A Class Apart (32 page)

Ashley and Jenneen nodded their heads slowly.

Ellamarie went into the hall to use the phone. Jenneen and Ashley sat in silence, waiting for her to come back, dreading what she might have to say. Jenneen felt so responsible, and so wretched about everything; not for one minute had she stopped blaming herself.

At last Ellamarie came back into the room. They both looked up, waiting for her to speak.

“She’s with her parents. She’s been there since before the weekend. Her father said that she’s all right – as well as can be expected at any rate. Her mother’s home as well.”

“He knows about the baby then?” said Ashley.

Ellamarie nodded. “Sure, he knows all right.”

“Did you speak to her?” said Jenneen.

“No. She wouldn’t come to the phone. I only spoke to her father.”

“Did he say anything else?”

Ellamarie hesitated, and there was something in her manner that made the silence before she spoke ominous. “She’s going to have an abortion, on Friday,” she said, finally.

“Oh my God!” Jenneen gasped. “She can’t! She can’t do it. She wants that child.”

“Not any more, apparently. Her father said they’d spent all weekend talking things over, and they’ve decided it’s for the best.”

“I don’t know what to say,” said Ashley.

“I know,” said Ellamarie. “Her father asked if we’d go and see her tomorrow. Can you make it?”

“Of course,” said Jenneen. “I’ll cancel everything.”

Ellamarie looked at her. She knew how personally Jenneen had taken all of this. How she blamed herself. And Kate didn’t want to see her. She would only agree to seeing Ellamarie and Ashley. But not Jenneen. Ellamarie didn’t know how to tell her.

“I’m sorry,” she whispered.

Jenneen leaned forward and put her glass on the table, her hand was shaking. “She doesn’t want to see me?” she asked in a small voice.

Ellamarie shook her head.

Jenneen closed her eyes and swallowed hard against the lump that had risen in her throat.

“I’m sorry,” Ellamarie said again, and put her arms round her.

Jenneen cried into her shoulder. What had she done? Everything she touched she spoiled. But Kate. Kate couldn’t turn her back on her. She loved Kate, all she had been trying to do was make her happy. To give her something that she thought she had wanted. She would never meddle in anyone’s life again, everything she did turned to disaster. And now Kate was going to give up her baby; she would never be the same again. And for the rest of their lives, both of them would know that Jenneen might have saved her from this, and didn’t.

Later that night, as she was leaving the theatre, more flowers arrived for Ellamarie.

It was Friday morning, and Mr Calloway stood in front of the old Victorian building in Kensington Square looking up at the windows. He checked the address that he had written on a piece of paper before he pressed the bell. As he waited he gazed sightlessly around the square. Spring had arrived. Birds chirped merrily from tree to tree, and the sun was breaking through the clouds.

A female voice spluttered onto the entryphone, and he replied with his name.

“Is Mr Martin expecting you?” said the girl.

“He should be.”

There was a silence, and Calloway waited, looking at the intercom. Suddenly a buzzer sounded, and the catch on the door was released.

“Third floor,” said the voice, as he began to close the door behind him.

He took the stairs one at a time. There was no hurry. He passed a few people on the way up, but he looked at no one. His face was grim, but not even by the flicker of a muscle did he betray the blinding rage that burned inside him.

Half an hour ago he had left Kate at the hospital. She had wanted to go in alone. At first he had thought that she was going to run away as soon as he had gone, but she had smiled, that empty smile he had come to know this last week, and had assured him that he was right, that this was the only thing to do.

In truth he had been glad to leave her. If he had stayed he might have broken down. Her eyes had reflected her helplessness and solitude, and set a barrier between them that had never been there before. He remembered when she’d been a child, always his special child, and he had done everything he could to protect and shelter her from the nastier side of life. But nothing could have prepared him for this. The killing, or perhaps one should call it the murder, of his own grandchild. But how could he even think about her carrying this man’s child? He had been deeply shocked when she had told him, and had fought hard to hide the repulsion he had felt to imagine another man’s hands touching his precious little girl. But this man had soiled her, and hurt her, and now he was going to pay for it.

At last he reached the door on the third floor which gleamed Joel Martin and Associates from an overpolished brass plaque. He knocked gently, then as the female voice called out for him to come in, he pushed the door open.

The girl looked up. She was a young girl, probably only just inside her twenties. Did she have any idea what kind of monster she was working for? But she wasn’t his problem. He only cared for his Kate, and what the animal the other side of that door was putting her through at this very moment.

“Mr Martin will be with you in a minute,” said the girl. “Would you like to sit down while you wait?” She indicated a large, overstuffed sofa beneath the window. Calloway had plenty of time. Yes, he would wait.

He kept his hands in his pockets; they were shaking. He refused the offer of a coffee, and looked around the room. He saw nothing. Nothing, that was, except the face of his daughter when she had told him she was pregnant. Her face when she had told him that Joel Martin had impregnated her then abandoned her, never wanting to see her again. His Kate. His precious little Kate, violated by that raping bastard in there, who didn’t give a damn.

“Nice day, isn’t it?” said the girl.

Calloway nodded, and pointedly looked away, discouraging any idle chat from the secretary.

A few minutes later a buzzer sounded on the secretary’s desk and she looked over. “Mr Martin will see you now,” she said, getting up and going to open the door for him.

He crossed the room and walked into the adjacent office. As he looked at the dark-haired man seated behind the mammoth desk, looking up at him, the whole world seemed suddenly to pause in its business and hold its breath, waiting for the onslaught of a storm.

There was a half-smile on Joel’s lips, but his eyes were wary. “Mr Calloway,” he said, getting to his feet. “This is a surprise.” He held out his hand, but it was ignored. “Won’t you sit down?” Joel waved his hand towards the chair at the other side of his desk.

“A surprise?” Calloway loosened his tie. He must try and keep control.

“Well,” said Joel, looking more than a little uncomfortable. “I really didn’t expect to see you. Not here, anyway.”

“Oh? Then where?”

“Well, not anywhere, I suppose.”

“No,” said Calloway. “I don’t imagine you did. Or my daughter.”

Joel flushed. “How is Kate?”

“Don’t ask questions to which you have no wish to know the answers.”

Joel looked back at him. He wasn’t used to being spoken to like this, particularly not in his own office, and his visitor’s manner was beginning to annoy him. “Just why are you here, Mr Calloway? Is it money you want? Because if it is . . .”

Suddenly Calloway had him by the throat, up against the wall. “I’m not a young man. Martin,” he snarled, “but so help me, I could kill you. Do you know where Kate is now? Do you? But no, of course you don’t, and you don’t bloody well care either, do you? Do you? Do you?” He was shaking Joel, banging his head against the wall.

Joel flexed his arms, and managed to push him away. “I think you’d better leave, Mr Calloway,” he said, barely managing to control his own temper.

“I’ll leave when I’m good and ready,” said Calloway, spitting out the words, one at a time. “My daughter is in the hospital right now, murdering a child. Your child. I don’t know how it happened, and I don’t want to know, but what I do know is that you are the lowest scum on God’s earth. I don’t know what you said to her to make her like she is, but by God you’ve taken everything from her. Her self-respect, her dignity, her pride, and now her child. You’ve left her with nothing, Martin, and so help me I’m going to see that you suffer for it.”

“Oh come on,” said Joel, half laughing, “this isn’t the movies. You can’t go around threatening people like that.”

“Shut up! I have no interest in anything you have to say. I have come here for two reasons. One, to tell you that, as of today, the five largest publishing houses in this country will cease doing business with you. Tomorrow the others will follow suit.”

For a moment Joel looked uncertain, then he sneered. “You can’t pull that one on me.”

“I can and already have. The authors who have the misfortune to be represented by you will be found other agents, and the publishers, as I said, will no longer recognize you.”

“You haven’t got that sort of power, Calloway, nobody has.”

“You’re wrong. But, if you don’t believe me, try ringing one of them, now.” He picked up the telephone and handed it to Joel, but Joel didn’t take it.

Calloway put it down again. “Now for the second reason I am here,” he said, his voice icily calm. “I ought to kill you for even laying one finger on my daughter, but I have no intention of going to prison for filth like you. I just want you to remember this, don’t ever try to come near Kate again, do you hear me? Not ever. She is mine, and no one,
no one
lays a hand on my daughter without feeling the consequences.”

Joel looked at the older man and his lips began to quiver with disgust. “You’re sick!” he snarled. “I suspected it when I first met you, but I had no idea just how far the rot had set in. It’s not just me, is it? You can’t stand to think of
any
man touching your precious daughter, can you? The very thought makes you curl up and hate inside. It’s like a worm, isn’t it, eating away at your gut, Kate with another man. You’re in love with her, you perverted bastard, aren’t you? You’re in love with your own daughter. God, you’re disgusting! It doesn’t matter whose child she’s carrying, does it? All that matters is that it isn’t yours. You’re twisted, Calloway. Perver . . .”

The blow to his jaw landed so hard that Joel crashed to the floor. Calloway stood over him, his face twitching with fury. “I’m warning you, Martin! If I so much as even hear of you again, I’ll kill you. Do you hear me? I’ll kill you!” Turning abruptly he walked from the room.

So this was how it felt to have murdered your own baby. In fact it felt like nothing at all. Nothing. It was there one minute, the next it was gone. Nothing inside any more, no tiny whispering of life, just nothing. Empty and painless. There were no feelings, no care, no love, no hate. When they had taken the baby away, they had taken her soul away too. Her body was an empty shell now.

Sometimes she slept, but it didn’t seem like often. Sometimes she opened her eyes, but there was nothing to see. People came in and out from time to time, but she didn’t know who they were. They held her hands, kissed her on the face, and she felt she should know them, but they were strangers, and they frightened her. She didn’t speak to them, she had nothing to say, because there was nothing left to say.

But one thing puzzled her. Why wouldn’t the baby stop crying? Why were they letting it cry like that? Did no one care? Someone was talking to her. Couldn’t they see that she couldn’t hear them? Why didn’t they help the baby? Why didn’t they stop it crying? She knew that it was her baby. The one she had killed. It was dead, and it was crying because she had killed it. It would cry like this now for ever. There could be no comfort for her baby, no loving arms to hold it, no breast to feed it. There would be nothing for her baby now, only tears. Tears for the life that it would never have. The life that she had taken from it.

The voice went away, but the crying went on. She heard a door close, somewhere in the distance, but still she could hear the crying. A child’s cry, echoing through the hollow of eternity. Crying because its mother had killed it, had robbed it of life. But she would die soon, and then she could comfort it, then she could love it, and feed it the milk of eternal life. Yes, soon she would die, and then she could hold her baby.

“It’s no good,” said Ellamarie, going back into the room. “She still won’t say anything.”

Kate’s father looked up. His face was strained, and the lines around his eyes had become deeper these last two days. Ever since he had brought her home, Kate had simply lain on her bed, and said nothing. She didn’t eat, she didn’t cry.

He ran his fingers through his hair, and Ellamarie saw that they were shaking. “I don’t know what to do,” he said. “God help me, I just don’t know what to do.”

“I think we should call the doctor back again. She can’t go on like this, she must have some food.”

“OK,” he said wearily. “Where’s the number?”

“Don’t worry,” said Ashley, “sit there, I’ll do it.”

When she had gone, Ellamarie went to sit beside him, and put an arm round his shoulders. Bob went to the cupboard and took out a bottle of brandy. As he poured them all a drink, he noticed the barely started manuscript of Kate’s book, lying beside her typewriter on the desk. He was suddenly overcome with sadness, and wondered if she would ever finish it now. He handed the drinks round.

“It’s so good of you all to care like this,” Calloway said, very near to the end of his tether.

“We all love her,” said Ellamarie. “We want to help.”

“It’s only depression,” said Calloway. “She’ll get over it. She just needs time. She will get over it, you know.” He looked at Bob and his eyes were pleading.

Bob smiled, trying to give him the assurance he needed. “Of course she’ll get over it. These things always take time. But she’ll be fine again, soon.”