Gabs was unhappy.
This was an unusual state of mind for Gabs, and she was at a loss as to how to handle it. Normally hers was a sanguine temperament, and she could usually cope with such vagaries as life threw at her with humour and competence. But her obsession with Father Augustine was beginning to take over her life, and it was making her miserable.
At first, if she was honest, the whole thing had been a bit of a lark. Okay, she had fancied him madly and had even imagined herself to be in love with him, but if he had disappeared from her life altogether, she would have got over it.
Now, however, it was different. She had contrived to see him on several more occasions, and while he was always friendly, he was also distant. Father Augustine had his boundaries, and Gabs had not yet managed to find a way past them. And yet there was an attraction; she knew there was. Gabs’ behaviour might be foolish, but her instincts were usually right, and she was sure that Father Augustine was attracted to her. On a couple of occasions, he had looked as though he were about to say something and then appeared to have thought better of it, and Gabs suspected that the words that Father Augustine had thought better of were the ones she wanted to hear. People tend to “think better” of the truth, and if the truth was that Father Augustine returned Gabs’ feelings, if only a tiny bit, then Gabs wanted to hear it.
Her other problem was that there really was no one she could talk to about it. Steph was being moody and rather distant, and in any case, she had made her feelings quite clear on the subject. Alice and Mavis hadn’t been exactly helpful, either. And there wasn’t anyone else. Gabs had friends, but they tended to be breezy good-timers — the kinds of friends who were fine for a night out and a few drinks and a gossip, but not much use in a crisis.
Was this a crisis? At times, it certainly felt like one, but then as her mother would have said, “no one’s died”. (Gabs’ mother had, in fact, done just that, leaving her ill-tempered and wayward husband to finish bringing up their two daughters. This he had done with minimal effort and no enthusiasm, and the girls, for once in complete agreement, had left home at the earliest opportunity.)
Up until now, Gabs had reckoned that she knew all about love and that, when it happened to her, she would know just how to handle it. What she had never realised was that it could be so unbearably painful. When she saw Father Augustine, there was an ache in her solar plexus that was physical and that (oddly) had nothing whatever to do with sex and everything to do with longing simply to be with him. She continued to attend Mass, but her attendance was irregular, since she didn’t want to appear too predictable. She had also managed to arrange a one-to-one meeting at the presbytery, but this had been less than satisfactory, since Father Augustine had kept the conversation strictly to the subject of God and Gabs’ soul, and since Gabs felt that she no longer had much interest in either, there had been very little to say.
“Don’t you ever have doubts, Father?” she had asked, hoping to steer the conversation away from herself.
“Everyone has doubts,” Father Augustine had replied. “It’s part of the cross we have to bear. But prayer, Gabs — that’s what helps. Prayer. I can lend you an excellent little book.”
He had got up from his chair and fetched down a well-worn volume from the bookcase.
“Here. Read this. I’m sure it will help you.”
Gabs had taken the book, managing to brush Father Augustine’s fingers with her own as she took it from him, but he had appeared not to notice.
“Shall I — do you think I ought to come back?” she had asked him as she was leaving.
Father Augustine had smiled at her. “I don’t think that will be necessary,” he had said, and in that instant, she knew that he understood perfectly what her intentions had been, and Gabs, who was normally a stranger to embarrassment, had actually blushed.
But she wouldn’t give up. Gabs had never yet given up the pursuit of something she wanted, and she wasn’t going to start now. She would bide her time. Sooner or later, something would happen to facilitate a positive outcome to her plans, and she was prepared to wait.
Fortunately for Father Augustine (if not for anyone else), something happened to take Gabs’ mind off matters of the heart, for it transpired that she was not the only one with a problem.
“Gabs, can I talk to you?” Steph asked her one evening shortly after her meeting with Father Augustine.
“Course you can.” Gabs yanked off her unseasonal thigh-length boots and stretched out on the sofa. “Fire away.”
“Oh, Gabs! My period’s late.”
“Your period’s late,” Gabs repeated. For most girls, a late period was serious; a late period meant trouble. But for Steph — well, a late period was just that. A late period. “What’s the worry?” she asked now. She noticed a ladder in her tights and wondered whether Steph would lend her a pair. “It’s happened before, hasn’t it?”
“No. Never.”
“Well, one thing’s for sure: you can’t be pregnant.”
“Can’t I?”
Gabs sat up and looked at her sister. Steph looked very pale and very frightened.
“Well, you tell me.” Gabs laughed. “Come on, Steph. You of all people. No. You can’t be pregnant.”
“Gabs, can you get pregnant without — without — you know?”
“Well, ‘you know’ certainly helps if you want to get pregnant.”
“Please don’t laugh at me.”
“I’m not laughing at you. But, Steph, this is ridiculous. What exactly have you done?”
Steph fiddled with the buttons on her blouse. “I guess I went a bit too far.”
“Who with? When?” This was certainly news to Gabs.
“That time you did my make-up for me — remember? I got talking to this — this boy from church, and he asked me out. We’ve seen each other a few times since then. And then about a month ago, we went to a party. I had a couple of drinks. Well, more than a couple of drinks, actually.”
“And?” prompted Gabs.
“And afterwards, in his car, he — we did things.” Steph looked up. “We didn’t go the whole way, Gabs. You have to believe me.”
“Oh, I believe you,” said Gabs, thinking that her sister must be the last person on the planet to use such an old-fashioned expression. “And it’s no business of mine if you did.”
“But he — he did things to me. It was my fault. I shouldn’t have let him, and I did stop him before…” Her voice trailed away. “But now — now…”
“Your period’s late.”
“Yes.”
“And he didn’t use a condom?”
“Of course not.” Steph looked shocked.
No. Of course not, Gabs thought furiously. Steph was a good little Catholic; she wouldn’t dream of using a contraceptive, would she? After all, it was a mortal sin. Gabs was overcome with sudden rage at the boy — man — whoever he was, who would take advantage of the poor innocent who was her sister.
“Look, Steph,” she said, “you have to tell me exactly what you — what he — did. We need to establish that before we can decide what to do next.”
So Steph told her. Her account of the events of the evening in question was so cloaked in euphemisms that only someone who knew her very well could have had any idea what she was talking about, but when she’d finished, Gabs reckoned that she might just possibly be pregnant. If she were, she had been incredibly unlucky, but where reproduction was concerned, Gabs knew that luck very rarely seemed to play much of a part. How typical of her sister it would be if she had actually contrived to achieve that rarest of phenomena: a virgin birth.
“Have you done a test?” Gabs asked her.
“What kind of test?”
“Oh, Steph! A pregnancy test, of course.”
“No. I thought I’d talk to you first.”
“Well, we’ll do one now.”
“Can’t we wait?” Steph pleaded. “Just for a day or two?”
“No. We can’t wait. This needs to be sorted as soon as possible.”
“But —”
“No buts. I’ll give you a kit.”
“You mean — you mean you’ve got one?”
“I’ve got one.” Gabs forbore to point out that in her calling, it would be a foolish woman who wasn’t prepared for all eventualities. “Come on. It’s quite simple. I give you a little stick, you pee on it, and Bob’s your uncle.”
“How can you be so cheerful?”
“No point in being anything else,” said Gabs, who was in fact feeling very far from cheerful. “Come on.”
As Gabs had feared, the test was positive.
“Oh no, oh no,” Steph sobbed, rocking back and forth in her chair. “It can’t be. It just can’t.”
“It can and it is.” Gabs sat down and put her arms around her sister. “But it’s very early, and we’ll sort it. Don’t worry.”
“What do you mean?” Steph raised a tear-stained face and gazed at Gabs. “How can we — sort it?”
“You’ll have an abortion, of course. And don’t worry about the money. I can help with that. And of course, I’ll come with you.”
“An abortion?”
“Yes. An abortion. Steph, it’s the only answer. You can’t afford a child — you aren’t ready for one — and it’s quite straightforward at this early stage. You leave everything to me.”
But even as she spoke, Gabs knew that she was in for a battle, for a girl who wouldn’t dream of using a contraceptive was hardly going to take kindly to the idea of a termination.
“I can’t,” Steph wept. “I simply can’t. It’s taking a life. A human life. It’s — it’s murder!”
“Oh, for goodness’ sake! Don’t be so ridiculous,” Gabs said. “It’s just a few cells. No more human than — than that plant over there.”
Steph gazed at the rather spindly spider plant that languished, unloved and unwatered, on the sideboard, and shook her head.
“You don’t understand,” she said.
“Oh, I understand all right,” said Gabs grimly. “You’re prepared to throw your life away for something that, right now, barely exists. Something that mightn’t come to anything anyway. The bloody Catholic Church has a lot to answer for.”
“This isn’t about the church. It’s about me. My conscience,” Steph said. “But of course you wouldn’t know anything about that, would you? I don’t think you’ve ever had one. A life is a life. It doesn’t matter how small it is. It still deserves a chance.”
The age-old argument raged back and forth, complete with all its clichés: Gabs citing the woman’s right to choose and the little bundle of cells; Steph countering that size wasn’t important, it was the fact that it was human that mattered.
“So,” said Gabs finally, “you’re going to have this child, are you? And how exactly do you propose to manage? What about your job? What about money? And the father — are you going to tell him? What part is he going to play in this — this mess?”
“Oh. I hadn’t thought,” said Steph.
“No. So it seems. And you didn’t think when you had those drinks and got into that car and took off your knickers for this — this man of yours.”
“I didn’t take off my knickers for anyone!”
“Well, if you didn’t, it’ll be some kind of first. A knickers-on conception must be something of a rarity.”
“Gabs, I wish you wouldn’t talk like that!”
“This,” said Gabs tightly, “is no time to be prudish.”
“No. You’re right.”
“Okay. First, let’s get this child’s father involved. You’re going to need all the help you can get.”
“He’s — he’s not around anymore.”
“What do you mean, he’s not around? Has he died? Emigrated?”
“No. But we finished it. It wasn’t really going anywhere.”
“Well, it is now. You’re going to be parents, and he needs to play his part.”
“Oh no, Gabs. Please. I don’t want him to know. I don’t want anyone to know.”
Gabs resisted the urge to shake her sister.
“Steph, this is a real situation with real problems. You can’t bury your head in the sand and pretend it’s not happening. If you’re determined to keep this child — and I still think you’re mad — then you have to tell its father. You have to. Now, who is he?”
“He’s — it’s Clive,” Steph whispered.
“Great.”
This really was the icing on the cake. Wispy Clive, of the lanky limbs and the frightened, helpless expression; Clive, who had grown from a skinny altar boy into an equally skinny and unprepossessing young man; Clive, with the downy cheeks that somehow refused to sprout anything resembling a proper grown-up beard, and the traces of the acne that had dogged his adolescence. How on earth had he managed it?
“I know,” said Steph, reading Gabs’ expression. “But I really liked him. Well, I did for a while. And I trusted him.”
“But you don’t like him anymore.”
“No. Not really, and that makes it so much worse, doesn’t it? Because I always wanted to save — that — for someone special.”
“No good crying over spilt milk,” said Gabs, thinking that spilt milk was a great deal easier to deal with than spilt other things. “I know,” she said with sudden inspiration, “Father Augustine. I’m sure he’ll have some ideas. He’s a good listener, and he seems pretty unshockable. I’m sure it would help you to talk to a priest.”
Steph looked at her suspiciously. “Are you sure it’s not you who wants to see Father Augustine?” she asked.
“Oh no,” said Gabs airily. “That’s all in the past. A foolish aberration.”
“Well, I suppose that’s something.”
“Yes.”
Gabs wondered what it was that had led her to lie so smoothly to Steph. She certainly hadn’t meant to, since despite their differences, the two of them rarely kept secrets from each other. But she knew that if Steph suspected that she still had designs on Father Augustine, she would insist on seeing him on her own, and Gabs was desperate for any opportunity that might bring her into contact with him, even if the focus were to be on someone else.
Father Augustine was very kind. He was non-judgemental and sympathetic — in fact, all the things that the Catholic Church isn’t supposed to be in the face of sexual immorality or its fallout — and he listened carefully to everything Steph had to say.
“Well, Steph, this isn’t going to be easy,” he told her. “But you’ve made the right decision. Too many people just get rid of their unplanned babies these days, forgetting that there’s no such thing as an unwanted child.”
“But Steph didn’t want this one,” Gabs pointed out.
Father Augustine turned a disappointed gaze on Gabs. “Steph may not want this baby now, but I’m sure she will when it arrives. And if she doesn’t, there are many families who long for children and can’t have them — good Catholic families.”
“Oh, please,” muttered Gabs.
“What was that you said, Gabs?”
“Nothing. But I can’t believe you expect Steph to go through all this, have the baby, and then give it away!”
“I’m not suggesting anything of the sort, but it is an option that she can consider.”
“I suppose so.”
“Now —” Father Augustine steepled his fingers and smiled over them at Steph — “what’s the next step?”
“I don’t know. That’s why I came to you.”
“Well, I think you should tell the baby’s father. He has a right to know.”
“That’s what I told her,” said Gabs, who could see her tally of brownie points dwindling during this interview, and wanted to give them a small boost. “He deserves to know.”
Steph looked at her suspiciously, but Gabs maintained an open, sympathetic expression and refused to meet her sister’s eyes.
“Well, then, that’s what you should do first. And see how much support he’ll give you. I’m not suggesting you marry him — not at this stage, anyway. But get him involved.”
Gabs tried to imagine weedy, useless Clive being “involved” with a baby — pushing a pram, changing a nappy, and doing all the other things modern fathers are supposed to do so well — and failed utterly.
“I’m not sure he’d be a lot of help,” she said.
“But he should be given the opportunity,” said Father Augustine firmly. “Is he a Catholic?”
“Yes,” Steph said.
“Excellent.” Father Augustine smiled again.
Oh, what wouldn’t Gabs have given to have that smile directed at her! So far, Father Augustine seemed to be doing his best to ignore her. And besides, why was it excellent that Clive was a Catholic? Was Father Augustine really pleased to discover that he had two fornicating Catholics on his hands rather than just one?
“Yes.” Steph sounded doubtful.
“And when you’ve told him, the two of you can come and see me together. How would that be?”
“I don’t know.”
“Well, never mind. We’ll leave that for the time being. One step at a time.” Father Augustine stood up. “I’m afraid I have to be somewhere else in fifteen minutes, but in the meantime, you’ve got Gabs to help you, and that’s a blessing, isn’t it? And always remember: I’m here if you need me.”
On the way home, while Steph prattled away about how much better she felt and how wonderful it was to have a church to turn to in times of stress, all Gabs could think about was Father Augustine: Father Augustine’s words (he’d actually called her “a blessing” — had he meant Gabs herself, or the fact of Gabs, the fact that Steph had a sister?) and those parting words to Steph: he would always be there if she needed him. Oh, lucky Steph! Did she have any idea how fortunate she was? She now had carte blanche to visit Father Augustine anytime she wanted, while Gabs, who loved him so much, had no excuse at all. Briefly, she wondered whether it might even be worth getting pregnant in order to have nine months of support from Father Augustine, but she dismissed the idea. There were some sacrifices that were not worth making, even for a reward such as this one.
“I think I’ll leave telling Clive for a while,” Steph was saying. “Just until I’ve got used to the idea myself. Then perhaps we could tell him together. Would you mind doing that, Gabs? I don’t think I could do it on my own, but with you there, I might manage it. Gabs? Gabs! I don’t think you’ve heard a word I’ve been saying!”
“Of course I have.” Gabs dragged her thoughts away from her reveries and patted Steph’s shoulder. “And you’re going to be just fine.”
“You’ve certainly changed your tune!”
“Well, if I can’t dissuade you, then I’ll have to support you, won’t I?”
“Oh, Gabs! Father Augustine was right. You really are a blessing.”
Gabs grinned at her. “Yes, aren’t I?”