The Hidden Years. PENNY JORDAN

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СКАЧАТЬ of his possession, his inability to control his passion, his desire for her.

      ‘What do you mean “do something”?’ she questioned softly.

      She could see the pity in Donna’s eyes, feel it in the waiting silence of the others in the dormitory. She could feel their rough sympathy enveloping her, sense their affinity with her, and yet she felt outside their concern, untouched by it, in no need of it. She knew they meant to be kind, and she herself was too gentle, too sensitive to rebuff them directly.

      Donna sighed and lifted her eyes to heaven. This was going to be worse than she had thought. Why was it always these idiotic naïve ones who got themselves into this kind of trouble? she wondered. Hadn’t they got the sense…? But she already knew the answer to that question, had heard it often enough in her mother’s slow Dorset voice, as she repeated over and over again warningly to her eldest child, showing her, by the example of her own life, just what happened to girls foolish enough to believe in the lies told by men. She had been sixteen when she had conceived her first child, and at thirty-five, when Donna had left home, she had looked and moved like a woman of twice her age, worn down by too many pregnancies, too much hardship and poverty.

      The war had come as a welcome escape for Donna, releasing her from having to follow in her mother’s footsteps, from early marriage and too many children, and she had been glad to go. Glad to leave the damp, insanitary farm worker’s cottage where she had shared a bedroom and a bed with her sisters, glad to escape from the bad temper of her father and the rough manners of her brothers. Glad to cut herself free of too many pairs of clinging hands and too many demanding voices.

      ‘You’re going to have to get rid of it, aren’t you? Look, I know what you think but he isn’t going to marry you. They never do,’ she said bluntly. Her own life had not given her tact or sensitivity. As far as she was concerned the best thing she could do for the silly little fool was to make her see sense and then, if it wasn’t already too late, to sit her in a bath of near-boiling hot water, and pour as much gin into her as they could get their hands on in the hope that it would bring on a spontaneous abortion.

      Sometimes it worked, sometimes it didn’t… There were other methods, but they were too risky, and anyway, by the looks of it, they were going to have a hard time persuading her to do what had to be done.

      She looked so pale and raw, so childlike almost, but Donna wasn’t deceived. That type could have the will of a donkey…and the stupidity.

      Lizzie stared at her in shocked disbelief. Get rid of Kit’s child… She recoiled from Donna as though she thought the other girl was going to physically attack her, her arms crossing protectively over her belly.

      ‘Look, you little fool,’ Donna repeated grimly, ‘he isn’t going to come back for you. They never do, no matter what they tell you. Did he give you his address? Did he tell you anything about himself other than his name? Do you even know that that’s real? You know what’s going to happen to you when it gets out that you’re carrying, don’t you? You’ll lose your job and you’ll be sent back home…’

      Sent back home… To her aunt… For the first time fear chilled Lizzie’s heart. She gave a deep shudder, totally unable to accept what Donna was saying to her, and yet at the same time terrified by the mental pictures Donna was drawing for her. Just for a moment she tried to imagine what her life would be like if she did have to return to her aunt, pregnant and unmarried. Her aunt would never have her back—she would turn her from her door, and disown her. She started to shiver, suddenly cold and shocked. But why was she afraid? Nothing like that was going to happen to her. Kit was going to marry her—she knew it. There was nothing for her to fear. All she had to do was to hold on to that truth, to have faith and courage, to remember that Kit loved her.

      ‘Come on, kid—be sensible. You can’t be that far along…with any luck, we could get rid of it.’

      ‘No,’ Lizzie told her firmly, and then added with quiet dignity, ‘Even if you are right about Kit not loving me—and I know you aren’t—I still could not destroy my child.’

      Donna knew when she was defeated. Muttering under her breath about the folly of her own sex, she withdrew.

      Let the little fool learn, then—and she would… It was all right now claiming that she wanted the brat, but let her wait until she was homeless, penniless, disgraced, without a job, without anyone to help her… Then she would sing a different tune. She, Donna, had seen it happen so many times, and to so many girls.

      Just for a moment she thought savagely and angrily of the burdens carried by her own sex, and hungered for a time when things would be different, when women would have the right and ability to govern their own lives. But to do that they would have to cast off the emotional shackles they seemed to be born with, to cease loving and depending on men… She herself had no illusions about the male sex. She never intended to marry and she certainly never intended to burden herself with the responsibility and pain of children.

      It was many weeks since she had heard from Kit… Weeks during which she had slowly grown accustomed to the fact that she was carrying his child. The end of the war in Europe caused nationwide celebration, but for Lizzie what was happening within her was more important. Kit had not been in touch and she had no way of knowing if victory in Europe had brought him safely home or if he was still in danger somewhere. Until she knew, there could be no celebration for her. Her eighteenth birthday, too, passed without any celebration apart from a card and small present sent by her aunt.

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