She had known it would come, but knowing in advance could not stop the flood of anger and hurt. It was always what they wanted. Did no-one ever think about what she wanted?
She flew at him, clenched fists beating against his chest, the cry of her agony on her lips. Bannerman had not been prepared for it. The fists hurt him, tiny blows raining across his chest and shoulders and face.
He tried to catch her arms, but fear of hurting her made it difficult. Finally he got his arms around her so that her arms were pinned at her sides and he hugged her to him and felt the sobs that racked her small body. ‘It’s all right, it’s all right,’ he was saying, and then felt sick as he remembered hearing her father say that to her.
She was still struggling, but her strength was diminishing rapidly. ‘Tomorrow,’ he said breathlessly, ‘we’ll talk about it. We’ll work it out.’ The struggling subsided with a whimper and her head fell onto his shoulder with her face turned away from him. He rocked her gently to and fro. ‘I don’t want to hurt you,’ he whispered. ‘God, I don’t want to hurt you.’ Something inside him snapped. A kind of iron self-control that had made him invulnerable for so long. But it had grown brittle with the years. His own voice sounded odd to him. ‘Somewhere there’s a little girl,’ he was saying, ‘only three or four years older than you. She’s my... I’m her father. I’ve never seen her. I could pass her in the street and I wouldn’t know it. She maybe even thinks that someone else is her father. I don’t know. I just know that there’s a part of me in her. A part of me...’ He turned his head a little and saw that she was asleep. Maybe she hadn’t heard any of it. Perhaps it was better that she should not know.
Slowly he moved her over so that she lay along the settee on her side and he got up and went through to the bedroom to get a duvet. He laid it across her and looked down on her face. It was almost pretty in repose. He stooped to kiss her cheek lightly and went through to his room.
IV
The morning had almost gone when Bannerman turned over and opened his eyes to the sunlight that filled his room. He craned his neck round to see Tania standing by the window staring out across the rooftops. She turned and smiled. ‘Good morning,’ Bannerman said, and returned her smile.
She looked vastly better than she had the previous night. He looked at his watch. It was nearly midday. ‘God, I’ve been out a long time. Have you been up long?’ She shook her head and held up one finger. ‘An hour?’ She nodded. She was dressed and there was a little bit of colour about her cheeks. ‘You must be starving.’ She grinned and walked, almost ran, to the door, and indicated that she wanted him to follow. ‘I’ll be with you in a minute. I’m not dressed.’ She shrugged.
He laughed and felt a great pleasure in simply laughing. ‘On you go. I’m not a pretty sight first thing in the morning.’ She nodded her agreement and he threw the pillow at her. It struck the door as she closed it quickly behind her.
There was still a stiffness in his limbs as he climbed out of bed and felt the cold air touch his skin. When he dressed he went through to the living room and saw a lump of bread and a piece of crumbling cheese set out for him on the coffee table, with the last half litre of wine and a glass. At the other side crumbs of bread and cheese gave evidence that she could not wait for him.
‘Well, thank you, Tania.’ He sat down and tore off a hunk of bread with his teeth. He looked at the wine and smiled reproachfully. ‘The wine was a nice thought, but honestly, after the excesses of last night I couldn’t really face it. You didn’t have any, did you?’ She nodded with a mischievous little smile in her eyes. ‘I can see I’m going to have to watch you. But you’re right. Bread and cheese is a little bit dry on its own. Could you go a coffee?’ She nodded vigorously in response and followed him eagerly into the kitchen.
There was milk enough to make the coffee half and half. He spooned sugar and coffee into two mugs and watched the milk and water come to the boil in a pan over the gas. He felt good. He could not remember having slept so well for long enough. It was the first morning in many that he had arisen with a lightness about him, with a delight in anticipation of the day ahead. But he was being careful not to let it blot out everything else. The future still lay like a black, ominous cloud on his horizon. He knew that to taste the goodness of life and then lose it was worse than never having tasted it at all.
It was the same for the child and he felt it as much for her as for himself. This was the false peace, the calm before the storm, or perhaps the eye of tranquillity at its centre. It was an ephemeral thing, but he did not want its lack of permanence to spoil it while it lasted.
‘Here.’ He handed her a mug and they drank it in silence, enjoying its sweetness and hotness. He should make her aware of it too. He said, ‘Later we’re going to have to talk about the future.’ He saw her face cloud. ‘But right now we’re not even going to think about it. We can spend the next few hours finding out a little bit more about each other.’ She tilted the mug back to hide her face and he could not detect her response. When she lowered the mug she smiled as though he had not spoken, and he wondered what she was thinking.
The doorbell rang and brought a sudden, tense silence into their world. They exchanged glances and her eyes said, don’t answer it. He sighed and lowered his head so that he did not have to see her. He placed his mug on the work surface and went out of the kitchen.
He felt something like relief when he opened the door and found Sally standing smiling at him. But there was still a residue of annoyance at the intrusion. ‘What do you want?’
The smile left her face and it coloured with anger. ‘I came to apologise,’ she said frostily. ‘For being short with you on the phone last night. But now I don’t think I’ll bother.’ She turned quickly and Bannerman grabbed her arm.
‘I’m sorry, I’ve got company.’
Her eyes flashed a strange dark emotion. ‘Oh, I see. Then I’ll not disturb you.’
Bannerman held her arm still. ‘Not that kind of company,’ he said and smiled in spite of himself. ‘It’s Tania. She was waiting on the landing when I got back last night.’
All her antagonism dissolved and she let her head drop a little. ‘Then I will apologise. I’m sorry. Is she all right?’
‘Well, come in, for God’s sake.’
She came into the hall and he shut the door behind her. ‘She’s okay. A bit weak. She should see a doctor, but she wouldn’t let me call one last night. She must have been through a hell of a lot.’ They stood in the half dark, an uneasiness between them that neither of them really understood. Suddenly Sally laughed.
‘I’m so glad. That she’s well. I don’t think I’ve had much sleep in the past couple of nights.’
‘You’d better come in and say hullo.’
‘Will she be all right?’
‘I don’t know.’
They went into the living room and Tania was standing at the kitchen door.
‘Hullo,’ Sally said. ‘I see you two have made friends.’
There was an awkward silence, almost as though Tania resented Sally’s presence. And Bannerman saw that Sally knew it and was hurt by it. He stepped forward and placed his hands on the child’s shoulders and crouched down so that his eyes were on a line with hers. ‘Look, Tania. The whole world isn’t against you. Even if it seems that way. It’s pretty hard for us all to make our way. It’s harder for you and it’s going to take a special kind of courage to come through it. I think maybe you’ve got that courage. But you’re still going to need all the friends you can get, all the love you can gather. Life’s pretty hostile. You need some kind of buffer against it and you’re going to have to start trusting the people that love you.’ She stared back at him, her face a blank mask. It was impossible to know what she was thinking, as it was so often with her. Bannerman stood up. ‘How about we all go for a walk?’ He glanced back at Sally. His words could almost have been meant for her as well.