The Art of Friendship (19 page)

‘Pete Kirkpatrick’s taken advantage of her,’ said Martin through thin lips. ‘I know she’s no angel but to use a girl like that…my girl…’ He raised his closed fist to his mouth, unable to go on.

‘Are we responsible?’ asked Patsy, staring at the back of her hands which suddenly looked old. The skin was loose and wrinkled at her finger joints like the knees of an elephant.

‘How do you mean?’ he said, turning to look at her for the first time. ‘Pete Kirkpatrick’s responsible.’

‘We let, no, we encouraged, Laura to go running here, there and everywhere. Were we too liberal with her?’

‘She had the same upbringing as Sarah, Patsy,’ he said and paused, allowing this thought to sink in. ‘And they’ve turned out completely different. It’s as much to do with her personality as anything we did.’

‘But she’s been sleeping around, Martin. She admitted it. Where did she learn that that sort of behaviour was okay?’

‘I don’t know.’ He shook his head. ‘From her friends?’

‘Well, it certainly wasn’t from us.’

Tears flooded Patsy’s eyes but she blinked them back. She could cry for ever about what had happened but what was needed right now was clarity of thought. Laura had had unprotected sex. She would have to be tested for STDs and, she closed her eyes at the thought, HIV. Patsy looked at Martin’s murderous face and could not bring herself to share this with him. She sensed that he was trying to hold onto what was left of the image he had of Laura – that of a sweet, innocent little girl. Well, that girl was long gone.

‘What are we going to do?’ said Martin.

Patsy put her head in her hands. ‘I don’t know,’ she said. ‘I can’t imagine Laura with a baby. She’s not ready to raise one and neither am I – I can’t do it for her, Martin.’

‘The baby could be put up for adoption.’

‘God, no! Can you imagine what that would do to her? Can you imagine what it would be like to carry a baby to full term and then hand it over to some stranger? And never see it again. I think that would break her, Martin – it would break any woman.’

‘What’s the alternative, then? She keeps the baby?’

Patsy said nothing but she looked at Martin, held his gaze for a few moments and then they both looked away. Both
thinking the same thing that they would not utter: abortion. Even the sound of the word was repugnant.

‘I believe in the sanctity of life, Martin. But I put Laura’s interests before those of a baby that doesn’t even exist yet.’

‘It does exist.’

‘It’s not a baby yet. It’s a foetus.’

‘I hate that word,’ said Martin. ‘And I don’t feel comfortable having this conversation. I know neither of us goes to church, but there are certain things I believe in, Patsy.’

‘And I believed in them too, Martin. It’s easy to believe in things when they don’t affect you. It’s easy to be all morally superior and tell other people what’s right and wrong. But when it’s your own flesh and blood…’

‘Are you seriously saying that you would let her have a termination?’

‘It’s not up to me. It’s up to Laura. But if you’re asking me, then yes, I would.’

Martin put his elbows on the table and buried his face in his hands. ‘I can’t believe we’re having this conversation.’

‘Well, what would you have her do, Martin? Go through with a pregnancy when she’s little more than a child herself? Have her raise a child alone? Because, believe me, Pete Kirkpatrick isn’t going to want to know. It’d ruin her life, Martin.’

‘I know that. But children are a gift from God.’

‘This one isn’t.’

Martin removed his hands from his face and looked at her as though he was seeing her for the first time. ‘When did you get so hard?’ he said.

Patsy was defiant, unapologetic. ‘About fifteen minutes ago when I walked through that door and you told me my youngest daughter was pregnant.’

Martin did not respond, he just looked away. Patsy put
her hand on the table and held his. His fingers were long and elegant, with the sinewy strength of a pianist’s. Bluish veins stood out on the back of his hand like ghostly tributaries of a river, winding their way through a forest of dark hairs. It was a manly hand, capable and strong. The hand of her protector and Laura’s. Yet Martin had not been able to protect Laura from this catastrophe. She wondered if he felt a sense of failure as a parent. She certainly did.

‘But it doesn’t matter what I think,’ said Patsy, quietly. ‘It’s Laura’s decision.’

‘You’ll try and influence her.’

‘I swear to God I won’t. I don’t want her to go through with this pregnancy but I don’t want her to have an abortion either. Yet I do know that whatever she does, she’s going to be affected by it for the rest of her life. And I don’t want to be responsible for forcing her hand either way.’

‘It’s up to her then,’ said Martin.

‘It is,’ said Patsy. ‘And, whatever she decides to do, we have to support her.’

And they both sat in silence then and stared at the wall, Patsy wondering how they could’ve permitted such disaster to befall their family. How had Pete Kirkpatrick slipped under their radar and done this?

Saturday morning just after nine found Janice in front of the computer in the study in her pyjamas. Keith was golfing. Pete was still in bed and wouldn’t surface until nearly lunchtime. As with pretty much everything else about him, even his circadian rhythms were out of sync with his mother’s.

It was exactly thirty-one days until Pete finished his exams. Unlike most parents who were praying for them to be over, Janice counted down every day wishing they could last for ever. Because when Pete had done his last exam, Keith would tell him something that she was sure would alter his relationship with them, at least with
her,
for good. She had tried to persuade Keith not to tell Pete he was his adoptive father. And she had failed. Keith was adamant.

Thinking about it induced a horrible feeling in the pit of her stomach like seasickness. She tried to quell this nausea with logical thinking. Pete would be shocked to find out he was adopted. But Keith was the only father he had ever known and he was a good one. She hoped their father-son relationship would survive the revelation unscathed. There was no reason why it should not.

But Pete would be curious about his real father. It was only natural that he would want to know. Of course she
would never tell Pete the truth. And that was going to be the hard part.

Janice gave her head a little shake and tried to put these thoughts out of her mind for they were in danger of consuming her. She hated the way it was all she thought about, every bloody waking minute. It had taken her years to come to terms with what had happened and crowbar those memories into the recesses of her mind. And now they were being hauled out and aired like winter woollens, forcing her to confront a past that should never have happened.

In an effort to distract herself, she busied herself with booking flights to London for herself and her girlfriends in September. She was watching a copy of the flight confirmation churn out of the printer when the phone rang, startling her.

Who would be calling so early on a Saturday morning? Had something happened to Pete? Maybe he wasn’t along the landing comatose in his bed as she had assumed. She glanced at the door, got up, sat down again. Maybe something had happened to Keith on his way to the golf club? She snatched the receiver up and pressed it to her ear. She was relieved to hear Patsy’s voice on the end of the line.

‘Hey, Patsy,’ she said, ‘guess what I’ve just done?’

Silence. Janice felt vaguely uneasy.

‘Patsy, are you still there? I’ve just booked our flights to London. What do you think of that?’

Patsy cleared her throat.

‘I didn’t ring to talk about the trip to London, Janice.’

‘Oh,’ said Janice, taken aback by Patsy’s frosty tone. She put both hands on the receiver and strained to listen. Patsy’s voice sounded muffled, far away.

‘Martin and I want to come round and see you. And Keith.’ It was a demand, not a request.

‘Well, sure. Any time,’ said Janice, hesitatingly. ‘That would be nice. When were you thinking of?’

‘Tonight,’ said Patsy in a tone Janice had never heard her use before. It was…direct, businesslike. And yet, behind the clipped tone, Janice sensed a well of emotion.

‘Will you be in tonight?’ asked Patsy.

‘Well, no, actually,’ said Janice, bristling a little. ‘We’re going out to a party.’

‘What time?’

‘I really don’t think tonight would suit…’ began Janice but Patsy cut her off.

‘This isn’t something that can wait,’ she snapped.

‘Patsy, what’s wrong?’

‘I…I…’ There was the sound of rustling and Martin’s voice in the background and Patsy came on the line again. ‘It’s not something I wish to discuss over the phone.’

‘Okay,’ said Janice slowly, ‘but can’t we talk about it another time?’

‘We’ll be there at seven.’

The line went dead and Janice looked at the receiver. ‘What the hell was that all about?’ she said out loud to the empty room. Her mind was racing. She couldn’t ignore the tone of the conversation. Patsy had been anything but friendly – in fact she’d been downright rude. But why?

Janice thought back to the evening before in No.11. Nothing had happened to account for Patsy’s attitude. Perhaps she was having second thoughts about the London trip? Was she annoyed that Janice had gone ahead and booked the flights without further consultation? Or had she inadvertently caused offence in some other way? If so, why would Patsy not talk about it over the phone? And why involve Martin? Janice’s stomach churned with anxiety.

She wished Keith was here. He would be able to rationalise
the situation in a way that Janice could not. She always suspected the worst; he always assumed the best. There would be some perfectly logical explanation for that very weird phone call and Keith would know what it was.

Janice showered and dressed and spent the next two hours doing chores, while the worry settled in her stomach like a rock. She put on a load of washing, folded laundry, watered the plants, tidied every room downstairs and changed the towels in all the bathrooms. She emptied the bins and chopped vegetables for carrot and lentil soup.

When Pete finally emerged from his bed at noon, crumpled and crusty-eyed, he was as uncommunicative as usual. He got himself some Shreddies and sat at the kitchen table in a t-shirt and pair of boxer shorts and read the
Saturday Times.

‘Are you going out tonight?’ she asked, tossing carrot peelings and onion skins in the bin.

‘No plans. Why?’ He turned the page of the paper, rubbed his nose with the back of his hand and scanned the headlines.

‘Oh, just asking,’ said Janice. It occurred to her that if there was going to be any unpleasantness tonight she didn’t want Pete around. But she kept coming back to the same old question – what on earth could have upset Patsy?

While Pete showered, Janice served herself a bowl of soup and ate it with some oat crackers. Then she tidied up and waited for Keith to come home.

When she heard his car pull up at the front of the house, she ran to greet him. As soon as he got out of the car, she forced a cheery smile and said, ‘There you are!’

He looked relaxed and a little amused. ‘I’m not late, am I?’ He consulted his watch. ‘I’m not usually home before now.’

Then, giving her a concerned look, he said, ‘What’s eating you?’

She let out a sigh. ‘Am I that transparent?’

‘Yes. Come into the kitchen and tell me all about it.’

‘It’s Patsy,’ she said, following him. In the kitchen he filled the kettle and made tea in a mug while she proceeded to tell him all about the disturbing phone call and her worries that she had unwittingly offended her friend.

‘I don’t think you’ve offended her.’

‘You don’t?’

‘No.’

‘So what do you think’s going on?’

‘Think about it a minute, Janice. What’s happened to Martin?’

‘He’s lost his job,’ said Janice a little impatiently. ‘So what’s that got to do with anything?’

‘Money’s a concern, isn’t it? You told me that they’d all their savings in bank shares that are worth almost zilch, right?’

‘So?’

‘I think, if the Devlins are coming here together, Janice, it’s probably to ask for financial help.’

‘Oh,’ said Janice. Then she shook her head, recalling the tone of the phone call. ‘I don’t think that’s it. She sounded really…frosty on the phone. Not like Patsy at all.’

‘She was probably upset. Maybe she was embarrassed to have to ask. Maybe Martin put her up to it.’

Janice recalled that she had heard a man’s voice in the background. Perhaps Keith was right…It was such a welcome insight that she threw her arms around him and hugged him.

‘Hey, what’s brought this on?’ he said, pulling back a little so that he could look at her face.

‘I was really worried that Patsy was angry with me,’ said Janice, feeling more than a little foolish. ‘But what you’ve said makes perfect sense. Why didn’t I think of that?’ She grinned with sheer relief.

‘That’s what you’ve got me for,’ he said. ‘Among other things. Here, have a cup of tea.’

She took the proffered mug and nursed it in her hands. ‘So, what’ll we do, Keith? If they come here asking to borrow money, should we lend it to them?’

‘I’d like to help them,’ said Keith. ‘I’m sure the difficulties they’re experiencing are only temporary. Martin’s a really clever guy – I’m sure he’ll get another job soon. So yes, if we can help, then we should.’

‘Okay,’ she said and smiled, thinking that Keith had a good heart. This evening wasn’t going to be comfortable but at least it wouldn’t be unpleasant. She was so glad that she had Keith to talk sense into her.

By seven o’clock that evening, Janice was dressed in an off-the-shoulder royal blue cocktail dress that came to just above the knee, sheer skin-tone tights and black heels. She wore her hair in an up-do and a pretty blue enamelled necklace that Keith had bought her on a trip to Rome. Keith was smart in a light grey suit and pink-and-blue tie.

Janice surveyed the drawing room with satisfaction. A bottle of gin, tonic water and lemon slices were arranged on a silver tray along with some olives and pretzels. The evening sun streamed in across the oak floor, filling the whole room with a warm orange glow. Money was never a good subject to discuss between friends and there was bound to be a little awkwardness. So it was important to get the atmosphere just right. She wanted the Devlins to feel comfortable – but not so comfortable they didn’t want to leave. She hoped they’d take a hint from her, and
Keith’s attire and remember that, business done, they were meant to be somewhere.

The bell rang precisely at seven. Janice took a moment to compose herself, then opened the door wide with a welcoming smile on her face. She wanted to make this as easy for her friends as possible. What greeted her on the doorstep wiped that smile away at once.

Patsy wore a cream raincoat over dark trousers and flat shoes. She had no handbag and her hair was wild and unkempt. Martin loomed behind Patsy, dressed in jeans and an old sweatshirt. He jiggled the car keys in his hand and would not look at Janice.

Janice, puzzled, stepped back without a word, and let them in. Patsy walked straight into the hall, without making eye contact with Janice, placed her left hand on the newel post and craned her neck to look up the stairs. ‘Is Pete here?’ she said.

‘Yes,’ said Janice, shocked by Patsy’s appearance. ‘He’s studying in his room.’

Keith, who had just joined them, shot Janice a concerned glance and said, ‘Why don’t you come through here?’ He gestured towards the drawing room.

Martin gave Patsy, who was still staring up the stairs, a little push and said, ‘Go on.’

They walked in and stood awkwardly by the coffee table which was flanked by sofas on three sides. Keith said, ‘Can I take your coat, Patsy?’

‘We won’t be staying long,’ said Martin.

‘Care for a drink?’ said Keith.

Martin shook his head slowly and stared at Keith with a look of hatred on his face. Janice, standing beside Keith, put her hand on her breast. Keith was mistaken. They weren’t here to ask for money. Something was wrong. Very wrong. She took Keith’s hand in hers and squeezed it tight.

‘What is it?’ she whispered.

Patsy’s bottom lip began to quiver and she touched her temple with the tips of her fingers as though suffering from a blinding headache. Martin, standing over a foot taller than his wife, put a protective arm across her shoulder. Janice glanced fearfully at Keith and steeled herself for some terrible news. Dear God, had someone died?

‘Our daughter Laura,’ began Martin and his voice wavered. He paused for a moment to compose himself and went on. ‘Laura…she told us last night that she’s pregnant.’

‘Oh, God, I’m so sorry,’ said Janice and she reached out a hand to touch Patsy’s arm. Her friend flinched.

‘Patsy?’ she said, looking at her fingertips then at Patsy’s wretched face. Patsy turned away.

Martin pressed on grimly. ‘She says that your son is the father.’

Janice’s legs trembled and she reeled backwards until her calves hit the edge of the sofa. She sat down involuntarily because her legs would no longer support her.

‘What?’ said Keith, squaring up to Martin, defensive, challenging, refusing to believe what Janice knew instinctively and immediately to be true. Her knees began to tremble, and she pressed them between the palms of her hands.

‘You heard me,’ said Martin. ‘Your son took advantage of our daughter at a party.’

Had he really done that to Laura? How could Pete ‘take advantage of’ Laura? It struck Janice as such an old-fashioned saying. From what she had seen and heard, teenage girls nowadays were perfectly capable of looking after themselves. Unless Laura had been forced. Or been drunk or high on drugs and not known what she was doing. Janice’s eyes filled with tears because she suspected that what Martin
said might very well be true. But not pretty, bubbly Laura, her dearest friend’s little girl. She put her face in her hands.

‘Now, steady on,’ said Keith. He let out a loud puff of air and pulled at the shirt collar around his neck as though it was suddenly too tight. ‘You’re making a lot of assumptions here.’

‘Are you calling Laura a liar?’ said Patsy, spitting out the words like bullets.

‘No, of course not,’ said Keith, his lawyer’s voice conciliatory and smooth. ‘This is a terrible shock for all of us. But Janice and I just need to hear all the facts. Please. Come and sit down.’

Patsy looked at Martin and he nodded. They inched forwards and sat down gingerly on the edge of the sofa. Such a change from when they were last here for dinner – was it only a matter of weeks ago? – before Martin lost his job and before this…

‘Now, tell us what Laura said, exactly,’ said Keith. He leant forwards, his head cocked to one side.

Patsy spoke, looking directly at Keith. ‘She said that she and Pete had…slept together at Jason Dobbin’s eighteenth birthday party.’

Janice let out a little gasp. Pete had definitely been at the party, that much was certain.

‘Where exactly?’ said Keith.

‘For God’s sake, does it matter?’ said Patsy. ‘Do you want every gruesome detail?’