This is not a work of pure fiction; it's not a verbatim record of events, either. Rather it's a recovered and organized memory with partly imagined details. What I mean is -- the events happened; to me and to my friends; but I have had to reinvent the dialogue. The emotions have stayed with me and I have not had to remember, invent or reconstruct a single one. However, all the characters and events portrayed in this story are fictional. No resemblance to real people of events is intended. So there; if you think you recognize yourself or the events, you can't sue me!
Spring is normally my favorite time of year, but as this particular spring advanced, my sense of foreboding increased. Hillie's baby would be due in late May -- probably around Whitsun when the world would be celebrating with Maypole dances and early strawberries. But from what Guy had passed on to me, I didn't think Hillie would be celebrating at all. "She doesn't seem to care any more. I can't get her to eat or look after herself or anything." He complained. I could hear the tension and emotion in his voice over the phone. Guy really cared for Hillie, and would be doing his level best to help her through this most difficult of times. "I've tried to get her to just think of the baby -- and do things for the sake of the baby -- but that's been even worse. She doesn't seem to care anything for the poor little thing." "Maybe that's the problem, Guy. Her parents have always said that the baby will go as soon as it's born. So maybe she's cutting it out of her life now. So she never has to love it." "Mmm. Probably right. I dunno." He sighed deeply down the phone and made me want to hug him. He was really trying with Hillie and just couldn't understand why his Boy Scout cheerfulness wasn't working. He sounded so fed up with the role that had been thrust upon him by bloody Vernon. "Is everything else ok? "Mm? Oh yes, everyone's fine. Hori and Isobel have decided on November 17th, so make sure you're free. Hori will be twenty one by then, so he accedes to various bits and bobs y'know." I didn't know of course, but I murmured in agreement. Accedes to bits and bobs; probably half of Scotland and a few square miles of the West End. "Guy. What happened with Vernon?' "Oh. Right. Not a very good tale actually, Rae. Might be better if I told you in person." "Guy, I need to know. I may not see you for months and November's far to far away." "Right. Yes. Well, it seems that Vernon didn't really take responsibility for it at all. Wouldn't even admit it was him, if you see. Course his parents had to have him face up to things, y'know, what he'd done etcetera. But he just couldn't deal with it. Anyway, he disappeared at the end of Autumn term. Just went. No trace, no cheques cashed en route or anything. But then turned up in Ireland couple of months ago, charged with assault or GBH or something. Working in a printer in Galway or something. Slapping ink on paper isn't the career his pater had primed him for. Anyway, he got pulled for hitting some Paddy; apparently gave him an awful beating. Trial sometime in the Autumn too." "How did he get into the fight? Was he picked on or something?" "No. Apparently not." Guy cleared his throat and dropped his voice an octave. "Seems he saw this fellow giving his wife or girlfriend a bit of a slap. And she was pregnant, it seems." "Oh." "Exactly. Probably appeared to be a mirror of his own life and he took it out on this poor chap just because he was there at the time." "Hardly poor chap' Guy, he was hitting a pregnant woman!" "I know, I know. But you know what I mean, too. Vernon didn't do it to help her. He did it to revenge himself for his mistake -- half killed the chap." "Oh no!" "Awful business. Vernon's Mum's beside herself, of course." "Guy. Will you be there. With Hillie?" Long pause. "If she'll have me. I'll be there for her." I had meant `be there for the birth'. But I think Guy answered a different question; he would be there for her whatever might happen.
That party was months ago, and although Paula and I had exchanged nods and whispers about our little experiment, we had neither followed it up or discussed it properly. I was not going to venture myself forth, and I didn't think Paula would necessarily want to risk it either. But then, one night on television came `Madchen In Uniform'. If you know nothing of it, look it up; if you know it you will understand. I watched it seated on the floor with my back against the sofa, Mum was on the sofa behind me with her feet tucked under her. I just hoped she couldn't see me cry. I just hoped she didn't see me cringe with the declaration "I love Fraulien von Bernberg". The film broke my heart; there's no other way to describe the affect. The story was about all of us; substitute Bernadette or Nikki or even Paula for any of the girls, and Manuela could have been me! Like many, I identified with that film and suffered with it. I felt delighted with the exposure that the film brought but afraid of the attention it could bring to me personally. I cried again at the end and tried to excuse myself quickly from the lounge. Mum looked at me closely, "Goodnight, darling. Sweet dreams." The next day at school we discussed the previous night' telly, like you do. Paula saw the film too. "I thought of you, and about Miss Bucky." "It's just a film' I responded. "But it's like that, isn't it" She looked at me inquisitively, but I stuck my nose up and tried to walk on. She caught me up and pulled me round to her. "It's all right. I think I know. I mean, I do know." She looked at me sympathetically. "I think I know how you feel." I ran away and hid in the toilets. And cried. And cried. I didn't know how I felt.
Another Monday lunchtime. I had been awarded the rare honour of being allowed to paint a mural on one of the school; walls. In the upper corridors of the main school;, there were bays of smooth plasterwork about three metres across by two metres high. Gifted artists were allowed to paint scenes in these bays depicting suitable subjects; I had to paint a piece entitled `Charity'. Well, at least it wasn't Chastity.
"Hi sexy!" Called Paula as she approached. I half turned towards her and as I did so, she slipped her hand behind me and pinched my bum! "You busy, then?" "Yes. Very." And I looked around nervously in case anyone had seen her pinching me. She annoyed me sometimes with her presumption. Infuriated me, actually. I couldn't bear the idea of her knowing' about me, or indeed anyone knowing about me -- apart from other girls like me, that is. "Next Saturday. Steve and I are going dancing and his mate Ian is tagging along. Fancy making a four? See if the door swings both ways?" "Shut up!" I hissed, and I felt a tremor of embarrassed fear run through me. "And no; I'm not free, as it happens." I stuck my nose in the air. "Mother wants me to meet her boyfriend officially. So he's coming to stay this weekend. And I shall see if I approve." "Ooh!" She squealed. "A potential step-father on the horizon. Make sure he's got pots of money!" "Paula! For goodness' sake." She winked and twirled. "Catch yer later!" Paula pranced away and there behind her was Bernadette. She approached, eyes glowering, hands folded tightly across her midriff. "Is she queer?" "No! Of course not. She's a friend!" "She touched you! Are you queer? JJ's queer isn't she?" That's got nothing to do with you. It's private! It's up to JJ to say, or not." I floundered. What could I say? "Am I queer?" She searched my face, I recoiled. This was getting worse. "Am I?" She screamed. I looked up and down the corridor; we were alone. I defended myself. "What on earth is the matter? You haven't said twenty words to me for six months and now this. You're mental!" I stood back from her as she glared at me. I couldn't think of anything else to say or do. I wanted her to go away -- and shut up. No one needed to know any of this. She stared at me. Her face set in hatred, eyes wide and glaring, head thrust forward and her arms bunched tightly across her chest. Seconds passed slowly. At any moment I was expecting a tirade of abuse or fists, or both. But now her face just changed slightly, from glaring with outward fury, her emotions turned inwards and her taut mask of fury just contracted. Bernadette started to cry. I looked about again; still no one around. I plonked my pallet and brush down, stepped forward and held her. She sagged against me and I drew her into the art room door behind me. A quick glance up at the clock; we had fifteen minutes until afternoon school. I led her into the art store -- the very place where she had regaled me with abuse. I could hear her still Everyone thinks you're weird and a queer git'. I tried to sit her down and relax, but she rose up again and crossed to the far side of the room. I crossed the other way and caught her in my arms. We stood and she cried. He said I'm damned!" "Who did?" "He's going to cast me out!" "Who is, why? Bernadette talk to me" I implored. "I'm damned!" she screamed. "We're all damned!" "Stop it now!" and I hit her. Quite hard, across the face. I didn't do it for her sake, I did it because I was angry with her. I wanted her to shut up. Now she was more calm and I held her again while she cried.
And now, at last. The story started to unfold in phrases and half sentences. The day before, Bernadette had surprised her brother Michael reading something in his bedroom. He'd hidden it quickly, embarrassed. Michael had gone out and curiosity had got the better of Bernadette -- as it would with any of us -- and she had gone looking for whatever he had hidden. She found it of course, stuffed under his mattress, Mayfair magazine. But the silly cow hadn't just flicked through it and left it there. Bernadette took it back to her own bedroom and her father had surprised her there with it. She didn't spell it out explicitly, but I think sweet Bernadette had been caught by her father masturbating over a soft porn magazine full of girls. And of course, given his daughter's intended vocational calling, he was more than slightly upset. She said he beat her. With the magazine. Until she bled, and the magazine was in shreds. At which point her brother returned, realized what had happened (possibly without the masturbation) and tried to kill his father. So. Bernadette needed to know if she and the school colleagues around her were homosexual and destined to burn in hell. Where should I start? Oh, and I had nine minutes to do it in as well.
I served up a few platitudes and some reassurances. And then I said I needed to see her this weekend. Needed to. No `funny business', no nothing, I just wanted to get her away from her household and let the dust settle. Too late I remembered that Robbie would be coming that particular weekend and Mum wanted us all to go out for dinner. I'd think of something.
We had double Geography that afternoon and I sat towards the back of the class; Bernadette took her place at the front of the class as usual. I watched her take her seat carefully. She inched into it with great care, seeming to avoid placing her weight on her buttocks until the last possible moment. Even then her arms were rigid on each side of her body taking some of the weight. She was either an excellent actress or her botty was very sore. Previously, I had been excited at the though of Bernadette's pretty backside being spanked, and I had loved giving her a few slaps in her bedroom. But this was quite different. This was assault in a moment of hatred. Goodness knows what her father thought of himself now.
Another quick word of comfort (and reconciliation) before we parted after school and I went home, wondering how to explain my inviting Bernadette over to Mum.
I decided to get Mum in a good mood first and so I cooked dinner ready for when she came home. It was only spag bol, but it was hot and ready. Mum was very pleased, but I could see part of her trying to work out what I wanted in return. She wasn't sure what I was after, if I was after anything, but she was smart enough to suspect. Toby went to bed, and I came right out with it. I explained about Bernadette's father wanting his children to both enter the Church, and I recounted the tale of last weekend and the magazine, deleting the bit about Bernadette masturbating, and finally explaining about my invitation to Bernadette without thinking about Robbie. Mum listened and asked questions in a considered kind of way. "Does her father accept that his behavior was unreasonable?" "I don't know yet Mum, I'll find out from Bernadette tomorrow morning. But I don't think so as he made them both get down and pray before school today." "And are you convinced that this assault actually took place?" "It hurt her terribly to sit down." Mum pursed her lips. "We've got gym tomorrow. Bernadette never misses gym unless it's serious; I'll see then. But I'm sure it's true; she was crying desperately. She wouldn't lie!" "Is she still `special' to you?" I thought she'd ask this one, but I wasn't really sure how to respond. "Yes. A bit anyway. But that's not the point, she needs help!" "Yes. I think I understand that. Let's say that if her father has not shown remorse or apologized for the beating -- and you can substantiate it -- she needs a bit of support. And she's welcome here at the weekend." I rushed over and hugged her. "Thanks Mum!" "Just remember me at Christmas, darling. Now off you go to bed."
The next morning I sought out Bernadette. "What happened last night then?" "Nothing. Da came in late and Mikey had already left. Seems as though they're avoiding each other." "Did your father say anything. To you, I mean?" She looked at me quizzically. "Y'know. Did he say sorry or anything?" She looked at me and shook her head vigorously. Gym was the last lesson before lunch. We all streamed into the changing room together and began stripping off. Some of the girls already had their leotards on (how did they go to the loo?), but most of us stripped and changed. Paula was next to me as usual and flung off her clothing with her normal, gay' abandon. I tried not to notice, but had to acknowledge her presence when I saw her knickers. "Wooo! Let's have a look then! Turn round and show." Paula was wearing black super high-leg knickers that rode up over her hips. And just to make things more interesting, the back panel was edged in wide black lace. They looked just the sexiest. Dismissively, she turned towards me displaying a tiny front panel edged with the same black lace. There. Happy?" And she pulled them off quickly and carelessly, throwing them into her bag. I watched her wrestle her beautiful body into her leotard. "What do they feel like?" "Just ordinary." "But they're really high and tight looking. Do they go up your, y'know." Paula looked at me with big eyes. She wasn't going to make this easy for me. "Up your bottom and middle? Don't they rub? Paula shook her head, nonchalantly. "Feels fine. Does it look good?" She knew the answer.
I changed too, Bernadette was not there. After that class, at lunchtime, I caught up with her. "I couldn't. I just couldn't, they show! You know, the cuts, they show." Her eyes brimmed with tears again. There was no possibility that she was not telling the truth. Within a month, it would be the anniversary of Hillie's thrashing too. Ironic, isn't it?
Friday afternoon. Bernadette came home with me again. Not as lively or flirtatious as before and I began to wonder if this time I had made a mistake. She was sullen and withdrawn, no doubt thinking about the bust up with her father. "What did Michael do?" "He just hit Da, again and again. He was screaming and shouting about religious things. I dunno." She shuddered at the memory and wrapped her arms tighter about herself. I wanted to cuddle her more than ever, but I knew this would not be appropriate behavior at that point. "Mikey says he's going to do Environmental Science at Warwick or somewhere now" "What's environmental science -- and I thought he was going to be a priest?" "Not now. He just told us all yesterday morning; he's made a late application and got an interview next week. Da says nothing. And I think it's about studying our impact on the environment and how the environment determines our behavior, or something. Anyway he's quite made his own mind up." We made dinner as we had done before, but without the charm and flirting. This time it was just about making food. Mum came home, and dinner was ready; we ate, not quite in silence, but nearly. Afterwards, I did the washing up while Mum took Bernadette for a quick chat' into the lounge. When I'd finished we all sat in the lounge and watched telly, but none of us were really watching the programmes. I think we were all using the television as cover for our inward thoughts and anxieties. Bernadette hadn't seen the film Madchen in Uniform', I asked her, and I was very pleased she hadn't. Mum listened carefully to our stilted conversation; making mental notes, weighing evidence and likelihood. Quite abruptly, Bernadette announced "I think I'd like to go to bed."
Of course I hadn't pulled the bed from the spare room into my bedroom this time and so our options were strictly limited. I hurried myself in the main bathroom before changing and waiting while Bernadette was in the shower room. When she appeared she was wearing one of the super baggy t-shirts I had bought her. The bright salmon pink looked wonderful against her skin, there was a flash of white below, and I realized that she was wearing white satin French knickers with dainty lace panels to the side. I thought they were exquisite and was about to comment when she said -"Mam gave me these to wear. Said they'd be soft on me until I healed." So her mother knew about the beating too. I opened my mouth to speak, and closed it again when I realized there was nothing to say. Bernadette crossed to my single bed, lifted the covers and slid in, waiting for me to follow. Wearing just a t-shirt, I lay down with her and she nestled under my arm with her head on the side of my breast, Bernadette's leg was just hooked up over mine as I lay prone on my back. "You feel nice" she murmured, wriggling in a bit closer. What now? What should I do now? I burned for her body, but I knew she could not bend her beliefs to allow herself to enjoy sex with me. I just lay there with my eyes wide open. I wished I'd worn shorts or knickers as I thought I'd probably leak and leave a damp patch! I kept my thighs pressed together. I felt myself moving, I knew I had been getting excited just at the very thought of Bernadette here beside me, but this was impossible! A few moments passed, she shuffled again and moved her arm from laying across my stomach to higher on my chest. Gently, just ever so gently, Bernadette touched my nipple through my t-shirt. "It's ok, Rae. I think I know now" "Know what?" I enquired guardedly, rather confused. "I think I know about me. And I know it's my life not anyone else's." She pushed herself up the bed a little and kissed me on the cheek. And then she moved a little and kissed me on the mouth. And again. And again, with her lips parting. And now with her tongue sliding deliciously into my mouth.
Now I felt her hand sliding up my stomach beneath my t-shirt, Benradette was going to touch my breast. She touched, I thought I would die. Circling my nipple with her fingertips and stroking, just stroking it up to the very tip. It felt gorgeous, but I knew I wanted more. Bernadette continued to love my breast and kiss me with unfocussed passion. She was finding out about sex, uncertain as to what she should do next, but eager to find out. Now her hand left my chest and slid down my stomach. I couldn't help it, I just held my breath. She'd tried this before, and her courage had failed her. This time I just waited, willing her on nonetheless. Beyond my navel, and without hesitation her soft hand continued down. I still held my breath and my heart pounded in my chest. I clenched my buttocks and pressed my hips up and out towards her journeying hand I felt her reach my mons. I felt her sweet hand shape around my mound and her fingers cup my most attentive part. Her fingertips touched my thighs and I realized they were still tight closed; I opened my legs to her. Her ring finger just grazed my lips as I parted my thighs. That was enough. I opened my eyes wide and stared at her face in the warm gloom. "Ah" I exclaimed softly, gazing up into her shadowed face. "I love you." She looked at me hard and long. "I really love you." "Oh Bernadette. I love you too! I always have -- and always will!" She fell upon me and we kissed for the umpteenth time. Bernadette lay between my thighs and I wrapped her in, curling my legs around her I could feel the mound of her sex pressing against mine. It was just heavenly. We rocked back and forth in our honest intimacy, pressing and stroking, loving and caressing.
Now she levered herself up and knelt between my splayed thighs, I moved my hand to cover myself in pointless, automatic modesty. But she caught my hand and moved it out of the way. She looked at me carefully in the dim "I want this. I want it to happen." And she knelt between my thighs, holding her hair back from her face and kissed me on the clitoral hood. Wow. I inhaled sharply. Now I felt her eager little tongue between my lips and forcing my clit to pay attention. I lifted my knees right up and pulled Bernadette deeper into me.
"I want you too!" I gasped. "I want to lick you." "Can't lay down," She raised her head and looked at me forlornly. Now was my chance. "Turn around." "Hmm?" "Turn around and we'll do head to toe." She looked at me confused for a second or two, and then comprehending, she smiled her little smile and sat on the side of the bed to shed her satin knickers. Then she began to rotate. Her body hung above me as her head descended to my crotch, then she splayed her thighs and her divine pubis descended to within licking range of my hungry mouth. I held the backs of her thighs and pulled her down slightly, straining my face up into her crotch. Under my hands I could trace the welts and cuts of her beating; I wanted to kiss every one. But now there were her labia minora under my tongue; there was her hood, her clitoris. Next to my very nose, her vagina beckoned and I worshipped at the altar. This was it. This was my fantasy; burying my face into my lover while she did the same to me. Smelling and loving her most intimate perfumes as she enjoyed mine. I wanted to die here. I was more excited than Bernadette and began to come long before she was ready. I almost forgot to lick her as my excitement rose. I pressed myself harder and harder into her pubis and moaned into her hair. At the other end, Benradette lashed my clitoris with her tongue. I pulled myself up from the bed and ground my nose into her very vagina as I came. Perfect symmetry; I moaned and gasped into her pubis as she licked and lapped mine. Now I pushed her away from my sex. I was spent and sensitive. I had just been given an orgasm by the most important girl in my universe, and I wanted to return the pleasure. I flopped back onto the bed again and licked my lips. Now to complete the task on Bernadette. She couldn't lay on her back for me, but in this position she could enjoy my attentions. I pulled her down towards me again, forcing her pubis to engage with me again. "Oh Rae. Oh god. Oh yes!" She almost squatted on me with her thighs angled out acutely from her hips. She lifted her upper body up from the bed a little and sent my nose under her perineum towards her anus. Pressing her lips against my face, I could feel her tiny button presented to my mouth, and I obliged with love and attention. "Just a bit. Just a bit. More. Oh lordy lord." She began to wriggle against me, pressing forward and down. Now she just grunted rhythmically, and her movements intensified. She was thrusting her pubis against my face, sliding herself along my face, my nose, my mouth with increasing energy. "Nearly. Now. Oh yes!" I wanted to tell her to keep the noise down, but by that point it was far too late. She thrust again and sat right up on me, I could feel the muscles and tendons in her thighs go rigid in spasm as she orgasmed on me. Her legs spread wider yet and then clamped closed about my face. "Oooh! Oh." A thrust. "Oh. Oh Oh." Another thrust. "Mmm."She slowed her insistent rhythm and moved slightly from side to side in relaxed ecstasy. Her chest and head fell forward onto me again and I felt her kissing my pubic hair again and she nuzzled her head between my thighs once more. She sent her darting little tongue between my lips, and I twitched in surprise. In retaliation, I lifted my head and sent my tongue as deep into her vagina as I could. She jumped and I laughed. "That's not fair, Rae!" She hissed in a loud whisper. "Seems fair to me. You did it first." Softly now, I asked her "did you like that?" "Oooh. That was lovely. I nearly died from it that time!" And she laboriously turned herself around again to face me. She lay on me and kissed me. "Look at me. I'm going to have fun and never stop!" And she kissed me again. "That was gorgeous" she whispered. "No point in whispering now. I think the whole street heard you squealing." "Oh no." She wilted in embarrassment. "I can't help that. I just need to speak and sometimes I get a bit - y'know excited." "Just a bit. Just a bit more." I mimicked trying my best with her soft Irish accent. "Oh! You cow!" And she tried to bite me, but she giggled at the same time. "Don't embarrass me. It's difficult enough anyway." "What's difficult Bernadette?" "Just being here and doing --this, is difficult enough just at the moment. But I wanted to be me for a while. Y'know?" I nodded. She lay upon me and stroked my body with the flat of her hand. Up my stomach and across my chest, over my breasts and nipples. Her hand traveled on slowly, like a gentle masseuse smoothing skin and emotions as she passed. I wanted her never to stop. And suddenly it was morning.
Crashing and thumping downstairs. I looked at my watch, it was only seven -- fifteen, who on earth was around at this time on a Saturday. Silence downstairs; and then bump, bump, bump. My mother was coming upstairs. My eyes opened wide in fear as the bedroom door was flung open. I was sure that Mum would scream and shout and be generally outraged. "Morning you two. Here's tea. I'm going shopping in fifteen minutes; Robbie will be here by eleven. Rachel clear up the lounge and hoover the hall and stairs." And without a look or glance she plonked down a tray with two mugs of tea and hurried out of the door. I shrank into the protecting covers of my bed like an oyster spiked with lemon. Mum had seen us. In bed. Bernadette nestling on me, happily. How could I look her in the eye now. How could I convince her that I was not queer. How could I demonstrate that her only daughter was capable and able of becoming a blushing bride and providing a perfect heir. I couldn't.
Benradette stirred on me. "I'll hoover."
Nine o'clock. Mum's car swept into the drive and we tiptoed out in bare feet to help bring in the shopping. Everything was clean and tidy inside. I'd tidied the lounge as B had hovered the hall and stairs before having a go at the lounge and dining room too. Which gave me time to clean the downstairs loo and tidy the kitchen as well. Everything looked perfect. "Hmm." Said my mother shortly, glancing about with a smile on her face. That meant everything was fine. Now we waited for Robbie.
Up the lane and stopping outside the house came a white car. "It's him." Said Mum, and she ran her hands over hair and down her sides. She glanced around at me nervously and smiled. "You look fine, ma." She opened the door and walked down the path to greet him; we turned away in deference. Robbie was in his forties, I suppose, with golden hair swept back from his face and smile lines gathered about his eyes. He had a good bit of a tan too, because inside his smile lines you could see white skin. We sat down in the breakfast room for coffee.
"Are you two going out tonight looking for fella's then?" "Not exactly. We're happy together." Replied Bernadette, perfectly matter-of-fact and even. Robbie opened his mouth to reply, but checked himself and looked at Bernadette before flicking his eyes around to me. Bernadette's head turned slowly to me and she gazed deep into my eyes before her attention slid down my face to my mouth. Robbie faced Bernadette, but his attention was on me. "You're the other kind, then?" I was lost for a reply, but Bernadette took a breath and reached out to touch my hands clasped on my lap. Robbie watched, his mouth slack and open, coffee mug dangling from his hand at a crazy angle. She was about to speak; I closed my eyes and waited for the awfulness of the revelation. "Well! Let's all go out, then" Mum called out breezily entering the breakfast room. "Where shall we go?" And she beamed at us all, from face to astounded face. We settled for XX House, a few miles further away from London. We all five squeezed into Robbie's car with Mum and he in the front and us three behind. Toby was in the middle and sort of balancing between Bernadette and myself.
That blithe Spring afternoon was one of the happiest of my life. I could see that Mum and Robbie were very much in love, and I so much wanted her to be happy again. Robbie was paying her every attention and diverting just enough to Toby to keep Mum happy too. Largely he ignored Bernadette and myself, which was fine by me, but it still felt like family' with all of us together. I rejoiced in Bernadette's company. Just her being there made my head swim with love. To give the other two just a few moments alone together, I diverted Toby into the giftshop and bought him a dinosaur-headed-thing that could pick up things at the end of a stick. Goodness knows what they were really called; anyway Toby was happy. But of course, he ran outside at the most inappropriate moment and saw his mother kissing Robbie -- the man who was not his Daddy-- and apparently enjoying it. He coped with it well, barely a break in his stride before rushing over to show off his new toy. Robbie was attentive and receptive to him and Mum sort of stepped back' to let Robbie give prominent attention to his possible stepson. This would be a difficult weekend for all of us, but if we worked at it, we could all come out as winners. Bernadette looped her arm in mine. "Come on. Leave them all be. There's a lot of sorting out to be done with those three before the sun's down." We turned away and strolled into the beautiful spring parkland. The horse chestnut trees were well in bright green leaf and the woodpigeons were woo-wooing across to each other. I loved England and Bernadette and everyone.
That evening all five of us went out to Los Conquistadores, the Spanish restaurant about twenty minutes away. We'd tried not to; that is to say, B and I had suggested that we stay home with Toby while Mum and Robbie went out; it's what we would have preferred. But Mum wanted this to be a family affair' and so we all went along. The food was excellent as always. I just love zarzuela; Robbie had rabbit (which was equally good), but I could see Bernadette turn up her nose at the idea of eating bunny'. She had paella and I had great delight in pointing out the bits of squid. Just to prove me wrong she ate every bit. Robbie ordered a bottle of white Rioja which I had never tasted before. After the meal, I was treated to a `Spanish coffee', which was coffee with Fundador and Tia Maria; gorgeous! Mum said I would be dead of cirrhosis by the time I was twenty, Robbie said I would be a connoisseur of fine wines and liquers by the same age. I preferred his version of events. It was a brilliant evening. On the way out Bernadette danced ahead with Toby in hot pursuit, so I grabbed Robbie and gave his arm a squeeze for good measure. Mum was happy, and that was all that really counted.
In bed, Bernadette and I just snuggled up together. What a day. Mum had seen us and not blown her top. Robbie got a good idea and the roof had not fallen in. We had all got on famously this evening with plenty of laughter and silly banter. Bernadette was almost snoring, so I turned and kissed her. She snuffled and stopped and I looked at her in the sodium dim of the street lamp outside. Delicate features beneath a high brow and black, wavy hair. She had a mouth to die for; pretty little lips that formed into the most beautiful cupid's bow you could imagine. Her skin was dark; Mediterranean dark and white cloth against her gorgeous olive tones looked fabulous. Yet for all that, Benradette had pale blue eyes. I looked down towards her chest where her breathing caused a rhythmic rise and fall. Her chain and crucifix glinted in the orange light. I loved her and knew she loved me.
Sunday morning. And at a civilized time after breakfast, Bernadette readied herself for the bus ride home. Mum belatedly appeared in dressing gown and they said their goodbyes before I walked her down to the bus stop. "No mass the this morning?" I asked, watching her face for a reaction. She stuck out her chin defiantly in an almost Italian gesture. "No. No more mass. Not for a while anyway." She flicked her eyes sideways to me then back again. "I want to see how things develop for a while. So does Mikey." So there we had it; Bernadette and her brother appeared to be breaking clear of the restraints of a religious upbringing. Time would tell if their escape would lead to freedom or whether they would be ensnared again. For the moment I was so happy, Bernadette was mine at last. The branches of the trees were in full leaf and dipped low over the pavement at that particular bus stop, so our goodbye kisses were well hidden from view. She hurried on board the double decker and sat in the first row of seats downstairs. She glanced quickly around, and finding no one's attention on her, she mouth three words through the window towards me. `I love you.' In the row of seats in front of her, a man lazily regarded me, so I could not respond in kind, and she must have sensed that because she stared at the back of his neck and pulled a hideous face while going cross-eyed. I laughed and she grinned. I wanted to be in school again with her immediately.
By the time I had walked home back up the lane, Robbie and Mum were dressed and having a late breakfast; Toby had gone along the road to play and all was right with the world. I sneaked into the breakfast room and poured myself a thick black coffee from the cafetiere. "What do you want to do today, Rachel?" Asked Mum. "I dunno. Whatever you'd like to do. Are we going out again?" "Might do" answered Mum. "We thought we might have a look at some houses." She paused and waited for me to react. I reacted. "Houses to live in?" "Yes." "Instead of this one?" "Might be darling, yes." "But I like this house! I was born here." "I know you do. But we thought we'd like to just have a look around." She waited for another reaction. "Would that be all right, Rachel?" "Yes, okay." I gave them acceptance, knowing that Mum wasn't really talking about houses at all. She was talking about she and Robbie making plans and decisions as a `unit'. Sort of a progression from Robbie being someone she met on the beach to being someone with whom she made life-altering decisions.
Well, we went out and toured all around looking at the new developments of houses and the sheaf of house details that Mum already had from Agents, and by the end of the afternoon Mum and Robbie were pretty despondent. I think the main problem was that they could not afford the standard of home they wanted in this area; simple as that. There was lots of `I don't like this, but you don't like that', but the meat of the argument was money; they didn't have enough. Mum turned to Robbie "Well, it'll have to be Plan B, then." I had no idea what Plan B was, but I was going to find out.
"It's this darling, in a couple of year's time, you will be finished school here and off to university. At the same time, Toby will be finishing junior school and moving to secondary. So, we thought that would be the right time to sell number 42. I'd move down to Dartmouth and Robbie and I would buy a really special house for all of us to live in and I'd join a local solicitor's practice. Toby will go to XX House and we'll be able to support you at whatever university you choose. How's that, darling?" Wow. Quite a lot to take in all at once; Mum and Robbie were planning on moving in together, I was expected to move off to university and probably never to return, `home' was going to move 200 miles to the west to a town I'd only visited once, baby brother was to be packed off to boarding school. "Yes Mum. Sounds fine."
During that Sunday evening, after dinner and as we sat in the lounge, the phone went. I hopped up and answered it leaving Mum and Robbie curled up on the sofa. It was Guy. "She's had a baby boy! And he's marvelous! Can't tell you how wonderful it was. Breathtaking. Marvelous. Baby's great -- all the fingers n' toes etcetera. Beautiful!" "Oh god! When? Were you there? And what's he called?" "What's today? Sunday, right. Born Saturday, 3.20 in the afternoon. Perfect baby boy, called Alexander Ralph -- Ralph's her dad's name." "Were you there, Guy?" "Yes! Marvelous. I insisted, Hilary wasn't that keen. But I was there to hold her hand, y'know." "Was the labour very long?" "Bout nine hours, I suppose. I didn't get called until Julia had got her in hospital. Roared over there as fast as I could to be with her. Fabulous!" "Guy. What happens to the baby now, has it been taken away?" "Actually no, not at all." He stopped for a moment and cleared his throat. He sounded rather pleased with everything. "Hilary's parents came tearing up as soon as they heard she was in labour. Got there just before the birth too. They've decided to keep the little lad themselves. Don't know if it's because she named him Ralph' or what. Anyway, they're going to look after him themselves; can't blame `em, he's gorgeous. Best news all round!" "How's the mum?" "She's fine, she's fine. Just quiet. She didn't tear, evidently. So there's been no need for stitches or anything. She's slept a lot since, of course. Going to see her tomorrow again." "Give her my love" "Course I will, course I will."
I hugged the telephone receiver and danced about in the hall. I thought Hillie's mum would be too soft to give up her grandchild. I just couldn't imagine anyone doing that. I was so pleased. Hillie was fine, the baby was fine, and well loved. Guy was in love with Hillie, that much was obvious, and primed to be the perfect dad. Went back in the lounge. "Who was that?" Asked Mum, sleepily. "Just Guy. Just to say `Hi" that's all." She twizzled round to look at me out of one eye. She didn't believe me at all.
I left things for nearly three weeks, but just couldn't wait any longer. I phoned Hillie's number. "Hello?" It was her mother, I asked to speak to Hillie and in the background I could hear a baby grizzling and wailing half-heartedly. "She's not here at the moment." There was an awkward pause. "How's Alexander?" There was an intake of breath, then a sigh. "Wasn't sure if you knew about him. He's fine, just a bit miserable at the moment. Hold on, I need to pick him up." She put the phone down for a few seconds and I could hear her talking to Alexander in the background. She picked the receiver up again, and the moaning had stopped. "There. All he wanted was a cuddle. Now he'll go off to sleep." "How's Hillie?" "I'm not sure!" She answered me brightly, but there was an edge of fear in her voice. "Hilary's disappeared. Nearly a week ago. She just went, and we've not heard from her at all." I struggled to take it in. Hillie was missing. Without her baby. "Have you called the police?" "No. No, she telephoned Guy three days ago, so we know she's all right. I just wish she was here; Alexander needs his mum." Her voice had gone ragged and trembling and I knew she was crying. "It's post natal depression, I know it is. I had it too. But nothing like this" she continued. "I'm sorry, I just can't help" and she just cried, sniffing and choking into her grandson's shawl probably. We said out goodbyes, and I promised to phone if I heard from Hillie. After I put the phone down I sat down on the stairs and just tried to make sense of it all. What did Hillie feel about herself and about her baby that would make her abandon everything.
I had to speak to Guy, I called the Castle. The cultured voice answered as usual -- I knew this now to be Mister Reynolds, the sort of Butler and male housekeeper, Mrs Reynolds did all the cooking and cleaning, and I asked for Guy. "Mister Guy is not home at the moment. He is expected to return on Friday this week." Today was Wednesday; I bet he'd gone off to see Hillie. "This is Rachel Stevenson, did Guy leave a message for me or say where he was going?" "Yes Miss, he asked me to pass on a message to you. He asked me to tell you not to worry." "Is that it? Nothing else?" "I'm afraid not." "Did he say where he was going?" "I regret that he did not tell me where he was going, Miss." Guy was useless. He knew I'd phone -- and worry. But he didn't think any further than that! Typical man.