Apple of My Eye

by Patrick Redmond

  Once again the cameras were running. She kissed his cheek and restrained the urge to wipe her mouth. That gesture was not in the script and survival meant following the script to the letter.

  ‘Hello, Ronnie. How was your day?’

  Wednesday evening. Charles heard Ronnie talking on the telephone in the hall.

  ‘Well, what about tomorrow evening? Surely she can spare you then.’

  Guessing he was talking to Susan, Charles went to listen.

  ‘I know it’s difficult for her and I know how much she needs you, but what about me?’

  The hiss of conversation from the receiver.

  ‘I’m not being horrible. I just want to see you, that’s all. We don’t seem to have spent any time together. Not really. Not since …’

  The hiss started up again.

  ‘Friday, then. I’ll look forward to it.’ A pause. ‘I love you.’

  Again the hiss. Softer than before.

  ‘Good. Because you’ll always be that. No one else could ever take your place.’

  Charles heard the receiver being replaced. He walked into the hall. ‘All well, Ronnie?’

  No answer. Ronnie kept his back to him, staring down at the phone.

  ‘Ronnie?’

  ‘What?’

  ‘Is everything all right?’

  ‘Susie’s busy at the moment. She has to look after her mother. But that’s all it is.’ Ronnie’s voice was calm but his body gave off tension like static. Charles was concerned. The last thing Ronnie’s relationship with Susan needed was turbulence. If they were to fall out then who could tell what the consequences might be?

  ‘Well, that’s understandable,’ he said soothingly. ‘Her mother’s been through a lot. They both have.’

  ‘That’s all it is,’ said Ronnie again. ‘There’s no other reason.’

  ‘Of course. What other reason could there be? Anyone can see how much she loves you, Ronnie. No one could take your place in her life.’

  ‘The way you tried to take my place in my mother’s, you mean?’

  He was taken aback. ‘I’ve never tried …’ he began.

  At last Ronnie turned, transfixing him with those eyes. But this time the barriers were gone, allowing the real Ronnie Sunshine to reveal himself.

  Hate-driven. Savage. Murderous.

  ‘You tried to buy her but it didn’t work. She’s still mine and always will be. Just like Susie. And no one, least of all you, is ever going to change that.’

  They stared at each other. For a moment Ronnie’s expression was almost bestial. As if he could attack at any minute.

  And then, suddenly, the barriers were back in place. Ronnie began to laugh. ‘Don’t look so worried. I was only joking.’ A pause. A dig. ‘You should see your face.’

  He nodded, swallowed and found his throat bone dry.

  ‘I’m going upstairs to do my homework. See you at dinner. Mum’s making lamb chops.’ Another dig. ‘One of my favourites.’

  Ronnie walked upstairs. Charles remained where he was. His heart was racing. Afraid for Susan.

  And, for the first time, himself.

  Friday, late afternoon. Susan walked through Market Court with Ronnie.

  They were on the way to his house. She was spending the evening there just as she had agreed. It was the last thing she wanted but she couldn’t keep using her mother as an excuse to avoid him. The façade of normality had to be maintained. He must not guess that anything had changed.

  Though she was beginning to suspect that he had done so already.

  He was talking about Vera’s accident. Describing it with relish and in detail while all the time studying her with eyes that seemed to be searching for something. ‘One night,’ he told her, ‘soon after it happened, I crept into her room when she and Uncle Stan were sleeping and pulled back the blankets. I needed to see it. To see how bad it was. You understand that, don’t you?’

  ‘Of course.’

  Are you testing me? Is that what this is about?

  ‘I wanted to touch it but didn’t in case I woke her up. I only ever touched it once. On the day I left. When I told her how much I hated her.’

  She forced herself to smile. ‘That must have felt good.’

  ‘It did. I wish you’d been there so we could have shared the feeling.’

  ‘We shared Uncle Andrew dying. I doubt anything could have felt as good as that.’ She kept her voice steady and her smile in place. If this was a test then she had to pass. No matter what it cost her inside.

  ‘Who knows what else we’ll share?’

  ‘Everything. That’s what soulmates do.’ She squeezed his arm. ‘And that’s what we are.’

  His eyes roamed over the Court. Suddenly he began to smile. She followed his gaze and it led her to a little boy with curly blond hair, holding hands with a woman who was presumably his mother.

  ‘Does he remind you of anyone?’ Ronnie asked.

  She nodded, not trusting herself to speak.

  ‘It’s incredible. They could be twins. All he needs is a pair of shorts and a beach ball.’

  Her stomach was churning. The image of the body in the quarry forced its way into her mind like a drill in spite of all her attempts to keep it out. His eyes returned to her. Again they were appraising. They made her afraid.

  But fear was for the weak and survival depended on remaining strong.

  ‘I love you, Ronnie. You see what needs to be done and you do it. People say I’m strong but I’ve never met anyone as strong as you. You make everyone else look weak and me feel safe. And I love you for it.’

  Then she leaned forward and kissed him full on the lips. For a moment they felt hard. Then they relaxed. He began to respond, probing her mouth with his tongue while the churning in her stomach increased.

  She released him and stared into his face. At last it was warm and tender. The face of the boy she had fallen in love with, only to discover that it was a mask more concealing than any she had ever been forced to wear.

  They were standing outside Cobhams. ‘I need to use their Ladies,’ she told him. ‘I would have gone straight after school but I was too keen to see you.’

  He smiled. ‘Hurry, then. I’ll be waiting.’

  From her table by the window Alice watched Susan enter Cobhams.

  Ronnie remained on the pavement outside. He looked handsome and happy, and the sight of him filled her with a mixture of aching desire and blinding hate.

  But Susan didn’t look happy. Her face was pale and strained and there was something odd about the way she moved. Slowly, but as if fighting the urge to run.

  Susan entered the Ladies. Curious, Alice rose to her feet and followed her in.

  Ronnie waited outside Cobhams.

  Alice appeared and walked towards him. ‘Who’d have thought it,’ she said sweetly. ‘Not me. I’d have thought you’d be rather good.’

  ‘At what?’

  ‘Kissing. I saw you and Susie kissing just now.’

  ‘So?’

  ‘So it looks like I’ve had a lucky escape.’

  ‘From what?’

  ‘A boy whose kiss makes girls vomit. Because that’s what Susie’s doing right now. I heard her in one of the cubicles.’

  ‘That’s a lie.’

  ‘Ask her if you don’t believe me. Or, if she tries to spare your feelings, then smell her breath.’ Alice smiled. ‘Poor Ronnie. You must be really terrible if even the town tart needs to be sick every time you touch her.’ A soft giggle. ‘Just wait until I tell people. If you take my advice you’ll get the first bus back to that slum you came from, because you’ll be a laughing stock in this town by the time I’ve finished with you.’

  ‘And you won’t have a face by the time I’ve finished with you.’

  The smile faded. ‘What do you mean?’

  ‘That the skin on your face is very delicate. A single cup of acid could strip it bare.’

  The blood drained from her cheeks.

  ‘So please don’t s
tick your pretty little nose into my business. Not unless you want to lose it altogether.’

  She hurried away. He remained where he was, waiting for Susan.

  A minute passed. Then another. What was going on? Why was she taking so long?

  She appeared, looking relaxed. ‘Sorry I was so long. There was a queue. You’re lucky being a man. Being able to answer the call of nature without having to sit down.’

  He nodded. It was plausible enough. He had spent enough time waiting for his mother in similar situations. Alice was lying. The way vicious bitches always did.

  Susan gave a sniff. ‘I think I’m getting a cold. Better not kiss you again in case I pass it on.’

  And that was plausible enough too. He believed her. He wanted to believe her.

  But he had to know for sure.

  She opened her mouth to say something else. He put his hands around her face and pulled it towards him.

  To smell the rotten, acidic stench on her breath.

  She struggled free. ‘What are you doing?’

  He stared at her. The girl he had killed for. The girl he loved and believed to be his soulmate. The girl who knew him better than anybody. The girl to whom he had confided his greatest secret.

  But she didn’t love him. He frightened and repulsed her. Even more than her stepfather had.

  He could see himself reflected in her eyes. Two magic mirrors that distorted his image, turning it into something ugly and monstrous. He gazed into them, seeing himself as she saw him.

  Seeing himself as he really was.

  And it hurt. More than anything or anyone had ever hurt him before.

  ‘I’ve got a headache,’ he told her. ‘I should go home and lie down.’

  ‘But …’

  ‘You should go home yourself. Be with your mother while you can.’

  He turned and walked away. She called out his name but he didn’t look back.

  Saturday, half past six in the morning. Susan sat at the kitchen table, cradling a mug of tea in her hands.

  She had been there for hours. Unable to sleep. He knew. She was sure of it. All her years of drama training under Uncle Andrew had been for nothing. Less than a week of playing opposite Ronnie had exposed her for the pathetic amateur she still was.

  Be with your mother while you can.

  What did he mean? Was it a threat? Was her mother in danger?

  Was she?

  From the garden came the first chirping of the birds. Soon light would come creeping through the window, banishing the shadows from the room but not from her head.

  There were footsteps. Her mother appeared, wrapped in a dressing gown. ‘Susie? What are you doing up so early?’

  She didn’t answer, just stared down at the stone-cold tea in the mug.

  ‘Is something worrying you? You can tell me if there is.’

  ‘Can I?’

  ‘Of course. I’m your mother.’

  She looked up at the pretty, fragile woman she had spent most of her life trying to protect. But now, more than anything else, she wanted some protection herself.

  And there was one worry at least that it was safe to share.

  ‘I think I’m pregnant.’

  A look of absolute horror came into her mother’s face. ‘That’s not possible.’

  ‘I’m three weeks late, Mum. What else can it mean?’

  ‘You can’t be!’ Her mother’s tone was shrill. ‘He hasn’t been near you in months.’

  She was taken aback. ‘In months? What do you mean? I only met Ronnie two months ago and we didn’t …’

  She stopped. Understanding coming with the force of a bullet to the chest.

  They stared at each other.

  ‘You knew.’

  A multitude of emotions darted across her mother’s face. Alarm. Shock. Shame.

  She rubbed her head, feeling as if it were about to explode. ‘How long?’

  ‘Susie, please …’

  ‘How long? Not since it started. Don’t tell me you’ve known since then. You can’t have known since then!’

  She waited for denial but none came. And in the face the shame remained.

  ‘I was only eight years old! How could you stand by and let him do that to me?’

  Her mother swallowed. ‘Because I had no choice.’

  ‘No choice? What do you mean? Did he threaten you?’

  ‘We needed him. He gave us a home. He gave us security. If we …’

  ‘We had a home! We may not have had much money but we would have managed. How can you say you had no choice?’

  ‘I was alone. I was frightened. I …’

  ‘Frightened?’ She was almost screaming. ‘How do you think I felt? I was eight years old! Just how frightened do you think I was?’

  ‘He didn’t hurt you. I wouldn’t have let him hurt you. I used to hear him go up to you and I’d lie awake and listen. If I’d heard you cry out I would have gone up and stopped it. You have to believe that, Susie. I wouldn’t have let him hurt you.’

  ‘He gave me gonorrhoea, Mum! He infected me with a disease. You don’t call that hurting me?’

  Her mother shuddered.

  ‘Well?’

  ‘Susie, please …’

  ‘Do you know what he said to me the first time? He told me it was my fault. He said that it was because I was wicked and because I wanted it to happen. But he said he was my friend and that he wouldn’t tell and that I mustn’t tell either because if I did and you found out you’d have another breakdown and you’d go away and I’d never see you again.’ Suddenly she started to cry. ‘And I couldn’t let that happen because I promised Dad I’d always look after you. Every day I was terrified that someone was going to find out how wicked I was and tell you and that I’d lose you and all the time you knew too!’

  By now her mother was also in tears. ‘I’m sorry. You have to believe me.’

  ‘Is that what you were going to say to Jennifer when she reached my age? Because he was going to do it to her too. She’s only six and you were just going to sit there and let it happen!’

  ‘No. I wouldn’t have let him. I swear to you …’

  ‘You’re a liar!’ She rose to her feet, hurling the mug against the wall. ‘You’re a bloody liar! You were going to let that bastard hurt her the way he did me. But I don’t suppose she matters as much, does she? After all, it’s not as if she’s your daughter.’

  ‘But it’s over now. He’s dead.’

  ‘Because I killed him! I did it with Ronnie. I would have done it on my own but he wanted to help. We planned it for weeks. How to make it look like an accident.’

  ‘I don’t believe it.’

  ‘What’s the matter, Mum? Does the truth hurt? Then just pretend it’s not happening, because that seems to be one of your specialities, doesn’t it.’

  Her mother began to whimper. Momentarily, years of conditioning kicked in. The urge to comfort. To shield. To protect. But the feelings were all based upon lies, and as long as she lived she would never surrender to them again.

  ‘You’re so weak, aren’t you? You’re the weakest person I’ve ever met and I despise you for it. You’re no longer my mother. You’re nothing. And I never want to see you again!’

  Then she turned and ran from the room.

  A quarter to eight. As she had done every day since he had come to live with her, Anna brought Ronnie an early-morning cup of tea.

  The curtains were still drawn and the room in virtual darkness. She assumed he was still in bed. ‘Are you awake?’ she whispered.

  ‘I’m here, Mum.’

  She jumped. He was sitting at his desk. Quickly she put on the light. ‘What are you doing there?’

  ‘Thinking about you.’

  ‘Me? What about me?’

  ‘That you deserve better. You’ve always deserved better.’

  There was another chair beside him. She sat down on it. ‘Better than what?’

  ‘Do you remember when I was little? When Vera used to say th
at you should have had me adopted?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘Maybe you should have listened.’

  She was taken aback. ‘How can you say that? You’re the most wonderful thing that’s ever happened to me. There’s nothing and no one on this earth who could ever have made me give you up.’

  ‘I know.’ He took her hand and pressed it against his cheek, kissing it softly. ‘I’m glad you married Charles. I wasn’t when it happened. I hated him because I didn’t want to share you. But I don’t hate him any more. He’s a good man. You were right about that. I’m glad he’s going to be here for you when …’

  His words petered out. She felt alarmed. ‘Ronnie, what are you saying?’

  ‘Only that I really love you. No matter what happens you must never, ever doubt that.’

  A chill passed through her. ‘You’re frightening me. I don’t know what you’re saying.’

  ‘Neither do I.’

  ‘Ronnie …’

  A faint Ronnie Sunshine smile. ‘I’m sorry, Mum. I didn’t mean to frighten you. I’m just tired and people always talk rubbish when they’re tired.’

  He leant across and hugged her, holding her so tight that it felt as if he would never let her go.

  A quarter to nine. Charles was in his car, heading out of Kendleton towards Oxford, when he saw Susan walking by the side of the road.

  The morning was cold but she had no coat. Her arms were wrapped around herself, her lips moving continually. Alarmed, he stopped the car and called out her name.

  She didn’t answer. Just kept walking. He climbed out of the car and hurried after her. ‘Susie? What is it? What’s happened?’

  ‘She knew.’

  ‘Who? Knew what?’

  ‘My mother! She knew! All the time she knew!’

  He could see her shivering. ‘Come with me,’ he said. ‘Out of the cold …’

  Ten minutes later Susan was sitting in Charles’s car, his jacket wrapped around her while the engine rumbled and filled the car with warmth.

  ‘So what does she know?’ he asked her.

  ‘I can’t tell you.’

  ‘Is it about your stepfather? What he did to you?’

  She stared at him. ‘How can you know about that?’

  ‘Because once, two years ago, Henry Norris told me about a young girl patient of his whose father was hurting her. He didn’t tell me who the girl was. Only that she looked like a film star. When I saw how nervous you were with Henry’s widow I put the pieces together.’