Free Women and War by Janet Tanner Page A

there?’
    She grabbed a towel, holding it to her mouth for a moment, then gulping deep breaths of air into her lungs.
    â€˜Yes. I’m fine,’ she called back.
    There was a little silence and she thought that Mummy had gone away and the awkward moment had passed. Then Frances tapped once more.
    â€˜Open the door, Alys.’
    â€˜No – I’m all right, really.’
    â€˜Do as I say. Now!’
    Alys ran a quick, tidying hand through her hair. She could not disobey. There was no point. Frances would simply stand there and knock until she got her way. Alys turned the key and stepped away from the door, turning her back and bending to busy herself arranging the towel on its rail. The door opened and Frances came in.
    â€˜What have you been doing in here all this time?’ she asked suspiciously. Alys shrugged without turning round. ‘What do people usually do in bathrooms?’
    For once Frances did not chide her daughter for impertinence.
    â€˜That towel is perfectly tidy, Alys. You may turn around and look at me. I’m not Medusa. I won’t turn you into stone, you know.’
    Slowly Alys turned. Though she did not raise her eyes she was aware of her mother’s shocked expression as she took in Alys’ ravaged face. ‘ For heaven’s sake, child, what is the matter with you?’ she demanded. Alys did not answer. She could think of nothing to say. ‘The way you look anyone would think you were …’ Frances broke off, catching herself as the full meaning of what she had been about to say came home to her. ‘Alys,’ she said more quietly, ‘you’re not pregnant, are you?’
    Still Alys could not reply. It was not only her tongue which seemed frozen but the whole of her thought processes. She stood with her arms hugging herself as if to protect that tiny life which she wanted so little.
    â€˜My God!’ Frances said. ‘You are pregnant, aren’t you!’ she stepped forward, involuntarily bringing her palm up to strike Alys a swingeing blow on the cheek. ‘You dirty little whore!’
    Alys’ head jerked up, her eyes wide and staring. She lifted a hand, pressing her fingers to her stinging face, and as she did so the nausea stirred again. The bile rose, bitter and burning in her throat, and she dived past her shocked mother to reach the basin.
    Alys jammed the gearstick of the Morris into top and pressed her foot hard down on the accelerator. Ahead of and behind her the road was ribbon straight and open – any other traffic could be seen miles away – but Alys kept checking her mirror nervously all the same, half expecting to see a police car following and closing in on her. But mile after mile of the road came and she began to relax a little.
    Perhaps she – and the Morris – had not been missed yet. And even when they were there was no reason to suppose Daddy would set the police on to her. They did not know where she was going, after all. They would probably simply think she had decided to go out for a drive. It would never occur to them that she had been out on the highway since long before dawn, heading as fast as the car would take her towards Bathurst and the Mount Panorama motor racing circuit.
    Steadying the wheel with one hand Alys glanced at her watch. It would take her another two or three hours nonstop motoring yet to reach Bathurst. Would she make it in time? She did not know. She was not even sure when the Grand Prix was due to begin. But even if she did not make the start at least she would be there some time today. The important thing was to see Race. And she did not intend to tell him until afterwards, anyway. He did not want something like that on his mind when he was driving.
    What was he going to say? she wondered anxiously. But whatever it was, even if he disowned her, she had to tell him and tell him soon, otherwise matters would be out of her hands and her chance gone.
    She pushed