His Kidnapper's Shoes (5 page)

He told me more about himself; I learned he’d picked science subjects at school with a view to studying mechanical engineering at one of the London universities.

‘Gonna go, keep my dad quiet, like you have to, but reckon I won’t need to bother much with the course. I’ll be discovered by some hotshot music producer, with or without the band, before long.’

I said nothing, in awe of his self-confidence.

‘Can’t wait to leave. This place is a dead-end dump.’

Hurt cut through me at hearing him say that, but I realised someone with Matt’s abilities couldn’t stay in a small town like this. He was right; he needed to be in London, ready for his talent to be discovered. I wasn’t going to be selfish and if Matt had to be in London, I’d go as well. I‘d get a job, any job, and we’d be together.

We finished the chips and Fanta and he squeezed his arm around my shoulders. He pulled me towards him and on that old bench spattered with pigeon shit I had my first kiss, with our mouths greasy from the chips and tasting of vinegar and Fanta. I had no idea what to do, unlike him – after all, a boy as good-looking as Matt had to have had any number of girlfriends – and he didn’t seem to think I did too badly. He kissed me again and his hand slid up under my T-shirt, towards my breasts.

I was almost relieved when the first few drops of rain fell on us.

‘Better be getting home,’ I mumbled.

He took his hand off my breast. ‘My parents are going out Sunday afternoon. You can come over.’

Sunday came, and I went to his house, my stomach twisting into knots at the thought of what he’d expect from me. I’d never had any experience with boys, Gran, apart from the kiss on the park bench. Remember what you said to me about my mother? How she gave her body to anyone who wanted her, and why? Well, I could have given her some stiff competition back then – now as well – in the low self-esteem stakes. I was the teenage daughter of a deceased alcoholic, after all, and fatherless to boot. Losing my virginity to Matt that afternoon was as inevitable as my mother choking on her own vomit had been. He wanted me, and I didn't even think of saying no.

We started kissing, and I found myself sprawled on the bed, with Matt on top of me, his hand snaking up under my T-shirt. I knew I was going to go through with this, but a prickle of fear stabbed me. Would I measure up to the girls he’d had before? Would he still want me afterwards?

He had a condom ready, so we did it, all uncomfortable and awkward, and I didn’t get anywhere near coming, and then he finished, to my relief. Not just because the discomfort had ended, but also because I’d finally had sex. I was no longer a virgin. Matt had plucked my cherry well and truly and if I hadn’t enjoyed the experience, well, plenty of girls probably didn’t the first time. I know you won't mind me telling you this, Gran. You always were a woman of the world, and totally unfazed by sex.

We started dating regularly, usually a couple of times a week, sometimes less.

‘Got band practice most nights,’ he told me. ‘Have to put the music first.’ I understood, even if I didn't like it. He was going to make the big time, after all, and I wouldn’t do anything to get in his way.

Next time the sex wasn’t so uncomfortable, and I felt a bit more as if I knew what to do. It didn’t matter if I didn’t come or get much pleasure; I knew I was in love and if he’d not yet said the words back to me, well, I could wait. We were seeing each other regularly, making love, as I liked to call it, every time, and I couldn’t have been happier.

Then everything changed. A driver who believed he could handle a car with more beer than blood in his veins cut short my foster father’s life one night. His wife, who had always done her best to mother me, went into emotional meltdown after his death and asked for another placement for me. Too old at seventeen for another foster home, I ended up with a place in supported lodgings with a family.

I didn’t like the change at all. The man made me squirm inside with revulsion and I did my best to avoid him as much as possible. I’d catch him staring at my bottom if I wore tight jeans and he always talked to my breasts rather than to my face. The woman was pleasant and did her best to make me welcome, so I tried to stay close to her and she’d chat away to me, being one of those people who liked to talk and who didn’t expect a great deal of response. They had one child, an eight-year-old boy, who spent most of his time out playing with his friends. I spent most of mine in my room, when not in school.

It was a time of upheaval, what with the funeral and the change of living arrangements and I didn’t get to see Matt for a few weeks. I phoned him as often as possible and we had stilted conversations.

‘I miss you,’ I’d say every time we spoke. I never did find the courage to ask if he missed me. Instead, I’d listen to the smooth velvet of his voice that would take him to stardom and impatience to see his soft brown eyes again would shoot through me. Once things became a bit more settled, we arranged to meet at his house the coming weekend.

His dark good looks overwhelmed me once more and we had sex straight away; only later did I realise we’d forgotten to use a condom. I told myself it would be OK; we were normally so careful and it wouldn’t be fair if I got pregnant after one little lapse. I carried on meeting Matt whenever he could spare the time and didn't think too much about the fact I’d had bare flesh instead of latex thrusting inside me that day.

Then I realised I’d not had my period for a few weeks and I got scared. I waited a bit longer and nothing happened. By now, I was seriously frightened. I went to the chemist and bought a testing kit, unable to look the cashier in the eye as I handed the money over. I took it home, read the instructions and prayed hard to a God I didn’t believe in that things would be all right, praying I’d wake up tomorrow and find welcome menstrual cramps replacing the knot of tension twisting in my stomach.

It didn’t happen, of course. I woke up the next day and my period still hadn’t come, so I went into the bathroom and peed on a plastic stick, and I chewed my nails and thought of what Matt would say. He had London and his career ahead of him or at the very least, his engineering course, and then I thought about me. I was too young to have a baby; I was looking forward to London even if Matt and I hadn’t yet talked about me going with him, and I had the whole world before me. I’d thought so, anyway.

Things didn’t work out like that, as you know, Gran. I stared at the plastic stick and the realisation punched me in the gut that I’d managed to get pregnant, however unfair it might seem after one moment of carelessness amongst all the condoms we’d used. I had to tell Matt, but hey, maybe that would be when he told me he loved me.

I called him and we arranged to meet the next day, in the park. We’d only just sat down on our usual bench when I blurted it out.

‘I’m pregnant.’ I couldn’t look at him as I spoke so I never did see his initial reaction.

‘Are you sure?’ His voice sounded tight, as if caught in his throat. I’d taken him by surprise but he’d be all right eventually, I told myself. He had a lot to take in.

‘Yes. I’ve done a test. I’m way late, too. Remember the time we got carried away and didn't use anything?’

‘Yeah, but…’ He didn't seem able to look at me, his fingers fidgeting with the zip on his jacket. It must be the shock. He’d be fine once he got used to the idea.

The silence tightened between us. I craved to hear him say it would be all right, for him to give me the reassurance I so desperately needed. To tell me he loved me. His words dropped like acid on my teenage hopes when he did speak.

‘Is it mine? How can you be sure I'm the father?’

I couldn't reply for a while. Eventually I managed to force some choked-up words past my dry throat. ‘There's been no one else. It’s yours.’

Silence again. Then:

‘Can’t you…you know…get rid of it?’

With those words, Gran, my dreams of London and the perfect boyfriend shattered. A chasm as wide as the world stretched between us; a gulf I realised had always existed. Only my naïveté and lack of self-love had made me believe otherwise. I saw myself for the gullible fool I was, a girl now left to carry the baby. Matthew Hancock was worthless, immature and completely undeserving of the love I’d thought I felt for him. No love existed in my heart then, not when he made it clear I should take myself off and get our baby pulled out of me and washed down the drain. However sick at the thought of being pregnant I’d been, I’d never once thought of abortion. Never. I stood up and walked away from him, leaving him where he belonged, on that old bench covered with pigeon shit. I didn’t look back.

6

FAMILY TALK

Daniel glanced at the alarm clock on the bedside table. One in the morning. Beside the clock stood a stone statue of Shiva, bought by Katie when she first came into his shop, one of several Oriental carvings around her flat. He picked up the statue, running his fingers over the cool stone.

Katie was lying next to him, wearing what he liked to think of as her thoroughly fucked look. She glanced at him, smiling at the slow slide of his hands over the marble. ‘A souvenir of that fateful day we met. You’ll have noticed I’m partial to sculpture, especially anything from the Far East. Never thought it would lead me straight to Fulham’s hottest male.’

Daniel laughed, putting the statue back. There was silence for a while, before he trailed his finger down her cheek.

‘Penny for them, beautiful.’

‘A penny’s all they’re worth?’ Katie settled herself in amongst the pillows. ‘Maybe I was wondering how I got so lucky, finding a hot slice of man like you. But if that were the case…’ She grinned at Daniel, her expression feral.

‘I wouldn’t tell you anyway. I reckon your ego is big enough without me swelling it even further.’ They kissed lazily for a few minutes; sated, relaxed kisses now they’d taken the edge off their mutual lust.

‘Hmm. Not just your ego swelling around here.’ Katie reached down a hand to grasp Daniel’s cock. ‘You have no recovery time?’

‘Not when I’m in bed with Putney’s hottest female.’ He put one finger under her chin and upped it. ‘Think a lot of you, Katie girl.’

Katie pulled back to look at him. ‘Me too, Dan.’ They’d not mentioned the L-word yet, but every time they’d seen each other recently it seemed to be there. Hanging in the air between them, teasing them, baiting them with the idea now might be the right time to say it. This was new territory for Daniel; he was undecided as to whether he was sinking or swimming in the uncharted waters of Katie Trebasco. Australia, moving in together, being - what had she called it, de facto partners? Sheesh. Fast going for someone who’d not got beyond four dates with any woman – or man – before. At this rate, he’d soon be tossing shrimps on the barbie somewhere hot and dusty on the other side of the world.

Hell, that wasn’t so terrible a thought. He laughed.

‘Share the joke, why don’t you.’

‘Just picturing me Down Under, doing the stereotypical Aussie male barbecue thing. Tongs in one hand, beer can in the other. You at my side, smoking-hot in a bikini. Hey!,’ as she punched his arm. ‘Seriously, Katie. It’s got to beat English rain and fog.’

‘You’d better come up with a more compelling reason to go than the British climate. Hmm. Sounds like you’re thinking about it.’

‘Said I would, didn’t I?’

‘What would your mother and stepfather think of you going, Daniel? You don’t talk about them much.’

‘Not much to say. Don’t see a great deal of them.’ Katie talked about her parents a lot, obviously close to them, the adored youngest child of a seemingly perfect family; it made his chest grow tight with jealousy when he thought of it.

‘Any particular reason?’

‘Yeah. Doesn’t sound like my family’s much like yours.’ He opted for his standard tactic, deflection. ‘Tell me about them. Names, ages, all that sort of stuff.’

‘All right. I'll start with Mum and Dad. My father’s called Richard and Mum’s name is – wait for it - India.’

‘That’s a bit offbeat.’ Daniel pulled a face. ‘I thought Trebasco was a strange enough name. But India?’

‘My grandfather travelled a lot in Asia, hence Mum’s name. I think they wanted something unusual to call her.’

‘You’re close to your parents, right? You talk to your mum every day?’

‘Every day. We’re like best mates. She had me when she was forty. My sister Sarah was born straight after they got married, when Mum was twenty. They never meant for her to be an only child, but for some reason Mum didn’t conceive again. They did all the tests; the doctors never found anything to explain why Mum couldn’t get pregnant for a second time. They told her to keep trying, but in the end, I think Mum and Dad accepted it wasn’t going to happen. Perhaps that’s what did it. Often happens with women. The pressure to conceive goes away, and boom! Nine months later, I came along.’ She laughed. ‘A surprise baby for them in their forties. They spoiled me rotten. So did Sarah.’

‘Was it difficult for your sister? Her being so much older than you?’

‘No. We get on fantastically, always have done. She was amazed, but delighted, when she found out she was going to have a brother or sister and as I said, she spoiled me. She’s been like a second mother to me. She was married by the time I came along, what with there being so much of an age gap. And then…’ Katie’s voice trailed off. He couldn’t fathom the expression on her face.