Apple of My Eye

by Patrick Redmond

  He turned crimson while his friends jeered. Alan and Charlotte said goodbye outside the school gates. He kissed her on the cheek. She turned crimson too. In spite of her anxiety, Susan felt pleased. Charlotte considered herself plain and boring and needed someone to make her feel special.

  Just as she needed Jennifer.

  Don’t let him take her away from me. Please God, don’t let him take her away.

  Monday evening.

  She had been walking for hours, along the river then through the town, with no purpose except to escape the atmosphere of dread that filled the house like fog.

  Uncle Andrew had missed supper. He would be in the Crown, all bonhomie and generosity, buying rounds and telling stories, charming his fellow drinkers as he consumed the alcohol that would act as fuel for the rage he would unleash on his return home.

  Three days ago her mother had broken her finger. Caught it in a door frame. That was the story he had ordered her to tell and which she was too frightened to challenge for fear that he would leave her as he was always threatening to do. ‘And where will you be then? You’ll never survive without me. You need me and you always will.’

  It couldn’t go on. Susan knew she had to do something. But what?

  She stood outside 37 Osborne Row. The house she had once shared with her father. She longed for him to tell her what to do but when she tried to summon his voice from inside her head she heard nothing but the whirring of her thoughts, like an orchestra of spinning tops all about to collapse.

  Someone called her name. Lizzie Flynn approached with Charlotte, who was wearing a new blouse and skirt. Her hair was carefully styled and there was even gloss on her lips.

  And she was crying.

  ‘I found her in Market Court,’ announced Lizzie. ‘She’d been standing by the Norman cross for two hours. That prick Alan Forrester stood her up.’

  ‘Why?’

  ‘Because Alice Wetherby told him to. She was sitting by the window at Cobhams with her gang, all laughing their heads off. I was in there with my sister. That’s how I found out what was going on.’

  ‘Why would she do that?’

  ‘Because I beat her in the English exam,’ whispered Charlotte. ‘You know what she’s like about things like that.’

  ‘So she gets Alan to pretend to be keen on Charlotte,’ continued Lizzie. ‘He’s a friend of her idiot brother. Alan tells Charlotte he’s taking her out, asks her to dress up smartly then leaves her standing there to be sniggered at by that bitch.’

  ‘I’m sorry,’ Susan told Charlotte.

  Charlotte wiped her eyes. Lizzie frowned. ‘Is that all you’ve got to say? It was a vicious thing to do. Alice needs to be taught a lesson.’

  Wearily she nodded.

  ‘So what are you going to do?’

  ‘I don’t know.’

  ‘You must do something.’ Lizzie’s eyes were flashing. ‘She can’t get away with it.’

  ‘Why can’t you do it?’

  ‘Because I don’t go to Heathcote …’

  ‘Or Charlotte? Why does it always have to be me?’ Frustration overwhelmed her. ‘I’ve got problems of my own. If Charlotte wants to teach Alice a lesson then why doesn’t she stop being so bloody weak and try doing it herself?’

  Charlotte flushed. Lizzie shook her head. ‘You’ve really changed. I used to like you. You used to be worth something as a friend. Now you’re only interested in yourself. You’re just a selfish cow. You’re no better than Alice.’

  She couldn’t listen to this. Pushing past them both, she headed for home.

  Next morning she sat alone at the kitchen table.

  Uncle Andrew appeared, fastening his tie. He was unshaven and looked tired. She had no idea what time he had come home the previous night.

  ‘Where’s Mum?’ she asked.

  ‘In her room.’ He grabbed a piece of toast. ‘I’ll be in my study. I’ve got phone calls to make.’

  She carried a cup of tea upstairs. Her mother was sitting in bed, wearing a nightdress and with a bandage on the middle finger of her left hand. The curtains were drawn and the window open, letting in the song of birds from the park at the centre of the square.

  She put the cup on the bedside table then sat on the bed. Her mother stared down at the sheets, her face strained with pain.

  ‘What happened, Mum? What did he do to you?’

  No answer.

  ‘Mum?’

  The head rose. For a moment the eyes were as blank as they had been on the day of the breakdown. Her heart began to pound.

  ‘Mum, it’s me.’

  Recognition. A cold smile. ‘Why are you here?’

  ‘What did he do to you?’

  Her mother lifted her nightdress to reveal a row of bruises across her belly.

  Susan gasped.

  ‘Don’t pretend you care.’

  ‘Of course I care. He can’t treat you like this. He can’t …’

  ‘It’s your fault that he does.’

  ‘What?’

  ‘You’re to blame for this.’

  ‘How can you say that?’

  ‘Because it’s true. This is your fault. When he was pleased with you he was kind to me but now you just make him angry and I’m the one that suffers.’

  ‘But Mum …’

  ‘Just get out! Go to school. I don’t want you here.’

  She stood in the doorway, shaking with shock, hurt and anger, listening to Uncle Andrew laughing on the telephone. All warmth and affability. Her stepfather. The nicest man you could ever meet.

  Walk away, Susie. Don’t make it worse.

  Walk away walk away walk away.

  But she couldn’t. Not any more.

  So she went upstairs.

  He was sitting at his desk, facing the far wall, so busy laughing that he didn’t hear her enter. She shut the door behind her, reached over him and disconnected the call.

  ‘What the hell …’

  She turned his chair round and stared into his face. ‘If you ever lay another finger on my mother I swear to God I’ll make you sorry!’

  His eyes widened. For a moment he looked frightened.

  But only for a moment.

  ‘Are you threatening me, Susie?’

  ‘Leave her alone.’

  ‘Or what?’

  ‘You’ll see.’

  ‘You don’t want to go making threats. They might make me angry, and who knows what could happen then.’

  ‘You wouldn’t tell her.’

  ‘Wouldn’t I?’

  ‘You promised me!’

  ‘Perhaps I had my fingers crossed.’

  ‘You couldn’t! Think what it would do to her.’

  He was smiling, enjoying her desperation and his own power. ‘Then no more threats, because one careless remark is all it would take. The cat would be out of the bag, and imagine how your mother would feel about you then.’

  ‘And imagine how the rest of the town would feel about us both.’

  The smile faded.

  ‘Because it’s not just my dirty secret, is it? And if it got out do you really think you’d still be friends with the mayor and doing wills for people like Mrs Pembroke, because I don’t. Not a chance. They wouldn’t be able to drop you fast enough.’

  His face darkened. He rose to his feet. ‘You’d better stop this, Susie.’

  She stood her ground. ‘How do you think they’d feel, Uncle Andrew?’

  He took a step towards her. ‘I told you to stop.’

  ‘I might lose Mum but you’d lose too. You’d lose everything. I’d make sure of it!’

  ‘I said stop!’

  ‘And what will you do if I don’t? Hit me? Go ahead. I’m not frightened. I’m not Mum. But that’s the point, isn’t it? You wouldn’t want to hit me. It’s only exciting when the person is afraid.’

  He slammed her against the wall, one hand gripping her throat. His breathing was ragged, his eyes narrowed into slits. He looked bestial. Murderous.

  And
at last she was afraid.

  ‘And who is going to listen to anything you say? You. Susan Ramsey, the town bike. The girl every boy’s ridden. I’ve heard the stories they tell about you. And if you try telling stories about me they’ll just shake their heads and feel sorry for me. The man who took you into his home and gave you the best of everything. Who’s been a far better father to you than your own ever was, but who still couldn’t stop you going off the rails and acting like the spiteful little slut you really are.’

  He was choking her. Her head was spinning.

  ‘And your mother won’t believe it either. Not coming from you. She won’t allow herself to believe it because I’m the one she needs. She can’t survive without me. She’s barely surviving as it is. She’s on the edge, Susie. One good hard push from me and over she goes, and this time she won’t come back. You’ll lose her for ever just like you lost your father.’

  He put a finger to her lips.

  ‘So if you want to stop that happening keep your mouth tight shut, because if you ever try and cross me I’ll make you sorrier than you can possibly imagine.’

  Then he released her, stepping backwards and folding his arms.

  ‘Do you understand?’

  She rubbed her throat.

  ‘Do you?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘Now get out.’

  Half an hour later she approached the school gates.

  People surrounded her. Her head was in such turmoil that she was unable to process the voices around her, as if the rest of the world had started speaking a new language.

  Charlotte walked ahead, shoulders sagging. Alice and Kate stood at the gates, waiting to gloat. Alan Forrester approached on his bicycle, whistling cheerfully, oblivious to the hurt he had helped cause.

  And as Susan watched him something inside her snapped.

  She called his name. He stopped alongside her, grinning inanely. ‘What?’

  Then she punched him in the mouth, knocking him off his bicycle and on to the ground.

  Alice, realizing what was coming, tried to run. But others blocked her path. Susan strode towards her, shoving a protesting Kate to one side. ‘We need to talk, Alice,’ she announced, grabbing her by the hair and hurling her against the gates.

  Alice tried to push her away. ‘You pulled my hair out …’

  Susan slapped her face as hard as she could. ‘Listen!’

  Then she leaned forward so their noses were almost touching.

  ‘If you ever hurt someone I care about again I will get a knife and cut your throat. Do you understand?’

  ‘You’re mad …’

  ‘That’s right. I’m a loony, just like my mother, and that means I’ll do it. Now tell me you understand.’

  Whimpering, Alice rubbed her cheek.

  ‘Tell me!’

  ‘I understand.’ Alice looked terrified. The sight excited Susan, making her feel strong. Making her feel better than she had done in a very long time.

  She pulled her arm back as if to land another blow, watching Alice flinch, revelling in the fear she was causing and the power she possessed.

  And heard her father’s voice in her head.

  This is wrong, Susie. This isn’t strength. This isn’t the way. You’re better than this.

  The euphoria faded, replaced by frustration so intense it made her want to scream.

  Then what is the way? Who are you to lecture me? Who are you to make me feel bad? You left me when I needed you and now the only person I can depend on is myself.

  And I don’t know what to do.

  She pointed a finger at Alice. ‘Remember.’

  Then forced herself to walk away.

  Ten minutes later Charlotte entered the toilets on the first floor.

  Susan stood by the basins, staring at her reflection in the mirror. Two first-year girls washed their hands while watching her warily, as if she were a dangerous animal. Charlotte gestured for them to leave then locked the door behind them.

  ‘Susie?’

  Susan continued to gaze into the mirror. She was shaking, her body discharging tension like electric waves.

  ‘Susie?’

  ‘Leave me alone.’ The voice was tight. Like an elastic band about to snap.

  ‘Thank you for sticking up for me.’

  Silence.

  ‘I should have been the one to do it, just like you said. You didn’t have to.’ A pause. ‘But I’m glad you did.’

  Someone tried to open the door. Charlotte waited in vain for Susan to speak.

  ‘Do you want me to go?’ she asked.

  ‘Yes.’

  Though hurt, she knew she had no right to show it. Instead she turned to leave.

  ‘You’re still my best friend, Charlotte. I didn’t mean what I said last night. There’s nothing weak about you.’

  Charlotte turned back, a lump forming in her throat. ‘You’re my best friend too. You always have been and I wish you’d trust me like you used to.’

  Susan shook her head. ‘Don’t …’

  ‘But I must. I know things are wrong and I want to help but I can’t if you don’t tell me what they are. We never used to have secrets from each other and we don’t need to now. You can trust me with anything. You know you can.’

  Susan burst into tears. Charlotte made a move towards her but Susan held out an arm, keeping her at a distance.

  ‘Susie …’

  Susan began rubbing her temples, mouthing the word ‘weak’ over and over again.

  ‘You’re not weak, Susie. You’re the strongest person I know, and sharing your problems with me won’t change that.’

  People hammered on the door. A prefect shouted that if it was not opened immediately there would be trouble. Susan breathed deeply, gaining control of her emotions. She ran a tap and washed her eyes. ‘Better tell them I locked it. I’m in so much trouble already that a bit more won’t make any difference.’

  ‘Won’t you tell me?’

  ‘I can’t.’

  ‘Please, Susie.’

  Susan took her hand and squeezed it. ‘Thanks.’

  Then went to open the door.

  August.

  Susan sat by the river bank with Jennifer, staring up at the sky. Though it was cloudless there was a dryness in the air that warned of an impending storm.

  Both had their feet in the water, the current tugging at their toes. Jennifer threw pieces of bread to the ducks. ‘Susie, will there be ducks in Australia?’

  She nodded, masking her sadness with a smile. Uncle George had accepted the job just as she had feared he would.

  Swans glided over, searching for food, scattering the ducks like ninepins. Sighing heavily, Jennifer tossed them some bread.

  ‘What is it, Jenjen?’

  ‘I wish you were coming.’

  She wished it too. More than anything. To escape from Kendleton and its whispers and sneers to a place where no one knew her.

  But what would happen to those she left behind?

  Uncle Andrew had not hit her mother since their confrontation. In fact he was being kinder to her. As patronizing as ever, but kinder. He was drinking less too. And when Mr and Mrs Wetherby had come to complain about her own ‘vicious assault on poor Alice’, he had taken her part, diffusing their anger with apologies and winning them over with charm. There had been no comparable visit from Mr and Mrs Forrester, but then Alan was hardly going to make an issue of being floored by a girl.

  She wanted to believe she was responsible for this improvement. That she had frightened him into changing his ways. But in her heart she knew she hadn’t. He wasn’t frightened of her. She was the one who had reason to be afraid.

  Things were better. That should have been enough to make her happy.

  But until she knew the reason why, her sense of unease would remain.

  ‘Why won’t you come?’ asked Jennifer.

  ‘Because I have to stay here and take care of my mum.’

  Jennifer looked reproachful. ‘You prom
ised you’d take care of me.’

  ‘I will.’

  ‘No you won’t.’ Jennifer started to cry. It was like a blow. Susan tried to hold her but was pushed away. Instead she stroked her hair. It was turning gold in the sun, looking more like Auntie Emma’s every day. She remembered how hurt she had been when Auntie Emma had left. A woman who had been a surrogate mother to her, just as she had been to Jennifer. A mother and a sister.

  She tried again. This time Jennifer allowed herself to be held.

  ‘I’ll always take care of you, Jenjen. Even when you go away, and that’s not for four whole months, I’ll still be with you in here.’ She touched Jennifer’s chest. ‘And if ever you feel sad you just think of me and know that I’ll be thinking of you and if I’m doing that then I’ll be taking care of you and that’s the truth.’

  It wasn’t, of course. Just the best she could do.

  But it made Jennifer smile and that was all that mattered.

  ‘But you won’t feel sad. You’ll have too much fun. There are so many things for you to see and do …’ She began to paint a picture of Australia as the most exciting place on earth. Perhaps it was. Whatever it was like it had to be better than here.

  A narrow boat came down the river, stirring the water, disturbing the ducks and swans. A man with grey hair and a kind face stood at the helm while two bull terriers sat on the roof snapping at each other, fractious with the heat and the impending storm.

  The man waved to them. She waved back, wishing she could climb aboard with her mother and Jennifer, sail away and never return.

  *

  Saturday morning. One week later.

  She stood at the kitchen sink, helping her mother wash the breakfast things. Uncle Andrew had left early to play golf with Uncle George. The two of them had been seeing more of each other since the news about Australia. They had been friends for twenty years and would miss each other when the time came.

  Though not as much as she would miss Jennifer.

  She looked out at the back garden. The grass was withered, the ground parched. The storm of seven days ago had done nothing to break the heat that blanketed the town.’ When are you collecting Jennifer?’ asked her mother.

  ‘In half an hour.’

  ‘She’ll enjoy the fair.’

  ‘So will I.’