Maker of Footprints

by Sheila Turner Johnston

  Luke waited expectantly, his eyes on the door of the room. “Where’s Adam?”

  “Not here. I see you haven’t lost my house keys.”

  Luke grinned. “Can I crash here tonight? I missed the last bus.”

  “Sure. Where were you?”

  “At a party.” He shifted a little. “They started to… do stuff, so I left.”

  “Joints and stuff?”

  “Yeah. And stuff.”

  She sat down on the edge of the sofa, exhaustion toppling her. Luke stared.

  “Why have you got a piece of grass stuck to your cheek?” He sat up. “Hey, you’ve been crying.”

  Jenna rubbed her face and the piece of grass stuck to her finger. She flicked it off, not caring where it went.

  “You’ve had a row with Adam, haven’t you?”

  Her shoulders drooped and she fished in her bag for her phone. “Sort of.”

  His hand brushed her skirt as it fell over the arm of the sofa. “Hey, your dress is torn.” He looked up sharply. “Did he…?”

  She gave a short laugh. “I should be so lucky!”

  “Jay!” He was shocked.

  “No, he didn’t do anything like that, so you needn’t punch him.”

  There were three missed calls on her mobile, all of them from Adam, all of them while she was in the taxi, all of them ignored.

  “It can’t be your first row. And he’s a man.” He shrugged. “What do you expect? They’ve no sense.”

  “Not one of them.” She mussed his hair affectionately. “Except maybe you.”

  Still, she wasn’t going to cry again. Not over this. Not over Adam.

  “I rang Dad,” said Luke. “He says he’ll come in and pick both of us up tomorrow.”

  “Good old Dad. That’ll be great.” She got up and went to the door. “Want a coffee?”

  “Had one.” He put his long legs to the floor and stood, fiddling with his gold earring. “Don’t you want to talk about it? I mean, you’ll fix it with him, I suppose?”

  The answer to his question came out without thought. “I don’t know.”

  “You will,” he said confidently. “People have barneys all the time. Even Mum and Dad. Wait till you see. He’ll be begging forgiveness by tomorrow.” His brow furrowed. “What happened anyway?”

  “He was about to get married last spring. She called it off. She was there tonight.”

  “Shit!” he said and was silent for a moment. He scratched his head. “But, so what? If it’s over…”

  “It’s not over. She wants him back.” Her mouth twisted. “He wasn’t exactly resisting.”

  Luke gave a small shrug. “So it’s serious then?”

  She turned to go. “No-one’s been in the bed since you were last in it. You know where the towels and stuff are.”

  Fifteen minutes later, she was just coming out of the bathroom when the doorbell chimed. Luke called up the stairs. “Want me to get it?”

  She wrapped her towelling robe tightly round herself. “If it’s Adam, I don’t want to see him.”

  It was Adam, his voice agitated.

  “I need to see Jenna. Is she here?”

  On the landing, Jenna held her breath.

  “Yeah, mate. But it’s late.”

  “Let me in. I need to see her.”

  Luke’s voice took on a firm edge. “She doesn’t want to see you.”

  To Jenna’s surprise, Adam became aggressive. “This is none of your business. Get out of my way!”

  Jenna gasped and Luke’s surge of disgust rose on the cold air from the hall.

  “You’re drunk, you bastard! And my sister’s very much my business.”

  “I’m not drunk. Maybe I’ve…”

  “Are you driving?” asked Luke sharply.

  Jenna sank to the floor beneath the banisters. Adam’s tone became more conciliatory. “No, I’m not. Paul called me a taxi.” With a slight slur, he added, “Told me to go home.”

  “Yeah. Well, you do that.” There was a thump as if Adam had put his hand on the door forcefully.

  “I’m not going till I see her.”

  Jenna could hear that Luke was beginning to grit his teeth. “Well, you’ll have a cold night because you’ll have to wait outside.”

  Adam raised his voice. “Jenna, I know you can hear me! I didn’t know you were in the room. I didn’t know you were there. Rachel said she’d seen you go out.”

  Jenna put her head down on her bent knees. Bitch! she thought. Luke slammed the door. To her relief, Adam seemed to leave without causing a scene in the street.

  Luke came up the stairs and peered round the banisters. “You all right?”

  Jenna pulled herself to her feet. “I’m OK. Do you think he’ll get home all right?”

  Luke sat on the top stair. “Yeah. There was a taxi waiting up the street a bit. Probably his.” He was quiet for a moment. “So her name’s Rachel?” She nodded. When he spoke again, the disgust was back in his voice. “He was drunk. Adam was drunk.” He looked round. “Have you ever seen him drunk before?”

  “Never.”

  Luke shook his head. “Asshole,” he said. Jenna started to laugh. “What’s so funny?” he asked.

  There was nothing at all funny about this evening, but Jenna laughed until her face began to crumple and she felt the tears close again. Then she stopped. That bit was over. Adam was neither the moon, the stars nor the sun, and so he wasn’t worth her tears.

  She wiped her nose – she still hadn’t a tissue. “Oh, Luke,” she said, “I’m so glad you were here. But you’re a nutcase. You can swear for Ulster, but if you’ve the slightest suspicion that someone’s had one too many, you can be as shocked as a Puritan.”

  He grinned sheepishly. “Yeah, well. Swearing doesn’t kill anybody.”

  She pulled him to his feet and gave him a hug even though he hated it. “Dad would be proud of you,” she said.

  He disentangled himself. “Go to bed,” he said, grumpy.

  Paul tugged off his shirt and yawned. Dianne dropped a suitcase on the bed and flung open the lid.

  “I still can’t believe you never told me, Paul.”

  “It was past history and nothing to do with me.”

  “It must have been. Weren’t you going to be best man or something?”

  He sat on the bed and pulled off his shoes. “I was. But I didn’t have much to do in the end.”

  Dianne gazed into her wardrobe and rattled hangers. “I can’t wait to tell Bella.” She pulled out a dress and held it in front of herself. “What do you think of this one? Should I bring it?”

  He glanced round. “Sure. Looks good.”

  She hung it back in the wardrobe and flicked along the rail again. “Mmmm. I don’t know. I still have lots of clothes at home. I mightn’t need…”

  “This is home.”

  She stopped and turned. “Well, yes, of course, darling.”

  He walked round the bed and took her by the shoulders.

  “This is home,” he repeated firmly.

  She put her hands up to his bare chest and spread her fingers.

  “Yes, Paul. This is home. I just meant…”

  “I know what you meant.”

  He dropped his hands and left the room. She heard the bathroom door shut and lock.

  Later, she lay with her head on his shoulder, unsure of his mood.

  “Poor Jenna,” she said tentatively. “I was so sorry for her.” He didn’t reply. “She’ll tear Adam into little pieces.”

  “She won’t,” he said, surprising her.

  “Goodness, I would, if it was me.”

  “But she’s not you. Definitely not you.”

  “No, but…”

  “She’ll be very quiet about it.”

  He was lying on his back, speaking to the dark ceiling, almost speaking to himself. Dianne raised her head from his shoulder to look into his face. She could just see the outline of his open eyes, the ruffle of hair at his brow.

  She could s
till picture what had happened – Paul sending the revolving door spinning as he came back into the hotel foyer; Rachel turning a dazzling smile on him; Paul not breaking his stride as he passed her, his words slicing the air: “Slither back up your tree, Rachel.” A small girl in a ghastly trouser suit wandered about with Jenna’s bag. Paul sent her outside to return it. Then he had cornered Adam. She was too far away to hear the exchange, but Adam was white by the time Paul shoved him into a taxi. Bella was going to love this!

  She lay down beside him again. “Thanks for going tonight.”

  He turned his head towards her. “Enjoy yourself?”

  “Enormously.”

  “If Jenna’s a study-bug, what are you?” He thought for a minute. “A party pixie!”

  She giggled in delight. “I like that!” She curled a leg round his, relaxing now that he was talking this way. “I can’t wait.” She sighed and added, “There’ll be so many people to see and proper parties to go to.”

  He stayed very still and she began to feel drowsy, his arm still round her and his hand relaxed on her side. Through the first mist of sleep, a thought surfaced.

  “Paul?”

  “Mhm?”

  “What else haven’t you told me?”

  He turned onto his side, tumbling her off his shoulder.

  “I used to be a bank robber. Now go to sleep.”

  She woke briefly in the small hours of the morning and felt that he wasn’t beside her. When she woke again, he was back, lying on his stomach with his head turned away from her, his breathing rhythmic and deep. She moved her head slightly and something small fell from her hair and landed on the pillow by her nose. She flicked it away, afraid it was a spider.

  In the morning, she saw the cream and green of an ivy leaf on the floor. It was firm and waxy in her fingers. She dropped it in the bin and checked to see if any more had been walked in on their shoes last night. But there were no more.

  It was the Saturday before Christmas and the manse looked beautiful. Usually, Jenna loved coming home to see the tree and the decorations that her mother erected every year. Cora placed every golden twig, every silver ball, every holly wreath, with great care.

  Luke and she were home in time for lunch and now, dishes done, Jenna stood in front of the family portrait that Paul had taken in the autumn. It hung on the wall below the stairs, where visitors would see it when they took off their coats, but where it couldn’t be accused of being ostentatiously displayed. Cora had fixed silver tinsel around the frame. Seated at the front, Donald and Cora looked out proudly, leaning slightly towards each other as they smiled at the camera. Jenna and Luke stood behind them.

  Jenna looked into her own eyes, which looked steadily back at her. She remembered that day. Truth is the only connection worth making, he had said. Which is hurt, your heart or your pride? he had asked last night. She was trying to give herself an honest answer to that.

  Luke had been made to promise to say nothing about the previous night. When Adam rang that evening, Jenna took the call in her father’s study.

  “Jay, I’m sorry, I’m so sorry. Did you hear what I said last night? I didn’t know you were there. Rachel… I was told you’d gone out… to the loo or something.”

  She didn’t bother sitting down. “Sobered up, have you?”

  “Look, it was a staff party. I’m not an angel…”

  “I never thought you were.”

  “It’s not your sort of thing. You’re just not used to what goes on.”

  “So what goes on, Adam?”

  “Things that don’t mean anything. Things you’d never do any other time of the year.”

  “Like kissing your ex-fiancée? A quick one under the mistletoe, just for old time’s sake?”

  “Well…”

  “And the slow dance? Was that for old time’s sake too? I was looking forward to that. I was really looking forward to that. I thought I might have your attention for longer than a minute.”

  He tried a laugh. “Oh, well, what could I do? Rachel’s very strong minded.”

  “I could see that. You really put up a fight, didn’t you?”

  He was silent for a moment and she waited, looking at a hymnbook, open at ‘O Come all ye Faithful’. Her father’s notes for the order of service the next morning lay beside it.

  “I would have told you about Rachel.”

  “Well,” she said thoughtfully, “why would you? What’s it to do with me? We all have history, don’t we? Specially these days. Serial monogamy’s all the rage.”

  “So we’re OK then?”

  She twisted the cord of the receiver round her finger. “I’m not OK with a man who would humiliate me like that.”

  “Oh, come on, Jenna!”

  “You hurt me very much. I liked you, Adam.”

  “Well, I’m still me. And I like you too.”

  “But it’s not enough, is it?”

  “What do you mean?”

  “It’s just…” she bit her lip. Is he your lover or your brother? She tired of the conversation suddenly. “I’ll see you in the New Year some time. Let’s just have a break.”

  He coughed and tried to sound normal. “I’m taking Mum up to Coleraine on Monday. Maybe I’ll ring you from there?”

  “Whatever.”

  “Paul’s gone off to the London scene this afternoon.” He paused. “He gave me an earful last night.”

  “Oh?”

  He laughed. “Yeah. He told me I should realise what I’ve got.”

  “What did he mean – what you’ve got?”

  “He said you were worth ten of Rachel and that I was a – well, I’ll not tell you what he said I was. You’re a well brought up girl!”

  “And all my goodness might melt into a puddle of shock if you repeated naughty words.”

  “Don’t be like that, Jay.”

  A kitten suddenly jumped onto the desk and started to play with the telephone lead. She jiggled it and the kitten leapt on it, ears cocked over its head, paws soft and agile.

  “Have a good Christmas. Give my love to your Mum.” She hung up.

  She picked up the kitten and went to the lounge. The television was on and Luke was in possession of the sofa as usual. He looked up. “Made it up?” he asked.

  She just shrugged. A listlessness was coming over her. She pulled a chair nearer to the fire and sat. The kitten curled into a tiny ball and novice purrs rattled out on a sigh as it went instantly to sleep, one white paw curled over its nose.

  Aunt Susan came to stay. Susan was Donald’s only sister and Christmas hadn’t really arrived until Aunt Susan was collected at the airport. Jenna couldn’t remember a Christmas without her. Before Jenna was born, Susan had moved to the south of England and taken a teaching post in a private girls’ school. Prim, proper and incredibly skinny, her accent was refined English, laced in moments of carelessness with the vowels of east Ulster. Jenna went for a walk with her one cold frosty afternoon.

  “Did you ever think of coming back to live here?” she asked as they dropped sticks over the river bridge.

  “My goodness, no. All my friends are over there now.” She sniffed. “I only come back to see Donald and the family. It would be too hard to readjust now.”

  The water bubbled along the ragged edges of the grass and stones below them. Frost still hung in the hollows of the bank.

  “I know someone,” said Jenna, “who’s moved back here. But his wife’s English. She’d only ever seen Northern Ireland on the News before.”

  Susan tut-tutted, her breath puffing in staccato clouds. “That will be very difficult for her, poor girl. Has she any friends here?”

  “Just me, I think. And her husband, of course.”

  Susan waved a dismissive hand. “Husbands aren’t friends.”

  Jenna looked at her curiously. “What are they then?”

  “A nuisance!”

  “Aunt Susan! Have you a dark secret?”

  Susan pushed herself upright and they turned to go ba
ck along the road. “No secrets, only mercies, the chiefest of which is that I never had a husband.”

  They walked some distance together in silence, then Jenna linked her arm in Susan’s. “I think you’re right. I’ve decided I don’t want one either.”

  The Sunday School went carol singing in the old people’s home in the next village and Jenna went along as usual. She stood at the back with the Sunday School teachers and sang ‘Hark the Herald Angels Sing’.

  At the Christmas morning service, there wasn’t much she could do, so she sat and watched her father talking to the children, bending over to admire the toys they had brought. He never left a child out, no matter how long it took. He spoke to each one as if their toy was the most wonderful in the whole church. Luke had got up in time to come to the service and Jenna and her mother and brother sat in a row, the minister’s family, celebrating the Nativity once again, just as they should.

  Aunt Susan went back to England the following Monday morning. She wanted to visit a few more friends before school started again. Christmas was over. After lunch, Jenna took a walk in the garden. Her cat followed her at a distance, but the two remaining kittens bounced round her in delight, loving the company. She picked up the little black one, the one with one white paw, which had slept on her lap every night. There was moisture clinging to its eyebrows where it had snuffled into the flowerbed, chasing leaves.

  With her finger and thumb round its stomach, Jenna held it up. “Well, little chap. I hope you get a home soon.” She tickled its ear. “But I don’t think Mum and Dad will do anything nasty to you. You’re far too cute.” The kitten blinked and then put out its white paw to touch her nose. It felt like the touch of a feather. She set it down carefully on the grass. Its sister jumped on it and the two kittens rolled into the long grass next the fence that bordered the field.

  Jenna stood with her hands in the pockets of her coat, looking across at the humps of stones and corrugated iron of the old huts. Her hand touched the top of the fence. Slowly, she clambered over and dropped to the other side.

  Patches of frost were here too, on the rumpled, faded grass and in the shade of the bigger stones. She put her hand on the wall of the hut she and Paul had entered weeks before. The old bedstead was still there. It was on its side, just as it had landed when Paul had kicked it in a sudden burst of annoyance.