Leaning in towards him, she placed her head against his shoulder and rubbed her cheek against his, a slow smile spreading across her face. Got'cha, she thought. I’ve got you Stephen Barton and I’m never going to let you go. Ever.
Chapter 16
“I’m pregnant.”
“You’re kidding.”
“No, I’m not kidding, Joe McGuire. Why would I be kidding? And that’s not a very nice thing to be saying to me, is it, now that I’m carrying your child? What I want to know is what you’re going to do about it.”
“I s’pose we’ll have to get married.”
“I should think so, an’ all.”
Joe was downstairs making breakfast. Kate burrowed into the warmth of her blankets, the smell of frying bacon floating up the stairs and into her senses, making her mouth water. Then with a quick rap on the door he was there with a steaming mug of hot tea.
“Oh, Dad, you’ll never guess. I dreamt that you'd left us and we didn’t know where you were and we were searching and searching but you disappeared.” Joe stared at her vacantly. She watched in horror as he was drawn backwards to a dense black hole where he fell over the edge. She got out of bed and peered into the hole, watching helplessly as Joe got smaller and smaller, vanishing as she screamed into the darkness.
She stood unsteadily on the edge of the hole, then plunged head first into it, down, down, tumbling into nothing. She found herself outside the house, standing on the pavement wearing only her night dress. It was cold and the wind gusted around her chilling her to the bone, becoming so strong she had to lean into it and fight against it to keep upright. The sound of her own voice floated around her like an echo until the wind whipped it away. Again she called him. “Where are you? Don’t leave me. Come back. Please come back.” Her words ebbed away into nothingness, lashed away from her mouth by the relentless storm.
She woke with a jolt. Picking up the clock from her bedside table she narrowed her eyes at the fluorescent numbers. Six-fifteen. She turned over and buried her head under her pillow to blot out the sounds and penetrating laser-beam of light bursting through the gap in the curtains. Pulling her pillow to one side she retrieved the photograph of Joe she’d recovered from the shed. She stared at it, scrutinising her father’s face, thinking she might find a clue to his whereabouts but knowing all the time it was useless to keep looking for solutions. She kissed the monochrome face then returned it to its hiding place.
The sound of the toilet flush had woken her again as it had the morning before. She got out of bed and knocked on Emma's door. “Emma,” she whispered. She knocked again. Emma didn’t answer so she gently opened the door and poked her head into the room. Emma was spread eagled across her bed, her thin nightdress clinging to her body. A fine sheen of perspiration covered her face as she sobbed quietly into her eiderdown.
“Em’?” Kate went across to the bed and stroked her hand gently across her sister’s face, flushed and clammy with fever. “Emma?” she said again gently, sitting next to her, feeling the heat radiating from Emma’s body. “Are you sick? Talk to me please. Are you ill? Why didn’t you answer the door when I knocked? You should’ve come and got me if you were ill, I could’ve made you something.”
Emma sat up slowly and wiped her swollen eyes with the back of her hand. “There’s no cure for what I’ve got.”
“What do you mean there's no cure, of course there is. If you’ve got an upset tummy I could’ve made you some mint tea. We’ve loads of mint in the garden.” Emma could hardly look at Kate. When she met her sister’s gaze her heart clenched with self-loathing. Kate's worried eyes and the look of concern on her face made Emma shudder.
She’d set out to get Stephen for herself. As she'd made her plans she'd selfishly waved her conscience aside when it warned her that what she was doing would be devastating to her sister. She knew Kate didn’t deserve the hurt she would inflict on her and her concern for Emma now was like a knife of guilt pushed into Emma’s chest. The thought of telling Kate the reason for her sickness struck absolute terror into her. She reached for Kate’s hand and squeezed it tightly. “I’m sorry, Kate. I’m so sorry.” Kate sighed as she lost her patience with her. “You don’t have to apologise for being ill. Just tell me what’s wrong. I can’t help you if I don’t know what’s wrong with you, can I?”
“I never meant to hurt you. If I could change things I would. I just don’t know what to do anymore. I’m so scared.”
Kate closed her eyes. She was well aware of Emma’s talent for getting into scrapes but apart from the last escapade concluded by a trip to the police station there had been nothing in recent weeks. Maybe I’ve been lulled into thinking she’d changed, she thought. “What’s scaring you exactly?”
“I’m pregnant,” Emma said, almost inaudibly, her head bent, her eyes closed tightly as though trying to block out the present. Kate’s eyes widened. “I don’t think...I didn’t hear you properly. Say it again.”
Emma was in torment. Sitting up on the bed, she wrapped her arms round her body and pulled her knees up to her chest. She rested her forehead against them and began to cry again. Moments later she raised her head to look at Kate, her eyes red raw, her nightdress wet with tears falling like thunder-spots. “I’m pregnant.” Kate sat silently observing Emma for a moment, then walked to the other side of the bedroom and rested her forehead against the coolness of the wall.
“Say something,” Emma pleaded. Kate frowned. “You can’t know that for definite unless you’ve been to see a doctor, and I can’t think even you would have the brass-neck to do that on your own.”
“I can know. I’m not stupid...I know how it all works. I missed a period at the end of August and I’ve just missed another one. It was due last week. I thought it was just one of those things, y’know sometimes you miss one for no reason but it wasn’t that. I’ve been awful sick in the mornings. I feel sick all the time.”
A feeling of intense anger and frustration snaked its way through Kate’s body. “Who was it?” she demanded. Emma didn’t answer.
“I’m waiting, Emma.”
“I can’t tell you.”
“Why not? Surely you haven’t slept with so many blokes recently that you can’t say which one is the father of your baby? Surely even you haven’t sunk that low?”
Emma knew she must tell Kate; that Kate wouldn’t let it go until she told her. Even though she’d accused Kate of weakness this was something she knew her sister would not give up on. She swallowed hard before replying knowing the information she was about to deliver would change everything. She’d rehearsed this time and time again in her mind but she’d never quite reached the climax of the story. She only knew when she'd made the decision to hunt Stephen Barton she’d allowed her intense desire and greed to take her to a place she shouldn’t have gone. Now they were at the point of no return, the imagined scenario unfolding in front of her. She was about to discover the ending.
She hadn’t planned for this to happen. It hadn't even occurred to her. All she'd ever wanted from Stephen was his money. She had squeezed plenty out of him too, usually after they’d had sex and he was at his most persuadable. She would snuggle up to him, hinting at the boots, bag or dress she couldn’t do without, saying how wonderful she would look in them and really it was all for him so he would be proud of her.
Stephen didn’t care. She was there for his use and that was that. He’d discovered that it was easier to let Emma take care of his needs rather than going to The Maze to see Donna. He felt that having sex with Emma was ‘cleaner’. The downside was she was more expensive than Donna, but Emma was a hundred times better value.
“It was Stephen Barton.”
Kate’s hands flew to her mouth. She pressed them so hard against her face she could feel the blood draining from her skin. Her legs failed her and she fell to the floor. A wave of nausea washed over her. She could hear her own heart beating in her ears and the blood racing through her veins. Her body suddenly released the shock. She vom
ited across the floor as Emma cried silently.
Moments went by. Emma remained still, not daring to move from the bed, her eyes fixed on the wall unable to watch Kate’s torment.
“I don’t believe you. You’re just saying it to get your own back because you were angry with me for not hanging onto him. It can’t be true, Emma, I don’t believe it. You wouldn’t...,” she cried. “Surely you don’t hate me so much that you would do something like this? Tell me, please. It’s one of your sick jokes, isn’t it?”
Emma raked her hands through her hair that had twisted into shiny rats-tails with perspiration. She couldn’t bear to look at Kate. Her feelings of shame increased with every horrific moment that passed. She fixed her eyes on the window, wishing she could float out on the air and down into the garden, away from the object of her guilt.
“It's true, Kate. He is the father.”
Kate paced the room. “Look at me Emma. Look at me.” Emma quivered with fear. Kate’s eyes blazed with anger. Emma had never seen her sister like this.
“Why? Why did you do it… and with him of all people? Can you just tell me...?”
She fell onto the bed, buried her face in her arms and sobbed. She was done. Events of the last year ran swiftly through her mind as she cried; a condensed visualisation of everything that had happened. She felt totally alone, caught in a bubble of her own making she thought would protect her but instead had imprisoned her. In that split second the mere mention of Stephen Barton’s name felt like a violation and she was angry with herself for being such a gullible idiot.
She was changed. She had to find a new set of rules to live by. She must grow another layer of skin to meet the demands life was making on her. She wouldn’t be a victim anymore. The rest of her life was in her own hands. Stephen Barton would not win. She would never allow it, even if it took every ounce of strength in her. She would turn his life around so he wouldn’t know which way was up just as her life had changed when he’d tried to rape her and just as Emma’s life was changed now. He would pay for what he’d done. She would make sure of it.
Chapter 17
“There, Diana. What did I tell you? Stephen has made the right choice as I said he would. You must be very proud.”
“Yes, Mother. I’m so glad he came through in the end. Matthew is very pleased.”
“I’m sure he is. What do you think it was that encouraged him to make a decision?”
“I have no idea. He came home one day and said he was going to take up his university place. Maybe he realised his whole future was at stake. It was very sudden.”
“Whatever it was it all turned out right in the end, didn’t it?”
“Yes, Mother. It all turned out right in the end.”
“Slow down, Kate,” Emma cried as she trailed behind her. “I can’t walk that fast.” She leant forward and made a grab for her sister’s arm, trying to slow her pace. “Please slow down.” Kate stopped and turned to Emma who trailed behind her. “We have to do something. We can’t let him get away with it. That’s his child you’re carrying,” she said, pointing to Emma’s belly. “It’s a matter of principle.” Emma raised her eyes. “Oh, here we go again.” Her hands went to her hips. “Do you honestly think he's going to care about that? There's one thing I learnt about him – he doesn't care about anything. Nothing.” Kate ignored her. “He had his fun so now he has to pay for it,” she retorted angrily.
“He already paid.”
“What?”
“He paid me. Not much, but he gave me money.”
Kate blew out a breath of exasperation. “Well, I don’t care. He’s older than you and he should’ve known better. Whatever he paid you it wasn’t enough. This is your future, Emma. And the baby’s. And it doesn’t matter if he gave you money. This is about him taking responsibility for his actions.”
“You hate him, don’t you?” Emma said quietly. “I wish you’d just leave it.”
Kate took Emma’s arm and dragged her towards the old brick wall running the length of the Barton’s property. “Why? So he can knock up some other poor kid who doesn’t know any better. And no, I don’t hate him. I wouldn’t waste my time.”
She folded her arms and began shifting her weight from one foot to the other. Then she turned and walked on a few paces, then turned back, standing directly in front of Emma. She put her arms round her. “Don’t you understand what a mess this is? You’re going to bring another life into this world – a human being. You’re only a child yourself.” Her voice got louder. “And he needs to know about it,” she said, thumbing towards the house.
“He does know.”
“You’ve told him?” Emma nodded.
“And?” Emma looked down at the pavement and sighed. “He doesn’t want to know.” Kate was unmoved. “Well, I’ll make him bloody well know. I’ll make him understand that there’s no way that you’re alone in this, no way, and that he must take half the responsibility for the baby. It takes two-to-tango and there isn’t an iota of a chance he's going to sit out this dance. I won’t let him.”
She knew that passers-by could hear her but she didn't care. When they set out that morning she’d felt complete panic when she thought about the task she had in front of her, but as she and Emma talked those feelings of fear dissolved into a sea of anger. They would never get help for Emma and her baby if they just sat back and waited for something to happen. They'd already waited for far too long and waiting didn’t do any good. “Come on. We’re wasting time talking about Stephen Barton and what he will and won’t do. It doesn’t matter anyway. I'm going to speak to his mum and dad as well. I’m sure they’re reasonable people. They'll want to do the right thing by you.” She threaded her arm through Emma’s and smiled. “Everything’ll be all right y’know. Really.”
Emma didn’t answer. She’d long since realised she didn’t have the same kind of faith in people that Kate did. Nothing would convince her that ‘everything was going to be all right’ until she heard Stephen say it would be. She’d learned a lot about Stephen during her time with him and it wasn’t good. Very little of what she knew had endeared her to him but she hadn't cared. He had a large wallet. Having sex with Stephen hadn’t been disagreeable and she’d used him as much as he used her so she’d felt theirs was an equal arrangement. In the beginning he asked her if she was taking the contraceptive pill and had been surprised when she said she wasn’t. “I wouldn’t dare ask for it. Come with me to my doctor and we’ll ask him together,” she'd suggested craftily. She knew he would turn her down.
They’d borrowed a flat belonging to one of Stephen’s friends. The condom had torn when he was inside her. As their bodies parted she’d gasped, a shudder of fear making her voice tremble. “Stephen. The condom ripped.”
“So what,” he’d said. “You won’t get pregnant. It’s happened once that’s all. We’ve been all right the rest of the time. Anyway, how much d’you want today? Don’t get too greedy. I’m trying to save some of my allowance for a new car. My father would’ve provided the funds of course but my damned mother talked him out of it. I don’t know what’s wrong with her lately. Anyone would think she hated me. I'm her only son, after all.” His voice rose in disbelief.
When Emma missed her first period she’d asked Jenny if it had ever happened to her.
“Only when I first started. They weren’t very regular and I used to miss. But since then, well, no, it’s never happened to me. Why?”
“My period didn’t come this month. I thought it might have happened to you. I don’t want to talk to Mum or Kate. I’m a bit embarrassed about it.” Jenny shrugged.
“Well, we've just done our mocks, haven't we? Maybe it's that. You’ve probably been worrying too much. Worry can do it.” Emma nodded. “Yeah. Yeah, I’m sure that’s the reason.”
After she’d missed her period for the second month, she had been distraught. Every time she visited the bathroom she prayed it had happened. In the mornings she’d been overwhelmed by sickness, a slight nausea at
first which quickly escalated into vomiting in the early hours.
She decided to tell Stephen. She was terrified at what he would say. She didn’t like him let alone love him, but she held on to a hope that he would help her. She couldn’t tell anyone else; not Kate, and least of all her own mother. No. She would wait and choose her time.
“What?” Stephen had shoved her away from him after they’d been together. “Huh, well it’s not mine.”
“Of course it’s yours, who else’s would it be?”
“I’ve no idea and personally I couldn’t care less. You could have slept with anyone. A tart like you would never stick to one bloke.” He jumped out of bed and stooped to pick his jeans up from where he’d discarded them. “Anyway,” he opened his arms expansively and then placed his hands on hips. “You’re a whore. It could be anyone’s and don’t try to tell me I’m the only bloke you’re screwing for money. Now that would be complete cobblers.” He took her dress from the bedroom chair and threw it at her. “Now get dressed and get out. You won’t hang this one on me, Emma. I suggest you try getting rid of it. There are plenty of people who do it for a small fee, that’s if you’re pregnant at all, which I doubt. You’re a money grabber. I had you sussed from the start so don’t even think of asking for money for your phantom pregnancy.”
Emma had got out of bed and dressed dismally. There was no point in arguing with him. She’d been tempted to remind him about the ripped condom but she was dubious it would make any difference to him. He watched her as she did up her dress and as she was putting on her shoes, he shouted at her. “Can’t you do it quicker than that? Just hurry up would you. I have another appointment. My time is precious, too precious for wasting on a scrubber like you...oh and I’m not giving you any money this time. I’ve been very generous to you but there you are, I’m a generous person but I don’t want to see you again. I’ve found someone else.”
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