the meal. Prudence told them something more of how she had traced Adam Clayson back to south-west England.

  ‘It was my son who got me on to it. He’s the one who’s hot on this computer business. He looked up the passenger lists of immigrant ships in the eighteenth century and got no joy. But then he hit pay dirt. He tracked down a crew list. And there Adam was.’

  ‘A crew list? So he worked his passage to the New World? Good for him.’

  ‘Adam Clayson, twenty-five, from Corley, Devonshire England. Deckhand on the good ship Tavy out of Plymouth, 1764. And the date checked out with the immigrant records.’

  ‘So he jumped ship when he got to America?’

  Prudence bridled. ‘He’d worked his passage. So, of course, when I knew what part of this country he’d come from, I had to come and investigate.’

  ‘We can take you to Corley on Saturday,’ Nick volunteered.

  ‘No, really. You guys have lives of your own to lead. I can get the bus.’

  ‘I’m not sure that you can. Buses can be pretty thin on the ground to some of those outlying villages.’

  ‘I thought you Brits had got this public transport thing wrapped up?’

  ‘The lure of the motor car has got to us, too. Buses are an endangered species.’

  ‘And we usually do go out on Saturdays on the family history trail,’ Suzie added. ‘We’d love to take you.’ She did her best to sound enthusiastic. Her eye
s kept straying to Millie, across the table. Millie’s eyes were on her plate. She was not joining in the conversation. Would it be right to leave her on her own, the way things were?

  Common sense told her that Millie probably wouldn’t stay home, anyway. She’d be off into town with Tamara, looking round the shops, having milkshakes with their friends.

  As soon as the meal was over, Millie slipped away to do homework.

  Prudence settled back in her chair and gave them a broad beam. ‘Guess I can set your minds at rest about a couple of things. Your Millie’s not expecting. And she’s never been with a boy.’

  Suzie felt her jaw drop. ‘She told you?’

  ‘Maybe it’s easier that I’m not family. I didn’t come carrying any baggage. But I did let her know that her folks are concerned. Talked to her like a Dutch uncle. Can I say that? I’ve never heard of a Dutch aunt.’

  ‘And she didn’t clam up? Or stalk out of the room?’

  ‘I guess she’s feeling just a little bit guilty. Glad to have someone put the record straight.’

  ‘But why wouldn’t she tell me?’ Suzie protested.

  Prudence’s colour heightened. ‘You guys have been so kind to me, I feel bad about saying this. But I kinda think Millie wasn’t levelling with you because she was angry.’

  ‘Angry? About what?

  ‘We–ell, maybe you jumped to conclusions about what was going on. I mean, it’s only natural. Most parents would.’

  ‘What was I supposed to think? What else could it have been?’

  ‘Did you ever think that kit might be for somebody else?’

  Suzie and Nick stared at her. A sudden joy was flaring in Suzie’s heart.

  ‘Not Millie?’

  ‘I think she was kinda hurt that you thought it might be her. Plus, she’s protecting someone.’

  Nick buried his head in his hands. ‘I thought . . . I was afraid . . . someone had forced her into it. Someone older.’

  ‘It’s not that bad,’ Prudence consoled him. ‘Or not for Millie. But I’d better warn you. Millie wasn’t telling me everything by a long shot. There’s something else going on here. And whatever it is, it’s got Millie scared.’