Chapter 62

"Morning."

Shawna turned away from the door, back to her breakfast, letting Yvonne close the door behind her on the way in.

"How's things?" Yvonne asked, dropping her bag inside the door.

"Quiet," Shawna observed, wrinkling her nose in disgust at the grapefruit half on the plate, and pushing it away across the table. "Marcus has already left to set up, and Hope's at an early church meeting."

"Is that... breakfast?"

"If you could call it that." Shawna prodded the fruit with her spoon, spinning it slowly around.

"I am so glad I have the metabolism that I do."

"Well, the extra six inches in height probably helps."

"That, and the fact that I can get away with being a size twelve before it shows."

"I'm struggling to hold to ten."

"You're not built to be a ten, you know."

"Did the grapefruit give that away?"

They fell silent and Shawna got up to take the plate out to the kitchen.

"Listen," Yvonne said and stood in the doorway behind her, fiddling with her sleeve, "I... I wanted to apologise."

"For what?"

Shawna didn't turn away from the sink where she was rinsing out the cups to clear space in the sink for her plate.

"I was at the party when Connor... when you... I didn't do anything."

"Why would you?"

Shawna did turn this time, drying her hands on a tea towel and gesturing towards the chairs at the small table.

"I knew what he was like. I... He was lying, when he said you liked breath-play. I knew that. I can tell when he's lying."

"Because he's lied to you before?" Shawna asked, and Yvonne nodded as she settled into a seat. "When he told you he was sorry that he hit you, or when he told you that the stuff he was giving you wouldn't hurt you?"

"Both," Yvonne mumbled, staring at the woodwork of the table.

"I've known liars myself," Shawna admitted, her own hands shaking a little as she watched the crown of Yvonne's head, waiting for her to look up. "I've... I used to get hit when I made my boyfriend angry."

Yvonne's eye snapped up, meeting Shawna's gaze with a mixture of emotions — fear, anger, hatred and pity. Realising her confusion was obvious she quickly looked back to the table. Shawna fell silent for a minute, wondering if that was how she looked when she thought about it.

"You..."

"I know what it's like," Shawna whispered, almost to herself.

"You think I'm an idiot for not leaving him, don't you?"

"I didn't leave mine," Shawna admitted, taking a leap. "He left me when... I got pregnant, and when I lost the baby he decided he'd had enough."

"What did you do?"

"I... I lost it. He'd used me up and tossed me away, and I wasn't worth anything. So I treated myself that way."

Yvonne just nodded for a while. "I hate him, you know. I mean... I really hate him. But if he called, I'd probably still go. There's never going to be anyone else now. But I hate him. I hate me. "

"That's... That's where I got lucky." Shawna leant forward, pulling Yvonne's hands gently into her own, forcing the taller girl to hold her head up. "I had people — someone — who'd never look down on me."

"Marcus."

"Exactly."

"I don't see any handsome lovers waiting on the horizon to sweep off my feet," Yvonne pointed out.

"Marcus didn't... Marcus helped me find my self-respect, but that was long before we got together. He was my friend for a long time before I could open myself up to the idea of him being anything else. I kept him out because he knew about my secrets, and I couldn't imagine anyone could love that."

"Good for you." Yvonne tried to keep the bitterness from her tone, but failed.

"Look, all... I know where you've been, and I know what it takes to get out of that. It doesn't take a lover. It takes a friend. Someone who'll look you in the eye, know what you've done and tell you honestly which bits are your fault and which bits aren't.

"Marcus didn't hold any punches when he thought I was out with the wrong people, or I was selling myself short."

"What's your point?"

"You need someone to do that for you."

"And you want to put yourself forward?"

"I'd have put Hope forward, but... There's a little too much history between the two of you."

"I... You know about Connor. You know what he did. I was stupid. I know this, but... I can help him, can't I? He doesn't have to be like that. I... I..."

Shawna swallowed hard and took a gamble, remembering Yvonne's drug-induced ramblings of the night Connor had called Hope over.

"Why don't you start with Uncle Bob?"

Yvonne flinched and paled, her eyes widening to the point that Shawna got up and moved around the table.

"Yvonne?"

"I don't want to talk about that."

"Alright," Shawna conceded, eying her carefully to see if she really meant it.

"He wasn't my uncle, not really. When I was a kid he was just a friend of the family, you know. And then, when my Dad left, he was... He stayed around. With my Mum."

"With you?"

"Eventually," she nodded, and they both stopped for a few moments to watch tears slowly drip from Yvonne's nose on to the table.

"See, I know it's hard, but... Marcus saw something in me, a little spark of something, and he kept blowing on it and fanning it until it came back to life. That spark's still there in you. You know... You don't need Connor. And you can do better."

"Right, just look at the queue outside my door."

"It starts with Hope."

"She's... She's just lonely."

"Yeah, she is, but that doesn't mean she didn't go out there and pick someone. She doesn't just fall into bed with anyone."

"She admitted she'd made a mistake the next morning." Yvonne wiped at her eyes with one hand, hurriedly rearranging her clothes with the other as she struggled to stand. "And she was right, look what happened."

"Damn." Shawna muttered to herself, realising she'd taken the wrong track. "Look, we'll go. We'll finish this here. We'll not say any more right now, except... You're better than that, Yvonne. You deserve more than that."

"I deserve what I've got." Yvonne grasped her bag, not turning to look back. "I stood by and watched while he did what he did to you. I watched him do it to three other girls. I... I lured one of them back to my room for him..."

"And you never tried to stop him?" Shawna closed in slowly, hesitantly.

"Once."

"What happened?"

"He... He burnt me."

Shawna laid a hand on her arm, feeling her trembling.

"Look, Marcus tried to get me to go to the police, and I wouldn't. No-one would believe me. I had no proof, and it was too late.

"But it isn't too late because there are other people out there that he's going to do this to. And we can stop him."

"How, I've... he'll just..."

"Come with me."

"Where?"

"Tomorrow, come with me." Shawna stepped around her, fighting her own nervousness down. "Come talk to the police with me."

"Good morning."

Hope looked up from the pew where she'd been sitting for a while to give the priest a slight smile.

"Good morning, Father."

"Not that I object to people being in church, of course, but you are a little early."

"I just... I have a class at the sports centre in a while, and..."

"You don't need to make an excuse to come to here, Hope."

"Of course not, Father. It wasn't... I'm sorry, I should go."

"If you like, but you came here to talk.

"I just wanted to sit somewhere quiet and think and... I kind of hoped I'd be able to sort some things out in my head."

"When people want inspiration or meditation they sit near the altar." He pointed up the aisle towards the decorative nave.

"Unless they're worried about children, then they tend to congregate near the font. People feeling guilty sit near the confessional, but people who want to talk pick the pew outside the vestry." He pointed to the door nearby, and Hope stared at it for a while.

"That's a generalisation, of course, but..."

"No, you're right," she admitted.

"What seems to be the problem?"

"I'm... A lot of things have been happening, and I'm trying to sort them out in my head."

"Well, you're a bright young woman. Why don't you tell me what conclusions you've come to already?" She smiled at that, still staring at her hands in her lap.

"Someone tried to blackmail me last week."

"Tried?"

"My friends stopped him. They... they threatened him with violence — which I don't condone — and..."

"You don't have to justify other people's actions, Hope," he assured her. "And the threat of violence, whilst not my personal preference either, is infinitely preferable to actual harm coming to someone."

"Well, it stopped him, but... his girlfriend was involved, and I want to help her, but I don't know how. Or even if I should."

"Well, as a Christian you know I'd advocate to you that you should help when you can, but you know this. What's holding you back?"

"I'm not sure my trying to help would actually help."

"You'll have to explain the details a little more, I think."

"She's... her boyfriend has been giving her drugs, and... he hurts her, uses her for," she blushed, "well... pleasure. His, not hers."

"You don't need to be an expert in rehabilitation to offer support."

"She... He made her do things. And she..."

"You're embarrassed," he observed quietly. "You have my word that nothing you say here will go beyond these walls."

"I know, but... Well, what he was going to blackmail me with I could tell my friends, but he was going to tell my Dad."

"And he'd be as disappointed in you as you fear I will be if you tell me?"

She just nodded, and he settled back in the seat.

"We don't turn people away here. If — if — you've done something unworthy of you, God knows that we are imperfect creatures. He made us that way, and gave us guidelines not just on how to live well, but also how to atone for not living well."

"What if," her voice trailed off, and she turned away from him, slightly before carrying on quietly. "What if I don't want to atone?"

"Well, that becomes a different issue." He leant forward. "Is this to do with your attraction to Shawna?"

Hope spun to face him, flushing with a mixture of confusion and shame. "You know?"

"Hope, you've sat here a half-dozen times or more talking about how you feel about your flat-mate, and you speak of Marcus and Shawna almost interchangeably. There are strict rules in the bible, and in Catholic doctrine about such things, and while you didn't want to bring it up I was content to leave it in the background, but it's becoming an issue now.

"Hope, God tells us that attraction, sexual union, all these things are between a man and a woman for the purpose of giving him a vehicle to introduce new souls to the world. Attractions like this are a temptation, and I would and will always advise you to resist them.

"I'm not a fool, though. I can see how you feel, and if you were to lapse, I wouldn't be a good Christian if I were to turn you away."

"You..."

"I don't approve!" he cut her off, but not harshly. "But as much as there are sins, there are some sins that are worse than others. Loving unwisely is better than failing to love at all."

"Thank you."

"I fear that doesn't really sort your problems out, though, does it?"

"It's... what... He was going to blackmail me with a film of me... loving unwisely."

"A film?"

"Not... I didn't know it was being taken. It was... with his girlfriend, and she took it."

"I see."

"She... she drugged me, and..."

"But he was drugging her, yes?"

"Well, I don't know about that, but I'm fairly sure he was getting the stuff for her."

"Largely the same thing, once you reach a certain point."

"Probably," she admitted.

"Tell me," he rearranged his legs, turning a little more to face her, "does your problem come from the fact that you can't decide whether to blame her because of her state, or whether to blame you for yours?"

"I... I don't know. I mean, she... I don't know how responsible she was, but I know she feels guilty anyway."

"A good sign, you'll agree?"

"Yes, but... I... I feel guilty too."

"Because you didn't stop her?"

"Because I don't know if things would have been any different if she hadn't given anything," she blurted. "I mean... I'm... lonely. And I shouldn't be, I have friends — good friends — "

"Friends willing to stand up for you," he pointed out.

"Yes. People to talk to. People who'll listen."

"And, yet, in the dark, in the quiet, there are people nearby with whom you want to share the quiet moments of sleeping and waking, and yet they're together and you're alone."