The Art of Friendship (30 page)

‘Hello, Patsy.’

Miriam Thompson was in her garden next door, weeding. She lifted her head, and waved at Patsy. ‘I was just saying to Janice that this is the best June I can remember in years.’

Patsy managed a weak smile, mindful of the need to keep up appearances, to protect Laura at all costs. She hissed at Janice through gritted teeth. ‘What do you want?’

‘I’d like to talk to you.’

But before Patsy could answer Janice cried, ‘What’s that smell? Why, there’s smoke coming out of the kitchen!’

Patsy did not move nor turn around. Janice pushed past her into the hall. Patsy closed the door, blocking out Miriam’s inquisitive, prying gaze. She followed Janice slowly into the smoke-filled kitchen just in time to see her lift the smouldering iron from the blouse and set it safely in the metal cradle. Patsy noted with satisfaction the brown scorch mark on the blouse, the exact size and shape of the iron.

Janice ripped the smoking garment off the ironing board, opened the back door and tossed it out into the garden. Then, quickly, she darted about the room, closing the doors into the hall and utility room. She opened all the windows and then came to an abrupt standstill in the middle of the room.

She waved her hand in front of her face and gave a little affected cough. ‘You’re lucky that didn’t catch fire! You could’ve burnt the house down. That blouse is completely ruined.’

Patsy shrugged, stared at the scorch mark on the ironing board. ‘Just like Laura.’

Janice’s shoulders sagged. She put a hand on the back of one of the kitchen chairs.

‘I saw him the other day, you know,’ said Patsy. ‘He was in his car with two other boys. Men, I suppose I ought to call them now that they’re all eighteen. Jamie Hamill was with him and those other two he hangs around with all the time. What are their names? Al Knox and Ben Curran, isn’t it?’ she went on without waiting for a reply. ‘The windows were rolled down and loud music was blaring out into the street. Pete had his elbow on the sill, holding the wheel with just his fingertips. People stopped to look when they passed.
And they were all singing along to the music, so happy and cocky. Not a care in the world.’

‘Patsy, please.’

‘I absolutely hate him. I have never hated anyone the way I hate him.’

Janice removed her glasses. The whites of her eyes were crazed with red, and she squinted in the light. ‘I didn’t come here to talk about Pete. I came here to talk about us.’

‘There is no
us,
Janice. Not after what’s happened. Pete is as much a part of you as Laura is of me.’

Janice shook her head. ‘No. Our friendship exists separately from our children. In spite of them, even.’

Patsy looked out of the window, folded her arms. ‘What friendship?’ she said bitterly.

‘I heard about the abortion,’ said Janice softly. ‘I’m sorry. It must have been awful.’

Patsy winced. Her head dropped just a little but she raised it again, jutting out her chin ready to take another blow. She gave Janice a withering look. ‘I don’t want your pity, Janice. In fact I don’t want anything from you. And I certainly don’t want your friendship.’

‘I gathered as much,’ said Janice, and she seemed to shrink and become smaller with every word. ‘Nights out in No. 11 aren’t the same without you, Patsy. I miss you.’

Tears sprung to Patsy’s eyes but she hardened her resolve. She would not let Janice manipulate her. ‘Well, in case you hadn’t noticed, I’ve had a lot more to worry about lately.’

Janice nodded. ‘I left three messages on your answer machine.’

‘I know. I got them all.’

‘You never called back.’

‘That’s right.’

Janice let out a long, sad sigh. ‘We’ve been friends for
nearly fifteen years, Patsy. We’ve come through so much together. You’re my best friend. You can’t throw all that away.’

Patsy glared at her. ‘I can’t forgive this, Janice.’

‘I’m not asking you to. I’m not proud of Pete, you know. But he is an adult. Keith and I aren’t his keepers.’

Something inside Patsy snapped. ‘You’re continuing to support him though, aren’t you?’

Janice put a hand to her throat. ‘He’s our son, Patsy. What do you expect us to do? Throw him out onto the street? Would you do that if it was your child? And what would it achieve anyway?’

Patsy dropped her hands to her sides and balled her fists. ‘It might teach him that what he’s done is wrong. That there are repercussions, sanctions. That he can’t just do what he did and…and get away with it. While our Laura has…has…suffered so much.’

The tears came freely but she did not break down. Rather they coursed unbidden down her face, as solid and implacable as stone.

‘Patsy, please,’ said Janice, her voice breaking. She crossed the room towards Patsy, extended her arm and touched her on the shoulder.

Patsy shrugged her off, made no attempt to wipe the tears away. She wasn’t ashamed of them – they weren’t a sign of weakness. Not as far as her resolve concerning the Kirkpatricks was concerned. ‘Don’t touch me,’ she said.

There was a long, tense silence broken at last by Janice. ‘Neither of us can be held responsible for the actions of our children, Patsy. And, from what I can gather, both of them are culpable. Yet you seem determined to foist one hundred per cent of the blame on Pete.’

Patsy stiffened. ‘It’s not so much what happened as how he behaved once he found out.’ This was not completely true;
his behaviour had enraged her and Martin but they also held him entirely to blame for the pregnancy in the first place. ‘He’s treated my daughter like some sort of…sort of leper. He hasn’t even had the grace to come here and talk to her, approach her in school or phone her. What effort does it take to pick up the phone? He left her to deal with this entirely on her own.’

‘But he said he would!’ cried Janice. ‘Keith and I talked to him about it and he promised he would talk to Laura. That he would face up to his responsibilities.’

Patsy snorted. ‘Well, there you go. How come I’m not surprised by that?’ She paused for effect and added, ‘Well, you needn’t trouble yourself with it any more. He doesn’t have any responsibilities towards Laura. And thank God for that. I can’t imagine a worse fate for any daughter of mine than being associated with your son.’

Janice’s face, to Patsy’s satisfaction, went red from the neck up.

‘And I’m sorry, Janice, but I don’t agree with you about parents not being held responsible for the actions of their children. After all, we raised them, didn’t we? I still blame you – and Keith – for the way you raised that…that monster.’

Janice bit her bottom lip and looked at the floor. She looked thin and insubstantial all of a sudden, like the stuffing had been knocked out of her. Just the way Laura looked in fact when she walked into the clinic waiting room after the abortion.

Patsy swallowed and reminded herself where her loyalties lay – with her family. ‘I don’t believe our friendship can ever recover.’

Janice looked up and a single tear slid down her powdered face. ‘I wish I could say something to change your mind. I wish I could, but…but I can’t.’

‘No, you can’t,’ said Patsy firmly. ‘My daughters are the most precious thing to me. More precious than anything. I would die for them before I’d let anyone harm a single hair on their head. And so would Martin.’

‘They are lucky girls, to be loved so much.’

‘Yes, they are. But it wasn’t enough, was it? Love. It wasn’t enough to prevent this. And Martin and I have to face up to the fact that we have failed her.’

‘I failed Pete too. That’s what I’m trying to tell you, Patsy.’ Janice put both hands on the back of the chair and held on so tight her knuckles went white, like her dress.

‘Yes, you did.’

‘I did the best I could,’ said Janice and she bent her head, addressing herself, or so it seemed, as much as Patsy. ‘Under the circumstances I did the best I could…’ Her voice trailed off.

Patsy looked at her unpityingly. ‘Well, clearly it wasn’t good enough.’

Janice let out a quiet sob, touched her face with her hand and Patsy’s tone softened. Not because she relented in any way. She stood firm by what she had said. But she still grieved for the friendship that had been lost.

‘Look, Janice. I imagine we will continue to see each other occasionally in company, at parties held by mutual friends, and the like. It’s impossible to avoid people altogether in a place like Ballyfergus. I can’t speak for Martin, but I won’t go out of my way to shun you because I don’t want to make other people, particularly Clare and Kirsty, feel uncomfortable.’

Janice raised her head, her teary eyes full of hope. Patsy thought it best to deal any misplaced optimism a quick and decisive blow. ‘But as far as any friendship between us goes, we’re finished.’

Janice took a few unsteady steps towards the door, clutching her bag to her chest. She leant momentarily against the doorframe and then, collecting herself, walked quickly out of the room.

‘Excuse me,’ she said and Patsy spun round, shocked, to find Sarah standing in the hall with her car keys in her right hand and two House of Fraser shopping bags in the other. She moved aside to let Janice pass and watched the front door slam shut in amazement. She walked into the kitchen, her face ashen. ‘Oh, Mum,’ she said and sat down heavily on one of the kitchen chairs, dropping the bags on the floor.

‘What are you doing back so soon?’ demanded Patsy. How long had Sarah been standing there?

‘Laura had a headache. We decided to come home early.’

‘I didn’t hear you come in.’

‘I gathered that.’

‘Where’s Laura?’ said Patsy, suddenly anxious. Was a headache one of the signs to look out for in case of post-operation infection? She didn’t think so. But she’d better check, just to be sure.

‘In her room, crying. She bolted upstairs as soon as she heard you and Janice arguing.’

Patsy put her hand over her mouth as if she could cram her words back in. She looked up at the ceiling. ‘How much did she hear?’

‘From the bit where you said Pete Kirkpatrick had treated her like some sort of leper.’

‘Oh, my God.’

Sarah gave her mother a blunt look, her brow furrowed crossly. ‘Why couldn’t you be more discreet, Mum?’

‘I never heard you come in, Sarah.’

Sarah shook her head. ‘We had a great day. She was laughing and smiling and trying things on in H&M. She was almost
like her old self, until the headache came on, that is. And now she’s up there bawling her eyes out.’ Sarah paused, and they both raised their eyes upwards to gaze at the ceiling and listened. Patsy could hear the muffled sound of weeping from the room above the kitchen. It ripped through her heart.

She slumped in a chair. ‘I don’t take back anything I said to Janice,’ she said sullenly. ‘I meant it all.’

Sarah frowned and sniffed. She cocked her head to one side. ‘What’s that smell?’

‘I accidentally burnt something with the iron.’

‘You’ve never burnt anything before.’

‘There’s a first time for everything, Sarah.’

She regarded her eldest daughter closely. Her hair was tied back severely in a ponytail, and she wore little make-up. She had pulled the sleeve of her cream hoodie right down over her hand and sat like an amputee with the handless arm resting on her thigh.

‘You’ve been so supportive of Laura since this happened,’ said Patsy, trying to find some words of encouragement for Sarah, who had been somewhat overlooked recently. ‘I’m proud of you.’

Sarah shrugged and ducked, letting the praise slide off her like butter off a hot knife. ‘She’s my sister.’ There was a pause. She put her left thumb in her mouth and chewed at a rag-nail, then took the thumb out and examined it. ‘Mum, some of the things you said to Janice, things about Pete Kirkpatrick. They were a bit harsh.’

Patsy shifted in her seat. ‘I don’t think so. I thought I was…entirely fair.’

Sarah nodded, bit her bottom lip and eyeballed her mother. ‘Did Laura ever tell you why it happened?’

Patsy’s head snapped round so fast the vertebrae in her
neck clicked. ‘
Why
it happened? I don’t know what you mean.’

Sarah took a deep breath. ‘She told me that she did it – slept with Pete Kirkpatrick – because Kyle Burke told her at the party that he didn’t want to go out with her.’

Patsy looked stunned. If true, it meant that Laura had taken a much more proactive role than she had led her parents to think. ‘What the hell are you talking about, Sarah?’

‘After Kyle told her that, Laura saw him snogging Amy Ritchie – you know, that girl in her year she hates?’

‘Yes,’ said Patsy vaguely.

‘Well, she decided there and then to get back at him, show him, you know, that she could get another guy. She wanted to make Kyle jealous. And Amy Ritchie fancies Pete, so Laura thought it was the perfect way of getting back at them both.’

‘But that’s…that’s so infantile,’ gasped Patsy in dismay.

‘That’s Laura,’ said Sarah flatly, without rancour. ‘The really sad thing is that she thought it would work. Of course it never made Kyle jealous. He couldn’t care less.’

Patsy felt a sickening feeling rise in her stomach. ‘Are you sure? How do you know this?’

‘Laura told me. She made me promise to keep it a secret. You mustn’t say I told you.’

Patsy was incredulous that Laura had kept this information to herself. Information that cast, if not an entirely new light on the evening, then at least a very different one. ‘But why didn’t she tell us?’

‘Isn’t it obvious? She saw how furious you were with the Kirkpatricks and she was afraid you’d be angry with her, I guess. And you would’ve been. You were so quick to point the finger at Pete that I think she thought it easier just to say nothing and let you get on with vilifying him.’ She paused,
put her fist to her mouth as though stemming the tide of words.

‘What?’

‘There’s something else.’

Patsy had always thought Laura was open and honest with her. She thought she confided in her. She thought she
knew
her daughter. ‘What, Sarah?’ she said coldly, because she couldn’t help but feel that Sarah was almost enjoying this.

‘She said she was drunk. Out of her head, in fact.’