The Frances Garrood Collection by Frances Garrood

Author:Frances Garrood [Garrood, Frances]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Sapere Books
Published: 2018-12-10T05:00:00+00:00

Clive arrived promptly at seven. He too had apparently made an effort; his hair was carefully spiked and jelled, and he reeked of cheap aftershave.

“Well, hi,” he said when Gabs let him in. “You’re looking pretty good.”

“This,” said Gabs firmly, “is not about me. It’s about Steph. I’m just here to support her.”

“Why does she need support?” Clive dragged his gaze away from Gabs’ bosom.

“You’ll see.”

Steph was seated on the edge of the sofa, looking nervous. She greeted Clive shyly, and he gave her a dutiful peck on the cheek.

“Okay. Sit down, would you?” Gabs said, feeling that she was dealing with a pair of tongue-tied teenagers. Clive sat.

“Right. We’ll come straight to the point, shall we? Steph’s pregnant.”

There followed a very long pause, during which Steph went pale and then bright pink, and Clive stared at the carpet. Then he looked up.

“She can’t be,” he said. “Well, not by me, anyway.”

“She is,” said Gabs. “By you.”

“But we haven’t — we didn’t — well, she just can’t be.”

“It was that evening in the car,” Steph whispered.

“What evening in the car?”

“You know.”

“Would you like me to remind you?” Gabs asked. Since he didn’t reply, she went on to give such a detailed account of the events of the evening in question that by the time she’d finished, both Steph and Clive were crimson with embarrassment.

“Gabs, you didn’t have to… well, go into so much detail,” Steph said through tears of humiliation.

“Well, someone had to,” Gabs said. “Now, Clive, what are you going to do about it?”

“How — how pregnant is she?” Clive asked.

“About two months.”

“Can’t she have something done?”

“Like what?” Gabs was enjoying watching him squirm.

“You know. An operation or something.”

“It’s called an abortion, Clive, and as a good Catholic yourself, I’m sure you’ll understand that Steph won’t do that.”

“My dad’ll kill me.”

“Quite possibly. That’s not Steph’s problem. She has a dad of her own, who will probably provide the same service for her.”

“Oh, heavens! Dad! I’d forgotten about him!” Steph said. “He’ll go mad.”

“I’ll sort Dad out when the time comes. Now, Clive, the good news is that there’s help at hand.”

“What kind of help?”

“Well, it’s not what you’d call a solution, but Father Augustine is prepared to talk to you both.”

“You’ve told Father Augustine?”

“Yep. And he’ll have a chat with you both. It’ll be a start, at any rate.”

“Do we have to?”

“Bloody hell! You’re beginning to sound like Steph. And no. Of course you don’t have to. You can sort the whole thing out on your own if you’d prefer to. But I think Father Augustine would be helpful.”

“Was he — angry?”

“Just disappointed, I’d say.”

“Oh.” Clive fiddled with the frayed edge of the hole in his jeans. “So what do we have to do?”

“Make an appointment to see him.”

“Yeah. Steph, would you…?”

“No,” said Gabs. “I think you should, Clive. It’s about time you did something. Steph has been spewing her guts up for the past couple of weeks, not to mention all the worry. It’s your turn now.”

“Shall I

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