Claire walked quickly from the bus stop to the cemetery past a long line of cars parked partly on the pavement, hoping she would be on time. There had been last minute problems at work and she felt guilty about not making it to the church service. She joined a large crowd gathered at one side when she noticed Mr. Munro among them.
Standing on the edge of the crowd, she looked around, caught sight of Alan standing close to an older man, and a fair-haired woman and guessed they were his parents. As if feeling her gaze, Alan glanced up and gave her a tentative smile. Her heart lurched, and she felt a sadness and a sense of loss.
She scolded herself. “Don’t be such a stupid cow, you’re a grown woman”, but another part of her felt a longing for him and the way things used to be between them.
Afterwards she tried to slip away quietly, but Alan hailed her. He looked intently into her eyes. “Claire?”
She forced a smile. “Hello Alan.”
He looked concerned. “How are you?” he asked. She saw his hand go halfway to his ear then stop and remembered when she’d last seen the gesture.
She felt her bottom lip tremble but forced her voice to remain calm. “Bearing up, but I need to rush, I must get back to work.” Turning abruptly, she walked quickly away, feeling Alan’s eyes on her back.
She sat at the back of the bus and let the tears flow freely down her cheeks. At the nursing home she washed her face, reapplied her makeup then emerged, smiling, to get on with her duties.
The rest of the mourners left. A clutter of plates and glasses disturbed the usual neatness of the sitting room. Bill Munro and David Balfour ensconced in comfortable armchairs, with glasses of whisky in their hands, talked over old times.
“I was remembering another grave,” David murmured, looking serious. “Have you been back?”
“No!” Bill answered, “but I intend to go soon.”
“Oh!” David was quiet for a moment. “She was a lovely girl.”
Bill’s face took on an attitude of sadness. David looked down at his whisky.
“We go back a long way,” Bill said at last. They looked at each other across the bridge of their memories. David nodded. They sat in silence. Bill returned to the present. “Alan came to visit Kathleen a few weeks ago. He’s a fine young man.”
David nodded again. “He needs to be more assertive.”
Bill suggested. “He’s a natural empath, he feels for others and cares about them.”
“Life will toughen him up,” asserted David. Bill stayed silent. He agreed but deplored the inevitability.
David sensed his feeling. “We all carry scars.”
They were silent again, the companionable silence between old friends.
“Who was the woman he was talking to?”
“She’s a sister at the nursing home, a fine woman.”
What’s she like?”
“A very strong character.”
“Just the kind of woman he needs.” The doorbell rang.
Bill rose. “That will be Alan now.”
As Alan settled into a seat Bill asked, “How’s Claire?”
Alan gave him an embarrassed look. “I’m going out with her sister.”
“Kirsty?” Alan nodded.
Bill was surprised. He’d introduced Alan to Claire when they both happened to be in Kathleen’s hospital room together. He’d noticed the way that they looked at each other and the threads connecting their patterns. He’d thought they’d been made for each other. He remembered Kirsty. She’d instinctively closed in her aura when she’d felt him looking at her. He remembered thinking she was very self-centred, as many psychics were.
“It must run in the family,” he mused, remembering their mother. Claire also had great psychic potential although she suppressed it. “I remember her.” Bill commented, “Even at fourteen she was very pretty.”
“She’s seventeen,” asserted Alan. “She’ll be going to university this year.”
“You will have to bring her to Edinburgh to visit,” suggested his father.
“I only met her four days ago,” Alan retorted. He soon excused himself and left.
Alan caught the bus to Claire’s house. He knocked, and Kirsty opened the door. They smiled but their eyes held a seriousness in their depths. She showed him around the house then took him to her bedroom where she saw him grin at the dilapidated teddy bear propped on her pillow. As she sat on the end of the bed, her dress somehow slipped up to the top of her thighs. She smiled invitingly at him, hoping something would happen, but he wouldn’t take his eyes off her face. After a few long kisses that left her gasping, he left before Claire returned, agreeing to meet her the next day.
Kirsty again found Claire subdued when she came home, so she concentrated on her revision for her next exam, fiercely trying to suppress thoughts of Alan with some success.
She met Alan for a coffee in the union, and afterwards they went for a walk, holding hands. They were caught in a shower of rain, so she invited herself to his room to dry off. He found a clean towel, and when his back was turned, hunting for a jumper for her, she took off her T-shirt and sat naked to the waist, drying her hair. She watched him out of the corners of her eyes, half hidden by the towel, and saw his face flush. He turned his back quickly.
They sat on the floor, talked and drank coffee while they listened to his Boney-M-tapes. She set her coffee cup on the carpet then brought her legs up, wrapped her arms around them and resting her head on her knees looked sideways to watch him. They looked at each other for a while, smiling. She stood, feeling his eyes on her. She felt her T-shirt on the radiator.
“It’s dry,” she told him, and she started to take off the jumper he’d given her, still watching him. He turned his back quickly, ostensibly to adjust the stereo. She sighed.
They spent a week in the golden haze of being in love. An imagined frown or the tightening of the other’s lips would cause a plunge from ecstasy to agony, until a smile or a look would put everything back to rights. When they weren’t together, they felt an almost physical pain until their next meeting, then the sun appeared brighter, colours took on a new depth, sounds seemed magnified, and the very air seemed sparkling and exhilarating. Even the thought of touching the other’s hand was enough to make their palms tingle.
They stopped during their stroll through Camperdown park for another kiss. She wore a dress that accentuated her figure today and had noticed how his eyes had widened. Maybe I’m getting through to him at last, she thought. She pushed the tip of her tongue between his teeth, quivering with excitement as his tongue touched hers. She pushed herself close until their stomachs were touching and felt him tremble and draw back his lower body. She tried to squirm closer, but he drew back and gently disentangled her arms from around him.
He groaned. “You don’t know what you are doing to me Kirsty.” She looked up at him smiling innocently. He sighed. “Kirsty?”
“Yes Alan,” she murmured, her voice low.
“I love you.” At last, she thought. She wanted to throw herself into his arms, confess her love, but some feline prudence held her back. She knew the power she had over him.
She waited. “Do you like me enough to think about getting serious?” he asked.
She looked intently into his eyes. He felt hope and despair at the same time. This young girl held his happiness, his future, his life in the palm of her hand.
Suddenly and unexpectedly cautious, Kirsty hesitated, then;
“Yes,” she responded. “Yes Alan, I want to, but we must tell Claire, we can’t go on deceiving her.”
“You’re right.” Alan squared his shoulders. “I’ll come around, tomorrow and we’ll tell her together.”
Kirsty finished for him. “It will be all right Alan, you’ll see, Claire’s always reasonable.” She will need to be, Alan thought, however they put it to her it was bound to come as a shock.
They parted later, trying to convince each other they would have nothing to worry about on the morrow.
&nb
sp; After David left to return to Edinburgh. Bill sank into his armchair. He shook his head in puzzlement. Ever since Kathleen had died memories of Jerie were occasionally entering his mind. He sighed.
Chapter 30
Alan found a message from his mentor on his desk, urging him to get his thesis finished. Hard though he worked, his mind kept returning to the meeting with Claire. He stopped in mid-afternoon and set off to meet Kirsty, still worrying. He remembered the pain in her eyes and sighed. It was going to be an ordeal.
Kirsty opened her door, wearing jeans and a jumper with her hair tied back, smiling a welcome as she put her coat on, grinning at his obvious nervousness.
“She’s not a dragon you know, she won’t eat you!” He gave her a weak smile as she shut the door.
She showed him around the neighbourhood. They climbed a long gentle hill past rows of bungalows, a shopping centre and a small park with a pond where they watched the ducks for a while. At the top of the hill they stood holding each other, admiring the panoramic view of the Tay estuary and the fife coast. They were almost back at the house, discussing how to break the news to Claire, when Alan noticed two youths glowering at him. When he looked at them they glanced away.
“Who are they?” he asked.
Kirsty gave him a sidelong look. “That’s just Kevin and one of his cronies. I was friendly with him at school and went to a couple of school dances with him, so he thinks he owns me. He called earlier.” She smiled reassuringly. “I told him that I didn’t want to see him again.” He saw her glance at him out of the corners of her eyes as they walked, as if she sensed the questions he wanted to ask. He saw her smile to herself. Back at the house, they sat down apprehensively to wait for Claire.
Claire approached the house, glad to get away from work on time for a change. She felt better than she had for days. “Maybe I’m getting over Alan,” she muttered.
She thought about Kirsty. For the last week she’d been behaving a bit strangely, suddenly bursting out singing and giving secretive smiles, then growing pensive as if she wanted to confide something. Maybe she’d found a boyfriend? Perhaps Kevin who lived two doors away. She smiled and opened the door and went in.
She stopped frozen on the spot as she glimpsed Kirsty and Alan in each other’s arms. They sprang apart, looking at her in dismay. She went from disbelief to blind fury and strode up to him.
“You! You bastard,” she spat out. “So this is the reason why you dumped me?” She slapped him hard on the face. “You bloody pervert, she’s just a child.”
“We haven’t …” she heard him begin but interrupted him with another hard slap.
With Kirsty crying her name in the background, she heard him shout, “I love her!” Even further enraged, she slapped him again and again. He stood defenceless, not even trying to avoid the blows.
Kirsty got hold of her arm crying. “Claire, Please!” But she shook her off and tried to claw his face with her nails, but he grabbed her wrists and kept her away, turning sideways to avoid her knees and kicks.
She felt herself pushed to the settee and held. She struggled, swearing at him. She saw Kirsty trembling, her face white, giving little inarticulate cries. She put her hands to the side of her head and start screaming. Alan released her and rushed to Kirsty to put his arms around her, pulling her head to his chest and stroking her hair. Claire took the opportunity to grab the poker from the fireplace.
As she brought it down she screamed. “Get your filthy hands away from her you pervert.” But warned by Kirsty’s wide-eyed scream, he turned just in time and the poker just scraped the side of his head and hit his shoulder.
She saw his grimace of pain and felt a flare of triumph. She raised the poker for another blow, but he grabbed her wrist. She cursed and wriggled it free but was stunned by a sudden hard slap to her face. She staggered and dropped the poker. She recovered to see Kirsty, her eyes wide with shock, slapping Alan on the back. She summoned the energy to screech.
“Get out! Get out! You, sick pervert.”
Alan looked at them both, Kirsty still shaking with her eyes wide and unseeing, and Claire, her white face contorted with fury. He felt sick.
He appealed. “Kirsty?” But she looked at him wide eyed and with horror on her face.
He turned to Claire, but she snarled. “Get out! You’ve done enough you bastard.”
He backed out, he didn’t know what else to do. Bonny who’d retreated beneath the sideboard, spat at him as he passed. Kirsty seemed to come to her senses and started to follow him, but Claire got in front of her and pushed her violently back, screaming.
“Get to your room, you filthy slut.” He started to go back but Kirsty turned and ran to her room sobbing and Claire turned back to him.
He backed towards the door then jumped back as Claire slammed the door in his face. He stood facing the door not knowing what to do. He waited a while, listening for any cries for help. He felt blood trickling down his neck and probed with his fingers and found a cut. He cleaned himself up as much as he could with his handkerchief.
Claire stood dazed then reaction set in and she began to shake, then she was sobbing, breathing in great rasping gasps. She tottered to the settee and flopped down. After a while her breathing and heartbeat slowed. Her hand was smarting from slapping Alan and she stared at it as if it belonged to someone else. She remembered the pain as she’d slapped him. She would have liked to slap and slap and slap until her fury had dissipated. No! She would have liked something to hit him with, she wanted to see his broken body lying at her feet. The vision nauseated her, and she rushed to the bathroom, but the sensation passed.
She came back to sit on the settee feeling calmer. She recalled when Alan had come to the house to collect her and as if in a flashback Kirsty’s flaming cheeks and the way they’d looked at each other. A feeling of outrage rekindled her anger. She stalked to Kirsty’s bedroom and tried the door, but it was locked. She rattled the door knob but got no response. Her rage erupted again, and she banged on the door and shouted.
“Get out here you little cow.” There was still no response.
She banged and kicked the door, shrieking at the top of her voice. “Get out here right now or I’ll break down this door and pull you out by your bloody hair.”
She heard movement inside and the key turning in the lock. Kirsty came out hesitantly, her eyes wide with fear, tear streaks lacquering her flushed cheeks.
Claire looked her up and down. “Well?” Kirsty stood twisting her fingers, staring at her feet. “I gave up my chance of happiness to look after you, I’ve sacrificed myself for you, protected you and this is how you repay me?” Her voice rose to a shout. “I ought to slap you black and blue you, selfish little bitch!” She raised her hand.
Kirsty flinched, looked up into her eyes and sobbed. “I’m sorry Claire.” Kirsty’s wide-eyed expression reminded her of her mother, her young sister was so like her.
She looked at Kirsty through the filter of her memory, as a baby, as a toddler, and as a young girl. She calmed down. She lowered her hand and asked, her voice now quiet. “How long has this been going on?”
“Since the first time we saw each other,” Kirsty whispered.
Claire sneered. “Aw! Love at first sight, was it?” She gave Kirsty a withering look.
“I love him.” Kirsty burst out. “You shouldn’t have done that to him, you were just friends, we’ve done nothing wrong.”
Furious again, Claire shouted making Kirsty flinch once more. “Love him, LOVE him? What do you know about love you’re just a child?”
She saw Kirsty quail but assert bravely. “I’m seventeen.”
Claire’s anger collapsed. Reaching out to Kirsty, she put an arm around her, pulled her to her chest, and stroked her hair.
“I blame him, I should have known. He was looking down his nose at me all the time. I should have warned you about men like him, leading me on, then messing about with my little sister. I’ll get him for this, I should have killed him
.” She gave Kirsty a shake. “We need a good stiff drink.”
She led the way to the kitchen, poured them both a vodka, and tried to turn Kirsty against Alan, refilling her glass several times.
“He’s too old for you,” she advised as she ostentatiously started to bind her wrist with a bandage, pretending to grimace with pain.
“Can I help?” Kirsty asked her, looking concerned.
Claire smiled to herself. “Yes, both my wrists are sore, but I think there might be something broken in this one. I’ll get it X-rayed tomorrow.”
“Oh! Claire I’m sorry,” Kirsty sobbed as she gently stroked the bandage around Claire’s wrist.
“Don’t worry, I’m tough.” She saw the tears running down her sister’s cheeks. “But what kind of man would punch a woman in the face?” She rubbed her cheek with her free hand. She saw Kirsty open her mouth, hesitate, then close it. “What about university? I’ve made sacrifices, I even gave up the man I loved to look after you. You’ll be starting university soon. Are you going to throw away a career for an infatuation that won’t last long? I don’t want you to see him again, I want you to promise.” Kirsty shook her head. Claire continued. “How many times do I have to get beaten up protecting you, maybe next time he’ll kill me. Will you still see him then?”
“But I love him Claire,” Kirsty wailed.
Claire knew better than to belittle Alan. She tried another tack and turned on the tears.
“I loved him too,” she sobbed. “We got on so well until you stole him from me.” Tears rolled down her cheeks surprising Claire herself.
She felt Kirsty wrap her arms around her and press her cheek to her face. “I’m sorry Claire,” she sobbed. “I didn’t know.”
Claire smiled to herself. They staggered off to bed after Kirsty had eventually promised her not to see Alan again. She slept in Claire’s arms the way she used to when she was little, or upset, and as she stroked Kirsty’s hair, Claire vowed she would make Alan suffer a lot more if he came back.
Alan wondered what was going on inside the house. He heard shouting and lifted his hand to ring the bell then stopped. He couldn’t decide what to do. He wandered up and down the road, worrying and occasionally listening at the door. Early in the morning the lights went out in the house and he crept round the back to Kirsty’s window, but the room was in darkness. He tapped softly at the window, but there was no response. He made up his mind to leave and to see Kirsty the next day, to find out what had happened. With his thoughts in turmoil he started the long walk back to the city centre. Back in his room he washed the cut and inspecting it with the aid of two mirrors, he decided it wouldn’t need any more attention. He eventually fell asleep, his thoughts still churning away inside his head.
Love Patterns Page 20