City Girl

by Patricia Scanlan

  Devlin walked in the opposite direction towards the bus stop, savagely telling herself to get a grip on herself. She had got herself into this mess and she and Colin would have to discuss what was to be done. But how in the name of God could she have got pregnant when she was on the pill? She just couldn’t figure it out.

  ‘Did you forget to take it?’

  She couldn’t believe the coldness in Colin’s voice or the horror on his face as she told him of her predicament when he arrived back two days later. She shook her head emphatically. ‘I took it every night, the pack makes it easy.’

  ‘Did you have vomiting or diarrhoea while you were on holidays?’ The cold professional voice chilled her to the bone, making her cringe inwardly. Remembering her bad attack of Spanish tummy at the end of her holidays Devlin nodded miserably. It had lasted even through the weekend she had come home and of course, that was it. It even said in the instruction on the packet to take added precautions in the event of having vomiting or diarrhoea. It hadn’t even crossed her mind at the time of her deflowering that the pill would not adequately protect her.

  ‘When?’ Colin’s question was curt.

  She told him and this time her own voice took on a cool edge. To hell with him! she thought. It was as much his problem as it was hers but of course there was no such thing as ‘unmarried fathers.’ It was always the girl who got the blame.

  ‘Why didn’t you tell me?’ His irritated accusing voice growled at her, a bad-tempered frown marring his handsome features. Was this the same loving man? Funny, she had never noticed the slightly pockmarked texture of his skin, which was beginning to hint at jowls around his jaw. Another couple of years and his good looks would certainly fade if he didn’t look after himself. She thought this in a strangely detached way as if seeing him for the first time.

  ‘For heaven’s sake, Devlin,’ he rasped, his brows drawn down in anger. Thrusting a small specimen jar at her, he sharply ordered her to fill it and bring it back to him.

  So much for loving arms and words of comfort, Devlin thought, as she tried to perform with accuracy for the required sample. She knew with certainty that this was only the beginning. Somehow, deep down inside her she realized that things were very definitely going to get worse. Looking at the little jar of urine that would shortly confirm what she already knew, she longed with all her might to have the guts to fling it in his face and walk out of the office and never see him again. What a fool she had been! How naïve! Thinking that Colin might perhaps divorce his wife! She felt as though she hated him and bitterness surged through her. The emotion shocked Devlin and she stared at herself in the mirror. This was the man she had thought she loved only hours earlier. It now seemed like decades ago.

  She had given him what she had once been told was a woman’s greatest gift. Her precious virginity. Impotent rage gripped her. It wasn’t fair! Why was it such a big deal? Why did men not have the same pressure about their first time doing it? Did they ever feel dirty and used? And she had always thought she was so sure of herself, so sophisticated. What a laugh . . . how could she have ever imagined that she loved Colin or that he had loved her.

  ‘Be honest.’ Devlin made herself stare at the image reflected in the mirror. ‘You wanted to find out what it was all about, you used him as much as he used you.’ The truth of it made her squirm but she acknowledged it. It horrified her to think that she could be so shallow but although she did not realize it, this was her first real step on the ladder of maturity. She would know many soul-searching moments in her life but none of them would ever be as difficult as this.

  Several hours later, when his last appointment was finished Colin came and stood in front of her desk. ‘It’s very early but it’s positive all right.’ Still the cool professional voice. ‘I presume you want an abortion?’

  Devlin sat very still as his words sank in.

  ‘Well, Devlin?’ he queried, coldly, impatiently.

  ‘I . . . I . . . um I hadn’t really thought about it,’ she said quietly.

  ‘Well, darling,’ he drawled somewhat sarcastically, ‘isn’t it time you started. Do you want to carry the pregnancy to term? Do you want to keep the child or have it adopted or do you want to get rid of it?’

  Devlin looked at him squarely. ‘You’re the father, Colin. What would you suggest?’ His eyes hardened and he turned his back to her and walked over to the window.

  ‘I have three legitimate children, Devlin. I don’t want another one and you’ll have to prove I’m the father; I’m not accepting responsibility for it. I suggest,’ he turned and looked at her coldly, ‘that I make arrangements for you to go to London to be seen by one of my colleagues over there and I suggest you go soon. This week in fact if I can arrange it: it will be less traumatic.’

  ‘Jesus, Colin, you don’t mean that!!’ Devlin thought she was going to be sick. Her mind tried to accept his words. He wanted her to abort his own child and he hadn’t even discussed any alternatives. Colin pulled her out of her chair and gave her a little shake.

  ‘Listen, you stupid little girl! Don’t think for one moment that I’m going to let you ruin my life as well as your own. Hell! If this ever got out I’d be the laughing stock of the medical profession.’ He saw the disgust and repulsion in her face and let her go. ‘Look, Devlin,’ he said heavily. ‘Do you really want to have a child outside wedlock? A little bastard? What’s the point of going through nine months of misery only to hand it over for adoption? Are you going to keep it and suffer the finger pointing and gossiping and ostracism that goes on no matter who you are once you’re an unmarried mother? And you’ll never have another moment of freedom.’ He stared intently at her. ‘You have to think of your own future too and I’m telling you here and now, London is the best option for you. I’ll take care of you financially – don’t worry about that – but . . .’ his voice was steely, ‘if you decide on anything else you’re on your own and I won’t keep you on in the job. Don’t give me any crap about unfair dismissal either, I’ve good friends in the legal profession so I’ll be well advised.’

  He pointed a long manicured forefinger at her. ‘And you would be well advised to go to London. Think of yourself,’ he urged and this time his voice was less authoritative, kinder, more like the old Colin. ‘Look,’ he said quietly, ‘we’ve both had a shock. Go home and think about it and I’ll see you tomorrow.’ Silently Devlin gathered up her things. Her heart was pounding with a mixture of fear and anger. If she had the baby she would get no help from him and she would lose her job. If she had an abortion, which was murder, according to her religion and the laws of the land, she would have to live with it for the rest of her life. Only you would know. The thought flashed through her mind and she had to admit that abortion would be so simple. It would erase the problem like a duster on a blackboard. A clean slate. She could start again.

  Pausing at the door she looked at Colin. ‘Thanks for all your help.’ He coloured faintly but said nothing as she closed the door, hating him as once she thought she had loved him. How could he do this to her? She wanted to kill him, to hurt him in some way for what he had done to her. Bitterness so strong that she could almost taste it flooded through her. She could go to a Garda station and say that he had counselled her about abortion and was prepared to refer her to an abortion clinic. Would he be arrested? She wasn’t sure; she knew that the law prohibited abortion referral. How would he like his handsome face plastered over every newspaper in the country? That might knock the smug superior attitude out of him.

  She knew she wouldn’t. She wouldn’t have the guts to do it and expose herself as well. ‘Oh Devlin, you fool,’ she cursed herself quietly as she got into her Fiesta. Her heart sank even lower as she realized she had to go home to her parents for dinner this evening. Usually she went home for a meal once a week but lately she had really begun to dread going home. There was such an air of strain between her parents and she guessed it was because of her mother’s worsening drink problem. She hated when Lydia had
too much to drink. She would become strident and then later start weeping, saying that Devlin had deserted them by moving into a flat. Her father would intervene and then her mother would turn on him, hurling abuse as though she hated him.

  It was a side of Lydia only the two of them saw. To her friends and neighbours Lydia Delaney was a gracious cultured woman involved in many church and social activities. She had a distinguished-looking husband in a prestigious job who worshipped her, a beautiful home, an affluent lifestyle and was the envy of many of her neighbours. Yet Lydia Delaney was not a happy woman. It was as if she carried inside her some secret sadness that had embittered her and warped her life and prevented her from ever being truly satisfied with her lot. Because theirs was not a very close relationship, Devlin couldn’t talk to Lydia about her drinking and her unhappiness. Her mother was a cool and very reserved person as regards giving and receiving physical affection. Not for Devlin warm loving hugs when she was a child. Not for her to be loved as other mothers loved their daughters.

  ‘Mind my dress, dear,’ or, ‘I’ve just put on my make up,’ Lydia would say to the young Devlin when in her spontaneous way she would throw her little arms around her mother. So the child got out of the habit. Not that she had ever really seen an awful lot of her mother. Lydia was on many committees and involved in fund-raising for various charities. She played a round of golf almost daily unless she was on one of her drinking binges, and so Devlin had more or less been raised by a succession of dailies and babysitters. Her father did not especially enjoy the hectic social life Lydia forced upon him, but because he loved his wife and it seemed to keep her happy he went to openings and first nights, charity galas and church socials and it always seemed to Devlin that no matter what he did it was never enough. It was as if Lydia had set some invisible goal that he could never reach.

  How, Devlin thought, could she go home and tell her elegant reserved status-conscious mother that she was going to bear an illegitimate child? Devlin hoped to the depths of her soul that Lydia would not be drunk tonight. She couldn’t cope with a scene; she was near enough to a nervous breakdown as it was. How could Colin be so unfeeling and cold? How could she have been such a fool? Why wouldn’t her thoughts stop racing around her head, which felt as if it was going to explode? Why did her heart keep palpitating, causing her to feel dizzy? Was this what it was like to have a nervous breakdown or was it because she was pregnant? Tears came to her eyes again and she cursed herself for being so weak.

  Three

  Eventually she turned off the dual carriageway up the exclusive road they lived on and into the long shaded avenue of their tastefully planned garden. The elegant Edwardian house lay in a curve of silver maple trees, their lovely glossy leaves catching the rays of the evening. She loved the way the ivy grew around the large bay windows that now reflected sparkling prisms of sunlight.

  Two magnificent red hawthorns dominated the lush green lawn and Devlin smiled at the sight of them. They had been Gerry’s pride and joy and when she was a child and the soft red fragrant flowers would begin to fall he would throw handfuls over her hair and tell her she was a flower fairy. Gerry loved his garden and spent many hours of solitude hoeing and weeding and planting. Lydia shared his love of gardening and when they worked in it together they never fought. Devlin had always been happy to see them both in the garden on the rare evening that they weren’t going out. At least there would be no rows.

  As she parked her car she saw that her father was not yet home although Lydia’s car was there. Slowly she got out as if putting off the fateful moment of entering her home in her pregnant state. She carefully picked up the bouquet of flowers she had bought for her mother on the way home – a weekly tradition. She could no longer put off going in so, taking a deep breath, she inserted her key and entered the elegant grey and pink hall.

  A veneered Georgian side-table bearing an urn filled with roses was the only piece of furniture there – simple, understated and utterly right. Whatever her faults, Lydia had an eye for colour and decor that would have made her a natural for a career in interior decorating had she been so inclined. Her home was stylish and tasteful and the envy of her less talented friends. Poking her head into the superbly equipped pine kitchen Devlin saw that her mother was not there, although the preparations for dinner were well under way. Sighing, she walked into the lounge and found Lydia relaxing with coffee and a cigarette.

  ‘Hello Mum, hope I’m not too late,’ she forced a cheerful note into her voice as she handed her mother the flowers. Lydia smiled. Thank God she’s not drunk, Devlin thought, greatly relieved at her mother’s seemingly affable humour, although she knew from experience that what started out as a pleasant family dinner could often end in disaster.

  ‘Thank you, dear, these are lovely,’ her mother’s cultured tones intruded on her musings. ‘You’re not late at all. Dinner won’t be for a while. Your father is entertaining a client and he’s invited him back for a meal. You don’t mind, do you?’

  Devlin’s heart sank. Just what she didn’t need, making social chit-chat But for her mother’s benefit she said brightly, ‘Of course not, Mum, I’ll just go and freshen up.’

  ‘Good idea,’ Lydia said, a trifle drily. Devlin let it pass. She knew she looked a sight. Trust Lydia to rub it in. Her mother was always impeccably groomed except during a very bad binge, and she expected nothing less of her daughter. Tiredly Devlin made her way upstairs to her bedroom with its cheerful Laura Ashley floral paper, matching curtains and bedspread. Usually the sight of her immaculately tidy bedroom bathed in sunlight lifted her spirits, but not today. She was feeling a little strange. She’d just lie down for a while, she decided, flopping onto her bed.

  It was funny, she reflected; she felt as if she was getting her period. Her PERIOD!! Galvanized, she flew into the bathroom and inspected her briefs. Frustration welled in her at the sight of their unblemished purity. She did not realize that many women in the very early stages of pregnancy often feel as if a period is imminent. Flinging herself on the bed she lay staring at the ceiling, knowing she would have to start making a decision soon.

  Reluctantly her hand moved down over her stomach. It felt no different. She couldn’t feel the presence of a life. Maybe it was true what some argued that life didn’t begin until much later. After all she was only a little while gone. It couldn’t be bigger than the top of a pin.

  ‘Devlin! Devlin! I was wonder . . . ’ Her mother stood at the door staring at her. ‘Good gracious, Devlin, what’s the matter with you?’

  Scarlet with guilt, Devlin shot off the bed, the colour draining from her face as dizziness overcame her. Hastily she sat down on the bed, trying to keep from fainting.

  ‘Heavens above, Devlin, what’s wrong with you?’ Her mother’s voice, sharp with concern, pierced the woolliness of her mind.

  Devlin wanted desperately to blurt out the truth and get it over with, but caution restrained her and she murmured slowly, ‘Honestly it’s nothing Mum, I skipped lunch and I felt a bit faint.’

  ‘It’s living in that . . . flat. You’re not feeding yourself,’ Lydia said sharply.

  Don’t let her start, Devlin prayed.

  ‘I hope you’re not on one of those faddy diets?’

  Diet! Devlin thought she was going to laugh hysterically. Not the best diet in the world was going to be able to save her figure unless she had an abortion. In a few months everybody who met her would know exactly what she had been up to. There was no need to write the word ‘Adultery’ on her forehead in bright red paint . . . it would be there for all the world to see in the bulge of her belly, which was now so flat and slender.

  ‘I’m not on a diet, Mum. I just skipped lunch. I was shopping, that’s all!’

  ‘Well, tidy up. Gerry and Mr . . . er . . . Reilly I think his name is, should be here soon.’

  ‘Is there a Mrs Reilly?’ Devlin enquired as she cautiously stood up, not wishing to have a repeat of the previous dizziness.

  ‘Gerry j
ust said Mr Reilly had a very sharp business brain and was self made. He lives in London most of the time, I believe, as most of his business is over there, but he does have some property in Dublin. I think his father lives here.’ She eyed her daughter thoughtfully. ‘I wonder what age he is?’

  It was one of her mother’s aims in life to make a good match for Devlin and all the more so as the obnoxious Carol Jones down the road had just landed a most eligible bachelor and was sporting a dazzling hunk of diamond on her left finger. The said bachelor, son of a prominent politician who had made millions in land speculation deals, had been very keen on Devlin who disliked him intensely, hating his arrogant assumption that because his father was a rich powerful man he could do what he liked and have what he wanted. He had wanted Devlin badly but neither his manners nor his wealth impressed her and it had been a relief to her when he had started seeing Carol.

  Her mother gave one of her cultured sniffs. ‘You could have had that Gaynor fellow if you had wanted to, I must remind Cecilia of the fact the next time she starts on about Carol’s marvellous match.’ Then the sound of a car coming up the drive sent Lydia to the bedroom window from where she could see the drive.

  ‘They’re here! Do brush your hair, Devlin, and don’t be long,’ she admonished before drifting downstairs, leaving the faint scent of Je Reviens wafting on the air behind her. Automatically running a comb through her blond sunstreaked hair, Devlin washed her face and added a trace of lipstick to her mouth to please her mother, before dabbing some Magie Noir behind her ears.

  Glumly she descended the stairs and walked into the lounge. As she entered, she saw a dark haired man of tall muscular build talking to her father.