Terms of Affection

by M K Turner

  “And so you should, now let me pay the bill, the locals are getting restless.”

  Lorna looked towards the counter, the barman, two waiters, and another man were all watching and grinning. She took a step closer to them. “He’s the best dad in the world. It’s official.”

  They all shook Chris’s hand when he went to pay the bill, and when he joined Lorna in the street, he looked happy.

  “When your mother died, I was told to send you to an aunt who fostered children, but I didn’t. You were mine, I was yours, and I think we managed well, you and I. And now we’ll manage again. This time there will be more of us, so it will be easier. Talking of which I must make that call.”

  A little bit of her happiness disappeared, but she couldn’t stop smiling. She walked the length of the street, before she turned back, hoping he’d finished the call. He hadn’t but it was clear his former good mood had disappeared. Unaware she was watching, he slammed the receiver into the cradle and thumped it several times. Lorna turned away, pretending to look in a shop window so he wouldn’t know she’d seen him.

  “What have you seen that you fancy?” He came up behind her and looked over her shoulder.

  “Nothing, just looking to fill the time. How was she?” Not allowed to call her by her name, Lorna refused to call her any variation of mother, so ‘she’ it was.

  “Um, she was Chelly. She demanded we go home immediately, and I refused. Fancy a stroll along the prom?”

  “Yep.” Lorna linked her arm in her father’s. “You refused? Dad, that’s not like you.”

  “No, it’s not. I’ll probably have to toughen up a bit now we’ve got a baby on the way. I think I’ve been too soft.”

  “No, you haven’t. Don’t change, Dad, you’re perfect, it’s her that needs to change, not you.”

  “Perhaps, but one has to be willing.”

  “Well perhaps if she’s not willing, she should bugger off. Excuse my French.”

  Her father tutted but didn’t respond. He was distracted for the remaining two days of their trip.

  When they returned home and found Chelly gone without even a goodbye, Chris Rogers quietly accepted her leaving. “That’s that then.”

  It was only a week or so later when on returning from a visit to Henry’s mother, Lorna found him on his knees in the sitting room, surrounded by piles of paperwork, sobbing. Dropping the shopping, she’d gone to kneel with him.

  “She’s gone. Her passport, everything.”

  “I know, but you can do this, Dad. You can.”

  “But it’s my fault, it’s my bloody fault.” His shoulders heaved as he wept silently.

  “It’s not. Don’t you dare say—”

  “But it is, you wouldn’t understand. If I’d been more of a man, more like she wanted, who knows?”

  “I bloody well do. I can’t believe she’s still doing this to you. Get up. Come on, get up, go and wash your face.”

  “Why?”

  Back on her feet, Lorna was scooping the papers into a pile, going through to the study, she dumped them on his desk. He was on his feet when she returned.

  “Because we’re going to the police. I know you didn’t want the fuss because you thought she’d come back, well it looks like she has no intention of doing that, unless our weekend in Devon didn’t match her expectations and she’s gone somewhere more exotic. Either way, if the police know, they might find her, and that will put an end to this. Look how hard they are still working trying to find Henry.”

  At the mention of Henry her father slumped onto the sofa.

  “That was different. Henry was young, he had no reason to run away, although you know they now think it was because of the baby.” He looked at her stomach and smiled.

  “But we know it wasn’t. We know Henry didn’t have a clue about the baby. No one did until I told you last week. Now, I mean it, Dad, you can either go and make yourself look respectable or I’m going on my own.”

  “No. This is something I should do. I’ll go, you don’t need to come.”

  Two hours later, after the report was made at the local station, a detective knocked on the door. Lorna showed him through to the living room. He asked numerous questions, mostly of Lorna. Finally, sliding his pencil into the top of his notebook, he summarised how he saw the situation.

  “So Chelly left this house somewhere between the evening of Saturday the fourth, and Monday the sixth around lunch-time. You spoke to her on the fourth, which you witnessed,” he looked at Lorna, “but she was gone when you got back. You had had an argument over,” he cleared his throat, “the announcement of the pregnancy, and you thought she’d left to clear her mind, or more likely to make a point.”

  “Absolutely. She was a drama queen,” Lorna interrupted.

  “Noted. So you didn’t report her until you found her passport had gone? Did she travel a lot?”

  “No. We went to France the year before last, and Spain last year. She had to apply for her passport when we decided to go to France. She preferred Spain.” Chris Rogers clasped his hands together. “Is that relevant?”

  “Who knows, sir? But if she was a frequent traveller, unusual in a married woman, I’ll grant you, but it could explain why she took her passport. It could of course mean nothing, simply that it was hers, so she wanted it. All her jewellery has gone too, that would indicate nothing is amiss.”

  “Nothing is amiss! Nothing is amiss!” Chris jumped to his feet. “Chelly has bloody disappeared.”

  “Sit down, sir.” The detective smiled wearily. “There’s no nice way of saying this, but is she missing or simply not here? From everything you’ve told me, I think Chelly is where she wants to be, that just happens not to be here.” He looked at the carpet as he delivered the last of his message.

  Chris Rogers sat on the edge of the sofa. “You’re saying she’s not been kidnapped, she’s not lying in a ditch somewhere, nothing bad has happened to her at all. In fact, quite the opposite, and you’re going to do bugger all to find her. Excuse my language, Lorna.” He got back to his feet. “I think if that’s your attitude you should leave.”

  “Dad!”

  “It’s okay, miss. Perfectly understandable, I’d probably be the same.” He winked at Lorna. “Actually, that’s not true, I’d be glad that my earache had stopped,” he joked, but quickly apologised when he saw the look on Chris’s face. “Sorry, inappropriate. I’ll tell you what, I’ll have a word with the neighbours and see if they noticed anything odd, or any comings and goings while you were away. I’ll pop back in.”

  “Thank you. That’s a start. Don’t bother going that side,” Chris jerked his thumb to the left. “She won’t have a good word to say, they didn’t get on.”

  “Any reason for that, sir?”

  “She’s a miserable old . . . she didn’t like Chelly playing music if the windows were open, repeatedly complained about it, although how she heard it over her volume of her television is anyone’s guess.”

  “Gotcha. I’ll see myself out and come back if there’s anything to report. If not, I’ll be in touch in . . . shall we say a month?” Turning away quickly, he closed the door behind him.

  “We won’t be seeing him again. He thinks she’s left us.”

  “She has, Dad.”

  “Yes.” Sighing, Chris put his arm around his daughter’s shoulder. “You’re probably right, what are we eating tonight? Shall I peel the potatoes?”

  An hour or so later, dinner was cooking, and the table laid, when the detective knocked on the door. He followed Lorna into the sitting room where her father turned off the news. He refused to take a seat.

  “I thought you’d be home eating your dinner.” It was as near to sarcasm as Chris could manage.

  “So did I, if I’m honest. No easy way to say this, perhaps you might leave us, miss.”

  The detective looked first at Lorna, and then the door. When she closed the door behind her, he knew she was still there, but not wanting any more fuss than what he was alread
y likely to get, he drew in a breath.

  “I’ve spoken to several of your neighbours, and this is going to be difficult to believe or accept, maybe both—”

  “Difficult, yes, but only if you spit it out, man!” Chris shifted his weight to the edge of his seat.

  “I think you know what I’m going to say, sir, do I have to spell it out?”

  “Yes.”

  On the other side of the door, Lorna’s mouth had fallen open, and she pressed her ear tight against the gap. What could it be? That was the second time in as many minutes that her father had been sarcastic or rude.

  “Right.” The detective cleared his throat. “It seems that whilst you’re not here, there are visitors. Male visitors. Regularly. The last such visitor was seen walking up the path late on Saturday the fourth. He wasn’t seen leaving.”

  “Meaning what?” Chris began pacing. “They couldn’t stay awake long enough to see him leave, or he’s still here? This is all from her next door, isn’t it?”

  “No. The last time Mrs Evans had contact with Chelly was on Saturday morning, they had words, not very nice ones by the sound of it, but it culminated in Chelly telling her that she was glad that she wouldn’t have to look at her ugly face for much longer.”

  “Meaning Chelly was planning to leave.?” He ran his fingers through his hair. “They’re all talking about me, aren’t they? I’m a laughing stock.”

  “No. They only mentioned it because I asked. With the exception of her next door, I don’t think your neighbours are gossips, but what I do think is that Chelly has left you. I won’t be recommending this is taken any further.”

  Chris just stared at him. His bottom lip quivering.

  “I know this is a lot to take in, but you understand why I reached that decision, don’t you?” On receiving a curt nod, the detective sighed, he had a shit job some days. “Good, I’ll see myself out. Good luck, sir.”

  Lorna tiptoed as fast as she could into the kitchen and made a pretence of stirring something in the saucepan. “Is everything okay?” she called.

  “Not really, miss. Give your dad five minutes. Bye.”

  As soon as the door clicked shut, Lorna went to her father.

  “I heard, Dad. I’m so sorry.”

  Her father pulled his shoulders back and held out his arms, wrapping them around her and speaking into her hair. “Just us. They both left us, and we have to deal with that, and get on with it for the baby’s sake.”

  “We do. Although I don’t believe Henry chose to leave me. I’ll never believe that.”

  “I know, my love. It was Chelly who made that choice.” Sniffing, he released her. “Enough of this now, I don’t want to discuss this ever again. And if I’m not mistaken, dinner is burning.”

  Chapter Sixteen

  Looking closely at Lorna, Angie could see that recalling these events hadn’t upset her as much as Angie had expected. Lorna had learned how to deal with her grief and get on with life.

  “Thank you, that can’t have been easy.” Angie smiled at her.

  “I’m fine, it was a lifetime ago, and both of us made the best life we could, given the circumstances. I think it was easier for me, I first had Robin and then young Henry.” A smile appeared at the mention of their names. “Dad did too, but although he hides it well, he’s carried his sadness for a long time. He still won’t have her name mentioned.”

  “And you haven’t?” Bridget seemed to wake up and join the conversation.

  “No, because I had a part of Henry no one could take away.”

  “You never married?”

  “No. Never intended to either. I’ve had relationships,” Lorna’s smile was sad, “but most men can’t cope with the feeling that they’re in competition for my love with a dead man. Not true of course.”

  Bridget thought of Margaret, who’d also lost Angie’s father while she was pregnant. She’d never found someone to replace him either. And like Lorna, Margaret didn’t want to. Bridget tilted her head. “Are you sure about that?”

  “Absolutely, mad though it seems, Henry’s won before they even get going. There’s never a competition. You must think I’m mad.” Lorna’s eyes twinkled. “Can I get anyone another drink?”

  “No, thank you. Before I get back to the questions, is there anything you want to tell us, anything you think might be relevant?”

  “To his disappearance? No. I know he didn’t leave me voluntarily, which may sound ridiculous, we were so young, but I know that without any inkling of doubt.”

  “I think you’re right. Around the time of his disappearance had Henry had any arguments with anyone? Was he cross with anyone?” Angie searched for the right words. “Was there anything in Henry’s life which he considered less than ideal?”

  “No. He was happy. We were happy. If he’d stuck around long enough for her to go and for Robin to be born, we’d have been happier still.”

  “What about prior girlfriends? I got the impression that he was seeing someone when he met you, and he finished with them because of you, but I could be wrong.” Hoping her face didn’t reveal her lies, Angie struggled with whether it might be better if Lorna knew the truth now. After all, it would be revealed eventually.

  “Yes, he was. Understandably, she wasn’t happy about it, but he was nice to her. Henry was always nice. I think she gave him a bit of grief initially, but it didn’t worry him too much. He had been honest and made the right decision.”

  “Do you know who she was?” Bridget leaned forward, searching Lorna’s face.

  “No. I asked around too, I was interested. But no one knew.”

  “You know nothing about her, how old, whether she could drive, anything at all?”

  “Ah, I see, is this to do with the bus stop? Robin said you’d been told Henry got into a car shortly before we got there.” Lorna grimaced. “I suppose it could have been her. We were seventeen, a couple of the kids at school had passed their tests and borrowed their parents’ cars. I’d had a couple of lessons, and Dan Simmons had passed his test a few weeks before Henry disappeared. Is that what you were after?”

  Jumping in before Bridget could say more, Angie shook her head. “We’re not after anything specific. We’re building a picture of Henry’s life. What he liked and disliked, who he saw, what he enjoyed doing, and with whom. I’m convinced that although you don’t know it, one of you knows more that you realise. It’s usually something totally unconnected to his disappearance itself, but will have been a key cog to turn the wheel which led to it.” She smiled. “I expect that sounds a little odd.”

  “Not at all. Makes perfect sense. I could talk about Henry for days, where would you like me to start?”

  “Let’s start at the disappearance and work backwards. When was the last time you saw him before he disappeared?”

  “The day before. We went into town after school, he had to pick up some new rugby boots he’d ordered, and I needed some bits from the chemist.” Laughing, she threw back her head. “God, this is ridiculous, I’m being economical with the truth as though I’m still that girl. I should have been buying tampons, but I used the money to buy a pregnancy test instead. They were extortionate so I had to add some of my pocket money to make up the difference. They still are, I’m guessing, but in the seventies it wiped me out.”

  “They must have been very new back then, I expect that’s why,” Angie suggested.

  “Probably, I don’t know. All I knew was that they couldn’t give a false positive only a false negative. If it said you weren’t, there was still a chance you might be, but if it said you were pregnant, you certainly were.” Smiling, Lorna’s hands covered her now flat stomach. “I was.”

  “Henry was with you? I thought he didn’t know about the baby when he went missing.”

  “God, no. I told him I had to buy women’s things, and he blushed as expected and waited outside. It was well hidden in my school bag by the time I caught up with him. There was no point in worrying him if there was nothing to worry abo
ut.”

  “When did you do the test?”

  “I was going to do it that evening, but I read that pee first thing in the morning gave a more accurate reading, so I peed on the little stick at about six-thirty the next morning. I’d barely slept with the thought of it.”

  “Fear or excitement?” Bridget asked. “I’m guessing the latter.”

  “Yes, well, a little of both. My dream was to marry Henry and settle down with a bunch of kids. I know I’d only been with him a couple of terms, but I loved him. Still do. All getting pregnant would mean was that everything had to be brought forward a few years. The fear was if he didn’t really want the baby too. I knew he’d stand by me, but I wanted him to want to.”

  “My dear child, he would have wanted to.” Bridget assured her, and then frowned as the other two women laughed. “What? He would have.”

  “Gran, you called Lorna a dear child, I don’t think that’s happened for a while.”

  Tittering, Bridget knocked on her forehead. “Did I really? That’s because I’m thinking of you as you were back then. I’ve led us off track. I take it your plan was to get it confirmed by the doctor and then tell him?”

  “No. Never entered my head to get it confirmed at that stage. I was too shocked, excited, dizzy. I almost told him on the phone. Luckily, I got interrupted, I was cross at the time, but when I thought about it later, I realised that was not news to share over the phone.”

  “No. If you spoke to him that day, how did he seem?”

  “Like Henry. Happy, funny, and teasing me.”

  Chapter Seventeen

  Wrapping the pregnancy testing box complete with the tell-tale wand in toilet tissue, Lorna hid it amongst the rubbish in her wastepaper basket. Sitting on her bed, she picked up the tiny frame holding a picture of Henry and kissed it.

  “I can’t wait to tell you. You’d better not be mad, because now we can be together, every day and every night.” Throwing herself back against the pillows she wondered if it would be a boy or girl and what names they would choose.