Like One of the Family

by Nesta Tuomey

  Terry felt as if something had flopped in his stomach. His throat tight and dry, he reached for her, desperate to make love to her again. When Claire came readily into his arms he read the same hunger in her eyes.

  Later, lying in each other’s arms, with the early morning light creeping into the room, Terry told Claire what had happened on the road to Motril and what the doctor had said about Jane and how Fernando Gonzalez had driven him to the airport.

  ‘It’s getting late... the others may wake up.’ She sat up hurriedly in the bed then looked in confusion at her naked breasts. Terry laughed at her expression and tenderly wrapped his arms about her, covering her shoulders and breasts with tiny kisses.

  ‘You are so beautiful,’ he kept telling her.

  Weakly, Claire pulled away. ‘I’m afraid Ruthie will come looking for me.’

  ‘No, she won’t. It’s too early.’ Terry tried to pull her back to him but Claire resisted. She held the duvet against her.

  Close your eyes,’ she told him and seeing that she was serious, he reluctantly obeyed. What to cover herself with? There was only the crumpled cotton towel. It lay discarded on the floor. ‘Keep them shut,’ Claire ordered, and reached for the crumpled cotton towel on the floor....

  Terry closed his eyes but as soon as she slipped from the bed he opened them again. He watched her bend and pick up the skimpy towel and wrap it about her slim body. He could not get enough of looking.

  The days that followed were a mixture of unease and delight. Claire’s anxiety about Jane was compounded by feelings of guilt at having slept with Terry in his mother’s bed. At the same time, she felt loved and cherished as never before.

  She came home from college each evening hoping he would be there before her. He always was. He had Jane’s car to travel from the barracks, and a genuine excuse for the late passes on the grounds that he must take care of his sisters in his mother’s absence.

  Sometimes he stayed the night and got up very early next morning to drive back to Baldonnel to arrive before the bugle sounded reveille. The long hours before bedtime they spent in the kitchen, sitting apart, touching only fleetingly when she handed him a mug of coffee or he passed behind her chair as she was helping Ruthie with her homework, but stroking each other with their eyes and their thoughts until the tension was almost too much to bear. Later when Ruthie was asleep he would be waiting for her and they would come together in a frenzy of lovemaking. It was as if the accepted standards of behaviour were temporarily suspended and they lived in a curious kind of erotic limbo, enjoying the solace of each other’s bodies with an almost pagan sensuality and deliberately blocking out everything but themselves.

  After lovemaking, lying in each other’s arms, they talked about things closest to their hearts. Terry told her how Con had died. ton. He did not go into details about the crash for the memory was still too raw and painful. Claire lay on the pillow watching him and fondling the tendrils of hair on his neck with a gentle hand as he spoke. And then of his own accord Terry brought up the subject of Grainne.

  ‘When Mum told me I was off the hook I was bowled over,’ Terry confessed. ‘I couldn’t take it in at once. I felt... I dunno... like it must feel before a firing squad and at the last minute someone comes dashing up with a reprieve. Like a bloody miracle!’ He laughed softly. ‘I knew I didn’t deserve it. Oh Claire, the worst part was not being able to see you or ring you like I wanted. You must have wondered.’

  ‘Yes I did.’

  ‘I was sure you would despise me. I despised myself. God! I felt so trapped.

  I kept worrying about the mess I was in, even when I was flying, and that’s really stupid. You need every bit of concentration or you could end up in bits. I found myself hating Grainne, which was unfair, and myself for mixing Mum up in it and letting her sort out my mess. Squalid!’ His voice shook.

  Beside him in the dark, Claire shuddered. She thought she would want to die if Terry ever felt like that about her. Despite herself, her sympathy went out to the unfortunate Grainne. But though she felt her own heart would break if she lost Terry, she knew she would never resort to tricks to keep him. She would rather give him up. Their relationship could only endure, Claire told herself, just as long as he loved and wanted her, not because of any sense of obligation.

  Antonio Gonzales rang twice during the week, reporting favourably on Jane’s progress, and then at end of the first week a letter arrived from Jane addressed to them all. Sheena read aloud to the others, her voice quivering with suppressed tears.

  “My dear children, I am getting better every day so please do not worry. I think of you all the time and look forward to the moment when we can be together again. I wish you could visit but that is the drawback of having an accident abroad. I should have planned it better! Everyone here is being so kind. Fernando came to see me today. How lucky we are to have such good friends. I know I can trust you to take care of each other. Claire, don’t allow Ruthie to have all her own way and please insist that she takes her vitamins. Mucho amor and a thousand kisses, Mum.’

  Sheena laid down the letter. ‘It’s not in her handwriting,’ she said worriedly.

  Ruthie had taken the news of her mother’s accident surprisingly well, better than Sheena who had wanted to fly at once to Spain to be with her. Now re-reading the letter, Sheena was not entirely convinced that Jane was recovering.

  ‘I can’t understand how Mummy couldn’t scrawl even a line,’ she said.

  ‘Perhaps she didn’t have any note-paper,’ Claire tried to reassure her. ‘Surely the fact she could dictate a letter shows she’s not too bad. Anyway we have Antonio’s word for it that she’s getting better.’

  ‘Yes,’ agreed Sheena doubtfully. ‘Still, I wish we knew for sure.’

  When Terry arrived later in the evening Claire told him how upset Sheena was and he suggested that they ring Antonio and get the number of the hospital from him so that they could ring it directly themselves.

  Sheena cheered up at this and they all grouped about Jane’s desk while Terry gave the Nerja number to the operator. Terry was relieved when Antonio rather than Fernando answered.

  ‘I am happy to say your mother continues to make good progress,’ Antonio’s deep voice resounded in his ear. Terry nodded and glanced encouragingly at the girls to signify the news was good. ‘Today we heard she is being moved to a convalescent hospital in Nerja towards the end of this week. You will find it easier to visit her when you come.’

  ‘Thank you, Señor,’ Terry said politely. ‘Please give Mum our love and tell her we’re managing fine. I’ll ring again when I know for sure when I’m going.’ His CO held out hopes that he could arrange to get Terry a cockpit seat on a jet carrying diplomats to Spain in another week or two. Literally a flying visit - a couple of hours at the most - but it would be long enough to visit her.

  Terry got the number of the hospital and put down the phone feeling a lot happier, as was Sheena when she heard what he had to tell her. She decided to wait until the following evening to ring and find out more about the new hospital her mother was going to. In the meantime she ran upstairs to hunt up some notepaper and, with Ruthie hanging over her shoulders, sat down on her bed to write a long letter back to Jane.

  Terry had said they were managing fine in their mother’s absence but secretly he was concerned about their lack of money for day-to-day living expenses. The money he had brought back with him from Spain was almost gone.

  Suddenly remembering that Jane always kepy cash in her desk to pay bills, he rooted around in the drawers and was relieved to find almost one hundred pounds. He stuffed the notes in his pocket and went to tell the girls, and then they all drove to the supermarket and bought enough food to last them another week.

  Jane was not used to playing the passive role of patient. Except for an occasional bout of flu she had never been sick in her life; like all doctors she was better at administering post-operative advice than taking it herself, and found it hard to accept her depende
nt condition.

  For the first few days she was unable to raise her arms and everything had to be done for her. She was reliant on nurses to wash her and feed her and change her dressings, even cleaned her teeth for her. She was lonely too. The nurses were busy and could not linger to give anything more than nursing care to la médica irlandesa, so Jane was grateful when Fernando came to see her. She was also more receptive to Antonio’s attentions than she might otherwise have been, when he too visited her later that week.

  Antonio was shown in after the nurse had settled her down for her nap. Quite unprepared for the sight of him as he came around the door, Jane tried to struggle upright and gasped with pain at the effort it cost her.

  ‘No... please do not disturb yourself,’ Antonio beseeched, his expression concerned. He took a step forward then stood where he was, helplessly gazing at her.

  Jane sank back on the pillow, weak tears stinging her eyes. ‘I’m not as recovered as I thought,’ she whispered forlornly, but even these few words cost her an effort.

  Antonio laid the flowers he had brought her on the washstand. He drew the chair to her bed and sat down.

  ‘Your son telephoned my house last night...’ he began.

  ‘Terry rang? Tell me how they all are,’ she begged. ‘Are they managing all right? Did they get my letter? Do they know I am being moved to Nerja?’

  Antonio laughed. ‘So many questions.’ He crossed his knees and sat back regarding her serenely. ‘Which will I answer first?’

  ‘My letter, did they get it?’

  ‘Yes, but they were troubled because it was not in your handwriting.’

  ‘I could not write myself,’ Jane said simply, relieved that Terry was so practical. Antonio smiled. ‘Terry hopes to fly out and visit you very soon,’ he went on, watching her face. ‘Perhaps next week.’

  Jane stared. ‘But how? He has no money.’

  Antonio shrugged. ‘I do not know exactly. Perhaps the Air Corps are arranging it for him. He seemed hopeful it could be done and said he will ring me when he has all the details!’

  How wonderful to see Terry. My son, she thought with a rush of emotion. They had shared those lovely few days together and then for it to end like it did. Remembering his courageous little farewell wave, tears sprang to her eyes. To her dismay they overflowed and poured down her cheeks. Antonio’s smile faded and his dark eyes brimmed with concern.

  ‘You are overwrought,’ he said gently. ‘I did not mean to upset you.’ He got to his feet. ‘Forgive me! I have stayed too long.’

  ‘No, don’t go,’ she wanted to say but only cried all the harder, She felt him stoop over her and his lips brushed fleetingly against her forehead. Then he pressed his handkerchief into her hand and with a murmured, ‘Hasta luego, mi preciosa,’ he was gone.

  Jane mopped her eyes with Antonio’s handkerchief and cursed her weakness. Her tears dried and she lay very still. Had he really called her his ‘preciosa’? The crumpled piece of linen lay forgotten in her hand. Oh please God let him come again.

  She lay in the sun-filled room and gazed for a long time at the sheaf of crimson carnations he had brought her before pressing the bell for a nurse to come and put them in water.

  TEN

  These days Claire was in a state of perpetual bliss. She felt she was experiencing happiness at last. Terry was a vigorous but tender lover and he told her that she was beautiful, that he was crazy about her, that he had never been happier himself.

  She still felt guilty about sleeping with him in his mother’s bed. While his was nothing like so roomy, she felt happier there and the narrow divan was an excuse to cling close together. She was careful to launder Jane’s sheets and neatly make up her bed again, so everything was in order. Although Terry’s room was at the furthest end of the landing from his sisters’ rooms, Claire was tortured by fears that Sheena or Ruthie would surprise them in bed together, and made a point of getting up early each morning and returning to her own room, to be there when Ruthie awoke. Terry felt that Claire was making too much of it, but when he saw how upset she was, he agreed to keep their lovemaking concealed, in so far as they were able, from his sisters. Claire realised very soon, however, that Sheena knew what was going on. Although she never actually put it in words Sheena made it clear that their liaison had her full approval. The only oblique reference Sheena ever made to Claire’s affair with her twin was one as they sat in the kitchen one evening.

  ‘I always knew Terry was your type rather than Hugh,’ Sheena said apropos of nothing. ‘Hugh was far too sensitive and introspective for his own good. That’s why he did what he did, you know.’

  Claire stared at her. Her friend had never once mentioned that grim time in all the years since it happened.

  ‘I remember when Hero had her pups and you were so matey with Hugh,’ Sheena continued. ‘Terry was always grumbling to me about it. He was as jealous as hell and he couldn’t hide it.’

  Claire felt a rush of delight and stored away the information to examine later. She returned to her studies and sat with her head bent, her hair touching the page. She tried to analyse a passage of prose but her mind kept returning to Terry and the night he had returned from Spain and made love to her. He had never once mentioned the fact that she was not a virgin but he must have noticed. It wasn’t as though he were inexperienced, Claire thought. Far from it. She blushed behind the screening curtain of hair at the memory and her flesh tingled and she felt a warm shivery feeling in the pit of her stomach.

  Claire had had seen the first signs of the immense power of Terry’s physical attraction for girls in her early teens, when she was away on holidays with the McArdles and observed Susan Deveney waylaying him every chance she got. Later, when Sheena had told her that he’d made Grainne pregnant, Claire had felt relief rather than shock. It made it easier for her to contemplate some day confessing what had burdened her own soul for so long. She wondered if, indeed, she would ever find the courage to tell Terry about Eddie and that dark area of her life.

  Since she had experienced an untrammelled and mutual love, Claire clearly saw that Eddie had taken from the near-child she had been what she had hardly understood or valued at the time. But in Terry she had found the mate who matched her soul’s craving. She had experienced with him what she had only read about in books, but what would he think if her knew of her past?

  She could never tell him. He would not... could not ...understand even though he had voluntarily revealed the skeletons in his own past. Claire wished there was some way that she could so easily clear her own conscience with a similar confession, but she was not willing to chance it. Her eyes grew sad as she recognised that there could never be a true blending of spirit while anything remained hidden between them.

  When they met one evening in town Claire saw at once that Terry was bursting with news. First he insisted on going into St Stephen’s Green and the pair of them sitting down on a bench overlooking the duckpond.

  ‘Go on,’ Claire prompted urgently, and unable to contain his elation any longer, Terry laughed and told her.

  It seemed there was a shortage of trained pilots for the Dauphin helicopter and the Air Corps were offering a brilliant chance for three young pilots to circumvent the normally slow and restrictive regulations and to gain promotion, all in one go.

  ‘Dinny Monahan is recommending three from our squadron and just guess who one of those lucky pilots will be?’ Terry asked, hugging Claire to him jubilantly.

  ‘Can’t for the life of me think,’ Claire teased, ‘Could it be you?’ she asked with seeming innocence.

  ‘None other, Miss Shannon. You see before you a future rotary pilot, soon to be ranked as Flight Lieutenant McArdle.’ He dropped his lofty pose and jumping up, swung her round and round, oblivious of staring onlookers.

  Claire laughed breathlessly and shyly tugged him down on to the bench again.

  When he got his own breath back he said eagerly. ‘The minute we get our wings we start training on the Gaze
lle. Dinny says it has the most sophisticated flight instrumentation for fixed wing pilots making the transition to the Dauphin. We went aboard her today and she’s a real neat little job.’

  Claire listened with her eyes fixed attentively on his face, trying to share his enthusiasm, but as always when he spoke about flying, she felt distanced from him.

  It was the beginning of May and a sudden mild spell was encouraging everyone to behave as though it was already summer. Terry was wearing Bermuda shorts and a denim shirt opened at the throat. Claire had cut off the sleeves of an old poplin blouse and knotted the ends at her waist, showing bare midriff above blue jeans. She glanced down at herself as they wandered back on to the street, regretting the fact she had nothing new and summery to wear.

  ‘What do you bet this is every bit as hot as Spain,’ Terry said, changing the subject at last.

  ‘Did you hear yet when you’re going?’

  ‘Nope. Should know in another few days,’ he grinned. ‘Like to come with me? You could stow away in the hold. I’d smuggle you on board in a hamper.’

  Claire looked askance. ‘On a government jet! Think what the penalty would be.’

  ‘Only kidding.’ Terry protested, intrigued to see she was serious. ‘Little Miss Perfect,’ he teased.

  Claire was troubled. ‘Please don’t think so well of me,’ she said. ‘If you only knew I’m not good at all. Quite the opposite.’

  ‘Oh yeah.’ Terry rumpled her hair fondly. ‘Listen to her! A real baddie-waddie.’ He kept her hand in his as they swung along by the park railings. Since becoming her lover he was more tender, more tolerant, less moody. ‘You would have me believe you’re a real femme fatale - a right little raver without a heart - when I know you to be the most tender-hearted creature alive.’