by Nesta Tuomey
‘I’ll miss you, Claire-bear,’ she said wistfully. ‘It’ll be dull here with only the boys and Ruthie.’
Claire hugged her back, feeling immeasurably cheered. She went to say goodbye to Ruthie and blinked back easy tears as the little girl clung fondly about her neck. Of Hugh there was no sign. When she went out to the car Jane was in the driver’s seat and Eddie was lifting their cases into the boot.
Annette was taken by surprise when she opened the door to find Jane and Claire on the doorstep. She had not expected her daughter back until Saturday and now here she was on Tuesday afternoon. Annette could not help feeling cheated. She had counted on two whole weeks. Nothing ever worked out the way you expected.
While Claire went up to her room Jane sat down with Annette in the kitchen and proceeded to quiz her about Claire’s health. Had Annette noticed anything amiss with the girl lately? Was she depressed or unusually nervous or unable to sleep? Was she as affectionate as she usually was?
Annette shook her head. She felt vaguely apprehensive and at the same time irritated by Jane’s questions. They could have equally applied to any one of them, she thought. They were all of them going through a difficult time since Jim deserted them. Christopher had started smoking. She had smelled it the minute she came in the front door. When she went upstairs he had been sitting on the edge of the bath with the window open, puffing away. All his class were doing it, he’d said defiantly. Annette was shocked. He was only eleven, for God’s sake! She herself wasn’t sleeping well. And she often felt depressed these days. Why was Jane going on like this about Claire, who had just been away on holiday?
‘Get to the point, Jane,’ Annette sighed.
‘It’s just that she seemed rather depressed away on the holiday,’ Jane said, ‘I was wondering if you had seen any signs of it yourself just before she went away. Whether you had noticed her any less affectionate or outgoing? You know, not so inclined to give you a hug?’
‘Claire has never liked being hugged, not by me at any rate. Anyone would think I was her enemy. She has always been prone to nervous outbursts and nightmares, but if there is anything seriously wrong, please tell me.’
Jane debated whether or not to give her the whole truth. It was a tricky situation. She could hardly say that she suspected Claire’s father of abusing her. Jane had met Jim only once or twice and he had seemed nice enough. She could be making a terrible mistake. She decided the best thing might be to edit her declaration until she had discussed the situation with another doctor.
‘I’ve noticed she’s a bit run down, getting dizzy spells,’ Jane hedged. ‘She could be anaemic. I’m arranging for a colleague of mine to take a look at her.’
‘Is that all?’ Annette was relieved. ‘Why didn’t you say so? I was beginning to think she had leukaemia or something dreadful.’
Jane got up. ‘Can I take it you’re in agreement if I book her into hospital overnight?’
‘Surely it’s not that urgent?’ Annette looked surprised.
‘No point in putting it off,’ Jane told her. ‘Now is as good a time as any. Don’t forget she’ll be back at school next week.’
‘Whatever you think, Jane. You’re the doctor,’ Annette said, half-joking, half-resigned, and secretly glad for anyone to take on the burden of looking after her children. She saw Jane out, then fortified herself with another cup of coffee before steeling herself to go up and hear all about the wonderful seaside holiday.
That afternoon Eddie took his sons to play at the local golf course. On the drive there he noticed that they seemed unusually subdued. Normally, Hugh noisily vied with Terry for his father’s attention but today he did not even seem to be listening to anything Eddie said. And Terry for once had little to say.
Glimpsing Hugh’s pale, woebegone face in his rear-view mirror Eddie blamed his son’s apathy on too many late nights.
‘Bed early for everyone tonight,’ Eddie announced with a sardonic grin, and waited for an outcry. When none came he was amazed. ‘And that includes you too, Terry my boy,’ he added, in case his eldest son believed his seniority would save him.
‘Sure Dad,’ Terry said, gazing absently ahead. Eddie sighed and drove through the entrance to the club in silence.
That morning Terry had come upon evidence that Hugh had been been too lazy during the night to visit the toilet, and vigorously tackled him.
‘Smelly little wimp,’ Terry had jeered, disdainfully flicking drops from off the end of his fingers. Instead of humbly begging his pardon, Hugh had suddenly backed him on to the bed with such force that his head cracked against the brass bedstead. Next thing Terry felt an iron, unrelenting knee on his windpipe.
‘Shut the fuck up!’ Hugh said in a coldly menacing voice, ‘or I’ll make you bloody well drink it.’
‘Oh yeah?’ Terry croaked, but with a lot less force.
Who did Hugh think he was anyway handing out threats like that? He had a bloody nerve!
Terry hoisted the bag containing the golf clubs on his shoulder and as they strolled on to the first tee, debated whether to raise the urinary incident. He cast a speculative glance at his brother’s preoccupied expression and regretfully decided to hold his tongue. You could never be sure with Hugh just how he’d react. Terry frowned. For a while this morning he had felt - not scared exactly - but well, apprehensive. Definitely apprehensive. Despite himself, Terry felt the beginnings of a grudging respect for his younger brother.
Hugh played badly, every shot wide of the mark. By contrast Terry seemed inspired. On the second hole he placed the ball only an inch short of the green and, with his second shot, lobbed it into the hole. Terry was noisy with delight.
‘Remind me some time to show you how to win, Hugh,’ he boasted.
‘I thought you already had,’ Hugh said thoughtfully. Terry flushed and walked in sulky silence to the next tee.
Eddie played his shot. It landed on the green. Pleased he turned and ruffled Hugh’s hair. The boy twisted away. When Eddie picked up his clubs again and moved on, Hugh was careful to avoid going close to his father.
Some hours after Jane had arrived back in town she sat in a small clinically furnished room with its surrounding walls covered by posters on every aspect of pregnancy and birth control and outlined her suspicions to the quietly listening woman who was her friend and colleague.
‘Although I am not absolutely certain that it was the father, and short of asking the child outright I have no way of knowing for sure, yet somehow it all seems to fit. She was terribly upset when he left and yet relieved too in a way, saying she hated him and was glad he was gone. The mother also revealed one or two things which strengthened my conviction: namely the girl’s inability to express physical affection, as well as her tendency to nightmares and nervy and irrational outbursts. Classic symptoms of this kind of tragic situation.’
‘It certainly bears all the hallmarks,’ Detta said thoughtfully. ‘How old is she?’
‘Her birthday is around about the same date as my daughter’s and Sheena won’t be fourteen until the middle of June.’
‘Only kids,’ Detta said soberly. ‘What I would be most concerned about is her mental state if she were forced to carry the baby full term.’
‘My feelings exactly,’ Jane agreed. ‘Some years ago when her baby sister died Claire suffered severe trauma at the time and is not entirely recovered from it yet. I honestly believe her present dilemma could be the unhinging factor.’
‘So Jane,’ Detta gave her an appraising look. ‘are you saying she should have a termination?’
Jane sat very still. Yes, she supposed she was. She had not thought she would be put to the test so soon. Jane shuddered and, realising Detta was still waiting for her answer, slowly nodded.
‘Yes, having taken all things into consideration.’
Detta reached for the telephone. ‘Okay, Jane,’ she said firmly. ‘I’m fully in agreement. In view of her shaky mental condition and the risks involved, the girl should not be put thr
ough the ordeal. The sooner she’s seen to the better.’
When Detta put the telephone down it was all arranged that Claire would be admitted to a privately run clinic next day, ostensibly to have a D and C carried out. She would be kept overnight and allowed home on Thursday.
As soon as she reached home Jane rang Annette and told her that Claire was booked in for her check-up next day.
‘They may want to do certain tests so she must be fasting,’ Jane said. ‘If you like I can bring her there myself, but it will be early. Eddie is driving up from Waterford first thing to be at his consulting rooms before nine and I’m aiming to be back with the children by midday.’
‘I understand,’ Annette said bewildered, not understanding at all. At least, not about all the rush where Claire was concerned. ‘I’ll have her ready. And thanks for everything.’
Jane put down the phone and went to have her tea. She felt tired and was aware that she had just taken a huge decision on Claire’s behalf. But now that it was done, she felt it had been the right one. In the circumstances it would have been too callous to allow her to continue with her pregnancy. As Detta so rightly said girls at this age were still only children themselves and must be protected.
Next day Claire followed Jane over the gleaming parquet floor, overnight bag in hand. She waited while Jane spoke to a woman at the reception desk and tried not to feel lonely when the woman beckoned her down a corridor and showed her into a room.
‘Take off your things, love,’ she said, ‘and slip this on.’ Claire recognised the theatre gown from the time she had been in hospital having her appendix removed. She gazed at it uneasily.
Jane put her head round the door. ‘Don’t worry,’ she said, seeing Claire’s troubled expression. ‘There’s absolutely nothing to be alarmed about.’ She came in, smiling encouragingly. ‘I’ll wait with you until you’ve undressed.’
Claire’s back felt chilly. She slipped down deeper in the bed and gradually began to warm up. A dark-haired nurse came in with a hot water bottle and slipped it under the covers. That helped quite a bit. When Jane had kissed her and gone away, Claire lay looking at the light beyond the window. If felt strange to be in bed so early in the day. Various people, nurses and, she supposed, a doctor came in to sit on the bed and take blood from her arm and ask her to give them a specimen of urine. All of them seemed to think she was older than she was and that she was suffering from painful periods. Not that her periods were ever pleasant but Claire wouldn’t exactly have described them as painful. She still wasn’t quite sure what she was doing there.
‘You won’t know yourself afterwards,’ the nurse who took blood from her said. ‘You’ll be glad to have it over with, pet.’ She stroked Claire’s hair back from her forehead and said how pretty she was. ‘A right little blondie!’ she smiled. Claire felt a sudden pang, remembering the first time Eddie had called her that. They were all so kind to her that she felt like crying. Lately she was becoming so weepy. She had only to read something sad and the tears began flowing at once. Even as she thought this her eyes filled up. She reached under the pillow for a tissue.
‘Ah now,’ the dark-haired nurse said, coming in the door again. ‘You’re a bit lonely I expect. I have something here that will relax you.’ She handed Claire a tablet and told her to take a sip of water to wash it down. In a few minutes Claire began to feel drowsy.
‘What still awake?’ It was the same nurse bending over her. ‘You’ll be going down to the theatre in a minute.’
Theatre? Claire’s head felt muzzy. She knew there was something she should remember but it eluded her.
She lay flat, gazing dopily at the moving ceiling. They she realised that she was moving. She was rolling along, vaguely aware of a murmured conversation going on over her head. Someone was helping her off the trolley on to a high bed. She felt them doing something to her arm. More voices seemed to be telling her that she and Sheena had got first prize for best performance, script and theatrical production. So that’s what she had been trying to remember! But as soon as she’d grasped it, there was a slight pricking sensation and the thought was blotted out.
‘Wake up now, Claire...’ She was at the bottom of a deep dark tunnel, and a voice far away at the top was calling down to her. ‘That’s it, pet... open your eyes.’ She was back in her room, wearing her own nightie, and they had taken out her appendix. Again. Her hand moved sluggishly, in search of the wadded bandage on her stomach, slid smoothly over the healed scar, and dropped lower to encounter the pads between her legs. So her period had come at last. She fell into a doze.
Next day Claire got dressed and sat on the bed expecting Annette to collect her. The door opened and the smiling dark-haired nurse popped in her head.
‘Claire dear,’ she said. ‘here’s Dr McArdle come to bring you home.’ Claire was surprised. She had understood that Jane would not be returning until Saturday. Then Eddie stood in the doorway, smiling his beautiful sad smile.
‘Well Claire, and how are you feeling?’ He came and put his hands over hers. ‘I was sorry to hear you weren’t well.’ He sounded infinitely kind. Concerned.
Claire struggled not to cry. She could feel it creeping up and taking over her. She felt her throat painfully constrict. Suddenly she could keep it back no longer. She began to sob.
‘Oh now, now, pet...’ the nurse came forward to put an arm about her. She rocked Claire comfortingly against her shoulder. ‘There now!’ she said, delicately picking the strands of hair out of Claire’s trembling mouth, and looking apologetically over her head at Eddie.
Claire slept and woke and slept again, as though she were starved for sleep. Dehydrated too. Whenever Claire reached out for the glass of water Annette left beside the bed, it had miraculously filled up again.
Every few hours she struggled down to the bathroom. The tide between her legs flowed heavier than ever. She had never seen so much blood. She had cramping pains in her thighs and stomach and felt bewildered why this period should be so much heavier than any that had gone before. Maybe it was because it was so much longer since her last one. She wondered if it had any connection with what they had done to her when she was asleep. She felt frightened. If only she could talk to Jane, she thought, but Jane wasn’t due back from Waterford for another two days. Weakly, Claire adjusted her clothing and slowly returned along the landing. Once she was back in bed she fell asleep at once.
She awoke a few hours later. It was growing dark outside, the light fading beyond the undrawn curtains. She drank and slept again. The next time she awoke the house was very quiet, and the glass was empty. Claire lay there for a time, feeling it was almost beyond her to get up until thirst forced her out of bed in search of water. She filled her glass at the cold tap in the bathroom and drank deeply. To her relief the bleeding had eased. She carried the brimming glass back to her room.
As she passed her mother’s room she glanced in. The bedside lamp still burned. Annette must have fallen asleep with it on. Claire took a step into the room to turn off the light, moved as much by a desire to have contact with her mother as anything else.
The bed was empty.
She went to the top of the stairs and was about to go down when she heard voices. And the clink of glasses, the drone of conversation. Every so often it was punctuated by her mother’s high excitable laugh and Eddie’s deep answering chuckle. Claire felt dizzy. unreal. Her knees began to shake and for a moment everything went black. When her head cleared she turned and stumbled back to bed.
Within a few days of her arrival home Claire felt well enough to get up and go about again, though she still felt tired and inclined to tears. The half-waking dream she’d had of Eddie’s laughter mingling with her mother’s, she brushed aside, refusing to dwell on it.
Until it happened again, only this time the sounds she heard came from Annette’s bedroom.
In Dualeen Jane took her children to the hotel for their tea and announced her intention of eating out for the rest of the week. She was
feeling too worn out after the emotional events of the past few to stay in and cook. The children were delighted at the prospect and noisily planned what they would eat.
‘Daddy starved us when you were away,’ Sheena said. ‘I must have lost pounds.’
‘That’s right,’ Terry agreed. ‘And he made us go to bed at seven. Seven!’ he repeated in disgust. ‘Like Babe Ruthie here,’ he added mockingly, which brought forth a storm of protest from his little sister.
‘I’m not a baby. Baby yourself, Terry.’ She pummelled him with her fists and he laughed and rolled playfully with her on the grass
Hugh did not join in the bickering but Jane was too busy with her own thoughts to notice how quiet and withdrawn he was. Before leaving town she had changed her mind and rung Eddie to tell him about Claire. If anything should go wrong in her absence, she wanted Eddie to be aware of the situation. He was an excellent doctor and she trusted in his judgement implicitly. She was relieved when he not only grasped the situation but even suggested picking up Claire himself from the clinic next day. Jane had put down the phone satisfied. But on the long drive to the country the enormity of what she had done began to break on her. Jane was no longer sure she should have acted so quickly. With time to reflect she was painfully coming to the realisation that she had acted on a wave of outraged feeling. Even if she had taken time to suss it all out it still didn’t alter the fact that the decision was not legally or morally hers to take. Ever since she had been engaged in a kind of mental dialogue as she attempted to justify her actions and make peace with her conscience. She was still uneasily tussling with the latter as she entered the hotel that evening.
Jane followed the waiter to the table he indicated and absently waved her children to their seats. But I only acted out of humanitarian feelings as a doctor and a friend, she took up her defence once more. Someone had to help Claire. ‘Yes,’ the relentless voice retorted in her head. ‘There’s no argument about that but it wasn’t only up to you.’ Jane sighed, weary of pursuing this avenue of thought, and picked up the menu.