Like One of the Family (50 page)

There was half a jug of water in the fridge and she drank it, then went into her room and lay on the bed. She was badly shocked, for it had never occurred to her that she would ever conceive. Her head ached and she closed her eyes.

She was awakened by the sound of someone calling her and struggled through the fog of sleep surrounding her, in an effort to take in what the voice was saying. ‘Claire, please Claire, wake up.' Somehow Ruthie was back. How had she got there? With difficulty Claire opened her eyes and focused them on the little girl's anxious face.

‘Who brought you, Ruthie?' she asked through dry lips. Slowly everything began to come back: Elena's death and her own pregnant condition.

‘Ignacio drove me. He's waiting downstairs,' Ruthie was saying. ‘Sheena rang the hotel because she couldn't get any reply here. She said to tell you she was going away.'

‘Going where, Ruthie?' Claire tried to take it in.

‘Gibraltar.'

‘Why would she go there?'

‘She has gone to meet Alejandro,' Ruthie explained, pleased and proud to have such an important message to deliver.

‘But how was she getting there?'

Again Ruthie had it off pat. ‘She said that Miguel was taking her.'

‘Miguel?' Claire felt shock and dread as she remembered him and the contempt in which Fernando held the man. ‘Are you quite sure she said it was Miguel?'

‘Quite sure,' Ruthie said brightly. ‘
Cierto! Absolutamente!'

Sheena began to worry when they were in Gibraltar three days and still had not met up with Alejandro. Perhaps Miguel had lied to her like he had lied about so many other things, she thought. He had said they would stay in a hotel and then brought her to a cheap lodging house, where people screamed at night and threw things at the wall, and bought bread and cheap wine to consume in their room. And he had assured her he would buy her a T-shirt and change of underclothing, but she was still in the clothes she had been wearing when she left Nerja.

On the third day Sheena pointed all this out to Miguel in as light and reasonable tone as she could muster. At once he turned morose and taciturn and refused to speak answer her questions. When she persisted, he shouted at her and slapped her face. In their lovemaking too, he had grown more violent and increasingly knotted the scarf about her throat so that she was almost on the point of suffocation. He left her sobbing on the bed and went out slamming the door behind him, and did not return until nightfall.

Left alone in their motel room for hours Sheena grew afraid. She had no money, having used her last few pesetas to ring Ignacio's hotel.

By the time Miguel returned Sheena was resentful and starving. She submitted to his caresses and when he fell asleep, desperation gave her the courage to go through his pockets. With the thousand peseta note she found there she went out to a cafe and bought herself a Coke and a hamburger. Men eyed her and women whispered. She knew how strange she must look with her bruised throat and clothed in the grubby dirindl skirt and sun-top she had been wearing for days, but she was past caring.

She bit ravenously into the hamburger, almost choking in her haste to get some food inside of her. Her throat hurt her but she was hardly conscious of it as she quickly cleared the last crumbs from the plate and washed them down with sips of Coke.

A little later, Sheena returned to the motel, feeling less afraid of Miguel now that she had some hot food inside her. Tomorrow she would find Alejandro, she promised herself, as she slipped quietly back into the room and gently closed over the door.

Miguel lay snoring on the bed, and despite her earlier optimism, Sheena felt suddenly downcast. What if she didn't find Alejandro? She was struck anew by the precarious state of her position, without money and far away from her sister and friends. Her chin wobbled and lonely tears suddenly pricked her eyes.

Sheena slipped out of her crumpled clothing and lay down beside Miguel. A few more tears squeezed out of the corners of her eyes and rolled down her cheeks. She choked on a sob and suddenly longed for her twin with a desperation she had not felt since she was six years old and had found herself trapped in a neighbour's loft with flames licking into the straw. Terry had come running across the yard looking for her and, hearing her frantic screams, had dragged her clear just in time. If only Terry was here in Spain now, Sheena thought longingly. Oh, if only he were then everything would be all right.

Terry awoke with a start and lay still for a moment before reaching for the light switch over his bunk. His heart was thumping and his body was drenched with sweat. He looked dazedly about the shadowy cabin, still in the grip of the frightful dream he had been having. Christ! he thought. He shuddered and sat up.

He sat hunched over, his head in his hands, trying to rid himself of the disturbing image of his twin being slowly garrotted by some lunatic. The usual night sounds from the top bunk, instead of irritating him, gave Terry a feeling of security and, in the aftermath of the nightmare, he listened to Pete's snores, almost with affection.

Terry swung his legs to the floor and crossed to the wash-hand basin, where he doused his head in cold water. Remnants of the dream still clung to him. He had dreamt it twice before. Each time his twin was pleading with him to help her, and each time he was forced to stand helplessly by and witness her slow strangulation.

Terry vigorously towelled dry his hair and went to lie on his bunk. In their early childhood he and Sheena had been very close and often experienced a similar kind of telepathy, but it hadn't happened in a long time. In the troubled years since their father's death, Terry had distanced himself from his twin and although, at the time, this first rift in their relationship had hardly been recognised by either of them, they had never been so completely at one again.

He slept fitfully until morning, and all that day he couldn't get the dream out of his mind. He resolved to go ashore and ring home. He knew that his mother was in constant touch with the girls and would be able to set his mind at rest. Terry had briefly considered ringing Spain himself but when he thought of Claire perhaps answering his call ...H is break-up with Claire was a separate issue, he told himself, and when, and if, he tackled it he wanted to be able to see her face and look in her eyes.

Later that evening he made his call from one of the pubs near the quay. Jane answered at once. She was in her surgery, she told him, going over household bills.

‘When did you last hear from Sheena?' Terry asked without any preliminaries.

‘She rang me the day after Teresa Murray left Spain. About a week ago, I suppose,' Jane admitted. ‘That's right. Teresa rang me later that evening to apologise for not ringing me herself. Why?'

‘No particular reason,' Terry said. ‘Just got a funny feeling, that's all.'

‘I'm sure they're all fine,' Jane said, adding doubtfully. ‘I tried ringing them the other night but got no answer, but they were probably just in late.'

‘Well, keep trying, Mum,' Terry said, and rang off. When it had come to the point he had found it hard to explain his unease.

He arrived back on board ship to find the Dauphin being manoeuvred from the hangar to the flight deck grid. There had been an emergency call in his absence and they were under orders from Baldonnel H.Q. to join the search for two Kerry climbers, who had got separated from the rest of their party in the mist on Brandon.

‘Both reserves are in sick bay with food poisoning,' Captain Landy told him. ‘You'll have to stand in.' He shot Terry a keen glance. ‘Have you taken a drink?'

Terry shook his head.

‘Good.' Landy looked relieved. ‘See you in the operations room on the double, McArdle!'

‘Yessir,' Terry saluted jubilantly and sped off to his cabin to gear up. Poor devils, he thought, but what a stroke of luck for him, his first time co-piloting a rescue mission. All his earlier anxieties were forgotten at the exciting prospect.

Jane put down the phone, more disturbed by Terry's call than she had let on. She knew how close the twins were and if he had a hunch that Sheena might be in some kind of trouble, he could well be right. For the next few hours she rang the apartment repeatedly and got no answer. They were probably off sight-seeing, she told herself, trying not to worry.

But when she rang on and off the following day without success, Jane began to be really worried. ‘Nothing for it but to ring Antonio,' she decided, not knowing what else to do, and wondering if she was merely using the excuse to speak to him. Then she remembered the underlying anxiety in Terry's voice.

Jane waited with her heart thumping, until the receiver was lifted.

‘May I speak to Señors Antonio or Fernando Gonzalez,' she asked as soon as she heard Consuelo's voice.

‘Who is calling, please?'

‘This is Jane McArdle ringing from Dublin.'

‘Ah, Dr McArdle.' Consuelo's voice became less impersonal. ‘I am sorry but they are not here.'

‘I see.' Jane was disappointed. She had been so certain of getting one of them.

‘Our offices are officially closed,' Consuelo explained. ‘Señora Gonzalez died some days ago and her funeral takes place today.'

Jane was so startled that she forgot her reason for phoning. ‘I am so very sorry,' she stammered. ‘Please don't bother them. It was nothing important.' She put down the receiver and stared into space. Elena was dead. On the heels of this thought came another. Antonio was free. Then she felt deeply ashamed of herself. Poor Elena. How she must have suffered.

Jane took a distracted walk about her surgery and absently straightened a cushion, hardly aware what she was doing. For the moment all thought of the girls had fled from her mind. She could think only of Antonio and what his wife's death could mean to them both.

In the bright Spanish sunshine Claire stood by Elena's graveside as Antonio and his three sons laid roses on her coffin and sadly watched it being lowered into the earth. She stooped and laid her own offering with theirs - a spray of red and white carnations - for Elena had told her that, like the great Teresa of Avila, these had been her favourite flowers.

Afterwards Claire decided that she would not go back with the mourners to the Gonzalez house, knowing this was where she would miss Elena most. She crossed to where Fernando stood with his father, looking unfamiliar to her in his formal dark suit. Of all the Gonzalez family he had shared the closest relationship with her, and when he thanked Claire for coming, he met her eyes with such a sad, sweet smile that her heart was wrenched. Alejandro gave her his quick, ravishing smile as she politely shook his hand in turn.

‘When did you last see Sheena?' Claire took the opportunity to ask him as the others walked ahead to the entrance of the cemetery. ‘She told us she was meeting you in Gibraltar but we haven't heard from her in ages. In fact we're rather worried about her.'

Alejandro did not reply just stared at her, a flush darkening his fair skin. ‘ I have not seen your friend for some weeks,' Alejandro said. ‘But please tell her when you see her that I...that I regret my hasty departure from Nerja and I have so much enjoyed her company.'

Claire nodded. She had seen him blink in surprise at the mention of Gibraltar, but at the same time something was clearly bothering him, she thought. She took her leave of him at the gate and with a last sad nod in the direction of Fernando and Antonio, began to walk into the town.

Alejandro stood and watched her go, a frown creasing his forehead. He was thinking of the last time he had seen Sheena and the memory was not pleasant. Since Miguel had boasted how he had taken advantage of his beautiful girlfriend the image had returned often to shame Alejandro, and for the first time in his young life he had suffered great anguish. He had quarrelled with the other Spaniard and, during his venomous diatribe, clearly seen the other man for what he was. At the same time he could not discard out of hand Miguel's boast that Sheena had been more than willing to allow him sexual liberties or his spiteful claim that there had been other sexual encounters between him and the young Irish girl. Alejandro did not fully believe Miguel, but either way he felt his honour besmirched. The complication lay in the fact that he owed Miguel money and he had gone away to try and raise it, wanting only to be shut of the alliance - he could never have at any time called it friendship - that had grown thoroughly distasteful to him. Alejandro sighed and turned away as Claire's slim figure grew smaller with distance; he walked with none of his usual swagger towards his father's car. Added to his feelings of guilt and shame over his dealings with Sheena was the knowledge that he had failed in his filial duty to his mother. With genuine sadness he mourned her passing, while all too painfully aware that by his own selfish attachment to worldly pleasures he had thrown away the precious chance afforded him to be with her during what turned out to be her last weeks on earth. He told himself that had he known she was to die so soon he would have acted very differently. He knew that no matter how he regarded all that had gone before, he had not come well out of either business and no amount of self-deception could ever persuade him otherwise.

As Claire walked slowly back to the apartment her heart was heavy too, not only for the death of Elena but for her failure to try and trace her friend. She knew that she should have at least let Jane know that Sheena was missing. But burdened by sorrow for Elena and the shock of her pregnancy, Claire had felt it was beyond her to even try and explain. The same irrational fear she had always entertained that Jane would somehow blame her or perhaps regret the many kindnesses she had shown her over the years, continued to hang over her. It had been all too much for Claire to cope with and so she had allowed the days slide past, without taking any action.

Claire was reacting to crisis as she had always done in the past. Her thoughts became cloudy and insubstantial. She would have a thought and then lose it almost immediately, only to recapture it by a great effort of concentration. She was still struggling to come to terms with her pregnancy. At times it seemed so incredible as to be untrue; at others she was amazed she had been so long in recognising what was surely so evident. Her system had never been regular like other girls and at times of exceptional stress, like exam times, became even more erratic. This coupled with what had happened to her as a child had left her with the conviction she was sterile. Now there was something growing inside her.