Beautiful Child

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Beautiful Child Page 12

by Menon, David


  Adrian went through into Matt’s kitchen and started helping himself to wine and food like he lived there and was just late home for supper. He wiped some of the pasta sauce up with a piece of garlic bread and wolfed it down.

  ‘I’m a cheeky bastard, aren’t I.’

  ‘It’s always been part of your charm,’ said Matt leaning against the door frame.

  ‘I haven’t eaten anything since breakfast,’ said Adrian, ‘and this wine is a bit bloody nice. You know how to live, Dr. Schofield.’

  ‘Glad you’re enjoying it’ said Matt who’d like to give Adrian his dinner every night but that was a dream that he’d long since dismissed as impossible.

  Adrian lifted up his arms up. ‘Do you think I’m keeping in shape?’

  ‘It looks like you are.’

  ‘I’ve been going out running with one of my neighbours.’

  ‘Up and down those Saddleworth Hills? That really will keep you fit.’

  ‘I’m sorry I haven’t been in touch for a while, Matt,’ said Adrian.

  Matt shrugged his shoulders. ‘Well you could’ve sent me the odd text now and then but I know what the score is with a married man, Adrian.’

  Adrian had agonised endlessly about why he kept coming back to see Matt. He’d never been with another man before he’d met him and he still didn’t consider himself to be even bisexual. He certainly never looked at any other men and he’d never admit to being unfaithful to Penny. Matt was a man not a woman and being unfaithful meant going with another woman. It was just something about Matt. They’d become friends after Matt had done a stint as the police surgeon at the station Adrian had been working at. Then one evening Adrian had given Matt a lift home after a few of them had been at the pub and Matt asked him in for some coffee. Matt had been a bit drunk and he’d started asking Adrian if he’d ever thought what it would be like with another man. Adrian had laughed initially and then Matt had asked him why he’d come in for coffee. That had been followed by a moment during which Matt had decided to make his move. There was just something about Matt that Adrian couldn’t explain. He’d been flattered that Matt had found him attractive. He’d never had a friend who was gay before but he’d have to admit that the more he got to know Matt the more curious he had become. He was still straight. It was still women who turned his head. He just felt lucky that life had thrown him a different kind of sexual experience with a guy as lovely as Matt was. Just something about the person Matt was that had found something inside Adrian’s soul. But his marriage would never be threatened by it.

  ‘A straight man who likes a bit of cock on the side is nothing but heartache for a man like you, eh?’

  ‘Now don’t go all poetic on me,’ said Matt who didn’t believe that any man who went to bed with another man was completely straight but he’d let Adrian off with that one.

  ‘No chance of that, mate’ said Adrian who then walked over to Matt and stood close. ‘If you want to tell me to piss off then I’ll go.’

  ‘I’m actually really pleased to see you, Adrian.’

  Adrian placed his hands on Matt’s shoulders and leaned forward until their foreheads were touching. ‘I’m glad I’m here. I’ve wanted to come a few times but you know how it is‘

  ‘Not really,’ said Matt, ‘I’m not married. But you’re here now and I want to make the most of it. How long have you got?’

  ‘A couple of hours.’

  ‘Then let’s not waste anymore time talking.’

  They kissed passionately and their hands were all over each other. Then Matt took Adrian upstairs where they made up for lost time.

  *

  Angela had never been much of a church goer. She went there for weddings, funerals and christenings - in other words, all the times when others invited her to their rituals of religious symbolism. Faith, in a religious sense, was just something she’d never understood. She wasn’t religious, neither was her husband, and when they got married they did so in a registry office. But despite that she liked the architecture of church buildings and when she did step inside them she couldn’t help but get a strange sense of peace and calm from being inside such a cavernous structure. That’s why she’d arrived for her meeting with Brendan O’Farrell early so that she could sit down in a pew in Holy Saints church and gather her thoughts.

  ‘Can I help you at all?’ said Phillip as he walked up the aisle towards the smartly dressed woman sitting near the front.

  Angela turned round. ‘Oh sorry father, I … ‘

  ‘…no, no, don’t apologise,’ said Phillip, holding up his hand, ‘I just wondered if I could be of any help.’.

  ‘No, I’m fine, thanks,’ Angela answered before smiling and holding out her hand. ‘I’m Angela Barker. I’ve got an appointment to see Canon O’Farrell at half past.’

  Philip shook her hand. ‘And I’m Father Philip Evans. Welcome to our church, Angela.’

  ‘Thank you,’ said Angela who rather liked the look of this fresh faced young man. She could imagine confessing all to him without any qualms at all. Why did they saddle these guys with celibacy? What a bloody waste.

  ‘You’re the psychotherapist?’

  ‘That’s right’ said Angela.

  ‘You want to talk to Brendan about this particular church’s involvement in the migration of children to Australia back in the fifties and sixties? Is that right?’

  ‘The forced migration, father.’

  ‘Sorry, yes, I have to acknowledge it was a forced migration and I think you’ll find Brendan does too.’

  ‘That’s good,’ said Angela, ‘because that means progress on the part of the church.’

  ‘Well of this particular church anyway,’ said Phillip. ‘We’re a little independent, a little revolutionary here but don’t tell or else you’ll get us into trouble.’

  Angela smiled. ‘Don’t worry’ she said, ‘your secret is safe with me.’

  ‘That’s good to know’

  Phillip led Angela from the church across the short yard to the presbytery. Inside it reminded Angela of everything she used to hate about school. The walls were in the standard nondescript magnolia with dark brown wooden polished tiles on the floor and the coldness punctuated only by pictures of the Pope, Christ and various saints. There didn’t seem to be anyone else there as Phillip showed her into an office just off the main hallway. The sun was beaming through the window as Brendan, who’d been sitting at the desk, stood up and gave her the big beaming smile of an old man who’d used it to get through life. His hair was grey but his face was wearing well, she thought, and the skin on his neck showed little signs of sagging. He took her hand in both of his and gestured for her to sit down in one of the two armchairs. He sat in the other.

  ‘Well now you’re a psycho-therapist,’ said Brendan. ‘That’s a very modern profession now, isn’t it.’

  ‘I suppose it is, Canon, yes,’ said Angela. Despite the warmth of his greeting she was still wary of him. She’d had some of her fiercest confrontations with members of the clergy, both Catholic and Protestant. She liked to think she offered practical help to the people in her care whereas priests can only offer prayer.

  ‘Phillip will bring some tea in shortly,’ said Brendan. ‘Now how can I help you?’

  ‘I want to talk to you about a patient of mine,’ said Angela.

  ‘Oh yes?’

  ‘Yes. He’s an inmate at Manchester prison which is one of the places where I work.’

  ‘And you’ll have your work cut out for you there, I expect?’

  ‘It’s a challenge, yes,’ said Angela, ‘but a worthwhile one.’

  ‘Are you a Christian woman, Angela?’

  ‘No, Canon, I’m not.’

  ‘But you perform in a very Christian profession,’ said Brendan, ‘ministering to some of the most needy in society.’

  ‘Well I happen to think that the people who demonstrate Christianity are those who don’t go to church,’ said Angela who immediately regretted saying it. She was making hers
elf out to be as truthfully righteous as those she accused of being falsely righteous. And she didn’t think of herself in that way at all. It was a kind of reverse snobbery and she couldn’t fucking stand that.

  Brendan let his head fall back as he laughed. ‘I see,’ he said, ‘and why do you say that?’

  ‘You really want me to tell you?’

  ‘Yes’ said Brendan. ‘You’re a professional woman and I value your opinion.’

  Angela teased herself with the thought of making a cheap shot about how unusual it was for the Catholic Church to value the opinions of a professional woman but she decided, at the outset of her relationship with the Canon, that she would keep it buttoned and simply amuse herself with that idea.

  ‘Well I’m an agnostic, Canon’ said Angela. ‘I don’t know for sure that there’s no truth to religion which is why I’m not an atheist. But to me churches are full of people who think their hypocrisy filled lives will be redeemed by an hour on a Sunday morning when they’re seen to be going to church.’

  ‘Go on?’

  ‘Well a large part of my job is to not judge anyone,’ said Angela.

  ‘And you’ve just judged my entire congregation.’

  Angela could feel herself blushing. Why did priests always have the apparent ease to do that to her? Talking to a priest like Canon O’Farrell was like talking to her father. He could always corner her arguments too.

  ‘But I’m not claiming to be a Christian and I thought that Jesus came to teach us not to judge?’

  ‘Well,’ said Brendan. ‘I think you’ve enunciated a basic truth about some who profess to be Christian.’

  ‘Which is?’

  ‘That many of my flock don’t seem to know the difference between the old testament and the new testament. Now you’re making me feel like an activist in some political party who thinks he should beg you to join.’

  Angela laughed. ‘Well I wasn’t making a pitch, Canon.’

  ‘No, I know, just indulge me,’ said Brendan, ‘I’m an old man about to retire and I like to have some fun.’

  ‘Good for you, Canon.’ said Angela. ‘But could we now get back to why I’m here?’

  ‘Of course’ said Canon. ‘I promise not to sidetrack us again.’

  ‘Okay. I want to talk to you about my patient who, as a young child of five, was left here by his mother and then as an orphan sent to Australia back in 1962.’

  ‘1962? I wasn’t here then, Angela, but I agree that the whole forced migration scheme was a most shameful act on the part of the church.’

  ‘It was, Canon,’ said Angela, ‘many of these children ended up leading pretty awful lives and my patient is an example of that, a fairly extreme example, but an example nonetheless. His name is Sean Patrick O’Brien and although he’s still behind bars at the moment he is up for parole soon and I know he wants to come back to where it all started for him.’

  ‘So what is it you want from me?’

  ‘I want to know if you have records for these children and if so then I’d like you to show me the record for Sean Patrick O’Brien.’

  ‘Angela,’ said Brendan, sitting forward in his seat and wishing that Phillip would come in with the tea. ‘What good do you think that would serve now?’

  ‘That’s not for either of us to judge, Canon. It’s for Sean Patrick O’Brien.’

  ‘Well then I’m going to have to disappoint you, Angela,’ said Brendan. ‘ I’m afraid all records of the orphanage were destroyed in a fire at diocesan headquarters in the seventies. I’m sorry.’

  *

  Charlie Baxter got round to Natasha’s house just before seven. He was burdened with worry about Wendy. She’d finally told him her diagnosis and the news had devastated him. This was the woman he’d fallen in love with all those years ago and who’d given him his two wonderful children. The woman he’d let down so badly. .

  ‘You said you’d be here at six,’ said Natasha, flatly.

  ‘I had to go and see Wendy,’ said Charlie, his face barely lifting from staring at the floor. ‘I did tell you.’

  ‘And I told you that we needed to have an early dinner tonight because Toby and JJ are coming round for drinks later.’

  ‘JJ?’ he questioned, wondering what the fuck she was talking about.

  ‘It stands for Jennifer Jane,’ said Natasha, irritably as if she were reminding a child for the sixth time that his Grandma was about to visit. ‘I did tell you.’

  ‘My ex-wife has been diagnosed with cancer, for God’s sake. I think I can be forgiven for having had one or two little items on my mind that prevented me from holding information about someone called fucking JJ.’

  ‘Well are you sure she’s not spinning you a yarn?’

  ‘I beg your pardon?’

  ‘Well it just seems very convenient that she comes up with this cancer thing just after you’ve told her you’re going to renegotiate the divorce settlement.’

  Charlie didn’t want to lose his temper with her but remarks like that would make it a real struggle. ‘Natasha, Wendy is one of the most honest people I’ve ever known and ever will know. You’re way off the mark with that.’

  ‘I’m only saying, darling boy,’ said Natasha, sensing that she may have gone too far and moving on him. She wrapped her body around his. ‘I’m only looking out for you, Charles, you know that.’

  Charlie pulled her arms off him. ‘Not now, darling.’

  ‘Charles, I’m not having our evening dictated to by her,’ said Natasha as the scales fell from her eyes. ‘I brought the prawns all the way back from the fish market in Seattle and now they’re overcooked and ruined.’

  ‘Well if that’s all you’ve got on your mind then you’re a very lucky girl,’ said Charlie as he picked up his car keys and went for the door.

  ‘Charles! Don’t you walk out on me you bastard!’

  ‘I think that’s what I am doing.’

  ‘But what about Toby and JJ?’

  ‘Fuck Toby and tell whoever JJ is that she’s a pretentious bitch!’

  Natasha started crying. Charlie heard her and it made him stop. She wasn’t as strong as Wendy. She wasn’t as mature as Wendy. He couldn’t leave her like this. He turned and went back and embraced her. She was his future. He had to bring her with him or else he’d be lost.

  ‘Go and have a shower, my darling,’ said Natasha, wiping her face with her fingers. ‘I’ll rustle up something for us to eat for when you come back down. You must be hungry.’

  ‘Not really, to tell you the truth.’

  ‘But you must eat something, darling boy,’ said Natasha. ‘ Toby and JJ like their booze and you’ll need to keep up with Toby in particular or else he might think you’re being unsociable.’

  ‘Natasha, I’m putting a hold on everything,’ he said. ‘The re-negotiation of my divorce settlement from Wendy and the selling of my half of the practice. It’s all going on hold. It wouldn’t feel right to go ahead with any of it just now.’

  Natasha had to work hard to contain her anger. She wasn’t going to let something like her lover’s ex-wife’s cancer get in the way of what she wanted.

  ‘Darling, I know how awful everything is at the moment but don’t you see? This is exactly the right time to make the changes we need.’

  ‘You mean this is when everybody is feeling vulnerable so let’s kick them when they’re down.’

  ‘No of course I didn’t mean that, Charles! I’m really hurt that you could even think that.’

  Charlie put his arms round her again as she began to get upset. ‘Okay, okay, I’m sorry.’

  ‘Whatever I do is all for us, you know? Our future happiness is all that matters to me.’

  ‘I know’ said Charlie who then kissed her head. ‘I’ll go and take that shower’

  ‘We will need to talk about it though, Charles,’ said Natasha. ‘I’m not comfortable with leaving things as they are.’

  ‘And there’s the boys to think of, Natasha’ said Charlie.

  �
�What do you mean?’

  ‘Well they’ll have to come and live with us’ said Charlie. ‘They’re my children and I’ll be the only parent they have left.’

  ‘But you’ll be starting your new life with me, Charles’ said Natasha who hadn’t counted on Charles’ brats having to come and live with them. Well she wasn’t going to have it. Why should she have to take them on just because their mother’s dead? She’d see them in care before that happened. They’ve got bloody grandparents to go to for fuck’s sake. Let somebody who cares wipe their bloody noses.

  ‘Yes’ said Charlie, ‘and that will have to include my kids now that the circumstances have changed so dramatically. They’ll need stability and security and that means being with me, their father. Surely you understand that, darling?’

  ‘But what about when we have children of our own, darling boy?’

  ‘What about it?’

  ‘Well I want people to think that our children are your first.’

  Charlie was in disbelief over what he was hearing. He’d always known that Natasha wasn’t the brightest but he’d got carried away with lust for such a pretty girl. And because she made him feel intellectually superior. That was important and that’s why it hadn’t worked with Wendy.

  ‘Natasha, the children I’ve already got are my priority for the time being. This is an awful situation and nobody would’ve chosen it, especially not Wendy. But it’s here now and we’re going to have to deal with it in the best way we can. I need your support, Natasha. I really need you to support me on this.’

  Natasha decided to play for time whilst she decided what to do. ‘Of course’ she said. ‘And I do support you, darling boy, and of course the boys too. I’m by your side, now and always, no matter what.’

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  Angela had been less than pleased with her meeting with Canon O’Farrell at Holy Saints church. He’d been good enough to go through the history of the church and how over two hundred children had been dispatched from it’s orphanage into the forced migration programme to Australia that the church had been in cahoots with the government over. He’d been refreshingly frank about how dirty a trade it had been and how he didn’t believe the church should ever have been involved in it. But he hadn’t been able to confirm anything about Sean Patrick O’Brien. Angela didn’t believe a word of his claim that all records relating to the orphanage had been destroyed in a fire. However much of a facade Canon O’Farrell had put up with his charm and his wit and his manner that had bordered on the flirtatious, she couldn’t help but feel that he could help her further if he wanted to.

 

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