These days Claire was in a state of perpetual bliss. She felt she was experiencing happiness at last. Terry was a vigorous but tender lover and he told her that she was beautiful, that he was crazy about her, that he had never been happier himself.
She still felt guilty about sleeping with him in his mother’s bed. While his was nothing like so roomy, she felt happier there and the narrow divan was an excuse to cling close together. She was careful to launder Jane’s sheets and neatly make up her bed again, so everything was in order. Although Terry’s room was at the furthest end of the landing from his sisters’ rooms, Claire was tortured by fears that Sheena or Ruthie would surprise them in bed together, and made a point of getting up early each morning and returning to her own room, to be there when Ruthie awoke. Terry felt that Claire was making too much of it, but when he saw how upset she was, he agreed to keep their lovemaking concealed, in so far as they were able, from his sisters. Claire realised very soon, however, that Sheena knew what was going on. Although she never actually put it in words Sheena made it clear that their liaison had her full approval. The only oblique reference Sheena ever made to Claire’s affair with her twin was one as they sat in the kitchen one evening.
‘I always knew Terry was your type rather than Hugh,’ Sheena said apropos of nothing. ‘Hugh was far too sensitive and introspective for his own good. That’s why he did what he did, you know.’
Claire stared at her. Her friend had never once mentioned that grim time in all the years since it happened.
‘I remember when Hero had her pups and you were so matey with Hugh,’ Sheena continued. ‘Terry was always grumbling to me about it. He was as jealous as hell and he couldn’t hide it.’
Claire felt a rush of delight and stored away the information to examine later. She returned to her studies and sat with her head bent, her hair touching the page. She tried to analyse a passage of prose but her mind kept returning to Terry and the night he had returned from Spain and made love to her. He had never once mentioned the fact that she was not a virgin but he must have noticed. It wasn’t as though he were inexperienced, Claire thought. Far from it. She blushed behind the screening curtain of hair at the memory and her flesh tingled and she felt a warm shivery feeling in the pit of her stomach.
Claire had had seen the first signs of the immense power of Terry’s physical attraction for girls in her early teens, when she was away on holidays with the McArdles and observed Susan Deveney waylaying him every chance she got. Later, when Sheena had told her that he’d made Grainne pregnant, Claire had felt relief rather than shock. It made it easier for her to contemplate some day confessing what had burdened her own soul for so long. She wondered if, indeed, she would ever find the courage to tell Terry about Eddie and that dark area of her life.
Since she had experienced an untrammelled and mutual love, Claire clearly saw that Eddie had taken from the near-child she had been what she had hardly understood or valued at the time. But in Terry she had found the mate who matched her soul’s craving. She had experienced with him what she had only read about in books, but what would he think if her knew of her past?
She could never tell him. He would not... could not ...understand even though he had voluntarily revealed the skeletons in his own past. Claire wished there was some way that she could so easily clear her own conscience with a similar confession, but she was not willing to chance it. Her eyes grew sad as she recognised that there could never be a true blending of spirit while anything remained hidden between them.
When they met one evening in town Claire saw at once that Terry was bursting with news. First he insisted on going into St Stephen’s Green and the pair of them sitting down on a bench overlooking the duckpond.
‘Go on,’ Claire prompted urgently, and unable to contain his elation any longer, Terry laughed and told her.
It seemed there was a shortage of trained pilots for the Dauphin helicopter and the Air Corps were offering a brilliant chance for three young pilots to circumvent the normally slow and restrictive regulations and to gain promotion, all in one go.
‘Dinny Monahan is recommending three from our squadron and just guess who one of those lucky pilots will be?’ Terry asked, hugging Claire to him jubilantly.
‘Can’t for the life of me think,’ Claire teased, ‘Could it be you?’ she asked with seeming innocence.
‘None other, Miss Shannon. You see before you a future rotary pilot, soon to be ranked as Flight Lieutenant McArdle.’ He dropped his lofty pose and jumping up, swung her round and round, oblivious of staring onlookers.
Claire laughed breathlessly and shyly tugged him down on to the bench again.
When he got his own breath back he said eagerly. ‘The minute we get our wings we start training on the Gazelle. Dinny says it has the most sophisticated flight instrumentation for fixed wing pilots making the transition to the Dauphin. We went aboard her today and she’s a real neat little job.’
Claire listened with her eyes fixed attentively on his face, trying to share his enthusiasm, but as always when he spoke about flying, she felt distanced from him.
It was the beginning of May and a sudden mild spell was encouraging everyone to behave as though it was already summer. Terry was wearing Bermuda shorts and a denim shirt opened at the throat. Claire had cut off the sleeves of an old poplin blouse and knotted the ends at her waist, showing bare midriff above blue jeans. She glanced down at herself as they wandered back on to the street, regretting the fact she had nothing new and summery to wear.
‘What do you bet this is every bit as hot as Spain,’ Terry said, changing the subject at last.
‘Did you hear yet when you’re going?’
‘Nope. Should know in another few days,’ he grinned. ‘Like to come with me? You could stow away in the hold. I’d smuggle you on board in a hamper.’
Claire looked askance. ‘On a government jet! Think what the penalty would be.’
‘Only kidding.’ Terry protested, intrigued to see she was serious. ‘Little Miss Perfect,’ he teased.
Claire was troubled. ‘Please don’t think so well of me,’ she said. ‘If you only knew I’m not good at all. Quite the opposite.’
‘Oh yeah.’ Terry rumpled her hair fondly. ‘Listen to her! A real baddie-waddie.’ He kept her hand in his as they swung along by the park railings. Since becoming her lover he was more tender, more tolerant, less moody. ‘You would have me believe you’re a real femme fatale - a right little raver without a heart - when I know you to be the most tender-hearted creature alive.’
Claire blushed and looked away.
‘You mightn’t like me quite so well,’ she began, casting a sideways look at him, ‘Not if you knew everything.’
‘Everything! Now that sounds really sinister.’ Terry laughed. ‘Like you had chopped up your mother and hidden her under the bed. Come to think of it I haven’t seen her lately,’ he added thoughtfully.
Claire was forced to smile. ‘Well, maybe nothing quite so drastic,’ she conceded, pinching his hand to get his attention. ‘But years ago when you were all away on holidays...’
‘Go on... really... years ago,’ he intoned melodramatically.
‘No but listen...’ she interrupted him. ‘I... I was in your...’
Claire’s breath quickened.
‘Okay... you were in my... what?’
‘I used play in your garden when you were away on holidays and pretend it was mine.’
‘So - why should that make me like you any less?’
‘I was trespassing. I shouldn’t have been there.’
He laughed.
‘What a funny girl you are. Do you really think any of us would have minded if you had? Must have been years ago. I can’t remember a time when you didn’t come away with us.’
‘I didn’t come the first year.’
‘What a good memory you have.’ He pulled her close to his side. ‘And this was the dread secret. You pretended you were little Claire McArdle playing in her family garden. Disgraceful!’
Her courage had deserted her at the last moment
‘Claire McArdle,’ Terry repeated gently. ‘I like the sound of it. Do you think we’ll get married, Claire? I hope I’ve got the good sense not to let you get away from me.’
Claire was silent. Marriage? The thought filled her with joy and terror. But how could she ever marry him with this obstacle between them? And what if she lost him because of it? It was too painful to contemplate so she tried to make a joke of it.
‘Hey! You’ve just had a lucky escape from Grainne. You surely don’t want to become involved with me.’
Terry frowned. ‘Don’t mention yourself in the same breath as her,’ he said. ‘Anyway, I am involved with you.’
Claire flushed and looked away. She was very quiet as they finished their walk and went into a pub.
A couple of fellows coming out jostled past them. Terry recognised Stephen Rigney whom he hadn’t seen him since they had graduated the previous year. Terry noticed Stephen look at Claire and was outraged when he heard him mutter to his companion words to the effect that Claire might look like butter wouldn’t melt in her mouth but she and her mother were a couple of tarts
‘That chap was just begging for a belt in the gob,’ he growled, putting his arm protectively Claire but she was so deeply enmeshed in her own unhappy thoughts that she did not notice the incident.
As she followed Terry into the pub she was wondering why she hadn’t been able to tell him about the past. If he really cared for her he wouldn’t think any the worse of her. She sat beside Terry, feeling slightly depressed. If only she’d had the courage to speak out, she thought, only half-hearing what he was saying, vaguely aware that he was talking about helicopters and the Air Corps again.
Jane travelled by ambulance to Nerja, arriving late in the evening. When she awoke next morning in the new hospital she had momentary amnesia until she saw Antonio’s carnations on her sidetable. Then it all came back to her.
Hospital Belen was privately owned, small and exclusive, with about eighty patients, most of them recovering from surgery, as well as two or three semi-invalided old ladies with broken brittle bones, who permanently resided in the nursing home wing. Jane would come to know them all in the weeks of her convalescence.
Sarah Lewis, the nurse on duty, brought Jane’s breakfast tray and lingered to chat as Jane drank her juice and nibbled toast. Jane felt an instant rapport with the friendly Yorkshire woman and began telling her all about the accident and about her children too. She was missing them all and felt hungry for conversation.
Jane found herself looking forward more and more to the times when the English nurse came on duty. The other nurses were all Spanish, and although pleasant enough, were too young to have much in common with her. Sarah was in her late fifties.
One morning she came in early with a letter for Jane. ‘Maybe it’s from your son,’ she said. ‘Didn’t you tell me he’ll be coming to see you soon?’
Jane nodded wistfully. ‘I’m almost afraid to hope in case it doesn’t happen. This is an invitation to his Wings.’ Jane sighed. ‘I was really looking forward to being there.’
‘Aye, that’s a shame,’ Sarah agreed. ‘Oh now I can tell he’s the apple of his mother’s eye.’ She laughed comfortably. ‘And a good looking young scamp too, I’ll be bound.’
Jane smiled and nodded, thinking of Terry’s darkly handsome looks. ‘You should see him in uniform. He’s very dashing altogether. I intended taking photographs at the ceremony, but I’m afraid he’ll never think of it himself. Pity,’ Jane shrugged. ‘It would have been nice.’
‘Can’t he dress up again and have his picture taken?’ Sarah suggested.
‘Of course,’ Jane agreed. ‘Anyway Sheena loves being photographed and might even remember.’
‘Well, there you are,’ Sarah said. ‘You can be sure she won’t forget. Twins are very close. And the younger girl. Who does she take after?’
‘Ruthie isn’t really like either one of them,’ Jane told her. ‘She’s more like another of my children ... Hugh died when he was eleven.’ She fell silent, knowing she was talking too much but she was really missing her children and talking about them helped to ease her loneliness.
Sarah asked no more questions and tactfully withdrew. But she was back five minutes later with some yellow blooms she had gathered from the garden and a cup of Earl Grey tea to cheer Jane.
‘There now! There’s nothing to compare with a drop of our own.’
She was really a dote, Jane thought. She’d be lost without her.
A few more days and Jane was allowed out to sit in the garden behind the hospital. She took a book with her and wandered down the path, enjoying the feel of the sun on her skin after so long indoors, and the sight of the brightly massed flowerbeds. How lovely to be up and about again. It felt good to be on the mend at last.
Jane was sitting with her face uplifted to the sun, when a little way off came the sound of voices. She glanced towards the hospital building and saw, with a sense of shock, Fernando coming towards her pushing his mother before him in her wheelchair.
‘Dr McArdle!’ Elena’s sweet low-pitched voice was barely audible against the tree-top chatter of birds in the drowsy afternoon sunshine. ‘I was sorry to hear of your accident. I hope you are making a good recovery.’
Jane forced herself to smile. ‘Yes, thank you. I’m much better now.’ If Elena had come of her own accord, was it merely a good Samaritan act or was there a deeper reason?
‘It is good to see you out in the air,’ Fernando said warmly. ‘Now you will get well very quickly.’
‘Nothing like sun and air to effect an instant cure,’ Jane lightly agreed.
Fernando smiled. Jane thought how like his mother he was, with his fair colouring and gentle manner. Elena said nothing, but whenever she met Jane’s eyes she smiled wanly. They seemed interested in what Jane was saying but didn’t say anything themselves, so she kept talking. She spoke about the accident and her children. How she didn’t really worry too much because she trusted them. How responsible Claire was and what a loyal friend. This for Fernando’s benefit. She felt he was listening for the sound of Claire’s name and his expression did indeed lighten at the sound of it.
‘She... Claire... will be visiting you soon?’ he asked.
Jane shook her head. ‘I expect it will be the end of June before Claire and my girls come to Spain.’ Jane glanced at Elena and said, ‘I hope that I’ll be gone home long before then.’
‘I am quite certain of it,’ Elena said quietly. ‘Broken ribs are painful but heal quickly I am told.’
‘Very true.’ Jane was aware of the complication of her punctured lung but she did not wish to speak of her health to Elena, who looked even frailer than when Jane had last seen her. ane wondered again what her illness might be. The Spanish woman had difficulty raising her right arm and her left hand lay useless in her lap. Hardly from a stroke. She would not be so wasted. More like a muscular dystrophy or motorneurone disease, Jane decided pityingly, and was aware of Fernando standing up.
‘We must go,’ he said. ‘My mother tires easily these days.’
‘Of course.’ Jane stood up too and extended her hand to Elena. ‘Thank you for coming, Señora. It was most kind of you.’ She looked curiously into the other woman’s eyes and only compassion in their dark depths.
‘De nada, Señora,’ Elena said gently. ‘If there is anything you need or anything we can do for you....’
‘Thank you,’ Jane said again. Elena glanced up at her son and at once he turned the wheelchair back on to the path.
‘I will come to see you again very soon,’ Fernando promised Jane.
Jane watched them until they were out of sight then sank down trembling on the bench. Antonio’s wife had visited her out of common humanity, no other reason. Jane had divined in Elena’s compassionate glance one woman’s support of another in a strange land. She was touched and, at the same time, ashamed when she thought of her overwhelming desire for Antonio.
On the day of his Wings Terry called for the girls early and they drove down to Baldonnel in plenty of time for the ceremony. They were all looking forward to it, especially Claire, who felt as though she would burst with pride and excitement.
Sheena had described the style at the last parade as stunning - all floppy hats and designer suits - and Claire realised with dismay that there was no way could she appear in such company in jeans and sweater. For once Annette had risen to the occasion when Claire steeled herself to ask for new clothes. On returning home from shopping with Annette, Claire tried on the new outfit and raptly twirled the silky pleated skirt between her fingers as she stood before the mirror.
Her mother stood watching her. ‘Happy now?’ she asked.
‘Oh yes. Thanks, Mummy.’ Claire was moved to hug her.
‘Oh you really must be happy,’ Annette said with sarcastic inflection, then softened it with, ‘My little girl is well and truly grown up. You look very nice, darling.’ Just before Claire went back across the street she saw tears in her mother’s eyes and was surprised.
Claire dressed herself and turned around to help Ruthie. The trouble was, the little girl had grown so much over the year that everything she owned was way above her knees. Claire was almost in despair until Sheena rummaged in her closet and brought out a pretty rose-coloured gingham skirt, edged with broderie anglaise and an embroidered peasant blouse with a scooped neck, both long outgrown but kept out of fondness. When te girls ripped off the broderie anglaise, the length of the skirt was just right. The delicate pink suited Ruthie’s fair complexion and the mid-calf skirt made her look more like a teenager than a child turned ten. Ruthie jumped up and down with delight at her changed appearance.
The excitement remained with them as they piled into the car and drove down the country. Claire did not quite know what to expect from the day. Sheena and Ruthie had tried to describe it to her, but the reality far surpassed Claire’s expectations. It was colourful and moving and a lot more besides.
Claire felt a constriction in her throat as Terry marched past, arms swinging, cap dead straight over his eyes. He’s mine, she thought with a jealous shiver as she heard girls nearby speaking admiringly about him. He’s so terribly attractive, was her next despairing thought. How could he possibly love her? The old conviction that she wasn’t worthy to be loved, and which had dogged her for years, returned now to dent her happiness.
Sheena’s saying, ‘All the girls are swooning over Terry. Better watch out they don’t try and swipe him, Claire,’ it did nothing to boost her confidence. Sheena herself was in a state of high excitement over some cadet marching alongside her twin.
Captain Monahan strolled over to join them and was introduced to the girls. He was ruddy complexioned man with a big beaky nose. Dinny shook Claire’s hand and smiled into her eyes.
‘You look like a nice normal young woman,’ he said in a wondering voice. ‘Now how in the name of Albert Reynolds did you ever become involved with this fellah here?’
‘Looks can be deceptive,’ Claire smiled back at him, liking him at once.
‘Hey, Dinny,’ Terry said with a wink at them all. ‘How many kegs of Guinness have you lined up for us then?’
Dinny scratched his nose and drawled. ‘Guinness is for men, Cadet McArdle. Didn’t you know?’
Terry grinned. ‘Only know it’s bloody good for you, Skipper.’
Dinny laughed and turned courteously to Claire. ‘A pleasure meeting you, Miss Shannon. Don’t let this lot corrupt you now.’
‘I’ll try,’ Claire promised, and he walked away to join another group.
‘Pity Mum isn’t here,’ Terry said suddenly. ‘And Con.’ His expression grew broody and sad. Claire reached for his hand and felt the tension in his clenched knuckles. Suddenly he pulled her fiercely against him and nuzzled her ear. ‘But you’re here,’ he whispered. ‘That’s the important thing.’
In Hospital Belen, whenever her eyes rested on the gilt-edged card from the Air Corps, Jane rejoiced in the thought that in just another two days Terry would be arriving in Spain. So gradually over the months had he graduated from a beloved, if irresponsible, teenager to a manly son, whose company she enjoyed and whose judgement she valued and trusted, that she had hardly been aware of the transition. It had taken her accident and the long weeks of separation from her family to bring home to her just how much she had come to depend upon him.
As she lay there, her thoughts drifted back to the conversation they had been having at the time of the accident and her own appalled reaction on realising how deeply infatuated he was with Claire. Since his early teens she had seen him too many times in this ambivalent state over some girl or other to call it love. Since Grainne there just wasn’t time for it to have developed into anything more serious with Claire.
Jane had a mother’s natural reluctance for her only son to become romantically involved too early in his career. Nineteen was ridiculously young. She also hated the thought of Claire perhaps falling for Terry and then being cast off when he grew tired of her, for Jane believed this to be inevitable. Not for a moment did she think her restless, spirited son could remain constant to one woman for long. Terry always got their devotion too easily to value it.
Jane believed that Terry needed time to wear off some of the raw impetuosity of youth before he would be mature enough to take on the responsibility of answering for another’s happiness. She was not aware of any contradiction in relegating him once more to adolescence when only moments earlier she had elevated him to manhood in her thoughts. Very likely the whole thing was just a teenage crush, she assured herself, and would die as quickly as it had flared.
Nothing she could do about the situation until she returned home, she told herself. Then she would have a chat with Claire and see if she was as deeply committed to Terry as he appeared to be to her.
Jane was so deeply taken up with her thoughts that she did not register the gentle tap on the door until it was repeated.
‘Come in,’ she called, resenting the intrusion.
The door cautiously inched open and Antonio looked round it with an expectant smile. Jane’s displeasure gave way at once to intense delight at the sight of him. ‘Y...you,’ she stammered in her surprise. ‘I thought it was the nurse coming to take my temperature.’
Antonio drew a chair close to the bed. ‘I am very sorry to disappoint you, Dr McArdle,’ he said with a droll shake of his head. ‘The best I can do is inspect your tongue.’ He pretended to look at it very seriously and Jane giggled. She was amazed at herself. She hadn’t giggled in years. Antonio seemed unsurprised at the girlish sound, His answering chuckle made her feel wickedly light-hearted and young again.
‘I see that our patient is a good deal better,’ Antonio pronounced. ‘Though I think in a somewhat melancholy mood when I arrived.’ His eyes strayed to the invitation card. ‘Ah, el piloto!’ He looked at Jane with sudden realisation. ‘Today he is being decorated and you are naturally downhearted to be so far away.’
‘Just a little,’ Jane said.
‘He is coming soon?’
‘Monday.’
‘Ah, that will bring back the smiles to your heart. See, you are smiling already.’ Antonio beamed himself.
Jane couldn’t tell him that she was smiling at his English and felt another urge to giggle. She repressed it and said, ‘I suppose I was feeling a little sad but then I have only one son and I miss him quite a bit since he joined the Air Corps.’
‘Understandably,’ Antonio agreed. ‘Now I have three sons but no daughter. When I see your little girl I wish it had been otherwise.’
Jane nodded in sympathy. Suddenly she wanted to tell him about Hugh and how he had been such a lovely boy, sensitive and affectionate.
‘I did have another son...but he died tragically when he was eleven years old.’ Seeing Antonio’s sympathetic glance she added with a gulp, ‘By his own hand. ‘Querida,’ he murmured sincerely. ‘I am so very sorry.’ His hands reached for hers and held them comfortingly in his strong grasp. ‘To lose a beloved child is the most tragic of all afflictions... and in the way you describe even more so. We have had our share of sorrow Elena and I. Many years ago we lost a little one when he was only a few months old.’
Jane looked at him dumbly, the mention of his wife bringing back to her the impropriety of being alone with him and the danger of heightened emotions. Still, she could not move or take her hands away.
‘Elena is a brave and uncomplaining woman,’ Antonio went on softly. ‘I love and respect her and wish to make her days happier, but I wish-’ he broke off and stooped his head to kiss Jane’s hands passionately.
Jane looked down on his bent head and her own heart was full of yearning. By a great effort of will she remained silent but inwardly she was answering him just as fervently. Yes, my darling, I wish it too with all my heart. When he raised his head and met her gaze her tender thoughts showed plainly on her face as if she had spoken them and he groaned softly in his throat and abruptly released her hands. She had only time to register her deep sense of loss before he had taken her fiercely, almost roughly in his arms, and pressed his mouth on hers with the anger and desperation of an honourable man who is no longer able to resist the temptation of his over-riding desire. She held him just as fiercely and, as if under a similar compulsion beyond her control, her mouth was soft and yielding beneath his.
He released her at last and got to his feet. He stood looking gravely down at her. ‘What had to happen has happened,’ he said with quiet finality, and she heard him without contradiction. ‘Te quiero mucho, mi querida Jane.’
‘Toni,’ she whispered her old name for him and all her heart was in the look she gave him. His face was swept by a smile at this reminder of the past and with a last murmured endearment he went away and left her with her joy and guilt and with the small consolation that she had not sought or anticipated any of it, merely accepted what was inevitable.
When Claire and Terry reached home around midnight, having wound up the Wings celebration dancing in the Grey Lizard, they both agreed it had been a wonderful day but all they wanted now was to get into bed and relax.
The evening had been marred by a small incident. As they were making their goodbyes and about to head off, Terry had noticed Stephen Rigney in a group of young men coming in the door of the club. Who did Rigney think he was, casting aspersions on Claire because of some rumour circulating years ago? Well, just let him try it again and he’d be chewing on his teeth. Terry turned to face him.
‘Hey, McArdle. You’re everywhere these days like a bad smell,’ Stephen said offensively, his eyes flickering to the emblem on Terry’s lapel. ‘See you’ve taken to wearing jewellery like a bloody poof.’
For a moment Terry failed to get his meaning, then his fist shot out and connected with Stephen’s jaw. Women screamed and tables overturned as the two men went crashing across the small space. A group of cadets surged to join the fight and the bouncer appeared almost as quick and proceeded to drag Terry off Stephen. Within minutes they had all found themselves out on the road and, with a last muttered insult, Stephen and his gang drifted away.
Later, as they lay close together, spent and relaxed in the aftermath of lovemaking, Claire thought to ask, ‘What started the fight?’
‘Didn’t like the look of his ugly mug.’ Terry looked so serious, almost brooding, that despite his facetious answer Claire felt uneasy. She suddenly remembered that Stephen Rigney was the elder brother of Mark, the boy who had made Hugh’s life a misery at school. She felt a sudden return of her earlier disquiet.
‘Clairey...’ Terry said slowly. ‘You know I’ve never asked you anything about guys you knew before me. I mean I know I’m not the first man you made love to...’
Claire stiffened in the crook of his arm. She didn’t feel surprised, only a very tired feeling as though she had been travelling for ages along the same dusty highway hoping to reach home and had finally arrived to find her house deserted and the door barred against her.
‘No more than you were my first girl,’ Terry continued slowly. ‘I haven’t exactly been an angel myself. I’ve told you all about Grainne - anything else was just kid stuff - so you know it all while I...’ He sat up higher in the narrow bed, bunching the pillow behind his head and watched her face expectantly.
‘What do you want to know?’ Claire asked tonelessly.
‘Well... not his name or anything, just what he meant to you and when it was. Stuff like that.’ He reached for her hand. ‘I suppose it was since you went to college... was that when it happened?’
‘No.’
He gently stroked her face. ‘Tell Terry all about it. You know we agreed on no secrets.’
Had they?
‘C’mon, Clairey,’ he prompted. ‘I’ve bared my soul; now it’s your turn.’
What had sparked this off? Claire wondered wearily. ‘Okay,’ she said, accepting the inevitable. ‘If you really want to know it was while I was still at school.’
Terry went very still.
‘Look,’ she said almost angrily, ‘He was an older guy... a lot older. I thought I loved him. Can we leave it at that?’
Terry got out of the bed and went naked to the window. He stood for a long while staring out. Claire sat hunched forward, watching him.
‘You loved him?’
‘At the time I thought I did.’
He turned suddenly and came back to her, and she saw that he was aroused. He caught her fiercely to him and kissed her lips with bruising force, all his possessive jealousy in the kiss, and his hand fondled the nape of her neck and pushed caressingly upwards through the warm weight of her hair.
‘Claire... Oh Claire.’ His voice was like a caress, and at the sound she melted against him. He pushed her back down on the bed and covered her naked body with wild kisses as though he wanted to reclaim every inch of skin and make it all his own again. And when he took her he did so quickly, almost roughly, as if no other way could satisfy his aching need of her.
Terry lay awake long after Claire had fallen asleep, her head on his chest, her arm trustingly curved about him. His thoughts kept returning to the little she had told him. An older man, she’d said. To a school-girl anyone over twenty would seem old. It had to be one of the various men lodging in Claire’s house over the years, he thought. How else could it have happened? He grimaced, hating the thought of her losing her virginity in this way. In reality he hated her losing it to anyone but himself.
Two days later Terry flew out to Spain on a government jet. The captain, a friend of Dinny Monahan’s, had agreed to take on Terry as a supernumerary member of the crew. His first words to Terry were: ‘Keep your effing carcass out of my way like a good chap and we’ll get along like sweethearts.’
Terry grinned and nodded, a bit disappointed. He had seen himself in the right hand seat, if only for part of the journey. At least the co-pilot was friendly.
‘Relax and enjoy the trip,’ he told Terry cheerily, tossing him a newspaper. ‘The old man’s bite is worse than his bark but he’s already had his lump of flesh today. Some poor sod had the temerity to fill in the Simplex crossword and got his balls torn off. Depend upon it, the skipper will be all sunshine from now on.’
Terry grinned and put away the paper to read later, enjoying the familiar feeling as they roared powerfully down the runway and lifted smoothly into the air. They climbed rapidly and soon emerged above cloud, levelling out at 30,000 ft.
Terry sat back as the co-pilot advised and enjoyed the trip. The hostess came in with coffee and he eyed her appreciatively. Claire came unbidden to his mind. Usually he liked thinking about her, but his pleasure was marred by the constraint between them since the night of the Wings. He had rung her from the barracks the next night, having first rung Spain and learned from Antonio that Jane was making good progress and hoped to be discharged from hospital in another week, and Claire had promised to tell the others. They had said little else to each other, and Terry had put down the phone feeling depressed. He knew he shouldn’t have tried to delve into her past. He blamed Stephen Rigney and his sly insinuations. What did he care if Claire had been loved by another man. He had distributed his own favours to plenty of girls before her. Terry scowled and shifted in his seat, thinking he had been a right knucklehead. He would have been much better off not knowing.
‘Hey back there,’ the captain swivelled in his seat and lifted his earphones on his balding head to bellow back. ‘Want to sit in while I go aft and spread a bit of cheer amongst the diplomatic corps?’
‘Sure.’ Terry eagerly unclipped his harness and waited politely as the man struggled out of his seat and reached for his braided cap.
The co-pilot looked up as Terry jauntily took up position beside him and donned headphones. ‘Don’t get too comfy,’ he laughingly warned. ‘The old man soon tires of licking assholes. You’ve got about nine... ten minutes at the most.’
Terry settled down to get the feel of the vast panel of instruments. With any luck, he thought, the old man might trip in the aisle and break a leg!
Terry followed a dark-haired nurse through the hospital corridors and thanked her absently as he stepped out again into the sunshine.
Jane was sitting on a bench in the sun and as Terry drew near he saw she was not alone. Her companion was Antonio Gonzalez and from the way the man was leaning close to her they were obviously having a very serious conversation.
As Terry approached it seemed to him they moved hastily, almost guiltily apart. Was it his imagination or were they holding hands? Jane got up with rosy cheeks and came slowly to meet him.
‘Terry!’ She put her arms about him and kissed him on both cheeks, then turned to Antonio. ‘Isn’t he smart in his uniform?’ She caught sight of her son’s new wings and gave a little crow of delight. ‘Congratulations, my dear.’ In her affection and excitement at seeing him she gave him another fond hug. Terry laughed and urged her to sit down.
‘Please don’t tire yourself, Mum.’ He put his arm about her and guided her back to the seat where Antonio sat watching them with a smile. As Jane sank down, breathless and smiling, Antonio got to his feet.
‘I will leave you together,’ he said considerately. ‘Until later, Jane.’ He smiled at her, then nodded at Terry and walked away down the path. Jane watched him go with a thoughtful, smiling look.
Jane! Those two have got very matey, Terry thought. He saw the expression on his mother’s face and how she started in surprise when he spoke to her, as if she had already forgotten his presence. And then it dawned on him. Those two are in love. Antonio Gonzalez is the man Mum knew all those years ago... the one she said she was in love with before she met Dad. No wonder he was so upset when he heard about the accident,’ Terry told himself. ‘It’s because he cares... Gosh! Why didn’t I see it before?’
Then he forgot all of it in the pleasure of telling Jane about the Wings Parade and everything that had happened to him since he had left her that night in Motril. Well, not quite everything. He did not tell her about himself and Claire. Some things were better kept hidden, Terry decided, even from one as broad-minded as his mother.
‘How long have you got, Ter?’ Jane asked, her eyes glowing and her face flushed with the excitement of having him with her again. ‘You can have no idea of how much I’ve looked forward to your coming. I’ve missed you all terribly.’
‘We’ve missed you too, Mum,’ Terry said huskily. ‘The girls have been really great and old Dinny was decent about giving me overnight passes so I could get home often and see they were all right.’
‘And Ruthie?’ Jane asked anxiously.
Terry quickly set her mind at rest. All too soon the time ran out and he got up to go. He had to be back in Malaga for nine o’clock take-off.
‘Could you call into the apartment on your way?’ Jane asked him. ‘I intend spending a few days there when I leave hospital.’
‘Sure.’ Terry calculated he would just have time to make himself a cup of coffee before heading for the airport.
‘Terry...’ Jane looked at her son uncertainly. ‘There’s something bothering me....’
Terry, wondering if she was going to speak about Antonio and herself, felt suddenly embarrassed and hoped frantically she wouldn’t say any more.
‘You may remember what we were discussing just before the accident happened,’ Jane began.
‘Yes, Mum,’ Terry said reluctantly.
‘Something you said at the time rather surprised me. Something I thought no-one but myself and Claire knew anything about.’
‘You mean about Dad and her mother?’ Terry hazarded.
Jane nodded, not meeting his eyes. ‘Well... as I said at the time there’s a lot more to it than you imagine.’
Terry felt a sudden urge to go now before he heard anything unpleasant.
‘If you are fond of Claire... as I think you are,’ Jane continued slowly, ‘you should go very gently with her. She has been hurt badly in the past and I would hate if she were to suffer any more because of us.’
‘Us?’
Jane chose her words carefully. ‘I mean if you were to treat her casually in view of... Well, no matter.’ Jane stopped short and looked uncomfortable.
Terry thought he knew what his mother meant. ‘You mean the older man she was involved with while she was still at school... she told me all about it.’
Jane looked concerned. ‘She told you?’
‘Yes,’ Terry said. ‘Only recently. I suppose in a way I forced her .. something was said... well, anyway I wanted to clear the air.’
‘Did she tell you everything?’ Jane looked startled.
‘I think so... she didn’t go into detail but I know she got sort of led into it and was too young to know better.’
Jane was amazed and relieved he was taking it all so calmly. ‘And you don’t think any the worse of him?’ she asked, wanting to make quite sure. ‘I mean he did something that was a criminal offence in view of her extreme youth.’
Terry was all at sea. Why should he care about the man? Suddenly all the careful questioning sank in and with a feeling of horror he realised who the older man who had abused Claire had been as certainly as if his mother had come straight out and named him. A wave of nausea hit Terry and he felt his brain darken and grow dizzy.
‘Are you all right?’ Jane put her hand on his neck and pushed his head down between his knees. After a moment Terry sat up shakily and pushed her off.
‘For God’s sake, Mum,’ he said in a strangled voice. ‘You can’t mean who I think you do.’
The colour ebbed from Jane’s face leaving it pale and sickly. ‘You said she told you,’ she whispered.
‘Not his name,’ Terry said weakly, her aghast expression confirming his worst suspicions.
Jane began to cry quietly, making no sound. ‘Oh what have I done,’ she said brokenly. ‘I would never have - I thought you knew. Oh the poor child. I wouldn’t have betrayed for her for world.’
‘Mum!’ Terry cried agonised, ‘Why didn’t you stop him? How could you let him,,,’
‘I didn’t know anything until she became... pregnant.’ Jane breathed the word so low that Terry had to strain his ears to catch it. He stared deeply shocked at his mother. Oh God! He couldn’t take any more in. It was like a nightmare. He got up and looked at her despairingly.
‘I’ve got to go or I’ll miss my flight.’
She reached her arms to embrace him but he brushed past her and rushed away down the path without looking back at her, Jane sank down weeping on the bench and her shuddering sobs tore painfully at her newly healed ribs. Antonio was appalled to find her in this state when he came moments later into the garden.
Terry climbed the hill behind the apartment, his breath coming in jerky gasps. He had walked at top speed back from the hospital and stopped only briefly at the apartment before going out again and climbing to the promontory overlooking the sea. He was breathing hard when he got to the summit.
He threw himself down on the grassy knoll and stared down at the waves licking the rocks below, his thoughts thundering in his head. He was aware of a searing pain over one eye. All the events of his childhood, every family holiday appeared in a different guise in searchlight of this terrible new revelation. Seemingly innocent gestures took on hideous connotations and half-remembered phrases and scraps of overheard conversations became impregnated with new sinister meaning.
Terry rolled on to his stomach and buried his burning face in the cool grass. Now the meaning of Hugh’s suicide became clear. A seemingly demented deed was a carefully carried out execution. With new respect for his dead brother, he saluted his unflinching courage. Poor Hugh. He had loved Claire too and defended her in the only way he could.
Terry rested his head on his arm and gave way to his grief. He cried for a long time: for his brother, his father and himself, and although he did not quite realise it, for lost innocence. When he finally shuddered to a stop it had grown late and the light had faded in the sky. Down below shadowy figures dragged a boat high on the sand.
Terry got to his feet, brushed grass from his uniform and, conscious of the passing time, made his way quickly down the hillside. Across the street from the apartment block was a line of taxis. He approached the first one in the rank bearing the sign ‘libre’ and climbed into the back.
‘El aeropuerto, por favor...rápido!’
As they careered along, Terry, his face strained and white, felt as though he had aged by one hundred years in the space of a single afternoon.
It was three days before Terry got an overnight pass and went home. They were, without a doubt, three of the grimmest days and nights he had ever spent. Not even the grief and horror of Con’s death had had the devastating effect of his mother’s revelation.
‘Off gallivanting again,’ Dinny said good-humouredly as he signed Terry’s pass. ‘Isn’t it great to be young, I suppose it wouldn’t have anything to do with that charming young lady you introduced to me last week?’
Terry forced himself to return Dinny’s roguish grin but any mention of Claire these days was like acid on an open wound. As he drove towards the city his thoughts were gloomy. He longed to have it out with Claire and, at the same time, felt terribly afraid. What could she tell him that would ease the sick ache of disillusion? As the miles fell away under his wheels his spirits sank even lower and he was tempted to go back to the barracks and continue to uselessly sweat it out. Yet he had to hear it from her own lips.
Sheena and Ruthie were delighted to see him. They urged him to tell them everything about his trip but Terry could only think of Jane’s face when she had revealed what she knew about Claire and his father, and he returned sparse answers to their questions.
‘You are in a mood,’ Sheena said at last. ‘Claire is at a lecture and won’t be home until late.’
‘Didn’t you hear what I said?’ she demanded, a moment later. ‘Claire’s not here.’
‘Okay, so you’ve told me,’ Terry went to turn on the television.
Sheena stared after him. ‘Have you two quarrelled?’ she asked curiously.
Terry said nothing, just sat frowning and grimly flicking through the channels.
‘Honestly, Terry. I sometimes wonder about you,’ Sheena exploded. ‘Claire could get anyone and here she is hanging about every night waiting for you, and when you do show you don’t even want to know where she is.’
‘So she’s eager to see you,’ an unpleasant inner voice said. ‘Going to get a hell of a shock then, isn’t she?’
He was standing in his mother’s surgery looking out the window, long before he saw her turning in the gate. Then he went out to the hall with a grim expression and waited for her.
The key turned in the lock and Claire hurried in, her face glowing. ‘Terry! Terry!’ she cried. ‘I saw the car. Oh if only I’d known! To think I’ve wasted the whole evening at a stupid old lecture.’
She dropped her books on the floor and ran to him laughing, but he held her off. She faltered and hung back.
‘Let’s go upstairs where we can be private.’ In silence, Terry led the way up to his room. But although the questions which had been troubling him since his return still remained to be answered he found that as soon as he was alone with Claire and the door closed behind them, he could only stare dumbly at her, not knowing where to begin.
‘What is it, Terry?’ Claire whispered, frightened by his silence.
‘The older man,’ Terry said, without preamble. ‘Who was he?’
Claire trembled. During the week she had gone over their last conversation many times in her head and only wished she had been braver and more honest with him, yet she still attempted to stave off the moment.
‘You said you wouldn’t ask his name,’ she said forlornly.
‘I need to be sure.’
He knew. Somehow he knew. Her heart felt like a piece of heavy lead. ‘How can you be so cruel as to ask,’ she cried pitifully, ‘when you already know the answer.’
‘So it’s true.’ Terry gripped her arms and shook her. ‘You and my father...Oh but it’s sick, really sick. A man more than three times your age.’ Terry looked pretty sick himself.
‘I... I was only thirteen,’ Claire gabbled. ‘I didn’t know what I was doing,’
‘Go on,’ he grimly prompted.
‘In the beginning I was drawn to him,’ Claire admitted with painful honesty. ‘I couldn’t seem to help myself. It was a kind of hero worship. I hung about hoping he’d notice me and when he did it quickly became physical. Later when I tried to get free of him he always came after me.’ She swallowed with difficulty and continued bleakly, ‘Maybe if I’d been older I might have had some defence against him but I was lonely and he was nice to me.’
Terry seemed to be gathering himself for some great effort. ‘Are you saying you did with him what we do together?’ He spoke slowly and painfully, ‘Not just let him kiss and fondle you... but the whole shebang?’
Claire nodded miserably. He had moved as far away from her as was possible in the small bed.
‘How could you, Claire?’’ Terry said in a dazed voice. Disgust and horror blended in equal proportions. Claire began to tremble. How could she have thought he would ever accept it in the same light as his confession about Grainne.
‘How long?’ he asked harshly. ‘How long did it go on for?’
‘Almost a year,’ Claire whispered.
‘How did it end?’ His voice shook. She could almost feel sorry for him if she did not already feel so desperately sorry for herself.
‘I became ill...’ her voice tailed away. This was something that she had not allowed enter into her mind until now.
‘You didn’t have a baby... you couldn’t have. You were never away in those years except you came away with us.’
So he knew about that too. ‘I was... I had...’ She couldn’t say the word but she saw from his face that he was appalled.
‘Oh God!’ Terry buried his face in his arm and groaned aloud. When he raised his head and looked at her she saw despair there and something else she was convinced was contempt. She put out a hand and touched his face gently, moved close to take him in her arms.
‘Try and forget,’ Claire pleaded. ‘What’s past is done with. Make love to me. I’ve missed you so.’
Terry allowed her to hold him and even kissed her a few times, but when he tried to make love to her, he couldn’t. ‘It’s no good.’ He turned miserably away from her. ‘I can’t do it.’ He removed the condom nd flung it from him in disgust.
‘Do it without the condom,’ she begged. She felt desperate to have him love her with his body, racked by a terrible dread that otherwise he would never do so again. She couldn’t explain to him how she felt or her certainty that she would never get pregnant. That the things done to her had left her sterile.
‘No,’ he said shortly. Not since that first unguarded night had he done it unprotected. ‘It’s too dangerous.’ He looked down at her moodily. ‘Anyway that’s not it... My own father,’ he said, unable to let it alone. ‘For God’s sake, Claire, why didn’t you tell me yourself instead of letting me hear it the way I did.’
‘You told me you didn’t need to know his name,’ she reminded him brokenly. Only one person could have told him. She was shocked to think that all along Jane had known about herself and Eddie. Oh but how could she have betrayed me? Claire thought in anguish, remembering all the older woman’s protestations of affection.
‘I thought it was some guy in his twenties,’ Terry said sullenly, ‘some crud that didn’t matter... that I needn’t...’
Claire pulled herself away from his side, shaken the shock of sudden revelation.
‘You’re jealous of him. Jealous of your own father,’ she cried. ‘You don’t love me at all. You are just using all this as an excuse not to make love to me... to make me feel guilty.’ Her voice broke on a sob. ‘Oh...I never want to see you again.’ She had turned and run from the room before he realised her intention. He heard the muffled sound of her bare feet thudding on the carpet and the sharp click of her bedroom door closing after her.
Terry lifted his hand and rubbed it slowly across his eyes. It was true. He was jealous of his father, jealous as hell. Jealous of a corpse, he thought bitterly. He sat down on the edge of the bed and dressed himself with careful concentration, shoved a change of underwear and socks into his kitbag, and went downstairs and let himself quietly out of the house.
When the headlamps of the Rover swept the front wall of the house, he thought he glimpsed a pale blur at the upper window. Then he was scorching down the road in the direction of Baldonnel.
Claire turned from the window with a stricken look. He was gone. He hadn’t even waited until morning to try and make things right with her. She climbed blindly into bed beside Ruthie and her eyes brimmed and overflowed in hot sorrow. It was the first time that she and Terry had slept apart since they had become lovers and she felt as bereft as any widow after a lifetime of sharing.
She got out of the bed again and, shaking with suppressed grief, crept along the landing to Terry’s room. She gently closed over the door and slipped between the still warm sheets. With the scent of him all about her, her control finally broke and she let her sorrow take her and carry her. She lay half-buried beneath his pillow and sobbed with such terrible abandon.