Torn

by Gilli Allan

  ‘That would be great, but I’m not sure. He’s not really used to –’

  ‘So stopping over one night next week could be viewed as a dress rehearsal, to see if it works out on all sides.’

  ‘He’s only slept away from home once and it wasn’t a great success.’

  ‘He is dry at night?’

  ‘Thankfully, yes. But he can wake in the night, and in a strange place he’s likely to get distressed.’

  ‘So who did he stay with? Was it family?’

  ‘No.’ Jessica paused. It would take too long to explain why there wasn’t an extended family for Rory to be off-loaded onto. ‘He stayed at Hannah’s. Her mother had a few kids from the nursery to sleep over on New Year’s night.’

  ‘Alison Brooks? Oh, she’s a cold fish. Even Sasha isn’t a particular friend of Hannah’s. She wasn’t even invited to her sleepover.’

  ‘I think Rory was only invited because …’ Jess tailed off, catching Sheila’s eye.

  ‘So there you are then!’ Gilda said, as if her point was proved. ‘We both know Sasha and Rory are the best of chums. Even if they wake in the night I’m sure they’ll keep each other amused. And I’ll ask Edie to stop over as well.’

  ‘Edie Dowdeswell, your …?’

  ‘Help. Yes, she’s brilliant with children, very motherly, and Rory gets on well with her. And remember, the sooner he gets used to stopping away from home for a night, now and then, the freer you will be.’

  Before this morning, any above-the-board opportunity to visit the farm would have been welcomed by Jessica. Now she was gripped by complex and contradictory emotions. By continuing to find objections she was aware she wasn’t solely thinking of her son’s well-being. But Gilda was adamant. It was true that the two children had developed a very firm friendship, despite the debacle over the Wendy house; this could be the ideal opportunity to try out the sleepover experiment again.

  ‘Will lambing have finished by then?’ Her question was abrupt, coming after a short silence.

  ‘Lambing?’ Gilda looked puzzled. The start and finish of lambing obviously had no impact on her social calendar. ‘I really couldn’t tell you. We’ve already had quite a few. By next Wednesday I dare say there will be plenty more in the mothering pens for the children to see.’ This was not why Jess had raised the subject, but it served as a good enough reason. ‘There was one other thing I was going to ask,’ Gilda continued. ‘Say no, please say no if it’s an imposition, but I wondered, do you think you would consider helping me, with Sasha’s party that is? You see, I just don’t know where to turn. And I know James will be utterly hopeless.’

  ‘Of course I’ll help you.’ Though not at all confident there was any pleasure to be derived from ‘helping’ with a children’s party, Jess added, ‘It would be a pleasure.’

  ‘Bless you. That is such a weight off my shoulders, Jessica. Now, what about Wednesday week? Is that a settled arrangement? Shall I pick Rory up after nursery?’

  ‘It’s so kind of you to offer to have him. Thank you. I really appreciate being able to go to the meeting.’

  ‘Great.’ Sheila had been an interested eavesdropper to the conversation. She grinned at Jessica. ‘We’ve got a date then. I’ll book a table at the pizza place next to the Great Western. We’ll never get in if we leave it to pot luck.’

  ‘What’s the Great Western?’

  ‘The old station. It’s a cinema now, specialises in art house movies. But on Wednesday week it’s the venue for “The Great Roads Debate”. By the way, Jess, the way you’re clutching that scarf around it … is there something wrong with your neck?’

  ‘Mummy? Mummy, what’s the matter? Why aren’t we going?’ the voice croaked. As Jessica had buckled Rory into his child seat, her mood had veered between elation and repugnance. Social chitchat at the nursery door was the very last thing she’d wanted to get involved in today. What she’d intended, beyond reassuring herself that Rory had coped OK with his first morning back, was to collect him and shoot off, head down, talking to no one.

  Instead she’d been trapped, chatting about sleepovers, parties, ponies, and pizzas, with a love bite the size of a fifty pence piece under the scarf; sweat, saliva, and semen dried on her belly, and the moist reminder of how she’d spent the morning oiling her crotch. All she wanted was to get home and take a long hot bath. For the second time that day Jess drooped forward over the steering wheel, head on her arms, as the self-disgust welled up.

  She straightened. ‘It’s all right, nothing’s the matter. Come on let’s get you home, sweetheart, see what you want for lunch.’ Sweetheart? She’d called Danny sweetheart this morning. It had popped out as naturally as it did when talking to her son. Recalling the context now made her shudder. Not long into the future Rory too would be hovering on the brink of manhood. The idea that some older woman might tamper with him – attempt to corrupt his innocence, was repellent.

  ‘I want to eat the same as Tubs.’

  ‘I don’t think you do.’

  ‘I do, Mummy! I do, I really do!’

  Chapter Thirteen

  After being allowed to sniff, rather than taste Tubs’ cat food, Rory opted for fish fingers – then barely ate a mouthful. He’d coped well with the morning’s excitements but by then was visibly flagging and, to her relief, agreed to her suggestion of a nap.

  At last she was able to strip off her clothes and turn on the bath taps. There’d not been enough time to get home to change her knickers, let alone to take a bath, before she collected her son. The best she’d been able to do was ensure that make-up wasn’t smeared all over her face. Just as well she’d checked in the vanity mirror. The smudges of mascara had been easy to rectify with spit on a tissue. As for the other – luckily there’d been an old scarf in the glove box.

  Now, letting herself down into the hot, sudsy water she examined her body with distaste. She was an adult woman with a young child, yet here she was, like a soppy teenager, counting the love bites that stained her breasts and belly. An affair with a boy was stupid, inappropriate, and self-indulgent. She couldn’t let it go on. With a grimace she hooked out the diaphragm. It floated to the surface of the water and bobbed there like a jellyfish.

  It was the previous night, after Rory had gone to bed, that she’d searched the bathroom cabinet, rummaged through all her drawers, and eventually found the contraceptive in its plastic box in the pocket of a weekend case. Given it was over three years old, and hadn’t been used for more than two, she wondered if the device was still intact. Even the spermicidal jelly she’d liberally smeared it and herself with was well past its sell by date. She had used the cap as a method of birth control for more than a year after Rory’s arrival. Sean disliked condoms, and her trust in them – or of men’s conscientious use of them – had been dented by the pregnancy. Then she’d abandoned the cap as un-aesthetic, a judgement she still adhered to. She had no intention of continuing with it as a permanent method of contraception now.

  Given the first misadventure, Jess had felt it safe to assume Danny was not an STI risk. Yet she wondered about his relationship with Zoe, the girl he claimed to have ‘knocked about with’. The expression was imprecise and meant different things to different people. They could easily have been platonic friends, but was there more to it? And if so, what, given his partial admission of virginity? Now that particular hurdle had been overcome there was a world of women and a lifetime of opportunity ahead of him. Jess could not assume he would remain monogamous. In the future ‘safe sex’ for both of them meant a supply of condoms had to be bought. And if he needed help she could teach him how to use them.

  Jessica shook her head, scarcely able to credit her sequence of thoughts. What on earth was she thinking? She’d only just made her decision. This had to stop. Now! She must take the next possible opportunity to see Danny to tell him she couldn’t go on with it. She was fond of him, she wanted to be a friend, but anything more was out of the question. It was not good for him and it was not good fo
r her. Already it had prompted an unprecedented degree of introspection and self-scrutiny, and she loathed the rollercoaster of emotions unleashed.

  For the next week she agonised over what she should do. He wasn’t answering his phone or replying to her messages and texts. She would have to visit him in person, it seemed, to deliver the news she knew it was essential to impart. But it was too hard, and she was too confused. Anyway, why was she so persuaded she should break it off? Was it just to avoid these uncomfortable feelings of shame and guilt? Up until becoming pregnant she’d never questioned her own sexual conduct. Men were free; she had demanded that same freedom. Why question herself now? She’d even begun to use pejorative terms like corruption and innocence, in relation to sex between consenting adults! If she were married, or if Danny were underage, it would be a whole different ball game. But as things stood she wasn’t hurting anyone. She wasn’t hurting Danny. It was possible to argue that given a bit more time she could actually help him control the over-enthusiastic spontaneity of youth. He would look back and remember her with gratitude. Yet, however much she argued with herself, she knew what she must do, and there was anger and frustration at her growing certainty.

  As Jess set off for Gore Farm she felt nearly as bad as she had the previous week, but for a very different reason. Though no longer raining the lowering sky prematurely darkened the afternoon. After a day of continuous rain the roads were still skimmed with water and for the whole journey she had constantly to spray the windscreen and flick the wipers on and off to clear the muddy splash-back from passing vehicles. Her nerves were already under tension; the manic giggling from the back of the car stretched them still further.

  Jess had picked the children up from nursery and given them lunch. Now, for the second time in his life, Rory had his overnight things packed into his Buzz Lightyear backpack. This time Jessica prayed the sleepover would prove a success. At least Gilda knew a little more of Rory’s background than Alison had. If he woke in the night and became distressed, his very best friend Sasha would be in the bed next to him, and the large-bosomed Mrs Dowdeswell, whom he did indeed seem fond of, would be on hand to offer added comfort. Gilda had been primed to expect the possibility of bad language and told to ignore it should it happen. Jessica was in some doubt whether Gilda would be able to go along with the last suggestion. Best that it didn’t happen in the first place.

  ‘Hello Sasha, my darling,’ Gilda said, as she opened the front door. ‘Did you have a good time? Hello Rory. Have you come to have tea and spend the night with us?’ Then to Jess, ‘My dear! You looked washed out! Come in. Would you like a cup of tea? Or something stronger?’

  ‘I won’t come in, thanks Gilda. I need to get home, but first I wanted a word with … um. Now, you will be a good boy for Sasha’s granny and Sasha’s daddy and Mrs Dowdeswell, won’t you, Rory? Don’t stay up too late talking and playing, eh? I’ll see you tomorrow after nursery.’

  But Rory had run off mid-sentence without a backward glance.

  ‘He’ll be fine,’ Gilda said. ‘Something like this only happens once in a while, but he needs to get used to it. And I don’t suppose it will do them any harm if they stay awake late, chattering.’

  ‘As long as they don’t keep the rest of the house awake!’

  ‘I’m a good sleeper. Now … if it’s James you wanted to speak to, he’s in with the ewes I think.’

  Outside in the chilly courtyard Jessica was strongly tempted to get straight back into the car and drive home. There she could go immediately to bed and pull the duvet over her head. But ahead of her was a whole evening out with Sheila Jordan. At the moment Jess could think of nothing she wanted to do less. It wasn’t that she didn’t like Sheila, but these days felt constrained with the woman, as if she had to keep a whole part of herself and her life a secret, otherwise be told-off for letting down womankind.

  And as for the public meeting, where the two possible routes for the by-pass were to be unveiled for public scrutiny! Now that she was so close to discovering the worst, Jessica would almost have preferred to bury her head in the sand. She did not want to feel passionately about something she could not affect. Better not to know, not to care – that way you didn’t get hurt.

  She re-wrapped her scarf around her neck. The bruises Danny had left on her body were now just muddy smudges, but there was no need wilfully to expose the one on her throat, which was still noticeable. As she approached the unlit caravan the back of her neck prickled with apprehension at being discovered making this clandestine visit. Unease was muddled with resentment – resentment that she should care about what James or his mother thought. Resentment that she should be here at all, to deliver a message she didn’t really want to deliver. She could scarcely believe she was in this predicament.

  The urge to leave was strong. She had the perfect excuse – the caravan was in darkness – perhaps he wasn’t there. There was only one way of finding out for sure. After coming so far she had to go through with this; to turn back now would be the height of cowardice. The turf was soft and spongy beneath her feet, the air astringent with moisture as she climbed the slope up to the steps. Close to she could hear a murmur of voices. She tapped on his door. She tapped again.

  ‘Danny?’ she called quietly, and turned the handle. There was now a scuffle of movement from inside and a sudden clatter. ‘Danny?’ she called again, pushing the door inwards a few inches. Suddenly he was there, bleary eyed, bare-chested, pulling on his trousers.

  ‘Jess! I thought you were never coming! Quick! Come in!’

  ‘You were expecting me sooner?’

  ‘Course I fucking was!’ He didn’t bother to fasten the combats but grabbed her and kissed her till she was breathless. She could feel his erection, hard against her.

  ‘Danny, Danny! Please!’

  ‘What’s up?’

  ‘Danny, stop it, please.’ She pushed him gently but firmly away. He stood, staring at her, arms dropped to his side. ‘I’ve come to say something.’ Behind him on the floor, where it must have fallen, lay the radio, muttering away to itself. What was it? PM, she suspected. ‘You look tired,’ she added.

  ‘Yeah. Well, it’s been non-stop. Working every night. Often during the day as well. I’ve just been grabbing a few hours’ sleep here and there.’ There were shadows under his eyes and the blonde stubble was more beard-like than she’d seen it since New Year. ‘Spit it out then!’

  ‘I tried to phone,’ she prevaricated.

  ‘I switched it off,’ he snapped. ‘Tell me face to face.’

  ‘You know already, don’t you?’

  He made no answer.

  ‘This can’t go on. It was a mistake.’

  ‘You don’t want to see me any more?’

  ‘Of course I want to see you. I really like you, you know I do.’

  He looked as if he knew no such thing.

  She continued. ‘It’s the sex thing … I don’t think we should go on with a physical relationship.’

  His already compressed expression tightened still further. ‘Because I’m no good at it?’ he asked, looking her straight in the eye.

  ‘No! That’s got nothing to do with it! Anyway, you’re fine … you’ll be fine … like anything, it’s just practice.’

  ‘But you don’t want me to practise with you?’

  Jessica half smiled. ‘It’s not a case of what I want or don’t want, it’s what I think would be best. Look, we’re not in love or anything. Let’s face it, we hardly know each other. Far better to step back now, than go on and risk emotions getting involved.’ Perhaps it was a kind of arrogance but when she said this she was thinking only of protecting Danny; it did not occur to her that she needed to protect herself. He rubbed at his forehead with the heel of his hand and looked around as if searching for inspiration.

  ‘I don’t know much about love or anything but … but isn’t there a connection between us already, like a spir’tual thing, a kind of karma? Isn’t that why it happened? You and me? It wa
s like we reco’nised each other. Or do you usually go to bed with everyone you meet?’

  She’d not prepared herself for this, that the boy would be a moralist. She had thought he was as happy to go to bed with her as she with him, no baggage, no expectations, no concept of a higher purpose guiding their encounter.

  ‘Oh, Danny! You know I’ve had reservations all along.’ She looked over his shoulder at the humble conditions in which he lived. They were from different worlds. How had she got herself into this mess? The appeal in his eyes made her feel guilty and resentful. ‘We live such different lives. Have different expectations of the world.’

  ‘You mean I’m not good enough for you!’

  ‘Of course I don’t mean that!’ But at some level he was right. The fact he could see through her made her crosser. ‘Don’t be so chippy! I’m just trying to be sensible … to do the right thing.’

  ‘The right thing for you, you mean.’

  ‘Is that so bad? Do you really want me to go on with something I truly think is wrong for me and for my son?’

  At this he shook his head wordlessly. Her own flare of anger died down as she gazed into his troubled eyes.

  ‘But I think it’s wrong for you, too.’

  ‘Isn’t that for me to decide?’

  ‘I’m trying to be truthful. I’m not spinning you a line.’ Her voice had softened. The brittle wall with which she’d armoured her emotions for this encounter was splintering and falling away. ‘You know I’ve always tried not to give in.’ Jess smiled. ‘But you’re just too … damned irresistible Danny!’ She drew her hand down over his furred jaw then kissed him, gently, finally. ‘We can still be friends, can’t we?’

  His mouth twisted down at the corners and he swallowed; only now did it occur to her that real hurt, not just injured pride, might already have been inflicted.