Love My Enemy (6 page)

Des was leering at her. However else she might try to
think of it, he was definitely leering, mostly at her bottom.

'Looks like it's you and me,' he said cheerfully.

She tried to smile. If there was anything in the world
worse than being left with Des, it was being left without
him, entirely alone, silhouetted against the interior lights
of the Co-op while everyone else snogged. She really
did not want to stand there all alone for the next twenty
minutes while couples entwined in the grass giggled
about her.

She rapidly ran through her options. She could tell
Des that she was going home then scuttle round the
other side of the building to wait for Tasha. But Des
would pass her on his way home. What would he think
then? What would he say? Would he spread rumours
about her? Say she was just a kid? A scared kid? And
maybe, just maybe, she was . . .

'We could go over there,' he said, nodding towards a
bush.

'I don't think so.'

'Ah, c'mon!'

'No, I'm staying right here.'

'Have it your own way,' Des said and the next
moment his arm shot round her like a chain. 'You know
I've always liked you, Zee . . . '

'I've got to go soon,' she gabbled, 'gotta be in by
midnight.'

Des lifted her chin and fastened his mouth on hers. It
felt like it was clamped on then his tongue wiggled
through and wrapped itself round hers. She tried to pull
away. She wanted to spit, to get rid of the horrible
smoky taste of him and the wormy texture of his tongue,
but she didn't dare.

He pushed her back slowly until she was pinned
against the wall. She could see the moon reflected in a
puddle between the distant goalposts. Des was pawing
all over her and she wasn't sure how to stop him.
Perhaps it was the alcohol but she felt detached, as if she
was floating outside herself watching what was
happening to her body, watching it happen to someone
she hardly knew.

His hand groped across her jersey, then he dived
underneath it. She wondered how close Tasha and Gary
were. Close enough to hear her scream no doubt, but she
knew she wouldn't scream. She couldn't. They would
think she was such a baby.

Des had hands like shovels and he was digging under
her bra now, scratching her skin with his dirty fingernails,
tugging impatiently at the tight fitting cotton.
Eventually it gave and she heard a little moan of
satisfaction as his hand squeezed her breast.

'That's sore!' she said.

She pulled his hand out but he gripped her own hand
and pushed it between his legs. She felt a long hard lump
and pulled away in fright.

'Stop it,' she hissed. 'That's enough!'

'It's all right.'

'It's not!' she said, furious.

How had she got herself into this situation? Why
couldn't she extricate herself? Tasha would know what
to say, what to do. Des was at her breasts again, and
sucking her neck like a pig as he manoeuvred his body
on top of hers.

He was as heavy as a pig too and he smelt of sweat
and lager and cigarettes. Zee found that she could hardly
move, could hardly even breathe. Somehow she
managed to lift one arm and her watch said eleven-forty
two. There was no sign of Tasha.

'Stop it!' she told him again and hammered on his
back with her free fist. 'I've gotta go.' Des was fumbling
with the metal button at the top of her jeans now,
swearing under his breath. 'I said stop it, Des!'

'Shut up,' he grunted.

Panic shocked through her. His voice was hard and
terse; she hardly recognised it. What was he doing?
Surely she wasn't going to lose her virginity up against
the Co-op wall? There was nothing romantic in view at
all – only puddles and the special offer posters in the Coop
window.

She felt the metal button on her jeans slip through the
eyelet, and caught a glimpse of his greedy face. He
pushed his hand down though the zip was only half
undone. It crushed into her abdomen, his fingers scraped
through her pubic hair.

'No!' With one huge push she threw him off balance
and in the moment before his brain caught up, Zee had
wriggled free. 'You bastard!'

He looked at her, dazed. 'What's the matter with you?'

'You
know
what's the matter. You should have
stopped when I told you to.'

'You think I can? Just like that?'

'You'd better learn to – or you'll end up in prison!'

'What did you think we were going to do?'

'I didn't want to do anything!'

'You were up for it, you slag! You know you were.'

'You only think that 'cos you keep your brains in your
balls, Des Gordon.'

'You frigid wee hoor! What's wrong with you?'

Later, she would laugh about that particular insult but
just then it brought tears to her eyes. 'Tasha?' she called
half heartedly across the pitch. 'Tasha?'

'Leave her,' Des grunted.

'She's to come home with me.'

'She's screwing, you daft cow.'

'No, she isn't!' Zee heard her voice wobbling. She
didn't want to desert Tasha. She didn't want to believe
Des.

'Aye, she is. Gary always gets what
he
wants.'

There was something so jealous in Des's voice that it
made Zee shiver. She walked shakily around to the other
side of the Co-op. There was no sign of Tasha and it was
almost five to twelve.

Was Des right after all? Where was Tasha? What was
she doing? She seemed so much more experienced than
Zee was. It made her feel even worse, such a
child
.

Tasha and Gary were having sex, of course they were.
Hadn't tonight been all Tasha's idea? The alcohol, then
meeting up with the crowd? Tasha had known exactly
what she wanted. Maybe it was her, Zee, who was odd,
for not wanting sex. Frigid, weird . . . just like Des said.

She started walking up the pavement where a few
hours earlier they had played hopscotch. Des's words
banged like a drumbeat around her head.

'You were up for it, you slag . . . You frigid wee
hoor. . . What's wrong with you?. . . frigid wee hoor. . .
what's wrong . . . ?'

She started sobbing; she couldn't help it. Desperate
for home, she broke into a run.

When Tasha woke up the following morning, her pillow
was damp with tears. Her head ached and her body felt
like a dead weight. When she managed to heave herself
into a sitting position, every bone and muscle hurt. She
soaked in a deep foamy bath but even that barely helped.

In the mirror some creature with limp hair and skin
like potato peel stared back at her. The creature's eyes
were blank. How could she ever get her head round what
had happened to her last night? How could she face
anyone if she couldn't face herself? She tried to watch
television but couldn't concentrate. Music messed her
head up even more. She spent forty minutes screwing up
the courage to ring Zee. If Gary answered she could
hang up, couldn't she?

Her hand hovered, trembling, over the dial pad and
the receiver made her palm sweat. She tapped in the
digits with her heart pounding then jumped when the
phone pealed out shrilly at the other end . . . three . . .
five . . . seven . . . nine times . . . pick it up, Zee,
please
pick it up . . . but there was no answer. Distraught, Tasha
burst into tears.

She went downstairs about eleven o'clock, knowing
she had better put in an appearance.

'I lay awake waiting for you last night,' snapped her
mum. 'Do you know what time you came in?'

'Sorry, I lost track of the time.' Tasha scooted outside
to the garden but her mother followed her.

'It was after half past twelve,' she went on. 'That's
twice in one week!'

Big deal, thought Tasha, but she apologised again.

'How did you lose track of the time? You've got a
watch.'

'I wasn't wearing it.'

'Well, why not?'

'It didn't match my top.'

'Tasha!'

This time last year, she might have confided in her
mum, but not now and certainly not when she was in a
mood. Tasha's head rattled. She had never had a
hangover before and she wished her mother would stop
shouting, stop going on and on about safety and
thoughtlessness and good manners. The only thing that
really stuck in Tasha's aching brain was her mum talking
about herself and Miguel as an item all the time.

'Look, I'm trying to be reasonable,' she was saying
now, 'but we've got to be able to trust you.'

'We?' said Tasha before she could stop herself.
'Miguel isn't my dad.'

'But he is my husband.'

'So?'

'So it wouldn't hurt you to be a bit more friendly
towards him.'

'He wasn't being very friendly to me last night! What
I wear's got nothing to do with him.'

'Miguel's a human being, Tasha, not some sort of
robot. He's got opinions and he's entitled to voice them.
Just for the record, your own dad wouldn't have wanted
you going out dressed like that either. Nor did I.'

'You just want to spoil my fun.'

'Rubbish. Being dressed like that's an invitation . . . '

'To what?'

'You
know
what. It's irresponsible. We're glad you
enjoyed yourself – of course we are – but you've got to
come home on time. We've
got
to be able to trust you.'

Tears flooded into Tasha's eyes and she turned away.
She couldn't handle this conversation.
Enjoyed herself
?
Trust
? If they only knew. . .

'Are you all right?' her mother asked suddenly. 'You
don't seem quite yourself this morning.'

Tasha knew that this was her chance to speak, but
how could she? Where would she begin? How could she
explain the alcohol, Gary, her own stupidity? Her
mother would kill her. Miguel would be convinced that
she really was the slut he already suspected. They would
probably send her packing and that would mean back to
school because her own father couldn't find time for
her. . .

'I'm okay. I'll wear my watch in future, yeah?'

She sat down on the grass beside a tortoiseshell cat
washing its face with its paws and her mother went back
indoors. The cat tiptoed onto Tasha's lap and looked up
at her with calm round eyes. She cuddled it close and it
purred with happiness, its hot, comforting fur mopping
up her tears.

Later, as a peace offering, she made Miguel a mug of
strong sweet coffee, just the way he liked it. He thanked
her solemnly and her mother beamed. If it kept them off
her back, thought Tasha, it was worth it.

She spent most of the day alone and late that
afternoon, when Zee called, she found her fast asleep on
her bed.

'Whatever's wrong?' she asked at once. 'You look
awful.'

'Oh, Zee,' she said, then found that she couldn't say
any more. She wanted to. She had to tell somebody and
she had thought it would be easy to tell Zee, but it
wasn't. She felt so incredibly stupid that it wasn't going
to be easy to tell anyone.

'Is it something I did?' asked Zee. 'I'm sorry I didn't
wait last night but I couldn't – not any longer.'

'It's not you – it's
me
.' Tears scalded Tasha's cheeks.
'I've been so . . . so stupid, Zee.'

'No . . . oh my God, you haven't . . . have you?'

Tasha nodded and whispered, 'With your brother.'

'Right.' Zee's face paled in front of her. 'Gary
didn't . . . he didn't . . . ?'

'Rape me?' She shook her head. 'The truth is that I . . .
wanted him to . . . but not like
that
.'

'What do you mean?'

'He was so
callous
.' She shook her head violently,
sending tears flying. 'I don't think he even knew who he
was screwing, Zee.'

'Of course he did. Anyone can see Gary likes you.'

'Then why did he hurt me? He hurt me a lot, Zee.'

'I'm so sorry.'

'It's not your fault. It should have been special but it
wasn't special at all. It was horrible. It felt cheap.
I
felt
cheap, like a . . . like a slut.'

Zee put her arms around her and gave her a hug. 'You
poor thing. Des was awful last night. The same thing
almost
happened to me.'

Tasha listened to Zee's story in silence but nothing
could change what had happened. 'The big difference,'
she pointed out afterwards, 'is that it didn't happen to
you because you stopped it.'

'I didn't fancy Des, otherwise, who knows? Maybe I
would have. Don't you think
I
want to know what it's
like too?'

'You're missing nothing!' said Tasha bitterly. 'Afterwards,
Gary wanted me to go to a party one of the crowd
was throwing. Can you believe that? As if nothing had
happened. As if I was some cheap little tart who screws
around every Saturday night. I couldn't face it, Zee.'

'I hope the rat walked you home?'

Tasha nodded. 'I thought he'd go home too, but no.
He said he was going to the party anyway.' She wiped
her eyes with a tissue that Zee gave her. 'I expect he
went back to Ruby Mason.'

'Do you really think so?'

'He was with her earlier, wasn't he? And I know she
went to the party because he told us so! To think of him
going back to
her
moments after we'd . . . '

'Tasha.' Zee blushed and seemed to force herself to
go on. 'Did you . . . did Gary. . . use anything . . . like a
condom?'

Tasha shook her head and more tears leaked out. It
felt as if they would never stop now. 'No,' she
whispered. 'I've been going mad here, worrying.' There
had been nothing, no mention of contraception, precious
little conversation at all, in fact, and certainly no
condom. 'Oh, Zee, how could I have been so stupid?'

'I'll kill him, I swear, I'll kill Gary!'

'Never mind
him
, what if I'm pregnant? What will
I do?'

'It won't come to that.' Suddenly Zee was matter-of-fact
and practical. 'We've got to get you the morning
after pill. Damn! The chemists will be closed now and
tomorrow's Sunday.'

'Whatever are you talking about?'

'Emergency contraception – to stop you falling
pregnant.'

A bolt of excitement and hope shot through Tasha. This
seemed almost too good to be true. 'How can it do that? I
mean, when I've already had sex? Isn't it too late?'

'Not yet. You have to take it within seventy-two
hours. Haven't they taught you this at school?'

'They never teach us anything this useful.'

'Emergency contraception stops a fertilised egg
planting itself in your womb.'

'Really? How wonderful!'

Zee frowned; she was obviously making a huge effort
to remember. 'They said it makes the lining of the womb
inhospitable. It's not the same as an abortion – it just
stops it all happening. That's why it's called emergency
contraception. You
could
actually wait until Monday
and get it then from a chemist.'

'I'll go mad worrying meantime.'

Zee nodded sympathetically. 'The only other way is
to see a doctor.'

'But I haven't got a doctor!' cried Tasha, panicking.
'Not here in Belfast. Besides, I'm under age – I'm only
fifteen.'

'There's a special clinic for young people somewhere
in Belfast – you can get it there. It's free. Oh . . . what's
the name of the place?'

'For God's sake, think!'

'I know – Yellow Pages.'

Ten minutes and one phonecall later they had the
address. The clinic was only open for another hour and
a half.

Zee's brain seemed to have gone into overdrive. 'We
can't hang around for a bus, we'll have to ring a taxi.
How much money have you got?'

Tasha shook her head frantically. Her entire
allowance had gone on make-up. 'Can't we ask your
mum for a loan, Zee?'

'No way, she has no spare money. What about your
mum?'

'Daren't risk it. I'm already in her bad books. If they
find out about this, I'm dead.'

Tears started tumbling down her face again. She felt
so helpless, so foolish, so totally out of her depth.

'I know,' said Zee calmly. 'We'll ask Conor.'

'Conor?'

'He'll lend us cash.' Zee gritted her teeth. 'He'd
better
.'