by Susan Lewis
‘It’s all right,’ he whispered raggedly. ‘I’ve got you.’
‘No,’ she sobbed. ‘Oh God, oh God,’ and sinking to her knees she buried her face in her hands as the breath blazed through her body and her wildly beating heart continued to break into a thousand pieces.
‘What were you thinking?’ he asked, panting as he knelt beside her. ‘Why are you doing this?’
She couldn’t answer, couldn’t even look at him. She turned away, but as his strong arms went round her she fell sobbing helplessly against him.
He held her for a long time, letting her cry, asking no more questions, until, in the end, as her terrible grief began to subside into exhaustion, he eased her to her feet and helped her back across the beach to where her terrified mother was waiting.
As Gina rushed forward to help, Vivi pushed her away so harshly that Gina almost fell.
Ashen, Gina looked at Sam, then at Michelle as she came out of the house.
‘Vivi, what is it?’ Michelle implored. ‘What the hell made you do that?’
‘Leave me alone,’ Vivi growled, moving past her. ‘I can’t speak to you … I can’t … I …’ As she started to break down again, she was saved by rage. ‘I want this thing out of me,’ she seethed, thumping a hand against the device in her shoulder. ‘I need to get it out now.’
‘Vivi, stop,’ Michelle cried, grabbing her hands as she began clawing herself.
Vivi fought, but then Gil was holding her, pinning her to him, and urging her to calm down.
‘Let me go!’ Vivi sobbed. ‘Please let me go.’
‘Not until you tell us what this is about,’ he insisted.
She couldn’t. Nothing in her could utter the words.
‘Vivi, you have to tell us,’ Michelle urged. ‘You could have killed yourself out there.’
Vivi rounded on her mother. ‘Ask her what it’s about!’ she shouted, pointing at Gina and shaking so badly that her entire body seemed about to collapse. ‘Make her tell you who my father is.’
Gina’s face was white; her eyes huge, dark pools of fear. As she started to speak Vivi gave a cry of pain – an electrical charge was shooting through her heart. She clasped her hands to her chest and would have buckled to her knees if Gil hadn’t caught her. He took her inside and made her sit down on the sofa in her mother’s sitting room.
‘Do you need to call the clinic?’ Michelle asked, handing her a phone.
Vivi ignored it and clutched her head.
‘Vivi,’ her mother implored.
Vivi looked up, her eyes burning with a blinding fury. ‘Have you told them yet who my father is?’ she raged. ‘Have you?’
Gina regarded her helplessly.
Gil started to speak, but Vivi cut him off.
‘It’s Jack Raynor,’ she cried savagely. ‘Isn’t that great?’ she shouted at Michelle and Sam. ‘Josh and I have the same …’
‘No!’ Gina shouted. ‘What …? No! He’s not your father.’
Vivi stared at her, stunned into silence, until the words reached her and she felt herself coming apart. She was hardly daring to believe her mother, but already the relief was so intense, so consuming that she started to sob and choke.
Going to her, Gina held her as she tried to catch her breath. ‘Please try to calm down,’ she urged. ‘You have to rest after a shock …’
Vivi couldn’t think about rest, couldn’t think about anything apart from what her mother had said, and about Josh who wasn’t who she’d feared he was … She could have killed herself running like that, she’d meant to …
Turning to her mother, she said hoarsely, breathlessly, ‘You need to tell me … I want to know how you come to have the bronze dancer that belongs at Deerwood here in this house.’
Gina’s face was haggard and frightened as she looked at Gil. She was like a child who’d lost its way and had no idea what to do next.
Putting an arm around her Gil said softly, ‘You must do it, Gina.’
Gina nodded. Her eyes came to Vivienne’s and at last she murmured, ‘Yes, yes, I must.’
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
GINA
Summer 1989
The vast, sandy curve of Kesterly’s main beach was so crowded with music lovers, bands, dancers, all kinds of party animals, that Gina knew as she floated down from the Promenade that she was unlikely to find her friends in the mayhem. She didn’t mind. It felt exciting, daring, to be alone in her dreamy, chilled-out state. She was already half in love with all the revellers, who seemed just as dreamy and chilled as she did. Many reached for her as she sauntered aimlessly past, pulling her into a dance, stroking her hair, pressing kisses to her bronzed bare skin.
It was summer, the night was hot, the concert free. Everyone was high; thick, pungent smoke fogged the air, drifted from joints, burning oils and small bonfires. Ecstasy was offered and taken, blues downed like candy, while cocaine was snorted from bare breasts and thighs. In the light of flames faces glowed with euphoria, and inhibitions melted away as everyone gyrated, hummed and thrust to the beat.
Gina had known how it would be; they all knew, it was why they’d come. Concerts like this happened often around universities and beaches; but if she went to one, she always took something. Tonight it had been E, almost an hour ago, with another pill tucked into her bikini top for later.
She smiled vaguely as she walked, letting her head fall back to watch embers floating high into the night like crimson stars. The great black canvas of the sky was so inviting she felt she could fly right up to it. Aware of hands on her legs she closed her eyes, yielding to the erotic charges sweeping through her, raising the hair from her neck as she swayed and laughed and felt the music entering her as though she were a puppet and it her master.
He didn’t ask her name, and she didn’t ask his, she simply let him pull her down beside him, and when he laughed she laughed too. She was aware of others watching, and stretched out a hand to them. Someone took it, and she moaned softly as he held her to him, protectively, telling everyone she was his. She didn’t mind; she was barely listening, she just wanted to be with them, whoever they were, passing spliffs and tipping back wine.
It was a long way into the night that she heard someone mention the police. Joints were extinguished and buried, searches began for abandoned clothes, causing hilarity and tangled limbs. Had she already swallowed the second pill? She couldn’t remember.
He took her by the hand and tugged her across the sand. She went willingly, intrigued to know where they going, where she would end up tonight. Others came, and soon they were in cars, heading out of town into the pitch-black countryside. He drove recklessly, and through the open top she felt the wind whipping through her hair, and over her body like a beautiful, violent storm.
Eventually they stopped in the middle of nowhere. In the moonlight she could make out the shape of tents, pitched in a field.
‘The party continues,’ he murmured against her lips. ‘Just remember you’re mine, all mine.’
She laughed and got out of the car, wondering what had happened to her shoes, but not really caring. She was with him; she already loved him, whoever he was, and she wanted him more and more.
Suddenly they were blinded by flashlights. Men, older men, were coming towards them, emerging from the darkness like alien beings. Voices were raised angrily, abusively. Her lover let go of her hand and moved forward aggressively, fists clenched. She drew back with the other girls she’d barely noticed until now.
‘What’s happening?’ she heard one of them whisper.
Nobody knew.
The anger in the air was palpable; the threats became terrible, fraught with violence and murderous intent. This was a different kind of dream. Something had gone wrong.
An explosion suddenly tore through the night like a thunderclap, filling it with deafening sound.
Silence fell like invisible rain.
‘Jesus, she’s got a gun.’
Gina watched, as though hypnotized, as one of t
he older men took the gun from a woman with furious eyes and shaking hands. What was the man going to do? Were they all about to be killed?
Her lover was shouting, gesticulating, snarling along with the others.
‘We need to get out of here,’ a girl whispered in her ear, but Gina was held captive by weakened limbs and bewildered fascination.
The older men closed in on the younger ones, telling them to take the tents down, to move on, get off their land. There was pushing and shoving, more violent threats, until the roar of a vehicle drowned the fracas. It was coming in through a far gate, dazzling them all with its headlights. It came closer, at speed, and the younger men started to run from it. Gina’s lover grabbed her, his face taut, white, and handsome in an other-worldly way.
The sudden stench was overpowering. She gasped and gagged.
So did the others.
The older men were laughing; the tents were sagging under the weight of the foul slime that had been dumped on them.
Keeping hold of her hand he dragged her back to the cars, where others were already starting to speed away.
‘Back to mine,’ he shouted as he revved his engine.
‘See you there,’ someone shouted back.
Gina closed her eyes as they sped through the night, unsure of what had just happened, or where they were going.
It wasn’t until the next morning, after the high had started to wear off, that she registered her surroundings. She was in a high-ceilinged room with large windows overlooking a tree-lined drive and manicured lawns.
He brought her tea, told her his name and said he wanted to fuck her again.
She let him, because she wanted it too.
He was special, she could feel it. She wanted to be with him again and again.
When it was over he rolled off her and said, ‘OK, little slut, time to fuck off home and have a good life.’
Autumn 1989
When Gina realized a couple of months later that she was pregnant she felt so sick and ashamed that she could tell no one, was hardly even able to admit it to herself. His parting words kept ringing in her ears. She couldn’t forget them; she’d barely heard anything else since. She needed him to take them back, to swear he hadn’t meant it, that he knew in his heart she wasn’t really that sort of girl.
Sometimes, to buoy herself, she wondered if he might be looking for her. He’d have no idea how to find her. Maybe she should contact him so he could tell her how much he regretted hurting and humiliating her so cruelly. She was sure he’d want to; he must feel so bad about the way he’d treated her; anyone would. Then she could tell him she was pregnant and he’d be so sorry for the way he’d behaved that he’d cry and beg her to forgive him. She would, of course, and then everything would be all right again. She wouldn’t have to go on feeling so disgusted with herself that she could hardly bear to look in the mirror, or any of her friends in the eye.
She went home for the weekend, telling her parents that she was in need of some peace and quiet for revision. She was aware of her mother’s bemusement – there were no exams coming up, and there were libraries and other places belonging to the university where she could study.
She rang Dean Manor from a call box in town and asked to speak to him. When he came to the phone she could hear her heartbeat in her ears and felt queasy as she said, ‘Hi, it’s the girl with no name. Remember me, from the beach in the summer? Do you fancy getting together again?’
There was a short silence before Charlie Bleasdale said in a drawl that was both friendly and intrigued, ‘Yeah. Yeah, I remember you, and I do fancy that. In fact your timing’s pretty perfect, Ms No Name. Tell me you’re free tonight.’
Swallowing, she said, ‘I’m free tonight.’
‘OK. Do you have a car?’
‘Yes.’
‘Then come to the Ring o’Bells car park at eleven.’
‘Why so late?’
He didn’t answer, and she realized he’d already rung off.
VIVIENNE
Present Day
Vivi stared at her mother’s ashen face, seeing and feeling every part of her pain and despair, understanding her regrets, her refusal ever to speak of the despicable man who’d hurt and humiliated her so vilely. The shame and self-loathing he’d made her feel had spread through her young mind like a cancer, choking off parts of her so they could no longer function as they should. She’d been afraid to love since then, had felt undeserving of it, had even pushed it away as though it would turn into some kind of punishment for the way she’d behaved.
Vivi wanted desperately to end this ordeal for her mother now, to tell her that she was sorry she’d forced her to relive a single minute of it, but as though sensing what she was about to say Gina touched her fingers to Vivi’s lips, quietening her.
Michelle and Sam had left a while ago, feeling it wasn’t right for them to be present while Gina opened up, but Gil had stayed. Vivi had wanted him to, and Gina had agreed that he needed to hear the truth too.
Gina drank deeply from the glass of water Gil passed her; Vivi noticed how badly her hands were shaking, and unable to bear it she reached out for her. Her mother seemed almost childlike then as she looked into Vivi’s eyes, her expression showing how much she wanted to be forgiven and understood, how sorry she was, how riddled with guilt she felt, and had for years. Behind it all Vivi could see how deeply her mother loved her, and how afraid she was of losing her.
‘I know there’s more,’ Vivi said softly, ‘but I want to tell you now that nothing you can say will ever change how much I love you.’
Gina’s voice caught on a sob as she said, ‘Thank you. Oh, Vivi,’ and gathering her into her arms she held her so close that they could feel the beat of each other’s hearts. ‘I wish he wasn’t your father,’ she gasped. ‘I wish with every part of me that I could erase him from both our lives as though he’d never existed, but holding back, never telling you about him was all I could do. I’m sorry for all the pain it’s caused you … Do you understand that I needed to keep you away from him, because I was afraid of how much he might hurt you too?’
‘Of course I understand,’ Vivi whispered. ‘And I’m sorry for all the pain I caused you.’
‘I should have been truthful,’ Gina insisted, ‘I know that, but I just couldn’t bear to think of him, much less speak of him. Every time I tried I felt as though I was going to inject some sort of poison into our lives, a poison I’d never be able to get rid of … Maybe that doesn’t make any sense to you, but it felt so real to me, and even now I hate the fact that his name has been spoken in this room.’
Vivi hated it too for what it was doing to her mother, and had done for so many years. She looked at Gil as he sat beside them, his head down, his elbows resting on his knees. Sliding a hand into his, she brought it to her lips and kissed it. This must explain so much for him. ‘Are you OK?’ she asked him.
His smile was wry, his eyes shining with tears as he turned them to her. ‘Everything that’s beautiful about you,’ he said hoarsely, ‘and there’s so much, is down to your mother. You’re her daughter, not his.’
‘And you’re my father,’ she said, understanding it was what he needed to hear, and feeling the truth of it as though it was cleansing away the stains of reality.
Gil swallowed hard, tried to speak and found the words blocked by emotion. ‘This thing that’s happening to you …’ he said wretchedly. ‘You have so much to live for, so many people who love and need you …’
Breaking in gently, Vivi said, ‘We mustn’t talk about me now.’ She didn’t want her condition to be a part of this, wasn’t even going to allow herself to consider that she might have inherited the defect from that pig of a man. As far as she was concerned it was all hers, and would stay that way unless, until, she could find a new heart.
She turned back to her mother and smoothed a hand over Gina’s tear-ravaged face. ‘Do you want to go on?’ she asked softly.
There was a long moment before Gina said, ‘
You must be tired …’
‘I’m fine,’ Vivi lied. Her mother needed to finish her story, and she, Vivi, needed to hear it.
Gina’s head went down, and her breathing sounded unsteady as she drew in air and quietly exhaled it. There was clearly still some distance to go and she needed all her reserves.
Eventually she looked at Vivi, and at the same time reached for Gil’s hand. She started to speak, slowly at first, but as the words came more easily Vivi could feel the bond they shared tightening around them as though to keep them safe. It had always been there, she realized, throughout everything it had never let her down, and she knew it never would.
It was gone midnight by the time they finally went to bed, Vivi and Gina to their rooms, Gil to Mark’s. They were all emotionally drained and exhausted, Gina most of all.
Vivi slept badly, her bruised and battered body aching and throbbing through the night, the cuts she’d sustained on the beach stinging like hot needles and the fear of what further damage she’d done to herself burning the edges of her pain. Mostly though, her mind raced and reeled with all that her mother had told her.
She knew the whole story now.
Gina had held nothing back, had revealed everything that had happened the night Jack Raynor died, and Vivi had felt her mother’s heart drowning in a bottomless well of grief and sorrow. Gina had spared herself nothing, had spoken almost as if in a trance, as though telling a story about someone she used to know.
It was how Vivi had felt as she’d listened, that the reckless free-spirited nineteen-year-old her mother had described was someone who’d stopped existing the night she’d gone to the beach and met the man who’d shamed, humiliated and impregnated her.
By the time her mother had finished Vivi had felt as devastated and beaten by the events of that night as Gina clearly had while it was happening. She’d also known what they needed to do next, and Gina, in spite of how afraid she was, hadn’t argued.
‘You have to tell Shelley,’ Vivi had said quietly. ‘She deserves to hear it from you.’