Come Away With Me. Sara MacDonald

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      ‘We all thought of you as part of the family. Families stick together. You should have had faith. You should have known we would never abandon you. Bea could have made you feel so differently about yourself, about everything.’

      Ruth smiled. ‘Dear Jenny. You talk from the inside of a loving family. I hovered on the outside. I could pretend I was part of your family. I could even have my own bed in your house. But I always knew I had to go home eventually. I knew there were rules even in your household and I had broken one of them. We’re talking about quite a long time ago and we were convent girls in a small community. Getting pregnant was still a middle-class taboo. Something that happened to fourteen-year-olds up on the Trelevea estate.’

      I was silent. Hindsight was blessed. Ruth was right. Did I really know what Bea and James would have felt and done? They had no right to interfere. Ruth spent more time with us than she did at home, but it didn’t give Bea any say in what Ruth’s parents decided for her. Bea would almost certainly have been told to take a running jump.

      ‘You should have run back to us as soon as you got to Arran.’

      Ruth laughed. ‘I probably would have done if my aunt had not welcomed me with open arms. In the end it was a happy outcome. She gave me so much. There was never a question of not keeping my child.’

      I avoided her eyes. ‘What about Adam’s father? Did I know him?’

      ‘No, you didn’t know him. He was visiting Cornwall with friends. I met him just that once at the party. It was one of those mistakes that change your life. I had too much to drink…’

      ‘What made you drink that night?’ I asked. ‘You never drank. I can’t ever remember you having a drink.’

      Ruth fiddled with her wedding ring. ‘I don’t know. I was stupid. I think I wanted to seem older and sophisticated. He was so different from the boys we knew. He didn’t treat me like an adolescent. He talked to me as if I were interesting, and he danced with me as if I were…’

      She looked at me. ‘I couldn’t leave him alone. I can’t describe how stunning he was. It felt so great that he was taking any notice of me because he was quite a bit older. I led him on. I virtually threw myself at him. I don’t suppose he realised I was only seventeen.’ She paused and said dreamily, ‘It’s so amazing, don’t you think, that one quick, wonderful fuck after too many glasses of wine produces a child you have for ever; a person who means more to you than life itself?’

       And a whole happy marriage can leave you with no child at all.

      But Ruth was not looking at me. She was gazing out of the window. She was talking to herself.

      My hands trembled. ‘What happened to the man?’ I asked. ‘Did he ever know?’

      ‘I’ve no idea what happened to him. He never knew I got pregnant. I refused to tell my parents anything about him; that’s why they were so furious. I didn’t see the point of ruining two lives. The boy was at university. He was just starting his career. A month later I don’t suppose he even remembered my name or face.’ Seeing the look on my face she said quickly, ‘It was not his fault, I wasn’t being noble. I knew I’d thrown myself at him. I engineered the whole seduction thing and young as I was I got what I deserved. That’s just how it was.’

      She got up and shook her head as if ridding herself of a familiar demon. ‘I have Adam. That’s all that matters.’

      She looked at me. ‘How do you feel about coming downstairs for an hour? Peter and Adam have gone to see a film.’

      I nodded and reached for my dressing gown. ‘You’re right to be proud of Adam, Ruth.’

       TEN

      Two weeks after I meet Tom at the party in the park I get a postcard in an airmail envelope. Someone has obviously posted it for him in London. It says,

       Hi, Jenny. Here, where there is not a tree to be seen, I think of you in a white and gold dress standing under an English chestnut tree. It is a lovely thought. Tom xx

      I carry the card around with me in my bag like a schoolgirl. I take it out at intervals to see if the words scrawled across a small space could have multiplied.

      There is silence for another four weeks, then Damien, Maisie’s brother, rings. ‘I have a message from my boss. He is flying home on leave next Friday and he will ring you when he gets back.’

      ‘I thought you were in Bosnia again, Damien.’

      He laughs. ‘Oh, I’m darting about all over the place, like the Scarlet Pimpernel.’ He hesitates.

      ‘What?’ I ask quickly. ‘Is Tom OK?’

      ‘Tom’s fine, Jenny. He wanted me to check that you hadn’t vaporised somehow, that you were still there.’

      I smile. ‘I’m still here.’

      ‘Good. He’ll ring you.’

      ‘You OK?’

      ‘Great to have some leave, drink beer and see a woman’s face…’

      I get the feeling he wants to say something. I do not want to be warned off Tom. ‘Were you going to tell me something?’

      ‘It’s just…you’re a sweetie, Jenny, and Tom’s a lovely officer, but he’s training with the roughie toughies, which means he’ll hardly be in England…’

      ‘What do you mean the roughie toughies?’ ‘I’ll let him tell you. Maybe keep it cool, Jen? I’d hate you to be hurt.’

      I am silent. I suspect Maisie’s protective hand. Damien was Tom’s sergeant. Was he doing the same work as Tom, whatever that was?

      I say lightly, ‘I’ve only met Tom once. How could it be but cool?’

      ‘Cool,’ he replies and we both laugh and say goodbye.

      Damien had said great to see a woman’s face? He must have been in the Middle East. Tom must be there too. Roughie toughie? I smile at the thought that Tom needed Damien to check he could still ring me.

       ELEVEN

      The next day I got dressed and went downstairs. Ruth had been coming home earlier since I’d been in the house and working in the evenings.

      In the afternoon I was in the kitchen with her when Adam came in, slamming the front door and calling out he was home. I felt a little thrill. I was getting to know his routine. I was getting to know him. I loved watching him move around in the clumsy way boys have. I loved his sweet boy smell. He seemed so strangely, intrinsically dear.

      Ruth had said to me, ‘Adam is comfortable with you, Jenny. You’re good with him. He can be very awkward with some people; he’s got to that age.’

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