by Vivien Brown
bench at breaktime, she had looked unhappy, a bit withdrawn, and if it was because of her
parents’ break-up then I couldn’t help but feel at least partially to blame.
I was fairly sure Sarah had told her daughter nothing about Josh and me. She might well
be aware that we had met at uni, and even that we had dated as teenagers, but the full details
of our later connection had been kept from her, for which I was truly grateful. I loved Janey
and the last thing I wanted was for our relationship to suffer or for her to think badly of me.
I was still debating with myself whether to try to catch her on her own and see if I could
help in any way, when the dilemma was taken out of my hands. She came to see me.
‘Auntie Eve – sorry, Miss Peters – can I talk to you, please?’ I had found her hovering
outside the staffroom door at the start of the lunch break one Friday, staring down at her own
feet, and with no sign of her packed lunch. She was wearing her coat.
‘You don’t want to eat first?’
‘No, I’m not hungry, and this can’t wait. It’s . . . well, kind of personal.’
‘What is it, Janey? Do you want to come into the Head’s office? We can have some
privacy there as he’s out for the afternoon. Or would you rather go for a walk?’
‘Yes, please. A walk, away from school. Is that allowed? We need permission to leave
the building, don’t we? But as you’re . . .’
‘Yes, I think, in the circumstances, that will be okay. Let me just find my coat and we’ll
take a little stroll. I’ll sign us both out.’
There was a small park just two streets away and we headed there, finding a wooden
bench off the main pathway and sitting down side by side.
‘Look, Janey, Love, I know it must be hard for you, the way things are at home. Your
mum and dad have things to sort out and, whatever happens, they both love you, and none of
this, none of it, is your fault, okay?’
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‘I know all of that. Mum’s said it, in just about those exact same words, but it’s what grown-ups always say, isn’t it? When they’ve screwed up.’
‘I suppose it is, yes. Well-meaning though, I’m sure. You do have to try not to let it
worry you too much though, not to let it affect your school work, or make you unhappy. Things
will work out all right in the end. They generally do.’
‘I know.’ She sat very quietly for a while, one hand finding its way into mine, as we
watched a pigeon peck away at the remains of someone’s discarded sandwich lying beside an
overflowing bin. ‘But that’s not what’s worrying me. Well, not just that. And it’s so hard to
talk to either of them while they’re like this. All they really care about is their own problems.’
‘Oh dear. I’m sure that’s not true, and not how they want you to feel. But if there’s
something else bothering you and you really can’t find a way to tell them, well, you’ve always
got me. I’m a good listener.’
‘But can you keep secrets?’
I smiled inwardly. Me, keeper of such a huge secret for so many years! Yes, I could
keep secrets, but I wasn’t at all sure that I should.
‘That depends on the secret, Janey. Why not try me with it and we’ll take it from there.’
She lifted her head and looked up at the sky as if gathering her courage and then just
blurted it out.
‘I think I’m pregnant.’
‘What?’ I could feel a sudden rush of panic flow over me, and my hands started to
shake. This was the last thing I had been expecting.
‘You heard. I’m pregnant, Auntie Eve. What shall I do? Mum and Dad will go mad,
and there’s school, and . . .’
All I wanted to do was hug her, this sweet little girl I had loved all her life. I pulled her
towards me and buried my face in her hair. Janey was only fourteen. Too young, too innocent,
her whole life ahead of her. I could hardly take it in. Her shoulders shook and I could feel she was crumpling, struggling to cope. Oh my God, I was so close to crumpling too, but that wasn’t
why she had come to me. She needed help, advice, comfort, someone to take control . . .
‘Right. First of all, are you absolutely sure?’ I tried to switch to sensible, capable, adult
mode. ‘Periods can be a bit hit and miss in young girls. It might be nothing. Have you done a
test?’
‘I was too scared to ask for one in the chemist’s.’ She looked up at me, her expression
lost, her eyes pleading, and so like Josh’s. ‘What if someone sees me, or tells Mum? Even in
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the supermarket I didn’t have the nerve to put one in my basket. You never know who’s looking, and they cost so much.’
‘Okay, Sweetheart. First thing we have to do is make sure, okay? Let’s not start
worrying before we have the facts. How late are you?’
‘I haven’t had a period for two months. And I keep being sick.’
‘And – I’m sorry to have to ask you this, but you have actually slept with someone?
Had full sex with him? Because this can’t happen just from a kiss and a cuddle, you know.’
‘I’m not five! I do know how it works.’
‘I know, and I’m sorry, but I just needed to check, that’s all. And this person – this boy
– does he have a name?’
Janey shook her head.
‘I’m sure he does, but you’re not ready to tell me, eh?’
She shook her head again.
‘Janey, you’re underage. It’s against the law.’ I swallowed hard, trying not to picture
my niece in the arms of some leering, lecherous boy. ‘We will need to know who did this to
you.’
‘Did this to me? You make it sound like I was raped. I . . . we . . . wanted to do it.
Together. I wasn’t forced.’
‘Okay. Look, we can come back to all that later. For now, let’s get you tested, and
decide what’s best once we know for sure, okay?’
She nodded and snuggled closer into my side. ‘Thank you, Auntie Eve.’
‘What for?’
‘For not shouting at me. Not giving me a lecture. For helping me.’
‘I’m not sure I have helped you yet.’ I closed my eyes for a moment, letting the
awfulness of the situation wash over me, then took a deep breath and looked at my watch. I
had to stay strong, for Janey, no matter how sick and helpless I suddenly felt. ‘Half an hour left until we have to be back. Chemist’s?’
‘Okay.’
‘Don’t worry. You can wait outside. I’ll buy it, let them think it’s for me.’
‘Do you wish it was?’
‘Where did that come from?’
‘You don’t have any children and Mum said you’d like to. Maybe, if I have the baby, I
can give it to you?’
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I wanted to laugh at the sheer ridiculousness of the idea, but it was all just too tragic, too real, to do that. Instead I wrapped my arms tightly around my niece and held her close and
wondered which one of us was going to cry first.
***
‘We have to tell your parents, Janey.’
‘No!’ We were in my flat, after school, staring at the pregnancy testing stick that was
showing an undeniably positive result.
‘Come on. Your mum will be wondering where you are. Let me drive you home and
we can tell her together. Putting it off won’t make it go away, you know.’
‘But not now, not today. I need to think about it first. Talk to someone abou
t what I
want to do.’
‘An abortion clinic, do you mean? Or a counsellor? Because I can come with you. Or
your mum will. You really are way too young to make this kind of decision on your own. You
do know that, don’t you?’
‘That’s not what I meant. I want to talk to the . . . the father. He should know first,
before Mum and Dad. He should have some say in what happens, shouldn’t he? To the baby,
and to me.’
‘Maybe. That depends, Janey. On who he is. Is it someone from school? From your
class? Because if he’s your age, he’ll probably be even more shocked and frightened than you
are, I shouldn’t wonder. And his parents will have to know. And quite possibly the police.’
‘Police?’
‘I told you, Love, it’s against the law. You’re only fourteen.’
‘Then I won’t tell anyone who he is. You can’t make me. It’s not his fault, and I don’t
want him to get into trouble.’
‘Oh, Janey. You were grown up enough to get into this mess. Now you’re going to have
to be grown up about dealing with it too. Honesty is what we need now, and a clear head.
Abortion is one option, and the one I would advise you to at least consider, but if you decide
to go ahead and have the baby, and keep it, then you’re going to need all the help you can get.
With school, with money, being woken up in the middle of the night . . . and while you’re living at home, it will be a lot of work and disruption for your mum as well as for you. And how will
you involve the baby’s dad if you don’t want anyone to know who he is? It won’t work. It can’t
work.’
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She looked at me with that stubborn expression I had seen before, when she didn’t want to go to bed, didn’t want to do her homework, thought she knew best. ‘It’s my baby.’ She
gulped and laid a hand over her stomach. ‘Mine. Nobody else’s.’
‘Not his? The mysterious father?’
‘Well, yes, his too.’
‘Look, Janey, this is not the sort of secret I can keep. I’m sorry, but your parents have
to know. I’ll let you have tonight, to think, to talk to the dad if you must, but tomorrow I’m
going to have to talk to your mum. Or your dad. Whether you want me to, whether you come
with me, or not. Do you understand?’
She nodded, wiping the back of her hand across her cheek.
‘Are you sure you don’t want it?’ she pleaded. ‘You could adopt it so it stays as part of
the family.’
‘It doesn’t work like that, Janey.’
She dropped her head and stared at her feet. ‘Can we go now? I don’t want Mum getting
angry about not knowing where I am again.’
‘Of course we can. But tomorrow . . .’
‘Yes, I know.’ She stood up and turned her back on me. ‘Tomorrow you’re going to
wreck my life.’
My heart went out to her. So young, so unworldly, so bloody scared. ‘Okay, I’ll give
you until Sunday, so you can have a proper think, maybe even tell your mum yourself, but then
I’ll have to do it. You do know that?’
She nodded, reluctantly.
But as for wrecking your life, I think you’ve done that for yourself, I was itching to say, but I didn’t.
I reached for my car keys and drove her home, neither of us speaking on the way. Come
Sunday, unless Janey found the courage by then, I would have to go and see one of her parents,
or both of them. I’d probably find it easier talking to Josh. Yes, I’d start with Josh, and just knowing that I was about to see him again made me feel almost as wobbly as knowing what it
was I was going to have to say.
***
I should have known she would run away from it. She wasn’t answering her mobile and,
although as she’d got out of my car on Friday afternoon, she had promised to meet me outside
her father’s flat at eleven on Sunday, she didn’t show up.
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I sat in the car and waited, radio on, tapping my fingers against the steering wheel. Ten minutes, fifteen, twenty . . . At half past eleven I climbed out, locked up and walked slowly
towards Josh’s door. At least, I hoped it was Josh’s door and that she hadn’t deliberately given me a false address. I wouldn’t put it past her.
The florist’s shop was closed. I looked up at its aged sign. Petalicious. Something about such a frivolous name plastered across such a weathered old wooden shop front made me smile.
I peered past the half-closed blinds at the big vases of flowers and sprigs of foliage hovering there in the gloom. The place sounded vaguely familiar and I thought it might have been the
shop Lucy had worked in for a while when she first left school.
I heard the click of a lock and the door to the side of the shop opened.
‘Hello, Josh.’
He looked shocked to see me. ‘Eve. Wow! I didn’t expect this.’ He ran his hand through
his hair, which was probably the longest I’d seen it since we were in our twenties, and stood
aside to let me in. ‘Come in and go up. Excuse the mess. Bachelor pad, and all that. When
Janey’s not around, anyway. She does try to tidy things up when she’s here.’
‘She’s not here now?’ A sudden hope had welled up in me that she had arrived before
me and had been here all the time.
‘Nope. Not my turn this weekend.’ He closed the door and followed me up the narrow
staircase. The combination of plain scuffed walls, threadbare carpet and low-wattage lightbulb
with no shade gave it a gloomy air. ‘Which is good, because it means I get to see you by
yourself. Now, I’m hoping you’ve come because you can’t live another minute without me but
I’m guessing that’s not really why.’
We passed through a tiny square landing and into a cramped living area, his hand resting
on my back now as if to steer me in the right direction.
‘Josh, I . . .’ I hesitated. Now I was here I felt uncertain. Could I really tell him about
Janey? Should I be the one to do it? Perhaps I needed to give her another chance to do it herself.
Wherever she was hiding away, probably in her own bed, she couldn’t stay there forever. And
when she surfaced she’d have to face up to what was happening. A secret like that couldn’t
stay secret for long. What harm could another day or two do? She might even be confessing all
to Sarah at that very moment.
‘It’s okay. I feel a bit tongue-tied too. It’s been a long time. Too long.’ He guided me
to a small sofa, pushing a pile of papers aside so I could sit down. ‘Let me get you a coffee. Or something stronger maybe? And then we can talk.’
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‘It’s a bit early for something stronger. Coffee’s fine.’
He went through an archway into a tiny kitchen with no door, and I watched as he
poured water into a kettle and quickly rinsed a couple of mugs he’d fished out from a pile of
washing up in the sink. I couldn’t take my eyes off him, the shape of his head, the way he
moved, the easy familiarity of those long fingers wrapped around the mugs, everything I
remembered and cherished and still loved. When he came back and squeezed down into the
seat beside me, it was all I could do not to spill my heart out. Instead I concentrated on not
spilling the coffee.
‘Is it really over between you and Sarah? No going back?’
‘No going back, Eve. Why would I want to? There’s nothing there worth saving.’
I put my coffee down on the
tiny foldaway table beside me and turned towards him.
‘You do know how I feel about you, don’t you?’
‘I thought I did, but the last few times . . . well, you made it pretty clear we had no
future. Family first, and all that.’
‘Maybe I was wrong. If Sarah really doesn’t want to put things right. If she really
doesn’t want you . . .’ What was I doing? This was not what I had come here for. The timing
was all wrong. I needed to wait, until they were divorced, until he was free, until Janey had
shared her news, had the baby . . .
Before either of us could say anything else, he bent his head towards me and I felt his
lips close over mine. The warm rush of remembered feelings flooded through me. This was
what I had missed so much, what I still dreamed about, the one thing I had thought I could
never have again. I had traded this man, this love, against keeping my family, and family had
won, but now everything was different. Maybe, just maybe, I could have both.
‘Whatever it was you came here to say,’ he said, pulling back and nuzzling his face into
my neck, ‘I’m sure we could say it so much better without words.’ His fingers were on my
buttons now, slowly undoing them one by one, his touch sending little shivers across my skin,
and then he reached for my hand and started to pull me to my feet. ‘Come to bed, Eve.’
And I would have done it, would have let myself fall right back into that big warm
glorious pit of coupledom I had been longing for, but as he pushed me down gently onto his
bed my gaze fell on the bedside table, and the two wine glasses sitting there. Two glasses? By
the bed? I shrugged him off me and sat up, trying to get a closer look. One of them had a
mottled pink mark along the rim. Lipstick. It couldn’t be anything else.
‘What’s this?’
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He was right behind me now, kneeling with his hands on my shoulders, his face buried in my hair, so I wasn’t able to see the guilt I knew would be written there. His hand shot out
and scooped up both glasses. ‘Just stuff I haven’t got around to washing up yet. You know
what we men are like!’ He was trying to laugh it off, probably hoping I hadn’t spotted the