Chapter Forty-Three

And when the Lord saw her, he had compassion on her, and said unto her, Weep not.

Luke 7:13

Saturday 10th November: "You want a drink?"

"Coffee maybe if you've got some. Father Seb said I shouldn't drink. Not with the child."

Trish Hartnett narrowed her green-grey eyes in hard edged curiosity, like a cat, or a snake maybe, or a teenager. "You're keeping it then?" she asked.

Vicky was defensive. "I didn't decide yet. I don't want a child."

Vicky was playing with her hair twisting it in her fingers schoolgirlfashion. She had hair long enough to sit on and was wearing a little Afghan style jacket and a long skirt. Transport her back thirty or forty years and paint a flower on her cheek and she'd make a hippy, Trish thought, and the thought irritated her. This child-mother to be didn't know which way was up. She caught herself wondering whether her marriage to Sean would have been better had she let him make her pregnant. Had he wanted that she wondered. They'd not discussed it. Trish poured Vicky's coffee. "You'll have to cut your hair."

"What?"

"Your hair. You can't seriously be a mother with all that hair."

Vicky laughed.

"You've been speaking to Seb about this?"

Vicky nodded. "Wasn't much help. He went on about the three bears' porridge."

"Meaning life is precious and the universe is just right for it?"

Vicky opened her mouth in mock amazement, "You mean he says that stuff to all the girls?"

Trish laughed in turn. She poured her own coffee. "He wasn't much help about my Sean either."

"Your Sean?"

"He's having an affair."

"I'm sorry."

"Don't be. All men are bastards."

"Don't use that word."

Trish looked surprised.

"That's what my child will be if I have him. Or her."

"Don't."

"Don't what?"

"Don't have the child. An abortion is easy. You're only a few weeks gone. You have no commitment to the man who did this to you." Trish paused. "That's right isn't it? You're not committed to him?"

Vicky shrugged as if the question were unimportant. "No."

"Does he even know?"

Vicky shook her head.

"Don't tell him then. Just get rid of it. I'll go with you. I'll help you." Trish smiled at this child mother-to-be, her attitude softer now. Life was so unfair. She was just a kid. She didn't need to destroy her future over this. It was unconscionable. "Really Vicky dear. I mean it."

And Vicky Walters smiled. The kind of smile that came from deep inside and meant something. "Thank you," she said.

"For what?"

"You've . . . . " She hesitated, grasping for the words. "You've empowered me."