Love My Enemy (7 page)

As they hurried up the O'Keefes' short stony drive, Mrs
Gordon peered at them over her neat garden hedge.

'Look at Des's mum,' muttered Zee, 'she's practically
panting with curiosity. You'd think she'd have the
decency to spy on people from behind her net curtains at
least.'

'They
are
in,' Mrs Gordon called out reedily.

'Well they're not hearing us,' retorted Zee and she
knocked again.

'Sure they'll be at their tea at this time of day. They
have an early tea, you know. Their kitchen's round the
back.'

Zee lowered her voice. 'I bet she knows what time
they empty their bowels too.'

'Could I maybe help you, girls?'

Tasha and Zee looked at each other and started
giggling. It was Tasha who recovered first. 'I don't think
so, Mrs Gordon, but thank you for offering.'

'That's quite all right, m'dear. I hear your father. . . er
. . . Mr Mo-whatsi . . . is rather famous. A musician? I
appreciate a nice bit of Bach myself.' She cleared her
throat and pulled at the collar of her flowery apron. '
Ahem! Zara, young lady, you should mind your manners
– you've not introduced us yet.'

'Sorry, but we're kinda pushed for time,' said Zee.

Mrs G's eyes narrowed; she was not easily deterred.
Crooking her forefinger, she beckoned to Tasha who
went to the hedge obediently while Zee continued
knocking.

'Hello, Mrs Gordon. I'm Natasha – I'm pleased to
meet you.'

'Oh . . . what beautiful manners . . . and such
lovely
teeth.' Mrs Gordon expelled a long satisfied sigh as
Tasha smiled, treating her to another dazzling display of
polished enamel. Mrs Gordon lowered her voice. 'I feel
it's only fair to warn you, m'dear. . . you be careful of
that one there.'

'Who? Zee?'

'I believe that's what she calls herself.' Mrs G sniffed
disdainfully. 'Though why anyone should want to
shorten their name when they've had the honour of
being called after royalty defeats me. Does it not you?
An insult to the Princess Royal, that's what it is.'

Tasha felt another giggle building, in spite of her own
desperate situation. 'Perhaps Princess Anne won't find
out,' she whispered conspiratorially. 'And Zee's awfully
nice – honestly.'

Mrs Gordon's drawstring lips disappeared inside her
mouth and the steely hairs on the end of her chin stood
to attention. 'Tragedy's wrecked that family so it has.
The boy's gone wild and the mother hardly moves
beyond that garden of hers. As for thon wee girl, well!'

'Well what . . . ?' asked Tasha in surprise.

'I fear for her, so I do.'

'Fear for her?'

'Aye, for her moral safety.'

Tasha only just managed to turn her hysteria into a
boneshaker of a coughing fit. 'Why's that?' she
spluttered.

'This is the second time in a fortnight I've seen her at
the O'Keefes' door.'

'Is there some reason she shouldn't visit the
O'Keefes?'

Indecision kneaded Mrs Gordon's round grey face
like a pound of pastry. 'It's really not for me to say. . . '
she muttered. 'I mean,
I'm
no gossip.'

'No, of course not . . . I'd better get back to Zee then . . . '

'On the other hand . . . you being a stranger. . . maybe
you need to know our ways – for your own good, of
course.'

'Of course. You were saying . . . '

'I've nothing against them myself, no, nothing at all.
But young Zara there – she should have more sense.
Stick to her own kind . . . especially after what her
family's been through. There's no knowing what young
Gary would do if he thought she was dilly-dallying with
one of them.'

'One of them? With a Catholic, you mean?'

'Exactly. Don't get me wrong, m'dear. I'm all for
peace – of course I am – just so long as they keep their
distance. Know what I mean?'

Tasha was beginning to understand. 'My mother,' she
replied thoughtfully, 'and Miguel say that prejudice is
always wrong.'

'So it is!' Mrs Gordon nodded emphatically. 'Sure we
all think that – but you have to use a bit of common
sense at the same time.'

The old hypocrite was starting to irritate Tasha and
she was relieved when Zee shouted to her.

'Come on, Tash! I'm fed up standing here.'

'Go round the back,' urged Mrs Gordon. 'Have I not
told you the once?'

'I've never met anyone like her,' Tasha whispered as
they crunched across the gravel.

'Lucky you. Northern Ireland's full of Mrs Gs.'

They walked around the side of the house past a big
square kitchen window which it was impossible not to
look through. Sure enough the whole O'Keefe clan was
assembled there, all ten of them sitting at a long table
eating strawberries. Twenty brown eyes fastened on the
girls like laser beams.

Mrs O'Keefe opened the back door just as they
reached it. She was dark haired and the fine lines around
her eyes and mouth reminded Zee of hill markings on an
ordinance survey map. Her hands were thick and red
from heaving coal buckets and doing the washing up.
Zee thought she looked just like a Catholic and she was
ashamed of herself for thinking it.

'What can I do for you?' Mrs O'Keefe asked, smiling
at them.

'It's Conor we've come to see,' said Zee.

They heard a wave of teasing inside, then Mr O'Keefe
shouted out to them. 'Come back later, girls, can you not
see we're eating?'

Zee's heart pounded. He sounded scary but there just
wasn't time to wait. 'I'm sorry,' she called back. 'But it's
urgent.'

There was more teasing, then Conor's mum smiled
again.

'Pay no notice to that rabble,' she said. 'Come on
in, girls.'

Conor wasn't hard to pick out at the table because he
had a face like a flamingo. His brothers were having a
great time.

'You're a dark horse, Con.'

'Not one girl, but two!'

'Be quiet, you eejits!' barked Conor.

Only the youngest two children, seated on either side
of their father, had more important things on their minds.

'You've had seven strawberries already, Diarmaid!'
said one.

'So have you.'

'But I'm a year bigger than you. I
need
more.'

'That's not—'

'Quiet!' bawled Mr O'Keefe. 'If you're going to
fight, we'll give the last strawberry to our new neighbour
here.'

The two kids looked mutinous as he held aloft a white
dinner plate with a single jewel-like berry. Tasha froze,
but Zee giggled. She thought the whole scene looked
like something out of
Oliver Twist
. Promptly, she
grabbed a knife from the table and sliced the plump
berry in two.

'There! Enough for the both of them!'

Mrs O'Keefe laughed. 'By heaven, Zee, they should
have you in the peace process. Conor, take the girls
through the house – you'll get privacy in the parlour.'

Mr O'Keefe looked as if he would much rather they
didn't have privacy and his bald head seemed to
shimmer with curiosity. As for Conor, he looked as if he
would rather evaporate than move, but he got up
eventually and led them through the house in silence.

'I'm sorry,' Zee blurted as soon as he had shut the
parlour door.

'You're not half one for surprises,' he said.

'I didn't mean to turn up like this but it's an
emergency – and you did say you'd help me.'

'Are you all right? What's happened?'

'Nothing. We just need some money, Con, that's all.'

'Money?' he repeated.

'A fiver.' She hesitated. 'Maybe a tenner?'

'What the hell for?'

He looked thunderous and Zee began to wonder if this
had been such a good idea after all. She glanced at Tasha
but she was looking away. 'The thing is . . . I've called a
taxi but we haven't got the money to pay for it.'

'Well then, you have got a problem.' Conor crossed
his arms unsympathetically.

'You said you'd help me!'

'And maybe I will –
when
I know what it's for.'

'Oh, tell him!' cried Tasha, spinning round. 'Just tell
him, Zee.'

'Tell me what?'

There was silence.

'I need the morning after pill,' blurted Tasha. 'We
haven't got a bean to pay for the taxi and the clinic shuts
in forty-five minutes.'

Conor stared at Tasha, then he stared at Zee. His eyes
were growing rounder by the moment. 'Right,' he said at
last, 'we'd better get a move on then.'

'
We
?' Zee felt her face light up, she couldn't help it.
'You're coming too, Conor?'

'Sure.' He grinned at her. 'Call it my good deed for
the day if you like.'

They made for the front door. Conor grabbed his
jacket off a peg and shouted to his parents. 'I'm heading
out – see you later.'

At that the kitchen door burst open and Mr O'Keefe
came hurrying through. 'Out where?' he demanded.

'Just out,' replied Conor, 'I'll be back in a couple of
hours.'

'I wanted a hand in the garage, son.'

'Get one of the others to help you, Dad.'

'But Conor—'

'What?'

Mr O'Keefe's nostrils flared as he looked the girls
over suspiciously. 'What's going on, Conor?'

'Nothing. The girls are friends, that's all.' Conor
stared back boldly at his father. 'Have you got a problem
with that?'

The taxi driver swerved like a bull-fighter, racing between
the lanes of traffic clogging up the Ormeau Road.

'We're all gonna die!' giggled Zee, clutching
Conor's arm.

'Relax,' he said, grinning at her. 'We'll get there.'

Watching them, Tasha wondered if it was all some
awful dream. She sensed that, despite her own predicament,
Zee and Conor were actually enjoying themselves.

'Are you okay?' Zee asked a moment later, her voice
tinged with guilt.

'Do you think this clinic is going to be some dreadful
seedy place,' murmured Tasha, 'with prostitutes hanging
around outside it and syringes on the ground?'

'Why on earth should it be?' asked Zee.

'Bet it is,' mumbled Conor, 'bet it's stuck up some
stinking alley.'

'Bet it
isn't
.' Zee glared at him.

'What does it matter,' he persisted, 'as long as Tasha
gets what she wants?'

But it did matter and Tasha could feel tears burning
behind her eyes. 'What if they think I'm a slut, Zee?
What if they make me
feel
like one?'

'Call it a steep learning curve,' muttered Conor.

'Shut up you!' Zee gave Tasha's arm a reassuring
squeeze and tossed Conor a look that would have frozen
acid. As the taxi braked, they all lurched sideways,
collapsing on each other like playing cards. 'We're here,'
said Zee, pointing, 'and look – it isn't seedy at all.'

The waiting room was large and comfortable with
modern furniture and pastel painted walls. It was filled
with young people about their own age. Some had spiky
haircuts and nose-rings, some wore slick make-up and
smart skirts but most looked in between, jeans-and-jerseys
sort of people like themselves. There was a
murmur of conversation and folk were reading
magazines, or the leaflets that lay about on polished pine
tables, describing different kinds of contraception. Pop
music gave the place a buzz.

'Hi,' said a receptionist with a friendly smile. 'You're
new clients, aren't you? I'll have to take a few details.'

'Whatever for?' demanded Tasha nervously. 'I
thought these places were confidential. Will my mother
find out I've been here?'

'No. It is
absolutely
confidential.'

'Even if I'm under sixteen?'

'Yes. Everyone's entitled to confidentiality – whatever
their age. But we do need details. That way, next time you
come, we can look up your notes, see what we've done
before and work out the best way to help you.'

'I won't
be
back,' vowed Tasha.

The receptionist grinned again. 'Sounds like you've
got a lot on your mind. Fancy a chat with Rose, our
counsellor? She could take your details when you're
feeling more relaxed and then you can see the doctor.'

'I-I'm not sure,' said Tasha. 'I just need the
morning after pill. A counsellor's for people with
problems, isn't it?'

'It's for anyone who feels a chat might help,' said a
young woman getting up from behind a desk. She had
waist length black hair, tight jeans and an embroidered
waistcoat. 'I'm Rose, by the way.'

'She doesn't looks too bad,' whispered Zee.

Tasha thought so too. In fact she looked really friendly.

'I was just about to make some tea,' added Rose.
'Fancy a cup?'

Tasha took a deep breath. 'Okay.' She turned to the
others. 'You needn't wait. I'll get a bus home. Thanks
for getting me this far.'

'I'll wait if you want me to,' said Zee earnestly.

'Honestly, there's no need.'

'Then I'll come over tonight, I promise.'

'Good luck,' muttered Conor and he threw her a wink
as he legged it towards the door.

'Milk and sugar?' asked Rose.

The room they went to had
Counsellor
printed
formally on the door but inside there were pictures of
rolling farmlands on the walls and a bowl of sweet
smelling roses stood on a coffee table. Tasha half
expected Rose to direct her to the big desk in the corner.
Not that Rose looked at all teachery. Instead she waved
her towards a big brown armchair with soft cushions.

'That's the most comfortable seat,' she said. 'Make
yourself at home. And remember, nothing you say in
here goes beyond these four walls.'

'Um. . . right.' Tasha sipped self-consciously at her tea
while Rose plonked herself down in the chair opposite.

'Were those folk at reception good friends of yours?'
she asked.

'Zee is. If it wasn't for her I don't know what I'd have
done today.'

'How come?'

'She brought me here. I didn't even know the
morning after pill existed until she told me.'

Rose's brown eyes were grave. 'You didn't know it
existed but you had unprotected sex anyway?'

'Um . . . ' Tasha hadn't expected such plain speaking
somehow. Unprotected sex. It sounded so . . . careless. To
her horror, her eyes filled up with tears again. Rose
indicated a box of tissues on the coffee table.

'Cry all you want to. We get through tons of tissues
here.' She was not embarrassed by the crying, and she
didn't try to comfort Tasha. She just waited as if Tasha's
tears were completely necessary and useful. 'Feel any
better?' she asked afterwards.

'Maybe – I'm not sure.'

'So, it was unprotected sex, yeah?'

'Yes – but only because I was drunk. I wouldn't have
done it otherwise.'

'Drink generally disinhibits people.'

'What?'

'It gives them false courage – and makes them do
things they wouldn't do sober.'

Tasha swallowed the huge lump that rose up in her
throat. If only she could stop feeling so stupid.

'I did rather wonder if it
might
happen – even before I
went out last night – but I'd never have gone through with
it if I hadn't been drunk. What a mess.' She raked her hand
through her hair despairingly. 'I'll never drink again!'

'I doubt that, but you should certainly aim for
responsible drinking,' said Rose gently and she sipped
her tea which gave Tasha a few moments to collect
herself.

'It sounds as if there were other reasons you had sex,
Tasha? Apart from the booze?'

'Well, Gary's seriously good looking. I couldn't
believe it when I realised he fancied me.'

'Why not? Why couldn't you believe it?'

Rose was sharp but there was no going back now.

'No one else ever has,' said Tasha quietly.

'I find that hard to believe.'

'Do you? The thing is . . . I go to this posh boarding
school.'

'Aah. Where they protect your virtue?'

'Like nuns! The headmistress even thinks going to
church on Sunday is a bit risky.'

'Afraid of affairs in the vestry, is she?'

Tasha laughed. Who would have believed that a
stranger could be so easy to talk to? 'Mind you,' she
confided, 'some of the girls are so desperate they'd
probably settle for the verger! I mean, sex is all we ever
talk about at school.'

'So you felt really excited when Gary showed an
interest?'

'Yes!'

'And you wanted to get close to him?'

'Yeah – specially as nobody else can.'

Rose frowned. 'I don't understand. Why can't anyone
else get close to him?'

'Gary's sort of closed off, complicated – he's Zee's
brother – he's been like that ever since their dad died. He
got murdered, you see.' She stopped because her voice
was slithering about like raindrops on a window pane.
'But
I
know what it feels like to be lonely too.'

'Take your time,' said Rose gently.

'I wanted to share all that with Gary. Talk to him
about it, so he'd know he wasn't the only one. Show him
that we'd be good together.'

'And Gary?'

'What about him?'

'What did you think Gary wanted?'

Tasha stared at her. 'I didn't
think
,' she blurted, realising
it for the first time. 'I just assumed he'd want the
same thing as me.'

'And what do you think now, Tasha?'

'Huh, he was only after sex.'

There was a pause. 'Did Gary force you to have sex?'

'No. I wanted . . . I wanted to find out . . . you know. . .
what it's like. But I didn't think it was the
only
thing he
was interested in.' The humiliation smouldering inside
her like an abandoned bonfire burst alight again. Rose
waited patiently until her tears stopped.

'It sounds as if you thought sex would make you feel
good for all sorts of reasons, Tasha. You were curious
about it, you were lonely, you fancied Gary and you
wanted to help him.'

'I hadn't thought it out that clearly.' Tasha smiled
ruefully. 'It doesn't sound quite so sordid put like
that.'

'Is sordid still how it feels?'

Tasha nodded and whispered, 'It happened on a
football pitch. I feel so ashamed . . . so dirty. A
football
pitch
. I mean, that can't be normal?'

'Listen, you didn't do anything abnormal. Unfortunate,
yes, but not abnormal. And your reaction is completely
normal.'

'Really?'

'Yes – really!'

Rose's sympathy was so genuine, so focused, that it
was a kind of release. 'I'm
not
a slut,' said Tasha fiercely.

'Of course you're not. You made a mistake – we're
allowed to make mistakes. We're all human. It's
learning from them that's important.'

Tasha groaned. 'And I have an awful lot to learn,
haven't I?'

'Perhaps. It sounds to me as if you and Gary just
weren't communicating.'

'We weren't even talking!'

'But in future . . . '

'I'll communicate, believe me.'

'Good. Maybe, you should spend some time thinking
about what you actually want from a relationship – from
any relationship.'

'Okay.'

'And think about how you approach a boy. How you
talk to him? The kind of signals you send out?'

'You're awfully diplomatic. You mean, don't fling
myself at men, don't you?'

'And, before it gets physical,
do
think about contraception.'

'Don't worry, I will.' Tasha smiled at the counsellor.
'When I came in here I just wanted to grab that tablet
and run, but I'm glad we've talked now.'

Rose grinned back. 'Were you scared of what might
come out?'

'Maybe. I don't usually talk to adults – not any more.'

'What about your parents?'

'I don't see much of my dad. My mum's just
remarried – this Bosnian guy who's a bit weird.
Sometimes they even talk Serbo-Croat . . . ' she fizzled
out crossly.

'Sounds like you've got a lot on your plate.'

'Yeah, I have! No one else seems to realise it though.'

'So how does that make you feel?'

'Alone.' She was surprised how quickly the word
spilled out as if it had been sitting there just inside her
mouth for months. 'Yeah, alone.'

'Anything else, Tasha?'

'A bit . . . betrayed. I know it's stupid but I never
thought about Mum marrying again. I just wish she'd
asked me first. And I wish I'd had a chance to get to
know Miguel before they married.'

'Are you going to tell your mum this?'

'She doesn't want to hear stuff like that. She just
wants us all to get on.'

'Maybe you're frightened that telling her will push
you further apart?'

'Yeah, maybe I am.'

They sat quietly for a few moments absorbing things,
then Rose said, 'Of course, it might give you a chance to
work things out together.'

'It might, but it's risky, isn't it? Mum might be angry
with me.'

'Is that likely?'

'No.'

'Life's full of risks, Tasha, and responsibilities.'

'Maybe I should just get on with things – you know –
put up and shut up.'

'It is one option and things might well work out
eventually. But it will take far longer and until then you
will go on feeling alone and betrayed. And
that
can
create other problems, can't it?'

'Like Gary,' said Tasha. She was beginning, dully, to
make connections.

'Talking of Gary, what do you want to do about him?
Are you going to tell him how you feel?'

Tasha shuddered. Gary's eyes had been as hard as
icicles as he pushed his way inside her. Sharp ridges
of earth had grazed her back. When she cried out he
ignored her. She had lain still then, pinned down,
gasping with shock. Intimacy was what she had
longed for but it had just been sex. Cold, insulting sex.
Gary had turned her into his toy and she had felt like
some rag-doll prostitute. He had finished with a final
clutching groan and rolled off her to swig lager from
a can.

'I don't want Gary anywhere near me,' she said
firmly. '
Ever
again.'

Rose opened her mouth, then she closed it again without
speaking. Tasha thought that when the counsellor
smiled at her this time, she looked rather sad.

Outside the clinic, Zee and Conor hung about
uncertainly. Zee was hardly ever at a loss for words but
the easy banter in the taxi had vanished now they were
alone. Conor, teetering on the kerb with his hands in his
pockets, looked just as uncomfortable.

'Maybe we should take Gary home a wee present
from the clinic,' he said.

'What do you mean?' asked Zee.

'A free goodie bag. They're very discreet, you know.'

He meant condoms, she realised with a jolt. 'Do you
come here often then?' she asked, determined to embarrass
him back. 'You seem to know an awful lot about it.'

'So it was Gary who had his wicked way with
Tasha? Ha!'

'I'm not saying that.'

'You don't need to. Sure Tasha was all over him on
the eleventh night.'

There was no denying that. Zee sighed. 'I don't think
she's going to be asking for a goodie bag today, anyway.'

After another awkward silence, Conor said, 'C'mon,
I'd better take you home then.'

'Take me?' Zee's temper came up fast. 'What am I?
Some sort of puppy? I don't come with a lead attached,
you know.'