Killing The Girl

by Elizabeth Hill

  She made her way out, making small talk with all and sundry, seeming to have lost her shyness as she walked, perfectly balanced, on high heels. Then she stumbled in the doorway, and I realised that she was a little drunk. Alice ran after her and took her hand before putting an arm around her waist. Sarah gently pushed her arm away, but undeterred, Alice stayed with her. They disappeared, and I stared at the empty space knowing that when they returned they would be together. They had no plans to seek me out to share any part of their lives.

  I was on my own, and even though I would soon have security for the rest of my life, my veins ran cold. I looked across to where my three brothers and their partners sat. A couple of crawling babies scooted on the floor. They held no interest for me even though I’d be a mother myself soon. Apart from exchanging basic information and updates on how my nieces were doing, there wasn’t much else to say. Denny had invited me over next week, but Rosemary had given me a look that said I wasn’t welcome. Gerry had told me that Peter was investing in a garage with him and that Denny would be his apprentice. Sammy was now a qualified carpenter. They all seemed sorted. I bit my tongue about my news as they crowed and preened.

  There wasn’t anyone here to make small talk with and I felt too tired to bother. The realisation hit me that since Frankie, I’d abandoned the circle of people that made up my small life. His friends had become my friends, and my friends had gone. They had new friends and lives that didn’t include me. It had only been five months but people move on so quickly. My yearning for Frankie was back. I wanted to overlook his bad behaviour so that life could get back to how it was; Frankie, me and our baby. Thora had encouraged me to be strong and independent, but I longed for that closeness I’d had with Frankie and missed it so much. A desperate sense of loneliness sent me to the hotel reception to order a taxi.

  As I waited for the lift to return to my room, a movement caught my eye. Frankie was sitting in the bar nursing a drink, a mischievous grin on his face as he waved to me. My heart sank and soared as a tsunami of emotions assaulted me. Thora was adamant that I didn’t need him; and a small part of me agreed with her, now that I was independent. I didn’t need a man with his fickle ways to mess with my heart. But at that moment a flood of sentiment swirled in me and my resolve weakened. However, I wasn’t going to run into his arms. I had more pride than that. Turning away, I entered the lift but my heart lurched in my chest and fluttered in confusion at my strong longing for him.

  I quickly packed my things, panicking that he would leave because I’d snubbed him. But he was still there when the lift doors opened. The well-defined shape of his shoulders as he sat, his back to me, beckoned me in the seductive way they always had. Sarah had joined him and sat opposite him. They chatted like friends do, at ease in each other’s company. She didn’t hate him for what he’d done to me, why would she? She talked and sipped her drink and put her hand to her lips. I wanted her to be on my side: to find out why he’d left me; to tell him that he should apologise to me; to ask him if he loved me. I wanted her to be the friend I used to have. He seemed to be complimenting Sarah as he touched a strand of her hair and ran his finger down to tip her chin and examined her face. The action was odd but didn’t seem flirtatious.

  Alice arrived and stood over them. Sarah bowed her head as Alice placed her hand on her shoulder. Again Sarah shrugged her off, as she had done earlier. I slipped away to the reception desk with a glimmer of hope that their friendship was maybe not as strong as I’d thought. Maybe I’d get my best friend back as well as my boyfriend. Those two people in my new and better life would help chase away the fear of the loneliness I’d feel when Thora died. A house without a proper family living in it wasn’t home. But that could wait until tomorrow, I decided, as I checked out.

  As I turned to leave, I collided with Alice as she ran out of the bar. She looked at me and muttered, ‘Sorry,’ as she headed for the main door. Something about the look on her face made me turn and walk back to where I could spy on Frankie and Sarah. Sarah sat ramrod straight as tears flowed down her face. Frankie sat immobile, his hand rubbing his thigh. I recognised his frustration at not knowing what to do. He was always at a loss with any emotional display. He used to listen to me as I ranted about whatever was bothering me, before asking if I was okay, the helpless look on his face belying the fact that he hadn’t engaged in any way with whatever was frustrating me. Then he would kiss me better, leading to lovemaking and the obliteration of my worries. He couldn’t take that course with Sarah.

  He pulled himself forward and gently wiped a tear from her face. His finger stroked her cheek and jealousy seeped into me as the intimacy of his touching reminded me of what I was missing. He must have said something because she nodded her head and drew in a deep breath. He took her hand and squeezed it. Nausea rose, suppressing my lungs, and the claustrophobic sensation forced me to turn away. I grabbed my case and stumbled out onto the pavement and into my waiting taxi. I’d contact Frankie tomorrow, but for now I’d leave and spend the rest of the day in my new home. It was the first day of my new life, and there were some decisions to make.

  Chapter 29

  Sunday. 6 September 1970

  Frankie drove us to Chewton Lakes. The lakeside was quiet, with few people scattered about the popular tourist attraction. Frankie had brought chocolates. I walked ahead to the edge of the lake and looked out over the water. I wasn’t happy with him, and a small part of me wondered if I should tell him that we were finished. But my baby needed a father and I knew how important that was for a child.

  He touched my arm and asked, ‘Am I forgiven?’

  ‘Everything is not fine because you buy me a box of chocolates, Frankie.’

  ‘Oh, Carol, of course not. But you know I’ve moved back because I miss you so much.’

  ‘No you haven’t. Sarah told me that you’d moved back because the uni course was better. And because Ben has agreed to move here with you.’

  ‘You know that’s not true. Well, it’s partly true. But I switched courses to be close to you. That’s the main reason.’ He continued talking to my back as I walked to the water’s edge. ‘Sarah told me about your accident and about you staying with Auntie Thora. I should stop calling her that, but I can’t call her mother. Catherine’s my mother.’

  ‘When did you speak to Sarah? You didn’t tell her I was pregnant, did you?’ A frisson of jealousy mixed with alarm at the thought that he’d spoken to her.

  ‘I phoned her when I’d fixed everything to come back. I swore her to secrecy, so don’t be angry. But I didn’t tell her about the baby because Thora said to keep it quiet for now.’ He rubbed my arm. ‘How can I convince you that I’m sorry?’

  I wouldn’t answer. He didn’t understand how he’d destroyed my life when he left. What if he did that again? The thought made me nervous, and I rubbed my tired eyes fearing I’d slip back into the nightmare of conflicting thoughts I’d been having all night.

  He linked his arm in mine, his mouth close to my ear. ‘It’s been like living in a whirlpool since Christmas. Finding out I’m adopted, then falling in love with you. Then the baby … I couldn’t … it all seemed to happen out of my control. Like I was living in a parallel universe. But I’ve had time to get my head around it all now.’

  ‘You sound like a hippy – “get my head around it”.’ Mentioning hippies reminded me of his silly friends. ‘How are your friends? Are they missing you? Are you going to run away with them again any time soon? Reject your baby again?’

  ‘You know I’m not. I’m back to stay. I want to be a good father. I missed you so much, and I was an idiot to do what I did. I wanted to contact you before. Wanted to tell you how much I … love you. But I thought that you’d reject me. You had every right to, me running off like that. But I knew I had to do something to show you I was serious. I’m going to get my degree and get a job. Provide for us and be a proper husband. I do love you. You must know that.’

  He grabbed me, pulled me to him, and kissed
me so passionately that I forgot everything. I was back where I wanted to be, in Frankie’s arms, and Frankie was my king. His hand slid to my breast, and I pushed him away. The next time we made love would be on our wedding night.

  ‘Why are you pushing me away? A bit late for that isn’t it?’ His voice was soft and seductive.

  ‘Are we engaged?’ I asked.

  His eyes widened. ‘I suppose, what with the baby. Shouldn’t you wait for me to ask you?’

  He laughed but noticed I wasn’t amused, so said, ‘Carol, you’re so feisty, and that’s why I love you so much. You’re a challenge, and you keep me on my toes. You’re so good for me. I couldn’t live without you.’ He dropped to his knees. ‘Carol Cage, love of my life, light of my world, will you do me the greatest honour and marry me?’

  ​In the softening twilight of a perfect early-autumn evening, with the birds chirping and the waves of the lake gently lapping at the shore, I said yes to the man of my dreams.

  Chapter 30

  Friday, 6 November 1970

  Frankie was upstairs packing. He’d received bad news and had to travel home. I flinched when he spoke of London as home but held my tongue for fear of an argument when he was about to leave. His mother was gravely ill. We were to go together tomorrow to tell them our good news, and now this. He was spending most weekends in London any way which was beginning to annoy me but he said he had to go to keep his parents happy. Frankie said it would be best I didn’t go with him as his father was distraught and his mother was in shock, so they had enough to cope with without dealing with our relationship as well. Packing a Victoria sponge in our best cake tin, I placed it next to his car keys, sure that they would not feel like baking. Frankie didn’t want to take the casserole I’d made.

  As he drove away, I stood for a long time staring at the place in the lane where his car had disappeared. My heart broke each time he left. Images of car accidents and beautiful women swirled in my imagination. How to stop these feelings of despair when he left was a constant worry. Cleaning our bedroom distracted me. And once I’d finished that I set about systematically cleaning the whole house. Moving about dissipated my loneliness and stopped desolation from lodging in my chest. I’d spent long periods alone because Frankie preferred studying with Ben. He returned smelling of a life away from me; of foreign air puffing from his scented, ironed clothes; of conversations had with people I’d never met.

  He was unhappy about the terms of the trust. I’d had to tell him the full extent of it when I could no longer keep him happy with the cash I obtained from Hamilton for non-existent household items. He’d wanted a new car, a holiday, clothes. Realising that I didn’t have access to wealth he’d stormed off to London for a week, only to return extremely apologetic about his shallowness. He’d been his normal Frankie self until a few weeks ago; then something had shifted into his eyes: a panic, a sense of dread. I worried that he was ill, that he had cancer like Thora, but he assured me he didn’t, that he intended to outlive me. He promised that our child would always have him.

  Left alone much of the time I thought of Sarah. We used to be so close. I mourned the loss of our friendship. We’d drifted so far apart. The last time I’d visited we’d sat in her strange and unfamiliar bedroom. It had new wallpaper and a snazzy bed throw, and smelt of peach and wood polish. The feeling of not belonging itched my nerves and twitched in my feet. Maturity was expected to separate us, but the stamp of that parting hung over us. Our new lives had barriers. Mum said it was part of growing up, that I was sentimental and was resisting maturing into a woman and a soon-to-be wife. The thought persisted that defining our lives in such a way was wrong. As if loyalty was separate instead of communal.

  Sarah had hinted that she did not miss our friendship. She had a job at the factory and two new friends to replace me. I gained some comfort from her wounded tone and the news that Alice seemed to have deserted her. Perhaps Sarah wasn’t such a good friend after all. But I did miss her. She was my best friend for many years, and I cursed that we had grown apart, that our lives were following separate paths.

  Matthew had visited while I was there and Mrs Burcher insisted that we go downstairs for tea as a family. Matthew’s new girlfriend, Lucy, was hopeless with Chrissie. Chrissie, sensing fear the way a dog does, screeched and threw a tantrum until they left. Matthew should have taken charge. It seems men like to delegate childcare to the nearest woman. That relationship would not last. He would walk all over her with his arrogance and sharp words. Any girl taking on Matthew needed to be as strong as an ox judging by how he spoke to her. He was testing in his masculinity and in need of a girl like Paula to put him in his place. The thought that he didn’t respect Lucy enough to moderate his behaviour crossed my mind. Beauty did not conquer all, it seemed.

  Frankie was a saint in comparison, and would never speak to me in that undermining and sarcastic, nagging, way with the continual suggestion that women were stupid. Frankie was open with his criticisms and easily tired of bad humour, bouncing back to hug and make up and forget. Even when we had terrible rows, he was up-front with his reasons; he would storm off to calm down, but always returned with his tail between his legs.

  There were many lonely hours waiting for Frankie to come home. Strangely, I thought a lot about Matthew, which was disconcerting. Like a bad habit I’d not conquered.

  My dad’s books comforted me, though, and I remembered the first time Francine made her presence known because I was lying on my bed reading one. A strange sensation fluttered across my abdomen to jolt me and remind me that motherhood would be my new life.

  Chapter 31

  Tuesday, 24 November 1970

  Frankie had changed. He started arguments over the least little thing, and he spent many weekdays working with Ben. I’d recorded his absence and uninterest in our life in a small notebook I’d found in Thora’s desk. Documenting our arguments had shown me a pattern, and I began to see that he made me into a nag or a simpleton purely to enable him to tell me how horrible I was, then use that as an excuse to spend time away from me. During his worst outbursts – provoked when I was strong enough to challenge him with a degree of resilience – he threw the fact that I had all his money in my face. The situation tested my sanity and I developed what I now recognise as panic attacks.

  Arriving home late on many weekdays, he assured me he had been studying with Ben at his digs. But he came back drunk. Sometimes the smell of perfume, like apricots, leached from his clothes. He increased the number of weekends he went home to London every weekend. The dutiful son visited his ill mother, keeping his father sweet, too, so he could collect his allowance. He was having a good time arriving shattered on Sunday night to flop into bed and sleep without giving me so much as a goodnight kiss. He never placed his hand on my stomach to feel the gentle movements of his child.

  Bored of staying home, I fretted for fitness, freedom and long walks in the countryside. To be able to drive without wanting to pee each time I pressed the brake! Pregnancy had a heavy impact, draining me mentally and physically. Some evenings when Frankie failed to come home, I longed for Sarah but when I’d phone she was reluctant to meet up, being too busy with a community programme at the church, or going out dancing with her workmates. She still looked after Chrissie at Matthew’s house when he took Lucy out. She complained that I only wanted to see her when I had nothing else to do, and it was tricky because she had a busy social life spending Saturdays with her friends in town, shopping at the new boutiques and having coffee. Sundays were spent in church and with family. She was making excuses not to see me after all those years of friendship, and the realisation that I had somehow lost her by spending too much of my time with Frankie saddened me.

  She didn’t know I was pregnant. That unnerved me. It was like not telling my hand it was wearing a glove. We used to share everything, and now we were strangers. When I phoned the previous week, she was distant. I’d try to tell her not to be jealous of Frankie and me. She’d soon have a boyfriend
, for she was not unattractive and had a kind soul. I wondered if she fancied Ben, thinking that would be an excellent solution and make us a foursome, but she had not forgiven him for what she called his ‘assault’ on her in the summer.

  For some reason, she’d thought that I was nursing Thora and became confused when informed that Thora was on another cruise. She seemed reassured when I told her that Thora had given up any hope of a cure and was dying. And that I would nurse her when she needed it. It was a strange conversation, and I had the feeling she hadn’t listened to a word and was still confused about what I was doing living at Oaktree House, and how Thora was still well enough to travel even though she was dying. When I put the phone down, I had an intense feeling of loneliness. Frankie said it was best not to keep in touch as he didn’t want Sarah upsetting me. He said that she was in my past and should be left there.

  Frankie had not come home again, so I decide to phone Sarah to tell her we had booked our wedding and that I was pregnant. I’d become afraid to drive, as I didn’t have a licence and Frankie kept telling me that I’d go to prison if I was caught. I longed to go to my old house, to get out of the car, walk up the path, open the front door, see my mum and my brothers – for everything to be as it was a few months ago. Tears came as I hankered after my old life. So much had happened that year, and I was not adapting well. Admiring my engagement ring didn’t banish those blues. Frankie would be mad at me, but I had to tell someone, as I couldn’t stay hidden away forever. There would be another row but I was prepared for it.

  ‘Hi, Sarah. How are you?

  ‘Oh. Hi, Carol. I’m okay.’

  There was a long pause when neither of us spoke, and the silence told me that she wasn’t interested. Anger at being treated badly by both her and Frankie rose to my throat, and I struggled not to shout at her. It seemed too much to expect people with whom you’d shared so much of your life to treat you with some respect: to allow you to make a few mistakes without condemning you. Life was showing me how uncompromising people could be. There was nothing to do about her apathy. At least I roused some sort of response from her as I said, ‘Guess what? Frankie and I have set our wedding date for the nineteenth of December. Isn’t that great? I wanted it to be sooner because … well, something else you don’t know … I’m pregnant.’