Apple of My Eye

by Patrick Redmond

  And Susan couldn’t stand it any more.

  ‘No, Ronnie, please don’t hurt her! Hurt me. I’m the one you hate. I’m the one who deserves it. Think of your mother. Think about how much you love her and of what she means to you. If you kill Jennifer she’ll know about it. This isn’t like Waltringham. It can’t be kept secret. She may manage to forgive you if you kill me but she’ll never forgive you if you kill Jennifer! You know she won’t!’

  Jennifer was staring at her. Her smile gone as she realized that this wasn’t a game. She began to cry, suddenly terrified. Susan rubbed her face and found that she was crying too.

  For a moment Ronnie continued to point the gun at Jennifer. His other hand covered her arm, holding her in place.

  Then he put the gun back in his lap.

  ‘Go and get the sheriff,’ he told her.

  Jennifer ran towards Susan, throwing her arms around her. Susan wanted to offer comfort but there wasn’t time. This was her moment and she had to act. She shoved Jennifer towards the door. ‘Run, Jenjen. You know the way home. Run as fast as you can and don’t ever forget how much I love you.’

  ‘But, Susie …’

  ‘Go! Go now!’ She thrust Jennifer outside then closed the door behind her. From the window she watched a little figure running into the distance.

  I’ve done it. She’s safe.

  She turned to face Ronnie. He was still sitting on the floor, the gun in his lap.

  ‘Thank you,’ she said.

  He didn’t answer. Just stared at her with eyes that didn’t seem dead any more. Warmth was creeping into their corners like the first rays of sunlight at dawn.

  ‘Are you going to kill me?’ she asked. ‘I’m not afraid to die but there’s something you need to know. I’m pregnant, Ronnie. I’m going to have a baby. Our baby.’

  ‘Jennifer was our baby. That’s what it felt like when we killed him. That we were protecting our child.’

  She swallowed, wiping at tears that continued to fall. ‘Did it?’

  ‘Yes. I couldn’t hurt her. I wanted to but I couldn’t. I don’t expect you to believe that but it’s true.’

  ‘I do believe it. You’ve just proved it, haven’t you?’

  They stared at each other. ‘Would you really have died for her?’ he asked.

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘I would have died for you. I still would. I want to hate you but I can’t. You’re not like my father. He was nothing but a face in a photograph. Just a dream I had that helped make life more bearable. I could walk out of his life and never look back because I’d never been a part of it anyway. But I was a part of yours and I want …’ He stopped, rubbing his head. ‘And I want …’

  ‘What?’

  ‘I want things to be like they were before I told you about Waltringham. I want it to go back to how it was the day before. In Cobhams with Jennifer and your friends. Kissing in public and shocking your neighbours. I’ve never been as happy as I was then and I want it back.’

  She shook her head.

  ‘We can pretend Waltringham never happened. I’ll burn the stuff. We’ll never talk about it again. We don’t ever have to talk about it or even think about it again.’

  He rose to his feet, looking suddenly like a frightened child. Feelings of protectiveness rose up in her. She didn’t want to have them but they clung to her like leeches.

  ‘We can do it,’ he said, his tone a mixture of hope and desperation. ‘I know we can. We have to do it. We’re going to have a baby. We have to be together for that if for nothing else.’

  He reached out to touch her face. His eyes were beseeching. For a moment she thought it was possible. She had loved him once. Perhaps she could again. He was smiling at her; his eyes those of the boy she had fallen in love with. She gazed into them.

  And saw a dead child floating in the water.

  She pulled away. ‘I can’t. Things can never be like that again. We can go back to town together. We can tell them that this was just a game. They don’t have to know anything else. But it can never be like it was between us, Ronnie. Never.’

  He sighed. The pleading look faded from his face, replaced by acceptance. ‘I know.’

  Silence. Except for the wind hammering against the window.

  ‘So what happens now?’ she whispered.

  ‘This,’ he replied, picking up the gun.

  Her heart began to race. ‘What are you doing?’

  ‘What I have to.’ He smiled. ‘Don’t be scared. Just tell my mother I couldn’t have hurt Jenjen. Tell her that I love her. And that I’m sorry.’

  Suddenly she understood. Horror swept through her. ‘Don’t, Ronnie. Please.’

  Still smiling, he shook his head, put the gun to his temple and squeezed the trigger.

  January. Two months later.

  Saturday morning. Grey and cold. Susan lay in her bed, staring up at the ceiling.

  It was her sixteenth birthday. By rights she should have been spending it in a cell. When, stunned and shaking, she had walked out of the hut, it had been to see two police officers hurrying towards her.

  ‘Are you here to arrest me?’ she had asked one of them.

  ‘Arrest you? Why? You’re no kidnapper. Where is he? Is he still armed …?’

  And even in her dazed state she had realized that Charles had told them nothing of her own crimes. That they believed Ronnie’s actions were those of an unstable, jilted lover and that she was as much a victim as Jennifer had been.

  So she had got away with it. There would not be justice. Not for her.

  But there was still punishment.

  Her mother was downstairs, cooking her the breakfast she would eat in silence, just as she ate every meal they shared. They existed together but that was all. Occasionally her mother would try to speak. Try to explain. But though she listened she never heard anything that could make her understand. And she could not forgive.

  Just as Uncle George could not forgive her.

  She hadn’t seen Jennifer since that day in the woods. Uncle George had forbidden it. ‘She could have died because of you!’ he had screamed at her. ‘You should have called the police at once. You never should have got involved with that lunatic! I could have lost her for ever and it would have been your fault and I can never forgive you for that.’ She had sensed that somewhere in his words lay anger at himself and that he found it easier to blame her than deal with his own guilt. But the knowledge didn’t change anything. He had taken Jennifer to stay with friends on the other side of the country, and she had heard through others that he did not plan to return.

  Her mother and Jennifer. The two people she had loved most and had killed to protect. Now, for different reasons, both were lost to her for ever in the aftermath of that act.

  The papers had had a field day. There were moments when she could smile at the irony. Where her stepfather’s death had barely merited a paragraph, she was now the subject of a dozen articles. ‘A teenage femme fatale,’ was how one paper had described her, as it slavered over the story of young love gone so dreadfully wrong. On more than one occasion journalists had followed her in the street, calling out questions, wanting more. But she had remained silent, keeping all her stories to herself.

  There were still some friends. Charlotte. Lizzie. Arthur, when he came home from school. The ones who didn’t join in the gossip that people like Alice were spreading like wildfire. And most important of all there was Charles Pembroke. She saw him regularly and treasured the time they spent together. He was the one person from whom she need keep nothing secret. For hours at a time he would listen without judging, and often she would stare into his ruined face and wish he had been the man her mother had married all those years ago. A man she knew her father would have liked and would have wanted to take his place in her life.

  ‘You have to go on fighting, Susie,’ he had said to her over coffee during one of their meetings. ‘You can’t allow this to crush you.’

  ‘I’m not.’

  �
��Yes you are. The fire inside you is going out. You look defeated.’

  ‘Maybe I am. Jenjen’s gone. My mother might as well be. And Ronnie too. I miss him, you know. I miss being with him. I miss the way he used to make me laugh. The way he stuck up for me. The way he could make me feel brave when I was afraid.’ She paused. Swallowed. ‘I miss all of it before Waltringham.’

  Her hand was on the table. He covered it with his own. ‘But in time you won’t. At least not in a way that hurts. The pain will ease.’

  ‘For me, perhaps. But what about his mother?’

  ‘For her too.’ He sighed. ‘I hope. I’m doing my best to help her. In a way it’s pointless. No one will ever take Ronnie’s place. But at least she’s not alone. Unlike when she lost her family, this time she has me.’ A rueful smile. ‘For what it’s worth.’

  ‘It’s worth a lot. She’s lucky to have you as a husband, just as I am to have you as a friend.’

  ‘You’ll always have me as a friend. I’ll always help you. I want you to have a good life, Susie. A happy life. You deserve it but you have to fight for it. For you and your baby. If all that’s happened is to mean something, then you have to go on fighting.’

  ‘Do you think I’ll end up winning?’

  ‘I know it. You’re strong, Susie. Every bit as strong as your father once told you, and a bit more besides.’

  Perhaps he was right. She wanted him to be right.

  But she didn’t believe it. Not inside. She was tired, and yet there was always more fighting to be done. Somehow one of the papers had found out that she was pregnant. There had been a story about it the previous day. There in black and white for everyone to see and pass judgement. And they would judge. People in Kendleton were masters at judging others.

  And so, after lying awake half the night, she had finally decided what she must do.

  Rising from her bed, she dressed and went downstairs. Her mother was waiting for her in the kitchen at a table laden with food and presents. ‘Happy birthday, darling,’ she said in a voice dripping with apprehension.

  ‘I’m leaving, Mum. As soon as the baby’s born. I’m going to have it adopted and then I’m moving away from here.’

  ‘Move away?’ Her mother looked horrified. ‘But you can’t. What about …’

  ‘You? You’ll just have to look after yourself. You’re the parent, after all, and I think I’ve looked after you all I want to.’

  ‘You can’t just decide this, Susie. We have to talk about it. Sit down. Have something to eat. Open some of your presents.’

  ‘You should have saved your money. I don’t want presents. Not from you. See you later. I’m going for a walk.’

  Turning, she made her way towards the door.

  Noon. Charles, who had been working in his study, went to find his wife.

  Both the living room and the kitchen were empty. His heart sinking, he realized where she would be.

  She was sitting in what had once been Ronnie’s room, at a chair in front of the window where his desk had once stood, staring out at the river.

  ‘You shouldn’t sit here,’ he said gently. ‘You know it upsets you.’

  ‘I wanted to watch the water.’

  ‘You can do that downstairs. There’s no heating here. It’s cold. Come downstairs where you’ll be warm.’

  Her eyes remained fixed upon the window. ‘I’m fine.’

  ‘Can I bring you anything?’

  ‘No.’ A pause. ‘Thank you.’

  He turned to go. She called out his name. He turned back. ‘What?’

  ‘Will you answer me something? Honestly. Even if you know the answer will hurt.’

  ‘Of course.’

  Silence. He heard her sigh.

  ‘Ask me. I’ll tell you the truth.’

  ‘Was it my fault? That he did the things he did. That he … that he was what he was.’

  ‘No.’ His tone was forceful. Striding across the room, he crouched down beside her. ‘None of it was your fault. You did everything a mother could for him and he loved you for it. That’s what he was telling you at the end.’

  She stared at him with red, swollen eyes. She cried often and her face looked tired and worn. But it was still the loveliest face he had ever seen.

  ‘It’s not your fault, Anna. You must never, ever blame yourself. Some people just don’t see the world the way others do. It’s to do with how they’re made. It has nothing to do with how they were raised or how they were loved.’

  ‘There’s something else Ronnie told me at the end. Something I haven’t told you.’

  ‘What?’

  ‘He said he was glad I’d married you. That you were a good man and he was glad you’d be here for me when …’ She swallowed. ‘When he wasn’t. And he was right. I haven’t had much luck in my life, but one thing I know is that I struck gold when I met you.’

  ‘Do you really mean that?’

  ‘Yes. I love you, Charles. It may not be the hearts-and-flowers love I felt for Ronnie’s father, but it’s real. More real, if anything. I’m proud that you’re my husband.’

  He took her hands in his and kissed them. ‘I’m the proud one,’ he whispered.

  Silence. Outside, ducks and swans fought on the river.

  ‘Did you see Susie yesterday?’ she asked eventually.

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘How is she?’

  ‘Struggling. But she’ll cope. She’s too strong not to.’

  ‘Do you think the baby will be strong too?’

  ‘I hope so. And I hope it has its grandmother’s warmth.’

  She leaned over and for the first time kissed the scarred side of his face.

  ‘And its grandfather’s heart,’ she said.

  He pulled up a chair. They sat together, her hands still in his, watching the water.

  *

  Lunchtime. Susan walked through Market Court.

  She had been walking all morning. Through the woods and along the river bank. Two places she had always loved because of their association with her father, until other associations had come along to spoil them for ever.

  But it didn’t matter. Soon she would find other places to love. When finally she had left Kendleton behind.

  She walked by Cobhams. Charlotte, who was sitting in the window with Colin, banged on the glass and gestured for her to come in.

  The place was full, as it always was on Saturday. The air was thick with voices and the pounding beat of rock’n’roll from the jukebox. But as she entered it seemed to quieten.

  She sat down beside Charlotte who smiled at her. ‘Happy birthday. I’ve got a present for you at home. I was going to bring it round later.’

  ‘Thanks.’ She smiled back while feeling eyes creep over her from other tables.

  ‘Colin and I thought we’d go to the pictures this evening. Why don’t you come too?’

  ‘I don’t want to intrude.’

  ‘You won’t be. We want you to come.’

  Colin nodded. ‘My friend’s band is playing later on. We can go and listen to them.’

  She shook her head. He grinned. ‘They’re not that bad.’

  ‘I’m sure they’re not. It’s just that I don’t feel very sociable at the moment.’

  ‘It doesn’t matter what they say in the papers,’ Charlotte told her. ‘Getting pregnant isn’t a sin. Only stupid, small-minded people think otherwise.’

  ‘And if it was,’ Colin added, ‘the human race would die out.’

  Again she smiled. But it was a weak gesture. She felt weak. Tired and defeated. Others continued to stare. Once she would have shrugged it off and laughed. But not now.

  She wanted to be out of this. To escape. To hide.

  And then someone called out, ‘Murderess!’

  Startled, she looked for the source. Alice Wetherby sat surrounded by friends, her expression both condemning and triumphant. She tried to think of a retort. The sort she would have tossed out so effortlessly two months earlier. But she had been a differ
ent person then.

  And besides, it was true.

  Charlotte rose to her feet. ‘Shut up! You don’t know what you’re talking about.’

  ‘Don’t I? We all know why Ronnie really shot himself. Because that tart got herself pregnant and was trying to force him to marry her. I think he did the right thing too. No one but an idiot would want to saddle themselves with a slut like her for a wife.’

  Charlotte looked furious. Colin did too. Momentarily she was touched by their concern. But it was her fight, not theirs, and she didn’t feel up to climbing into the ring any more.

  ‘I’m going,’ she told them. ‘Have fun tonight.’ As she hurried for the door, Alice shouted, ‘Good riddance!’ and a few others laughed.

  She made her way across Market Court, through the shoppers and strollers, not knowing where she was headed, just needing to get away, despising herself for her weakness but unable to find the strength inside herself. Sensing that it had been worn away into nothing.

  And then she saw Jennifer.

  She was standing on the other side of the Court, holding Uncle George’s hand, scuffing her foot and looking bored as he stood talking to one of her neighbours.

  Until she saw Susan and her face lit up like an electric bulb.

  ‘Susie!’

  Uncle George turned, saw her too and frowned. He tightened his hold on Jennifer’s hand while she tried to pull away, eventually breaking free and charging across the Court. Susan crouched down, holding out her arms, and Jennifer threw herself into them. Susan was so overwhelmed with happiness at seeing her that she burst into tears, just as Jennifer did.

  ‘Oh, Jenjen, I’ve missed you so much.’

  ‘I’ve missed you too. It was horrid with Dad’s friends. I hated them.’

  They gazed at each other. Still crouching, she wiped Jennifer’s cheeks. ‘Jennifer, come back!’ roared Uncle George. Others turned to look but Jennifer remained where she was.

  ‘Why are you here?’ Susan asked. ‘I thought you were never coming back.’

  ‘That’s what Dad said but we stayed with Uncle Roger and Auntie Kate and I didn’t like it at all. I told Dad I didn’t like it but he said we had to stay so I was really bad. I kept singing all the songs that made you cross and Uncle Roger got cross too and Auntie Kate had some stupid china dolls and was always saying how lovely they were so I threw them out of the window and she went mad!’