‘Not really,’ put in Judith. ‘Ted’s a friend of Chloë’s. I know her a bit. Dora’s never met her, have you, Dora?’
‘No.’ Dora’s voice was a whisper. She was almost translucent, thought Frieda – blue veins under pale skin, blue shadows under eyes, neck that seemed almost too thin to hold up her head, bony knees, skinny legs with a big bruise on one shin. She’d been the one who’d found her mother dead, she remembered.
‘Sit down,’ she said. ‘Have you had anything to eat?’
‘I’m not hungry,’ said Dora.
‘Not since breakfast,’ said Judith. ‘And you didn’t eat any breakfast, Dora.’
‘Here.’ Frieda got out two extra plates and pushed them in front of the girls. ‘We’ve got plenty to go round.’ She glanced at Sasha’s bemused face. ‘Judith and Dora’s mother died very recently.’
Sasha leaned towards them, her face soft in the guttering candlelight. ‘I’m so sorry.’
‘Someone killed her,’ said Judith, harshly. ‘In our house.’
‘No! That’s dreadful.’
‘Ted and I think it was her lover.’
‘Don’t,’ said Dora, piteously.
Frieda noticed how in Ted’s absence Judith took on his anger, his corrosive bitterness.
‘Can I have some wine?’
‘How old are you?’
‘Fifteen. You’re not going to tell me that I shouldn’t drink wine because I’m only fifteen?’ She gave an ugly snort. Her blue eyes glittered and her voice scratched.
‘This is a school night and I hardly know you. I’ll give you some water.’
Judith shrugged. ‘Whatever. I don’t really feel like it actually.’
‘Dora, have some rice,’ said Sasha. She had a cooing note to her voice. She’s broody, thought Frieda. She’s fallen in love and she wants babies.
Dora put a teaspoon of rice onto her plate and pushed listlessly at it. Sasha put her hand over the young girl’s, at which she put her head on the table and started crying, her thin shoulders shaking, her whole starved body shuddering.
‘Oh dear,’ said Sasha. ‘Oh, you poor thing.’ She knelt beside the girl and cradled her. After a few moments, Dora turned urgently towards her, pressing her wet face into Sasha’s shoulder, holding on to her like a drowning person.
Judith stared at them, her expression blank.
‘Can I speak to you?’ she hissed to Frieda, above the hiccuping sobs.
‘Of course.’
‘Out there.’ Judith jerked her head towards the yard.
Frieda rose and opened the back door. The air was still quite gentle after the warmth of the day and she could smell the herbs she had planted in their tubs. ‘What is it?’ she asked.
Judith looked at her, then away. She seemed both older than her years, and younger: an adult and a child at once. Frieda waited. Her curry would be a congealing oily mass.
‘I’m not feeling well,’ said Judith.
The air seemed to cool around them. Frieda knew what she was going to say. This was the kind of thing she should be telling her mother.
‘In what way?’ she asked.
‘I’m feeling a bit sick.’
‘In the morning?’
‘Mostly.’
‘Are you pregnant, Judith?’
‘I don’t know. Maybe.’ Her voice was a sullen mumble.
‘Have you done a test?’
‘No.’
‘You ought to do one as soon as possible. They’re very reliable.’ She tried to make out the expression on the girl’s face. ‘You can buy them across the counter at a chemist’s,’ she added.
‘I know that.’
‘But you’re scared because then you’d know for certain.’
‘I guess.’
‘If you were pregnant, do you know how far gone you are?’
Judith shrugged. ‘I’m just a few days late.’
‘Is it just from one sexual encounter?’
‘No.’
‘You have a boyfriend?’
‘If that’s the right word.’
‘Have you told him?’
‘No.’
‘Nor your father?’
She gave her laughing snort – derisive and unhappy. ‘No!’
‘Listen. You must find out if you’re pregnant first of all, and if you are, you have to decide what you want to do. There are people you can speak to. You won’t have to deal with it alone. Are there other adults you could speak to? A family member, a teacher?’
‘No.’
Frieda half closed her eyes. She let the weight settle on her. ‘OK. You can do the test here, if you want, and then we’ll talk about it.’
‘Really?’
‘Really.’
‘And maybe you should think about talking to your father.’
‘You don’t understand.’
‘He might not react the way you think.’
‘I’m his little girl. He doesn’t want me to wear makeup! I know how he’ll react. Mum dying, police everywhere, and now this. It’ll kill him. As for Zach –’ She stopped and grimaced. Her small face worked with her emotions.
‘Is Zach your boyfriend?’
‘He’ll be furious with me.’
‘Why? It takes two, you know, and you’re the one who has to deal with the consequences.’
‘I’m supposed to be on the Pill. I am on the Pill. I just forgot for a bit.’
‘Is Zach at your school?’
She pulled a face.
‘What does that mean?’
‘It means no.’
Frieda stared at her and Judith stared back.
‘How old is Zach?’
‘What’s that got to do with anything?’
‘Judith?’
‘Twenty-eight.’
‘I see. And you’re fifteen. That’s a big age gap.’
‘Thanks. I can do the maths.’
‘You’re underage.’
‘That’s just a stupid rule old people make up to stop young people doing what they did when they were young themselves. I’m not a child.’
‘Tell me something, Judith. Did your mother know about Zach?’
‘I never told her. I knew what she’d say.’
‘So she had no idea?’
‘Why would she?’ Judith gazed back into the lit kitchen. Dora was sitting with her head propped on her hand, talking; Sasha was listening intently. ‘Except,’ she added.
‘Except?’
‘I think she may have discovered I was on the Pill.’
‘What makes you think that?’
‘I knew she’d find them if I put them anywhere obvious. She had a talent for it – sniffing out other people’s secret things. If I’d put them in my underwear drawer or in my makeup bag or under the mattress, she’d have dug them out at once. Like Ted’s weed. So I put them in a sock in the cupboard next to the bathroom, which nobody opens from one year to the next except to chuck stuff in. But I think she found them. Maybe I’m being paranoid, but I think she changed the dial so the arrow was pointing to the right day. I just used to take one and not bother about the day matching up, but someone changed it. Twice. I’m sure they did.’
‘Perhaps it was her way of telling you she knew.’
‘I dunno. It seems a bit stupid to me. Why wouldn’t she just say?’
‘Because she knew you’d be angry with her and clam up?’
‘Maybe.’ Judith turned. ‘So you think she knew?’
‘Perhaps.’
‘And she was waiting for me to confide in her?’
‘It’s a possibility.’
‘But I never did.’
‘No.’
‘I feel like she’s someone I never knew. I can’t remember her face properly.’
‘It’s very hard.’ Frieda made up her mind. ‘Listen, Judith. There’s a late-night chemist a couple of minutes away. If I can, I’m going to buy you a Predictor kit, and then you can do it here, at once.’
‘Now?’
‘Yes.’
‘I don’t think I can.’
‘At least you’ll know. The worst thing is not knowing.’ Her old mantra. Wearing a bit thin now. The girl’s strained face glimmered in the darkness. Frieda put a hand on her shoulder and steered her into the kitchen.