Free The Tower Mill by James Moloney Page B

her hand, she said, ‘I’ve just come from the doctor’s. I’m having my second. In May. Our babies will be only months apart,’ she said, beaming at me. ‘We’ll pretty much be pregnant together, Suze.’
    I hugged her and said all the right things.
    ‘Three grandchildren in two years,’ said Mum, as though it was all her own work. It damn well was!
    I made an excuse and went up to the phone box to call Donna Redlich.
    Donna had come to the hospital with me more than anyone else from uni, except Mike, of course. None of them had been close to Terry in the way I had, but they came to support me. Now I was discovering how even the steadiest of friendships fade when you don’t see people every day. Donna was frantic with exams and as gently as she could, put me off. I would have done the same, and with considerably less grace.
    I called two more lapsed girlfriends and met with similar regrets; then I dialled Mike’s number.
    He sounded weary as he asked how things were going with the baby. His sister, Jane, had suffered terribly from morning sickness, apparently.
    ‘Listen, Mike, what are you up to at the moment?’
    ‘I’m under three feet of notes. Haven’t seen daylight for a week. My last exam’s the day after tomorrow and that’s it for my arts degree. Just have the Dip. Ed. next year, then look out world.’
    My weariness was lifting. I allowed myself to hope. ‘You wouldn’t be able to come round, would you? I’ve got to get out of this house before I go mad.’
    Oh God, he was hesitating. ‘It’s that last exam, isn’t it?’ I sounded pathetic and hated myself for it.
    ‘Look, give me a few hours to get on top of this. Is after lunch okay?’
    Mum hovered by the front door when the Cortina pulled up. I was about to assure her we’d only be an hour or two but stopped myself. That was what she wanted. I kept quiet, but there was no way to stop Joyce Kinnane from running an eye over Mike to see if she approved. The door swung back to reveal a young man in tailored shorts and brand new Dunlop Volleys, his hair washed that morning and shorter than last time I’d seen him, even if it did fall halfway to his shoulders. He was tall, like my brothers, whom Mum always stared up at with pride.
    ‘Hello, Mrs Kinnane,’ he said, with a tentative smile.
    And Christ, Mum was smiling back at him and suddenly I wished he’d turned up hung-over and scratching at a three-day growth.
    But if he had, Mum would have jacked up and then where would I have been? Shit, shit, shit! I was losing control of my life and the baby wasn’t even showing yet.
    Mike held the gate aside for me then hurried across the footpath to open the car door. The chivalry was overdone, a signal, maybe, that he wasn’t thrilled to be hauled away from his books.
    ‘I’m sorry about this. You’ll still pass, won’t you?’
    ‘Pass! It’s Twentieth-century Poets, Sue. Eliot, Hughes, Larkin. I’m hoping for a high distinction.’
    ‘I’m sorry, Mike. I was desperate.’ Surprising myself, I reached up and kissed him on the cheek.
    ‘You can play me like a fish, Kinnane,’ he said, laughing. ‘All right, Larkin and the rest can wait. Do you want to visit Terry?’
    ‘No, I went last week and it was awful. I just sat there crying like his mother with all the other human wrecks around us. I don’t care where you take me, as long as I’m out of the house.’
    Then I was crying again, as bitterly as I had on the night of the Tower Mill, and I didn’t care. ‘They’re manipulating me, the pair of them. Mum can’t get over herself. She waltzes around the place like the most forgiving, caring mother on the planet. If they loved me, they’d help me get on with my life, but she’s keeping me helpless. I’m scared, Mike, really scared that I’ll end up like Terry, with what I used to be lost somewhere inside me and gone forever.’
    Mike listened, said nothing, a witness to my misery as he guided the car wherever he’d decided to