Lost Innocence

by Susan Lewis

  ‘Mum?’

  ‘Yes?’ She kept her back turned as she wiped down the surfaces.

  ‘Are you all right?’

  ‘Yes, I’m fine.’

  A few seconds passed. ‘Do you want to add something to this email to Grandpa?’

  ‘OK,’ she said, ‘let me know when you’ve finished.’ Since Craig’s father was an invalid now, and unable to travel far, it had fallen to her, after Craig’s death, to take the children to see him. For the first couple of months they’d gone every week, but then, for some reason, the old man had seemed to start blaming Alicia for his son’s early demise, making their visits difficult and painful all round. So now the contact had dwindled to email, and the occasional phone conversation, mainly with the children, rarely with Alicia, which she found more upsetting than she’d admit, since it was like losing another part of Craig.

  As the phone rang again Nat said, ‘Can you get it this time? I hate the way those people pester you.’

  Drying her hands, Alicia picked up the cordless. ‘Hello?’ she said, going to rehang the towel.

  ‘Alicia, sweetie. It’s Antonia. I got your message. I’m so glad Cameron looked you up. He’s divine, isn’t he?’

  ‘Yes, uh …’ Alicia glanced anxiously at Nat, and started into the sitting room. ‘It was lovely of you to put him in touch.’

  ‘Oh, no problem. We have to help out our friends in times of need. How’s it going down there, darling? Is it very grim?’

  ‘I wouldn’t say that. It’s just different.’

  Antonia gave an audible shudder. ‘I’m afraid I don’t do the countryside,’ she said, ‘but Cameron’s mad about it apparently. I do so hope the two of you get along. I’m absolutely sure you will.’

  ‘I was wondering,’ Alicia said, keeping her voice down in the hope Nat wouldn’t hear, ‘is he, you know, gay?’

  Antonia burst into peals of laughter. ‘Oh Alicia, you’re so funny,’ she cried. ‘It’s good to know you haven’t lost your sense of humour.’

  ‘Actually, I was…’

  ‘Oh, darling, I’m sorry, I have to go, someone’s just come in, but call any time. It’s always lovely to hear you. Mwah, mwah,’ and she rang off, leaving Alicia feeling faintly ludicrous and extremely hopeful that her question didn’t find its way back to Cameron Mitchell, who hadn’t actually come across as gay, but given his profession…

  ‘Who was that?’ Nat said, as she returned to the kitchen.

  ‘Oh, just a friend from London. Antonia. You might remember her.’

  He shrugged. ‘Did she come to any of your shows?’

  ‘To all of them actually.’ There had only been three, each one held in a small Fulham gallery that used to be a garage until the dealer had converted it into a salle d’exposition, as he’d liked to call it, to start up his business. For Alicia, the best part of the shows had invariably been how involved Craig and the children became in setting them up, photographing her sculptures, designing posters, throwing in ideas for publicity, drawing up mailing lists and helping to transport everything from her studio to the gallery. She’d actually sold a few pieces during her first and second exhibitions, though she suspected Craig might have been behind at least one of the purchases since it had gone to his partner in chambers, Oliver Mendenhall. However, after her last exhibition she’d received a commission from an American friend of Antonia’s who was a genuine buyer, and the letter the woman had sent when the ballerina arrived in the States had gushed with so much praise and thanks that it had boosted Alicia’s confidence for weeks.

  ‘So,’ Nat said, still tapping out his emails, ‘is he gay?’

  Alicia turned round.

  ‘I wasn’t eavesdropping,’ he assured her, ‘but I’m not deaf.’

  ‘You don’t even know who I was talking about.’

  ‘No, but I’m guessing it was the bloke who turned up at the shop yesterday. Mimi told me.’

  Thanks, Mimi. She’d probably told Nat how good-looking Cameron was too, and topped it all off with a knowing wink. Deciding the only way to play this now was absolutely straight, she said, ‘He’s an art dealer who might prove very helpful in getting our little enterprise off the ground. In return, I’m going to try to help him find a house.’

  Nat slid the mouse around the pad. ‘Yeah, right,’ he muttered.

  ‘What’s that supposed to mean?’

  ‘Nothing.’

  ‘Nathan, if there’s something you want to say…’

  ‘It’s none of my business what you do,’ he retorted tersely, ‘but Dad’s only been dead for six months, so don’t you think it’s a bit soon to be getting involved with someone else?’

  Closing her eyes as she herself recoiled from the idea, she said, ‘That’s not what the visit was about. No, listen,’ she interrupted as Nat started to argue, ‘you’re right, it’s far too early for me to be thinking that way, and I promise you, I’m not, so you’ve got nothing to worry about.’

  As Nat continued typing she could sense his bottled-up frustration and knew he wanted to shout at her for even speaking to another man when his father was the most important person in the world and no one, no one could ever take his place. ‘So do you think you will ever get married again?’ he said shortly.

  ‘No,’ she answered. ‘I mean, I can’t imagine it happening. Actually, I can’t imagine loving anyone but Dad.’ Since it was true, and undoubtedly what he wanted to hear, she had no trouble saying it, but God knew there were times when she wished betrayal destroyed love as well as trust, because then the loss, and the haunting fear of why Craig had been so stressed during those final months, would be so much easier to deal with.

  Nat’s expression was still tense as he closed down the laptop.

  ‘Nat, please don’t let’s fall out over something that’s not even an issue,’ she implored, as he started to get up.

  ‘I’m not,’ he replied. ‘It’s up to you what you do.’

  ‘Where are you going?’

  ‘To get a drink from the fridge. Is that OK?’

  Smiling as she nodded, she decided it was probably best to leave the subject alone for now, and took out a pan to start boiling some eggs. ‘Salade Niçoise for lunch?’ she said.

  ‘Cool.’ Then, after a beat, ‘Darcie’s favourite.’

  Since those two little words had the feel of an olive branch, she was going to take them as one. ‘I’m really starting to miss her now, aren’t you?’ she said.

  ‘It’s pretty quiet without her bossing us around,’ he agreed. ‘Did you speak to her this morning? She rang while you were in the shower?’

  ‘Yes, I called back on my way up to the shop. She had a few rich comments to make about the permits I need to get the business up and running. I suppose you told her.’

  He nodded. ‘I don’t think she really understands it too much. She got mad because I did.’

  Alicia’s eyebrows rose. ‘We’ll get them,’ she assured him, ‘so I don’t want you to go worrying yourself about it. It’s just going to take a bit longer than we thought.’

  ‘And what are we going to do for money until then?’

  Startled, she turned to look at him. ‘We’re not broke,’ she told him. ‘OK, it won’t be like it was before, but we’ll manage.’

  ‘I don’t see how,’ he argued. ‘You don’t sell enough pieces for us to live on anyway, and if you can’t put them in the shop…’

  ‘There’s always eBay, and the website when it’s ready…’

  ‘It’s still not enough. Anyway, I’ve been thinking, and I’ve decided I should forget about school and get myself a job. Maybe one of the local factories will have something, or a farm. They might not pay much, but it’ll be better than us all starving.’

  Alicia was staring at him aghast. ‘We’re not going to starve,’ she told him forcefully, ‘and you are going to finish your education the way we’ve always planned. No Nat, listen to me,’ she said as he started to protest. ‘Your only responsibility is to yourself and
to fulfilling the dream you have of following in Dad’s footsteps. It’s what he would want, and it’s very definitely what I want. So let’s hear no more of this nonsense about giving up school and finding a job. Everything’s going to work out just fine. I have enough to tide us over at least until the end of the year, and by then the shop’s bound to be open.’

  ‘But what if you don’t sell anything? I’m sorry, I’m not being rude about your sculptures, because I think they’re great, but you don’t have that many, and the rate they sell at…Well, you know what I’m saying.’

  ‘The shop is not going to be dependent on my sculptures alone. You know that already, so let’s drop this now.’

  Though he clearly wanted to argue more, he took himself outside instead, and knowing him as she did, she guessed the reason he’d backed down so quickly was because he was afraid of saying something that might hurt her even more than he already had. Though she adored him for how sensitive he was towards her feelings, she hated the fact that he was so worried about their finances, because telling himself he should be shouldering his father’s responsibilities wasn’t going to help him at all in his A-level year. He needed to be like other boys his age, focusing only on what lay ahead as they prepared themselves to go out into the world.

  ‘Where’s Simon today?’ she asked, trying to bring things back to a normal level by sounding chatty as he returned with some glasses that had been left outside.

  ‘At home, I guess. I dunno.’

  ‘You’re not getting together today?’

  ‘I’m going to make a start on painting the studio this afternoon. I’ll need to get more emulsion though.’

  ‘There’s no rush now we can’t open, so why don’t you take the car and go and do something with Simon?’

  ‘No, it’s cool. I like painting, and it’ll be good to know it’s all done before…’

  ‘Nat, this is your summer holiday. It’s not that I don’t appreciate or need your help, but I want you to enjoy yourself.’

  ‘I am.’

  ‘What, painting, and hanging around here with me? You should be with people your own age.’

  ‘I was at a party last week, I’ve been to the cricket with Simon, I’m going to this rave at the weekend. I’m doing normal stuff, OK?’

  ‘OK, sorry. I just want to be sure that you’re not staying at home so I won’t be on my own.’

  ‘That’s not why I’m here,’ he told her. ‘I’m answering emails and doing revision and designing your website. My turn,’ he said as the phone rang again. ‘Hello? Oh, hey Si. How’re things? Yeah, I left my mobile upstairs.’

  As he chatted on, Alicia began stoning olives for the salad and chopping tomatoes, but was unable not to listen as he started discussing the rave on Saturday night with mentions of hardcore – which she knew to be a kind of techno music – half a dozen or more performing DJs, the expectation of about a thousand people turning up, and whether the police might come crashing in around midnight to try and put a stop to it.

  By the time he rang off lunch was ready, and she was waiting for him to join her at the table outside.

  ‘So,’ she said, as he pulled up a chair, ‘this rave isn’t exactly legal?’

  ‘I’ve got no idea,’ he answered. ‘Some are, some aren’t.’

  ‘Don’t you think you should find out?’

  ‘Mum, it’s only over the way in Holly Copse, so it’s hardly going to be anything major, is it?’

  ‘I don’t know. If there are drugs involved…’

  ‘Who says there will be?’

  ‘I thought that was the whole point of these raves.’

  ‘For some it is. For me it’s the music and atmosphere. You can get high on that without actually taking anything.’

  ‘What about booze?’

  ‘Well, I’m going to have a drink, obviously.’

  ‘What kind of drink?’

  ‘We’re taking vodka so I’ll probably have a bit of a hangover on Sunday.’

  She rolled her eyes. ‘Is it an all-nighter?’

  ‘Bound to be. They always are. At least until five, anyway.’

  Wishing she could talk him out of it, but fearing a row if she tried, she said, ‘Just as long as you stay away from the drugs. The last thing you need is something like that on your record, if the police do turn up.’

  ‘Will you please stop worrying. It’ll be fine. Everything will, you just wait and see.’

  Though she was still far from happy about him going, she gave up nagging then, and her eyes went down as his words it’ll be fine, everything will, you just wait and see echoed out of the past, spoken by Craig, after yet another hysterical phone call from Sabrina.

  Alicia and Darcie were in the den, watching TV, while Craig and Nat shut themselves in the sitting room for one of their usual Thursday-night-debate rehearsals. Since Nat had joined the school team, his father had been coaching him in the art of putting his argument across, and the pleasure they both got from their battles of wits was always written over their faces when they finally emerged.

  However, this evening, as the closing credits rolled on EastEnders, Alicia heard Nat storm out into the hall, and Craig shouting something after him.

  ‘What’s going on?’ she asked, coming out of the den.

  ‘It’s him!’ Nat cried from halfway up the stairs. ‘He’s not listening. He keeps telling me I’ve missed points when …’

  ‘I’m sorry,’ Craig interrupted. ‘I know I’m not on form tonight. We probably shouldn’t have started. Can we try again tomorrow?’

  ‘I’ve got rugby tomorrow.’

  ‘OK, then at the weekend. You’ve clearly researched the subject and you’re making a great case, so it deserves to have my full attention. Can we do that? Sunday afternoon?’

  ‘Maybe,’ Nat said, and clearly still feeling furious and let down he ran on up the stairs.

  Alicia looked at Craig.

  He sighed and pushed his hands through his hair. ‘I need to do some work,’ he said.

  Closing the door to the den so Darcie couldn’t hear, Alicia said, ‘What is it? I knew something was up when you came home this …’

  ‘Just leave it,’ he barked. ‘It’s nothing.’

  Her face paled as she regarded him. ‘She’s been in touch again, hasn’t she?’ she said, feeling her head starting to spin.

  ‘No! All right, yes she has.’

  She tried to swallow but her throat had turned dry. ‘Have you seen her?’ she asked.

  ‘No, of course not.’

  Her face was so tight now that her mouth hardly seemed to move as she said, ‘Do you want to?’

  His eyes came to hers. ‘What kind of question is that?’ he demanded.

  Pushing him into the sitting room and slamming the door, she said, ‘It’s a perfectly reasonable question that you seem unable to answer. So I’ll ask it again. Do you want to see her?’

  ‘No, I do not want to see her.’

  ‘Then why are you so uptight?’

  ‘Because she won’t leave me alone, and she keeps threatening to damn well kill herself … What the hell am I going to do if she does?’

  Resisting the urge to say dance on her grave, Alicia turned away and sank down on a sofa, cradling her head in her hands.

  ‘I’m sorry,’ he said, coming to sit with her. ‘It’s not that I care about her, I swear it, but the way she seems to be suffering …’

  ‘Do you think I care about that?’ she raged, looking up.

  ‘No, of course not, but for Christ’s sake, I don’t want to be responsible for someone taking their own life.’

  ‘No! If she commits suicide then that’s her decision. It has nothing to do with you.’

  ‘I wish to God I could see it like that, but I can’t.’

  ‘Then learn to. You keep telling me it’s over, but the way you are now … You’re thinking about her all the time.’

  ‘That’s not true. Today’s the first time she’s rung in a week. I was hoping …
I thought, when I didn’t hear, that she’d finally got the message, but it seems I was wrong.’

  ‘Then let me speak to her. I’ll make sure she gets the damned message.’

  He shook his head. ‘You remember what happened the last time you two …’

  ‘I’m not going to see her,’ she spat. She put out her hand. ‘Give me your phone,’ she said.

  He frowned uncertainly.

  ‘I said, give me your phone. She’ll answer if she thinks it’s you.’

  ‘Alicia, this isn’t a good idea.’

  ‘I want your phone,’ she seethed. ‘If she thinks she’s going to blackmail you into seeing her with ludicrous threats of suicide, which, I might say, she has no intention of carrying out, then she can think again.’

  ‘I’m not giving you the phone.’

  Her face turned white. ‘If you won’t, then I’ll know you’ve got something to hide,’ she said in a dangerously low tone.

  Sighing, he took it from his pocket and handed it over.

  ‘What’s the number hidden under?’ she asked, starting to scroll through.

  ‘Keats.’

  She looked at him, wanting to hit him. ‘The fact that you still have it is bad enough, that it’s under the name of a poet … How the hell am I supposed to believe it’s over?’

  ‘Alicia, stop doing this, please,’ he implored.

  Finding the entry, she pressed to connect and walked to the window, shaking, as she waited for a reply.

  ‘Darling, at last. I knew you’d call …’

  ‘It’s not Craig, you whore,’ Alicia seethed. ‘I know you’ve rung him again, threatening to kill yourself, well perhaps you could do us all a favour and just get on with it.’

  Sabrina gasped. ‘You bitch!’ she cried. ‘I’m not speaking to you …’

  ‘You’re not speaking to him either. Just leave us alone, Sabrina. You’ve done enough damage …’

  ‘It’s not me who’s calling him,’ Sabrina broke in furiously. ‘He’s calling me because he can’t let go any more than I can. We love one another …’

  ‘You’re a liar and fantasist,’ Alicia broke in, looking desperately at Craig. ‘He can’t stand you.’