Killing The Girl

by Elizabeth Hill

  She drew in a deep breath and expelled it before drawing in another. Then she said, ‘What do you mean? I thought Frankie had –’

  ‘Frankie had what? Are you okay?’

  ‘I’m fine … I thought … Frankie had … moved … um ... Thora’s very ill, isn’t she? And dying people like to be alone, don’t they?’

  ‘Well, maybe, but she’s still abroad, so I don’t know. But Frankie hasn’t moved. Why would he?’

  ‘She’s abroad? I thought she was almost dead; I thought you were … um, I thought you said something about Thora when you phoned last time.’

  ‘Why are you bothered about Thora? You haven’t asked about her for months?’

  ‘Um … no reason. I thought … never mind.’

  Silence returned as I waited for her to congratulate me.

  ‘Sarah, what I just told you is to be kept secret. We must meet up and I can show you my lovely ruby engagement ring. Frankie is so generous. It’s gorgeous.’

  ‘That’s lovely. When’s the baby due?’

  ‘End of February, I think. I haven’t been to the doctor. That weight I put on that we thought was me “filling out”, as Mum called it, you remember – when we were bridesmaids? Well, I was over three months gone. Can you believe it? And I thought it was the pill. Mum says it’s a girl, as I’m big all over.’

  ‘But that means … I thought …’

  ‘What did you think?’

  ‘Oh, nothing. I’m a bit confused because you didn’t tell me – and Frankie … neither did Frankie. And your mum’s not here anymore …’

  ‘Why would Frankie tell you? He wants to keep our baby and wedding a secret.’

  ‘I have to go. Sorry, Carol.’

  She put the phone down. I sat on the hallway chair numb with rejection. There was no one to tell about how Frankie said that everything wrong in his life was my fault. How he’d apologise after forcing me to cry and made everything better only to destroy me again a few days later. There was no one to ask why I still loved him and panicked that he would leave me. I was on my own and had to be strong. I would be a mother soon.

  Chapter 32

  Wednesday, 2 December 1970

  Frankie moved back into his digs with Ben on the twenty-fifth of November, when Thora returned. She was expected to die that night, but she survived due to improved pain medication and rest. Her doctor couldn’t tell me how long she had. Frankie wasn’t happy, but I insisted that Thora spend her remaining time in dignity and not having to deal with our relationship. He wanted us to be home for our wedding and Christmas. We had discussed whether to tell her about the wedding and decided not to, unless we married while she was still alive. She didn’t deserve this conflict. Neither did I at six months pregnant.

  As I set down Thora’s cocoa, I noticed that she was ghostly still. The air shifted with a chill breath, as though a door had opened. Something moved at the edge of my vision, but there was nothing there. Air caught in my throat because I knew she’d gone and everything had changed. Placing her hand back under the cover to keep warm, I put my face close to her mouth to feel the breath that did not come. I drew back the curtains to let in the night, the world, the heavens. The silver slip of the waxing moon peeked out from behind clouds as we waited for the sun to rise on her first day free of pain.

  Chapter 33

  Sunday, 20 December 1970

  We were married yesterday. The excitement tripped me into a state of euphoria. Frankie accused me of drinking, but I hadn’t drunk anything, not willing to let the effects of alcohol sedate me. He found my joy hard to control as I wandered the house naked, and stroking my wedding band. We were married – blessed and entwined forever. Let no man put us asunder.

  Schmidt had turned up to our wedding reception. The memory of his creeping about outside the reception room spooked me. Frankie had chatted with him instead of asking him to leave immediately. Eventually, Schmidt left – with a cheery wave of his hand. I refused to believe that what Thora had written in her letter was true.

  At thirty weeks pregnant it was a struggle carrying out even basic tasks. Frankie had to chop wood and wash the kitchen floor. He wasn’t happy doing ‘women’s work’, but he did it rather than argue with me. He was happy to be banned from cooking and was compliant with my demand that the house must be spotless at all times. He complained that his studying was suffering so I offered to read his textbooks to him as he cleaned. He declined.

  Frankie had gone home to tell his parents about our marriage but would be back tomorrow. He wouldn’t allow me to meet those sensitive people who were unable to celebrate our choice. He was a married man, and they were about to be grandparents, yet he was unable to reason with them. He said that they cared nothing for his happiness and they weren’t interested in our child.

  The weather was atrocious, with rain streaming down the windows. The sound of the front-door knocker roused me from my cosy chair in the kitchen, and I waddled off to answer it. A car pulled out of sight, having left Sarah on the doorstep, trembling with cold. Obliged to let her in, she sloped passed me into the hallway.

  ‘Go into the kitchen.’ My voice croaked from lack of use. Sarah hovered, so I pointed to a kitchen chair, she wasn’t having my comfortable one.

  ‘Do you want a cup of tea? I’ve made a pot.’

  ‘Yes, thanks. Is Frankie here?’ She watched as I shook my head and placed her tea down. ‘When will he be back?’

  ‘Tomorrow.’ I eased myself back into my chair.

  She picked up her tea, blew on it, then placed it back down. ‘I need to see him.’

  ‘You can see me. We’re married.’ A sense of doom rose and wafted around. Something evil had entered the house with her. These last months of Frankie’s distracted behaviour had flagged a suspicion that he was with someone else, but I had refused to entertain it. Now the lies were coming home to roost and I knew what Sarah was about to say. There had been something about hers and Frankie’s body language during our wedding breakfast that told me they were more familiar with each other than they should be. A picture of Frankie touching her cheek at mum’s wedding came to me; the gentle way he did it.

  The wind howled through the house and the curtains billowed. Upstairs our marital bedroom door slammed shut, making us jump. Rain clattered against the windowpanes, like devil fingers tapping out secret spells of death.

  ‘I’m pregnant.’ Tears fell onto cheeks that were as pale as chicken skin.

  ‘Who is the father?’ I asked, hoping that against all the odds it would be Ben or Mario. Her hands flew to her face to capture her cries. And I knew in an instant who it was. ‘I’m guessing it’s Frankie’s.’

  ‘Oh, God. How did you know? Oh, you didn’t. What have I done? I’m so sorry …’

  ‘Don’t bother, Sarah. You cheated with him. How could you.’

  ‘No. You don’t understand … I ... thought you two had split up. Frankie said you had. I didn’t know that you hadn’t split up, I swear ...’

  ‘Really? I don’t want to hear it.’ Frankie’s behaviour, the late nights and his lack of interest in sex. The sixth sense that he was cheating that I’d ignored – all of it rushed in like thunder pulsing in my head.

  ‘Have you told your parents?’ I asked. She shook her head. ‘You’d better tell them. Find out how to get rid of it.’

  ‘Get rid of it? That’s against God.’

  ‘Against God? And what was seducing Frankie then?’

  ‘I didn’t seduce Frankie! He told me that you knew he loved me. That he couldn’t pretend to love you anymore.’ She pulled a handkerchief from her bag and blew her nose. She had a touch of righteous indignation about her, as though telling me her lies had made them true.

  ‘Do you realise how stupid that sounds, Sarah. One phone call was all that was needed. But you knew that he was lying, didn’t you?’

  ‘No! I didn’t! He said you were staying here to take care of Thora. That day you told me about the wedding, and the baby, I was distraugh
t. I went to Ben’s the next day and was so angry that Ben had to pull me off him. He told me that you were fragile and he had a responsibility to his child so he had to marry you. He was afraid that you would kill yourself and the baby. And he said some awful things about you. Things I didn’t want to believe. Like after your baby was born he’d get you sectioned. That Thora would help him. Then he said that we could get back together and look after your – um, his – baby. I didn’t like that but he said it was the best thing for you.’

  ‘Why would Thora help him section me when I’m the mother of her grandchild? You know Frankie is Thora’s son?’

  ‘He told me at Thora’s funeral when he inherited this place. He said he had to get married to you to ensure that his name was on the baby’s birth certificate before he got you locked away in the looney bin. If he couldn’t do that I just had to wait until you accept that he didn’t love you anymore and moved out of here.’ She pulled her shoulders back and set her mouth straight. I went to the sink.

  ‘Frankie has not inherited this estate. I have.’

  ‘I don’t believe that …’ She stared at her hands before blowing her nose again. The wind rattled the window like a poltergeist trying to get in. ‘You can’t have …’

  ‘I’ll fetch the paperwork, shall I? It goes to our child, and not a penny to Frankie.’

  Sarah crossed her arms and pawed at her cuffs. I wanted her out of my house and far away. I wanted her baby dead.

  Kneeling in front of her, I said, ‘Maybe you can live with Matthew in Ireland and take care of Chrissie. He might need some help running that hotel.’ She looked stunned that she’d not thought of that solution. ‘Shall we go and tell your family?’

  ‘Oh, God! Don’t tell Matthew. What am I going to do? I don’t know what to do.’ She retched but luckily wasn’t sick.

  ‘You’ll cope. Things will feel better after you talk to your family. They can help you get rid of … it. Say you were raped or something …’

  ‘Raped? I would never say Frankie had raped me! Are you mad?’ She grabbed another handkerchief from her bag.

  ‘No, not that Frankie had raped you … just … anyone … a stranger.’

  ‘No, I won’t do that. I’d have to lie. Dad would call the police …’

  That plan was not going to work. The only other way was to make her realise how awful Frankie’s family was.

  ‘No; of course not. Sorry, Sarah, I was trying to help but that was a stupid idea. Best to keep the baby. But remember that Frankie is poor. He has no access to money so he can’t support you. You will put him in an impossible position if he finds out you’re pregnant. His parents move in high social circles in London. His father is a wealthy consultant about to be knighted. And his mother is an awful woman. Nasty, small-minded snob.’

  Her mouth worked, but she couldn’t find any words, so I continued. ‘If word of your pregnancy gets out, you’ll be in the newspapers, and they won’t be kind to you. “Girl from council estate claims Sir Dewberry’s son got her pregnant.”’ Your parents will not survive the shame. Frankie’s parents aren’t nice. They will set a solicitor on you and have you in court for defamation or something. You had better not tell Frankie that you’re pregnant. I promise that I won’t.’

  I knelt in front of her and took her hand. ‘Sarah. You must get rid of it or move to Ireland with Matthew. You do understand, don’t you? Frankie will not leave me or this house. He won’t want to know you.’

  ‘Don’t worry, I already know that Frankie doesn’t give a stuff about me. But I thought that he should know about –’

  ‘No, Sarah. If they wanted to, his parents could take your baby away from you.’ I wasn’t sure where this insight had come from, but I was sure that it had finally got through to her. She was already pale, but now she turned white as she leaned forward, resting her arms on her knees.

  ‘I never loved him. Not properly … not how I should. Please understand that I never meant to hurt you. I need the bathroom,’ she said as she ran down the hallway and up the stairs. I listened as she was sick and hoped that I’d done enough to convince her to either get rid of it or move to Ireland and live with Matthew. She needed to be as far away from me as possible now that she had destroyed our friendship.

  Chapter 34

  Tuesday, 22 December 1970

  The telephone rang. It was Ben wanting to speak to Frankie, but Frankie was out buying cigarettes. A sense of foreboding fluttered in me. He was agitated, so I promised to get Frankie to phone him as soon as he got back. Had he found out about Sarah’s pregnancy? As the call ended, there was a knock on the door. Opening it revealed a young woman in her low twenties. A large red overcoat dwarfed her. Her appearance suggested money and class. Parked behind her was a red MGB sports car, identical to Frankie’s blue one. Another car’s headlights retreated further along the driveway, towards the lane.

  ‘Hello. Is this Thora Kent’s old house? Is Frankie here?’

  ‘Yes, but he’s popped out for some fa – … cigarettes.’

  ‘Oh, great. Ben said he’d moved in. Bit desolate, isn’t it? I’m Lisa.’

  ‘Carol …’

  ‘So sorry about Thora ...’

  A screech of brakes in the lane cut her off. I suspected that Schmidt was lurking again. ‘Did you see a blue Austin when you drove in?’

  ‘There was a car. Oh, there she blows!’ A baby screamed through the open car window.

  ‘D’you mind if I come in and feed Isabella? I’ve managed to drive down from London without feeding her.’ She removed the baby from the car. Its cries made my baby kick.

  ‘Of course. Come into the kitchen.’

  She followed me; the cries were deafening, echoing around the hallway. As she sat in my chair, she opened her blouse, exposing a swollen breast, and let out a sigh of relief as the baby sucked. There was a gnawing sense of doom in my stomach. Was she one of Frankie’s ex-girlfriends? She was smart and well-to-do, but too expensive for him to court.

  ‘Wow, that’s better. I didn’t want to stop. When I got to Ben’s, she was dead to the world, so I pushed on up here.’

  ‘Would you like some tea and something to eat?’

  ‘I would kill for a cup of tea, and anything you have to eat would be great, thank you.’

  ‘I’ll heat you some soup.’

  As she fed the baby I glanced at her. She was beautiful. Her dress, her shoes and her bag were items of exquisite taste. She wore a massive diamond engagement ring next to her wedding band. Like a servant girl feeding the mistress, I stirred the pot. She overwhelmed my home. Her perfume filled the air, forcing me to breathe the alien smell. She pulled a muslin square from her bag and placed it over her shoulder before lifting the simpering baby onto it. The loud crack of a burp made me jump.

  ‘Good old Isabella. She does fantastic burps, doesn’t she? You can’t believe they come out of such a delicate mouth.’ She laughed and exposed her other breast. Blue veins threaded like spiders’ webs around her nipple.

  ‘How long have you got?’ She pointed at my belly.

  ‘About ten weeks.’

  ‘It’s a hard slog.’ She cooed and wiped Isabella’s mouth.

  I dished up the soup. ‘How do you know Frankie? Did you go to university with him?’

  ‘Me? Go to university?’ She laughed. ‘Come on, Izzy. Mummy hasn’t got all day.’

  ‘So …?’ I prompted her. The name ‘Lisa’ rang a bell that sent an icy shiver through me.

  ‘Know Frankie? My father and Frankie’s father are colleagues at the hospital. We grew up together, a street apart in Knightsbridge. Do you know Knightsbridge?’

  ‘No. I don’t know London.’

  ‘Oh, you should come up. It’s lovely. Wouldn’t live anywhere else. Except for Paris. Do you like Paris?’

  ‘No. I’ve not been out of England.’

  ‘Oh.’ My answer disappointed her. ‘You should make your husband take you. We went in February for our honeymoon. Bloody freezing. So bea
utiful and romantic. It would have been better if I hadn’t got pregnant. And if we hadn’t eloped. But Valentine’s is romantic for a wedding day. You wouldn’t believe the trouble we’re in now it’s all come out. And Fran –’ The baby pulled away from her and grizzled. Lisa lifted her onto her shoulder and gently rubbed her back. ‘Come on, Izzy, there’s a good girl. Daddy won’t want to see you with a windy face.’

  As I lifted the teapot, dread filled me at the thought of who this daddy might be. I didn’t want to register what I’d surmised, because even Frankie couldn’t be that stupid.

  ‘So,you’re Frankie’s cousin?’

  ‘God, no. Cousins? That would be gross.’ The freshly made Victoria sponge caught her eye.

  ‘Would you like some?’ I asked.

  ‘Yes. Did you buy it from the bakery Frankie uses? It looks just like the ones he brings home with him.’ She looked at my wedding ring, a frown creasing her face. ‘Where is your husband?’

  We looked at each other as the same thought exploded within us.

  ‘He’s gone to buy ciggies.’

  ‘You mean he’s gone with Frankie to buy ciggies?’ She scanned my face and looked down at my neck. ‘Where did you get that necklace? I had one like it, but I lost it sometime last May.’ She blanched and stopped jiggling Izzy.

  My legs gave way, and I slumped onto a dining chair. ‘Frankie, my husband, gave it to me.’