by Wendy Clarke
David was looking at her strangely. ‘What’s up? You look as if you’re about to murder that sausage, rather than eat it.’
‘Sorry.’ Beth took another mouthful of wine, only to find her cup was almost empty. How had that happened?
‘If you’re really interested, my friends are called Ewan and Cas,’ he said, eyeing her over his bottle of beer.
‘And the other? I thought you said there were three.’
‘Zara,’ he said, after a moment’s hesitation. ‘She’s called Zara. I met them at one of the magazines I’ve worked on. We have fun. Hang out.’
It was an odd choice of words, reminding Beth of how she’d reply if her dad asked if she’d had a good day at school.
‘It’s a shame they couldn’t be here.’
‘Yeah. Still,’ he said, gesturing to the food and drink. ‘All the more for us. Anyway, it gives me the chance to get to know you better.’
He gave his lovely smile and everything seemed normal again, but there was something she didn’t understand. Why would he be interested in someone like her when he knew women in London with names like Cas and Zara? If they worked for a magazine, they’d be features editors or advertising executives – maybe even models.
With his blue eyes and wild, sun-bleached hair, David could have his pick of sophisticated women in the city, while Beth’s only experience of the opposite sex had been a quick fumble in a bus stop in Ambleside with a boy who’d taken her to the cinema. A boy with acne, who’d forced her hand to his bulging crotch as a bus pulled in, swearing at her when she’d pulled it away in horror. It hadn’t been the best experience, and the girls all seemed to have heard about it the next day at school. Frigid, they’d called her.
‘I think it’s nice that you have such good friends,’ she said eventually.
‘What? Oh, yeah.’ His face went serious. ‘Haven’t you?’
‘Not really.’
David tipped her cup and looked inside. ‘I don’t think you should drink any more. I don’t want to get into trouble.’
How stupid that made her feel. ‘You’re telling me you didn’t drink when you were seventeen?’
‘No, I’m not saying that. It’s just that you don’t seem used to it.’
Beth drained the plastic cup, then picked up the half-empty bottle David had put on the ground between their seats, pouring herself some more. ‘I’m enjoying myself – there’s nothing wrong with that.’
David took a bite of his burger, rescuing a piece of lettuce that had escaped onto his lap. ‘No, there’s nothing wrong with enjoying yourself. Just take it easy, that’s all.’
‘You sound like my dad.’
‘Well, that’s better than sounding like my dad,’ David replied quietly. ‘He’s been dead for five years.’
Beth stared at him. Despite his questions about her life, it was the first time he’d revealed anything about his own. What had made him open up like this? Maybe it was the moonlight… or the wine… or simply that it was just the two of them here together.
‘I’m sorry,’ Beth replied, sensing his pain. She wanted to reach out and hold his hand, make him feel he could carry on, but she didn’t want to stop him either.
David dragged his fingers through his long hair and looked across to Langdon Fell, which was now just a purple ridge against the darkening sky. ‘Don’t be. He was an arsehole. Made my mum’s life a misery. Whoever said you have to love your parents is a liar. The day he died, I gave thanks to God. Not that I believe in one.’
Beth was shocked. ‘You don’t mean that.’
‘Oh, I do. Believe me. What about your father? What’s he like?’
‘He’s not my real dad. He’s my stepdad – although, strictly speaking, he’s not that either, as he and mum have never married. He’s kind and funny. When I was younger, he used to walk around with his underpants on his head to make me laugh, and he knows what to say when I’m down… Or rather, what not to say. Mum just seems to make things worse.’
‘I expect that’s because she cares about you.’
The second glass of wine was slipping down nicely. ‘I know that.’
Nobody, other than her parents, had talked to her like this before. As if they were truly interested. It made her glow inside.
David leant forward and reached out a hand. Gently, he cupped her face and looked at her. For one amazing moment, Beth thought he was going to kiss her, but instead he turned her head until she was looking away from him. The touch of his fingers on her skin made her shiver.
‘You have a lovely profile. I’d like to photograph you.’
Beth turned back to him, a challenge in her voice. ‘Don’t say things like that if you don’t mean them.’
He looked baffled. ‘Why would I say something I didn’t mean?’
‘Because that’s what people do.’
‘Well, I don’t. I believe in the principle that if you can’t mean what you say, then you should say nothing at all.’
She felt embarrassed. ‘I’m sorry. I don’t know what made me say that.’ The wine that earlier had made her feel happy and carefree, now seemed to be having the opposite effect.
‘Don’t worry about it, but I meant what I said. I’d like to photograph you. There’s a staggeringly beautiful tarn I found when I was out and about a few weeks ago. It would make a great backdrop. What do you say? We could go one day next week in the golden hour.’
‘The golden hour?’ She’d never heard of it.
‘It’s the time just before sunset, or after sunrise, when the angle of the sun creates long shadows, adding extra dimension. It’s when I take my best shots. You must have days at college when you have a later start? I could pick you up on one of those days.’
Whenever he was talking about his work, he became more animated, and it was catching. The thought of being alone with David when the sun rose was exciting. Thrilling. So what if it meant missing school? It would be worth it.
‘I’d love to.’
‘Great. I’ll give you a call and I’ll let you know when I think the weather will be right.’
As they swapped numbers, she thought she would burst with happiness. This evening, David had made her feel that she might be pretty… Beautiful, even. The world was lovely. Everything was lovely.
It was almost dark now and she could only just make out David’s face in the moonlight. Without thinking, she reached over and took his hand in her own. It was the bravest thing she’d ever done. His skin felt warm against hers and her stomach clenched in anticipation.
Instead of returning the pressure of her fingers, though, David pulled his hand away. Without a word, he got up from his chair and started picking up the dirty plates from the grass. He didn’t look at her. Wouldn’t.
Beth’s humiliation was complete.
Grabbing her bag, she struggled up from her chair and walked quickly away across the field, blinded by tears. When she reached the bridge, she ran, and it was only then that she felt the full effect of the alcohol she’d drunk. She stopped and leant against the rough stone wall. The mountains, which were nearly in darkness, were moving in a circle around her and she knew she was in danger of being sick.
She heard a shout. Someone was running across the field after her. Without looking to see who it was, she stumbled along the path to the kissing gate that led onto the road, struggling with the latch to get it open. She could no longer stop herself. Bending double, she retched into the hedge, straightening again as a car drove by, its headlights picking out the white of her blouse against the drystone wall.
And that was when it started to rain. Big fat drops that soaked her in seconds, but she felt nothing. Her life wasn’t worth living. Especially now that she’d realised whose forehead had been pressed against the passenger window as the car passed.
Nineteen
Ria
Ria’s mother stood in the middle of her living room, her hand to her throat. ‘Oh my goodness, Ria. A baby! Are you sure?’
Ria put dow
n her mug, the inside of it tanned from years of stewed tea. ‘I did three tests. You can’t get much surer than that.’ She felt a rush of love for her mum, glad that she’d taken it so well. ‘Have you had your hair done, Mum?’
It looked newly highlighted and she was wearing it a little longer than usual. The effect was one that Gareth would call ‘brassy’, but Ria thought it suited her.
‘Yesterday.’ Her mum lifted a hand to her hair. ‘Do you think it’s all right? I asked Geraldine to make it a bit lighter, but I think she might have gone rather overboard. Not that your father would notice. Sometimes I think he wouldn’t say anything if I dyed it green. Anyway, why are we talking about me when you’ve just given me such lovely news?’
‘You promise you’re not just saying that?’
‘Goodness me, no. I know I should be telling you that you’re far too young, but what would be the point of that? It wouldn’t change anything. Has Gareth told his parents yet?’
‘He doesn’t speak to them,’ Ria said, remembering the way his face had set the first time she’d asked about them. How he’d left the room and slammed the door behind him. She hadn’t asked again.
A flicker of disappointment crossed her mum’s face. ‘That’s a shame but, never mind. We’ll be here for you both.’ She held out her arms, her smile wide. ‘Bringing a baby into the world is the most wonderful thing. I should know. Come here.’
Pulling her daughter into her arms, she gave her a hug and Ria felt her shoulders sag with relief. Her mum was only the first hurdle, though.
Walking over to the window, Ria pulled back the net curtain. Her dad was down the bottom of the garden in his blue mechanic’s overalls, squatting beside his motorbike, a frown of concentration on his face. ‘You’d think he’d be sick of the sight of engines after a week at the garage.’
Her mother smiled. ‘You know your dad.’
As they watched, he put down his spanner and stood up. He looked towards the house and, when he saw the two of them at the window, raised his hand in greeting.
‘What do you think he’ll say, Mum?’ Ria dropped the curtain.
‘He’ll be as thrilled as I am. And if he’s not, I’ll give him what for.’
Ria laughed. She’d been dreading telling her parents for fear they’d think she’d let them down but, with her mum on her side, she knew that everything would be all right.
‘Gareth wanted to come over with me today, but he wasn’t feeling too good. Man flu, probably. He sends his love,’ she said, embarrassed at having to lie. All the way here, she’d been trying to think of an excuse for him and that had been the best she’d come up with.
‘That’s a shame. I was hoping we’d get to meet him at long last.’
‘Yes, we’re beginning to think the lad’s got three heads or something.’ Her dad stood in the doorway, wiping his hands with a rag that was now covered in grease. His wiry dark hair had a peppering of grey in it that Ria hadn’t noticed before.
Popping open his blue overalls, he slipped his arms out of the sleeves and stepped out of them. Underneath, he was wearing his favourite Def Leppard T-shirt and a baggy pair of jeans.
‘So, what brings you over here this sunny afternoon? We haven’t seen much of you lately.’
‘Don’t make a fuss, Brian, or she won’t come at all… And get those dirty overalls off my living room carpet.’
‘It hasn’t been that long, Dad.’ In her head, Ria tried to work out when she’d last visited the small semi in Clapham which had been her childhood home. She was shocked to realise it was almost two months ago.
‘Well, you’re here now,’ he said, ‘and I suppose that’s all that matters.’
Ria went over to him and gave him a hug, smelling the motor oil that permeated his clothing, pleased to feel the squeeze of his arms in return. ‘The thing is, Dad, I have some news.’
‘Oh, yes?’
She swallowed. There was no easy way of saying it. ‘Gareth and I are going to have a baby.’
Her dad stood back and scratched his head. ‘You’re joking, right?’ He looked at Ria, and then at her mother, for any sign that this wasn’t really happening.
‘No, Dad. It’s not a joke.’
Pulling out a chair, he sat down heavily. ‘You’re only twenty, for goodness sake. What about your studies?’
Ria bit the inside of her cheek. ‘Gareth decided… we decided… that it would be best if I give this year a miss, take a break and then maybe carry on with it when the baby’s older.’
‘Maybe?’ Getting up again and walking over to the sideboard, her dad picked up a photograph from the collection that jostled for space on the veneered surface. The frames were mismatched and had been picked up by her mother at car boot sales. The photograph he was looking at now was of the three of them on a caravan holiday in France. ‘You’ve worked damn hard for this degree. You’ve only one year left. Don’t throw it all away.’
He put the photograph back with the others, then turned and looked at her. ‘Did you plan it?’
‘You can’t ask her questions like that, Brian. It’s none of our business.’
‘She’s our daughter. Of course, it’s our business.’
‘No, it wasn’t planned.’ Ria looked away, her neck reddening as she remembered the night it must have happened. She’d forgotten to take her pill that morning, but Gareth had refused to wear a condom. It will be all right, he’d said, pushing her down onto the bed, and she’d believed him. It was only now that she realised the risk they’d taken.
‘And you can afford a child?’
‘Gareth’s got a good job. I told you that last time I was here.’
‘So you did. And what was it you said he did exactly?’
Ria looked away, embarrassed that she wasn’t entirely sure. Whenever she asked him about it, he would tell her that he made money and that was all she needed to know. ‘He’s a broker… in the city.’
Her father’s face softened. ‘I’m sorry for giving you a hard time, love. I just want to know my little girl is okay.’
‘I’m fine, Dad.’ Her hands moved to her stomach. ‘In fact, I couldn’t be happier.’
Taking her face in his hands, he kissed her cheek. ‘Then I couldn’t be either. That’s all I needed to hear. Why don’t your mum and I come over sometime and we can meet this young man of yours? What about on your birthday? We could go out for a meal, or your mum could bring something over. Whatever you want.’
‘Thanks, Dad. That would be nice. I’ll check with Gareth.’
‘It’s your birthday, love. You decide what you’d like to do.’
Her mum gave him a stare. ‘Brian.’
‘It’s all right, Mum. Dad’s right. Of course you must come, and we’ll go out if you’re happy with that. There’s a great Italian around the corner from the house.’
Her dad nodded, his eyes remaining on hers. ‘That’s a plan then.’
* * *
When she got home, Gareth was in his study, his eyes fixed on the screen of his computer. ‘Good day?’
There was no apology for not having come with her to share their news. For ducking out at the last minute.
Dropping her coat and bag onto the floor, a habit from childhood she’d never managed to break, she went over to him. He swivelled his chair to face her and, as he did, she knew by the way his face hardened that he’d noticed her things on the floor. Part of her wanted to go back and hang them up, but she forced herself not to. If they were going to live together permanently, he was going to have to relax a little more.
Wondering what he’d do, she sat on his lap and kissed him, relieved when she felt his hands slip under her blouse. ‘Yes, I had a nice time. Mum makes a great shepherd’s pie. It was a shame you couldn’t come with me. I missed you.’
Pulling back the collar of her blouse, Gareth kissed her neck. ‘Then I’d better make up for it now, hadn’t I?’
She put her arms around his neck and rubbed her cheek against his. ‘They’re going
to come over on my birthday next week so that they can meet you. I thought we’d go to that Italian on the corner.’
Gareth moved his head away from hers. His voice was cold. ‘I hope you don’t mean on the actual day of your birthday?’
‘Yes, for lunch. Why? Is that a problem?’
Pushing her from his lap, he swung the office chair towards the computer again. ‘No. Why would it be?’
‘Because of the way you said it. What’s the matter, Gareth? Don’t you want to meet them?’
His eyes were fixed on the screen. ‘You do what you like. I’ll probably be working, anyway.’
‘On a Saturday?’
‘Of course on a Saturday. The world doesn’t stop just because of your fucking birthday.’
Ria stepped back, her eyes filling with tears. He’d never sworn at her before. She tried to control the wobble in her voice. ‘No, of course it doesn’t. That wasn’t what I meant.’
Leaving him in the study, Ria went into the living room and curled up on the leather settee. It was firm, the leather stretched tightly over the padded frame, and she wished there was a cushion to give her comfort. She closed her eyes. Her pregnancy and the emotions of the day had left her exhausted and, in a few moments, she felt herself drifting into sleep.
‘I’m sorry, baby.’ Gareth’s voice cut into her dream. Opening her eyes, he came into focus. He was standing beside the settee, his arms folded. Even in jeans and a T-shirt he looked as though he’d given thought to his clothes.
Knowing how difficult he found it to apologise, she loved him for it.
‘It’s all right.’
Gareth knelt beside her. ‘I didn’t mean to get cross, but sometimes you say the stupidest things and I can’t help it.’