Olivia’s Luck (2000) (23 page)

Peering cautiously round the shed, I narrowed my eyes. I could just about see into the drawing room, but the bright sunlight made it too dark for me to determine if anyone was in there. I had to make an angled dash across the lawn, aim for the outside wall of the house, flush with the French windows, and hope for the best. Head down and bent forward, I went for it, leaping an immaculate flowerbed and making it to the relative safety of the wall. I flattened myself against it, heart going like a bongo drum. Slowly I inched my way along the doorframe and peeped round. I could hear noises, voices, and for a moment I thought there were a few people in the room, until I realised the television was on. I couldn’t see anyone, except – yes. Suddenly I realised that that was Claudia, sitting hunched in an armchair at the back of the room. Except I hardly recognised her. Her hair looked lank and too dark, and she was wearing a dressing gown. A man’s dressing gown.
His
dressing gown. A little yelp escaped my lips and I could bear it no longer. A garden rake was propped up against the wall beside me. I seized it and charged in.

“CLAUDIA, GET BEHIND ME!” I shrieked, spreading out my arms and brandishing the rake at the rest of the room. Claudia looked up from the television in astonishment.

“Mum!”

“Get behind me!” I yelled.

“But – ”

“JUST DO IT!”

Claudia, never having seen me in totally-lost-it mode, waving a rake, leapt up and scuttled behind me.

“Why?” she whispered.

“Where is he?” I barked.

“Who?”

“Sebastian!”

“Oh well, around, I think.”

Around. I swung about, pushing her behind me, still shielding her with my body, glancing furtively in corners, waiting for him to pounce out from behind one of those dark pieces of furniture at any moment.

“Now, back,” I hissed.

“What?”

“Back! Go backwards, out of the French windows!”

Catching the madness and urgency in my voice, Claudia obeyed. Clutching her dressing gown to her, she started reversing out, wide-eyed. I backed with her, eyes darting everywhere.

“Did he touch you, my love?” I whispered brokenly.

“What d’you mean?”

“Well, did he – ” I choked back a strangled sob – “hurt you in any way?”

“Of course not!”

I swung round to see her staring in astonishment at me.

“But he took your clothes?”

“Yes, but – ”

“The bastard!” I spat. “The rotten, dirty, filthy bastard. How
dare
he –
aha
!”

A figure materialised from the shadows. A figure coming through the far door, bearing a tray of tea and biscuits. Sebastian, in a white shirt and faded brown cords, blinked in surprise as he confronted a scratched and bleeding woman in his sitting room, legs planted wide apart and bent at the knee like a sumo wrestler, hands gripping either end of a horizontal garden rake, kung fu style.

“
Aha!
” I cried again, bracing myself, head stuck forward and moving slowly from side to side, like a bull facing a matador. “So! You’ve finally slunk out, have you, you little piece of filth! Come one step closer and I swear to God I’ll –
Stay where you are
!”

Sebastian stopped, astonished. “Good Lord, what on earth – ”

“Don’t you Good Lord me,” I hissed, “you dirty, scummy degenerate –
Keep backing away, Claudia!
”

Claudia, who for a moment had popped her startled head out, hastily obeyed and began making her way out to the garden.

“Now run!” I yelled over my shoulder. “Run home and I’ll cover you. I’ll follow later. Now! GO!”

Claudia didn’t wait to argue with a mother in this mood. She took to her heels and scampered off, scared witless, no doubt.

“Mrs McFarllen, are you taking drugs?” enquired Sebastian calmly.

“How
dare
you?” I breathed as I slowly followed my daughter, backing out, but keeping my rake rigid at chest level. “How dare you abduct a poor defenceless child? You’re not just a harmless halfwit like everyone says, you’re a bloody pervert! The lowest of the low! D’you know what happens to people like you in prison? Hmm? Do you? Do you know what your fellow inmates will do to you?”

“Good god,” he muttered. “You need help.”

“Help!” I barked derisively. “Ha! You’re the one who needs help, you little creep, and I’ll see that you get it – in spades! You were seen,” I hissed, curling my lip, “by a decent, upright young couple out walking, seen dragging an innocent child, screaming,
sobbing
, on her knees practically, into
your house
!”

“This is outrageous!” His face clouded and he came towards me.

“NO CLOSER!” I bellowed, swinging the rake so it pointed straight at him. I brandished it at his chest. “No closer or I’ll – ”

THWACKK! As he took another step I jerked the rake up, slamming it under the tray and sending it flying. It performed a neat somersault, and steaming Lapsang Souchong and garibaldis leapt high in the air – then splashed straight down in his face.

“Christ!” he clutched his eyes.

Temporarily blinded, he staggered about a bit, and I took advantage. I flung down the rake, shot one last look at the stumbling, gasping figure with his face in his hands – then fled. Up the immaculate lawn I tore, leaping the flowerbed, through the gate, down the towpath, through our own wrought-iron gate, then back down the garden, through the French windows – and home. I slammed the glass doors shut behind me, shooting bolts across at top and bottom with quivering hands. I spun round.

“Claudia!”

No answer.

“CLAUDIAAA!”

“In here,” came a flat, dead-pan voice.

I flew off in its general direction and found her, sitting with Lance, at the kitchen table. She was still huddled in the dressing gown and drinking orange juice straight from a carton. I dropped to my knees beside her.

“Darling, oh, my poor darling,” I sobbed, hugging her knees. “Are you all right? Shall I call the police?”

“Don’t be ridiculous, Mum. You’ve made a complete and utter pill of yourself,” snapped Claudia, shaking me off. “I’m so embarrassed. He didn’t hurt me at all, he just hauled me out of the river.”

My mouth fell open. I sat back on my heels, then stood up. “Wh-what?”

“My bike hit a rut and I went in headfirst, bumped my head on a rock. He was at an upstairs window and saw what happened. He came out to help me. I was absolutely soaking so he lent me a dressing gown and put my clothes in the tumble dryer.”

“But – they said you were crying,” I gasped. “And being held by him!”

“I
was
crying. I cut my knee, look.” She lifted the dressing gown to show a newly bandaged knee with blood still seeping through. “It hurt like anything, and he wasn’t holding me, he was just helping me ‘cos I was limping so much. I could hardly walk. I’ve never been so embarrassed in all my life, Mum. He was so kind and put a bandage on, and made tea and everything, and then you appear like bloody Boadicea, looking totally insane, screaming and hollering, with blood all over your face and twigs and things coming out of your head, and a
rake
, for God’s sake. You looked like such a spasmo.”

“Oh God.” I sank down on to a chair. “You mean he didn’t – ”

“No, of course he didn’t, and I’m really disgusted by your mind sometimes, Mum. You thought he was showing me his privates, didn’t you?”

“Well I – ”

“I’m going up to change.” She got up and stalked out.

I sat, staring after her for a minute. Then slowly, I leant my elbows on the table, pushed my hands into my hair, clutched my head and groaned.

“Oh Lord!” I whispered. “Oh Lord, Lance, I went berserk. She’s right. I went totally, indescribably, doo-bleeding-lally berserk! I was like a mad woman in there! Called him names, all kinds of terrible – oh Christ –
ghastly
names and – oh God – ” my head shot up and my eyes bulged with horror as I remembered – “I threw hot tea all over him! Scalded him, gave him third-degree burns! He’ll probably have me up for assault!”

“Probably,” Lance agreed calmly, pouring me a cup from the pot he’d just made. “But I’m sure we can get you off with a decent brief and some cock-and-bull story about it being the wrong time of the month and you being emotionally unstable or something. Tends to work. Anyway, the main thing is, Claudia’s back.”

“Yes,” I breathed, leaning back in my chair with relief. “Yes, you’re right, thank God. Helped out of a river by Sebastian.” I raked my hands desperately through my hair again, punishing it. “Oh Lance, I must go back,” I groaned. “I must go straight back – yet again – and apologise, sort things out. Poor, simple, decent, innocent man! I’ve probably scarred him for life!”

“What, with the tea or the insults?”

“Both! Oh, how appalling of me, Lance. Imagine what that could do to a man like that? I must make it up to him somehow. Maybe I could take him and his friends on an outing? To the zoo, or something? Hire a minibus?”

“Olivia, I’m not convinced he’s as – Oh-oh.” He broke off suddenly, glancing out of the window. “Forget the Whipsnade trip, I think you’ll have to go and make your neighbourly peace some other time. Right now you have a visitor.”

I glanced out of the window.

“Johnny!” I breathed, as the old yellow E-type screeched to an emergency halt outside. “Oh God, I’d forgotten about him. I should have rung him on his mobile, told him she was OK! Blimey, he got here in double-quick time; must have driven at a million miles an hour!”

“I’ll make myself scarce,” muttered Lance, getting up and making for the back door.

Johnny’s face when he got out of the car was very pale, his mouth set in a taut line. I jumped up and raced out to meet him. I knew that every moment of thinking she was missing was torture, and that if I ran, I could spare him one or two.

“It’s OK!” I cried as I flung open the front door. “She’s back! She went for a bike ride and fell in the stream, but she’s fine!”

He stopped still at the gate. His face cleared. “Thank God. Oh, Liwy, thank God.” He broke into a run, and as I raced out to meet him, he swept me up in his arms and caught me to him. As he held me tight, my face pressed into his chest, my arms round his warm shoulders, I could feel his heart pounding. I shut my eyes. I wanted to sob. It was like a drop of water to a parched soul.

“Where is she?” he said, releasing me, holding me at arm’s length.

“Upstairs, changing. I’ll tell her you’re here. Oh, Johnny, I’m sorry, I should have rung you on your mobile. You’ve had to come all this way again on a wild-goose chase!”

“Wild-goose chase?” He stared. “Don’t be silly, I’d have wanted to be here anyway. She’s my daughter, Liwy.”

“Yes. Yes, of course,” I nodded meekly, humbled. “Sorry.” I hung my head.

I seemed to be getting it all wrong today, didn’t I? I was all over the place, apparently. We turned to go in, just as, clattering downstairs, in leggings and a pink T-shirt, and framed in the open front doorway, came Claudia. She yelped with delight when she saw Johnny. He ran, and she leapt the last few steps into his arms.

“Hello, pixie,” he muttered into her hair. “I hear you’ve been having huge adventures. Lone bike rides and falling into rapids, very Enid Blyton. You’ll have to let me come with you next time.”

“Daddy,” she pulled back from him, “I’m – I’m sorry about this morning, about not seeing you.” Her voice cracked and it broke my heart. I don’t imagine it did much for Johnny’s, either. He held her gently by her shoulders, gazing at her.

“Don’t be silly, Claudes. That wasn’t your fault, it was mine. Why should you have to choose between me or your friends? You should be able to have both – see me when you get up in the morning and then go out to play with your friends. I’ve done this to you, it’s my fault. I made you choose.”

I found myself nodding boisterously behind him and had to arrest my neck muscles. Steady. Don’t want your head to drop off into the flowerbed, Liwy. All the same, it sounded encouraging, didn’t it? Sounded like he’d seen a degree of light. Perhaps this misadventure of Claudia’s was going to have a little morality tale at the end of it? Be a bit of a catalyst for a happy ending? Encouraged, I followed them inside, but as they made to go into the kitchen, Johnny turned.

“Liwy, d’you mind if I have a quick word with Claudes? I just want to get one or two things straight in her mind.”

I blinked. “Sure! No, gosh, good heavens, you go ahead. You, um, go in there and I’ll – well, I’ll wait in the sitting room.”

They disappeared within and the door closed.

I stared at the white, panelled door. Frowned. What? I wondered. What was it he wanted to get straight in her mind? And what did he want to say that he couldn’t say in front of me? That he’d fallen out of love with Mummy? That he was sorry if it inconvenienced her, but that was what happened to grown-ups sometimes? Their sudden closeness surprised me too. I felt very…well, excluded. More so, I suppose, because it hadn’t always been thus. Claudia had always been very much a mummy’s girl. I vividly remembered a time when she was about three, in London, and Paddy, our beloved tabby cat, died. I’d dreaded telling Claudia, but finally had sat her down and broke the news. Oh dear, what a shame, she’d said, before skipping out to play. I’d been surprised but relieved, but the following morning, had found her sobbing inconsolably in our cleaning lady’s lap, because Vera had said how sad it was about Paddy. “But, darling,” I’d said, dropping to my knees beside her, “I told you yesterday. I told you Paddy was dead!” She’d raised an anguished, tear-stained face. “I thought you said Daddy!” Johnny had roared with laughter when I’d told him, but I’d noticed, thereafter, a tendency to come home from work slightly earlier, to make it through the door at bath-time, to read her a story at bedtime, and I suppose it had worked. At some stage, they’d bonded closely, only for Johnny to test that bond now, some seven years later.

I inched a few steps closer to the door, inclining my head towards it. I could hear muffled voices within, but nothing clearly. Then I went the whole hog and put my ear to it. Johnny said something about loving her just as much as ever, and Claudia said something I couldn’t make out, and then Johnny said in a loud voice, “Liwy, d’you want to come in?”