Like One of the Family (60 page)

‘And I will do all I can to make you happy as you deserve,' she continued warmly. But even as she made this promise Claire suddenly felt the most extraordinary fluttering sensation in the pit of her stomach, as though her insides had been brushed by gossamer wings. She sat petrified, waiting to see if it would happen again, and when it did, knew with dizzying certainty that her baby had moved.

The change in Claire was dramatic. Her expression became ecstatic and she felt such a rush of overwhelming love for the child that she grew weak with longing and she could have both wept and shouted aloud for joy. It was like nothing in her experience, this first indication of life, and it swiftly brought her to the realisation that whatever she might have believed previously she could not now give herself to anyone, if not the father of her child.

With a poignant little twist of her thoughts she remembered
Song of Songs.
She had not thought of it in a long while. How did it go?

Love no flood can quench, no torrents drown
.

In her thoughts she unconsciously echoed the Spaniard's words: love of my life. And if Terry never came back to her, Claire bravely faced the prospect, then she would live out her days lonely and alone, rather than ever settle for less than the best.

Fernando was regarding her with jutting lip and frowning countenance. She saw that he was puzzled and wounded by her complete forgetfulness of him and, contritely, attempted to explain her quixotic change of feelings.

‘I felt my child move inside me for the first time,' Claire explained. ‘It made me realise that I'm not free to love you.' She willed him to understand the enormity of what had happened and saw by his expression that he did, indeed, have some inkling of what it meant to her. As if in confirmation the child stirred again and Claire felt the same thrill of recognition.

‘How will you manage?' His dark eyes watched her soberly. ‘You cannot survive without someone to take care of you.'

Claire's face shadowed, reminded of her predicament.

Fernando said slowly: ‘I think you must still love the father of your child.' And when Claire nodded, a sigh escaped him. ‘Ayee! I knew it!'

She watched him, helpless in the face of his despair.

‘And the man,' Fernando went on heavily. ‘I know him too. Your friend's brother. I think I have known it all along.'

So he'd noticed some tiny spark between Terry and herself. Despite her hopelessness, Claire was cheered to think that Terry might still retain some slight feeling for her.

‘What good fortune he has,' Fernando pronounced sadly, and she was stricken by the unhappiness she saw in his melancholy gaze.

Claire wearily entered the apartment and wandered on to the balcony where Jane sat relaxing in the sun, sipping wine.

‘Join me in a glass,' Jane suggested, and got up to fetch the bottle from the fridge. She was wearing a low-cut sun top and her skin was glowing from the sun.

Claire listlessly accepted a glass and sank down opposite her. Her head was aching and she felt inexpressibly sad. She had burned her boats and was now totally on her own. She felt like weeping. To have turned down a man like Fernando, who not only loved her but was prepared to accept her baby too, had not been easy and a fierce reaction had already set in.

‘No harm in a little wine now and then,' Jane said, imagining that Claire was concerned about the possible effects of alcohol on the baby. ‘You look tired, my dear. It will do you good.'

Claire took a sip. The wine felt pleasant on her throat.

‘Ruthie has gone off to play with Adela and won't be back till evening,' Jane told her, adding with a grin, ‘So you can see I'm taking full advantage of her absence.'

Claire nodded, aware how clingy the little girl had been since Jane's arrival. Only now was she beginning to relax guard on her mother. With a sigh, Claire laid back her head and closed her eyes.

Jane watched her face for a moment, then said impulsively, ‘Claire, my dear, won't you tell Terry about the baby. I understand you reservations but in the months ahead you are going to need all the love and support you can get.'

Claire had no doubt in her mind that the future would be as lonely and tough as Jane suggested and even wondered if she could bear it without solace or support.

‘If you are worried about what your parents may say when we go back you really don't have to go on living at home,' Jane hurried on, as though by sheer dint of words she could remove Claire's objections. ‘We'd love you to make your home with us - you have always been like one of the family and now with the baby coming it seems only right and fitting that we all be together. So long as your pregnancy is without complications, there's really no reason why you shouldn't continue in college until the spring. Why throw away a precious year of study without need?'

Why indeed? Claire ached with the effort of keeping still when she wanted so much to turn to Jane and fall weakly upon her neck in gratitude. Oh, if only she could do as she suggested, she thought. But it would be tantamount to forcing Terry to marry her. And even if he didn't feel so obliged her presence in his home would be a constant reminder. He would only grow to hate her.

Jane watched her for a moment then added with sweet persuasiveness, 'And there's another thing, Claire. I wonder do you realise just how much we're going to need you when poor Sheena comes back home. You and she have always been such friends and, without a doubt, she's going to need every bit of love and understanding we can show her.'

This argument, above all others, would have swept away the last of Claire's resistance if it weren't for her deep-seated insecurity regarding Terry. She dumbly shook her head and Jane made no further attempt to persuade her.

The sunshade was angled between the chairs and the sky, blocking the fierce afternoon sun. The transistor radio, with its volume turned low, was on the table along with the empty wineglasses. Ruthie's cat stretched belly to the sky, occasionally rearing up to swipe a lazy paw at a darting butterfly. Jane had gone to lie down and Claire was drowsily thinking of following her example when the door of the apartment snapped open and quick footsteps passed through the lounge. Startled, she looked up to see Terry towering above her.

‘What's this crap about you staying on in Spain?' he demanded. ‘Sheena just told me. I thought she was making it up.'

Claire drew breath to speak but before she could say anything he burst out again. ‘It's because of him, isn't it.' Bitterness salted his voice. ‘Saint Fernando of the Gonzalez millions.'

It hurt that he should think of her as mercenary.

‘Why else would you want to stay on in Spain only to marry him?' His voice was shaking with a mixture of doubt and pain.

Let him believe it, Claire thought wearily, trying to control the quaver in her own voice as she said, ‘I just don't want to go back to college, that's all. I'm going to learn Spanish and let the future take care of itself.'

‘The future as Señora Fernando Gonzalez,' Terry said savagely. ‘I never thought money meant all that much to you, Claire.' He turned sharply away. ‘Show's how wrong you can be about someone.' The door of his bedroom slammed.

Claire stared down at the distant beach through a blur of tears. Nothing was changed, she reminded herself in desolation. Jane had said she was more sinned against than sinning, but Terry did not regard it so leniently. He had left her in no doubt of his feelings. Sick and perverted, he'd said. The words burned in Claire's brain. No matter how she tried to convince herself otherwise, she knew that some day he would once more fling them in her face. It was only out of her great love for him and the memory of the happy time they had once shared together, that she was never going to give him that chance again.

Each day that was left to them, Claire stayed out of the apartment as much as she could and when she was there tried to adopt an easy manner with Terry, including him in all her remarks as if there was nothing wrong between them. But there was no reciprocation on his part, no effort to heal the split.

She had no doubts in her mind that she was right not to tell him about the baby, yet there were times when she caught him gazing at her with such a pained expression in his golden eyes that it took all her strength not to break down and tell him the real reason for her decision to stay in Spain.

Fernando continued to call to the apartment, not reconciled to losing her. Despite Terry's air of brooding disapproval whenever the Spaniard appeared, Claire did nothing to discourage him for she was lonely and he was her only support. Even Jane was withdrawn, neither condemning nor approving.

One night Claire walked with Fernando through the town. When they stopped at a bar and found Terry already there, drinking with a group of young people, she forced a smile and moved on. She was aware of the sympathy in Fernando's dark eyes, but she refused to allow herself the luxury of his consolation. At such times, Claire was surprised at her own strength, but since feeling her baby move, she experienced new resilience and hope, as though nature was affording her the necessary reserves needed to maintain this precious new life developing within her.

The next day was Terry's last before returning to his squadron. As usual he went to see Sheena in the afternoon and did not return until teatime. When the meal was over and Claire had finished clearing the teacups, he said to his mother:

‘Well, Mum, it was good being with you, but I can't wait to rejoin the team tomorrow and see a bit of the action. I'm getting really pissed off with the Spanish scene. Nice but deadly dull about describes it.'

‘I'm sorry you feel that way but you could have livened it up with a visit to Seville or Granada,' Jane pointed out.

‘Hell, that's the last thing I'd want,' Terry exclaimed, making no effort to hide his disdain. ‘The Costa del Sol has been a real eye-opener. Nothing but wealthy Spaniards with their flashy hotels and apartment blocks capitalising on the gullibility of tourists.'

Claire got up to go, feeling sickened by his attack.

‘Claire!' Jane called after her anxiously. ‘How would you like it if we went out later for a drink?'

‘Thank you but I won't be here.' Claire opened the door of the apartment as she spoke. ‘Enjoy yourselves!' Closing the door after her, she went down the steps, unable to bear the pain of being so physically close to Terry and yet estranged.

The evening was warm with only the hint of a breeze off the sea and the sun was like a huge blood orange hanging low in the sky. Claire found herself taking the road behind the apartments, which led up a narrow trackway to the promontory overlooking the beach, which she often took in the cool of the evening. She felt angry and sad, and desperately wanted to get away on her own. Terry's scornful and unfair attack on Spain and the Spaniards had brought it home to her how far apart they had grown, and the knowledge only accentuated her misery.

Claire moved steadily over the rough ground and did not pause or look around until she had reached the top. There the wild, unspoiled beauty of the unfrequented place began to work its usual magic, soothing and renewing her bruised spirit until, gradually, her stomach muscles unclenched and her expression became less agonisingly unhappy. She sat and gazed at the sea. Only another few hours and Terry would be gone, and then she would be free to grieve in her own fashion.

The door had barely closed behind Claire. ‘I suppose she's gone to meet him!' Terry exploded, and began furiously pacing the room. ‘My last night and she couldn't be bothered staying in.'

Jane looked at her son's stormy expression and wished she had not given her promise to Claire. She believed the girl was making a grave mistake, but nevertheless, she had given her word.

‘For God's sake, Mum, who would ever have thought it,' Terry railed brokenly. ‘Claire... our Claire that we've known since we were kids and brought away every year on holidays. Dammit! How could she forget us and opt for that Spaniard because of his money.' His hurt was palpable, so fresh and raw it bled before her eyes. Jane wondered if Claire had judged him wrongly and he might be capable of great love after all.

‘Fernando has more than just money to recommend him,' she felt constrained to point out. ‘He's an intelligent, attractive and cultured man with a strong sense of responsibility. Humorous too,' she added, thinking this was a quality that Terry, so brooding and intense, badly lacked.

‘Humorous!' Terry said scornfully. ‘That prissy little smile and those effeminate clothes. Silk shirts and shitty gold bracelets. She's out of her skull!'

Jane came to a sudden decision. May Claire forgive me, she thought, but in her present state the poor child isn't capable of rational judgement.

‘Terry,' she said gently. ‘Stop prowling about. I have something to tell you.'

Terry looked at her, not really hearing her, still shocked and wounded by what he considered Claire's betrayal.

‘Sit down,' Jane insisted, and waited until he had obeyed.

‘What is it, Mum?' he asked, shifting restlessly, imagining she was going to give him another lecture about not judging the book by its cover.

‘The reason I have kept quiet until now,' Jane began, wondering even as she spoke whether she was doing the right thing, ‘is because I promised Claire, but now I'm beginning to wonder if you shouldn't be told.'

‘Told what, Mum?' Terry asked tersely.

‘The reason why Claire has decided to remain in Spain. You must know how shy and reticent she is and what I'm about to say isn't something she would want made public... even Sheena has no idea.' Why am I taking so long to get it out? Jane wondered.

‘Spill it, Mum,' Terry said curtly. ‘Stop prolonging the mystery.'

There were times when her son inspired Jane with a strong desire to smack him. She took a deep breath and said bluntly. ‘Claire is remaining in Spain because she's pregnant.'