New Girl in Little Cove by Damhnait Monaghan (book club suggestions TXT) 📗

I’d seen Georgie in Clayville last month, struggling to push a baby carriage through the snow. Little Alfie was fast asleep, under a hand-knit blanket. After I’d admired him, I’d asked Georgie when she might return to school.

She reached in to adjust his blanket. “I’m not,” she said. “I couldn’t leave him.”

Cynthia bounced her knees up and down so hard the car began to shake. I looked out the window at the school where I was employed to uphold church doctrine. “There’s one other possibility,” I said.

“What, miss?”

“You could make it go away.”

“What do you mean, miss?”

I took a deep breath. “You could get rid of it.”

She inhaled sharply, like she’d stepped on a tack. “Miss, I could never do that. It’s a mortal sin.”

A mortal sin. It sounded so archaic. I’d certainly never uttered those words in my life. But religion seemed to have a stronger hold on the students at St. Jude than it had ever had on me.

At that moment, the red Camaro drove into the parking lot, circling like a shark. Cynthia rubbed her eyes roughly, then opened the door and got out. Then she leaned back in and said, “Miss, promise you won’t say nothing. Please. I’ll tell Ron you were having a go at me about missing school. He’ll wonder why I was in your car.”

“Don’t leave it too long, Cynthia,” I said. “You want to keep all your options open.”

The car door slammed and she ran for the Camaro. I pounded my fist on the steering wheel. Dammit! Her future was now well and truly screwed. Then fear dropped into my stomach like a stone into a well. I had kept my words somewhat ambiguous, but Cynthia had figured out that I meant abortion. What if she told someone what I’d said?

There was only one person in whom I felt I could confide, but Sheila had just left for a two-week holiday in Mexico. Would Doug be sympathetic? I drove over to his place to find out.

“I need some advice,” I said when he answered the door.

“You okay?”

“Not sure.”

He hollered to his mother that he was going out and we got into my car. Then he directed me away from Little Cove and past Mardy too. After about ten miles, we turned off onto a dirt road that led to the sea, as so many of those little roads seemed to. I turned off the engine and we got out of the car.

“Bartlett’s Cove,” he said. “I loves it here, especially in the summer.”

We walked carefully over the icy beach rocks as they skittered beneath our feet. We sat down on a large pile of boulders, about twenty feet from the water. The waves scraped the shore and Doug waited while I tried to find the right words.

Finally I spoke. “I may’ve messed up. One of the girls at school is pregnant and came to me for advice.”

“Who?”

“I promised I wouldn’t say.”

He was quiet for a minute and I imagined him running through the list of probable suspects in the school.

“What did you say?”

“I ran through a bunch of options with her.”

“Like what?” Doug asked.

“Keep it, give it up for adoption . . .”

He nodded. “That’s about the size of it.”

I jumped down from the boulder and picked up a small beach rock. I threw it towards the sea, but it bounced short. “I also mentioned abortion.”

Doug whistled softly. “Trying to get yourself fired?”

I kept my gaze focused on the horizon.

After a minute, he asked, “Do her parents know?”

I shook my head.

“Don’t get too involved, Rachel,” he said. “Don’t take her to town.”

“What do you mean?”

“It’s bad enough you mentioned it, but don’t help her get one, if that’s what she decides. She’d have to go to St. John’s. And it’s not guaranteed. A committee of doctors would decide. I’m not sure, but I think parents needs to be involved if she’s a minor.”

“How do you know so much about it?” I asked.

“They does them at the hospital where Geri works.”

My heart was slamming against my chest now. But I had to know. “What do you think about it?”

“I think you were right foolish to talk about abortion with whoever this girl is, and you teaching in a Catholic school.”

“That’s not what I mean. What do you think about abortion?”

“Why do you care what I think?”

I climbed back on the boulder and sat beside him, hugging my knees. “I just do.”

Doug shifted on the rock. “I don’t understand women at the best of times. But I can’t imagine what it would be like carrying a baby you didn’t want.”

“Meaning?”

“Meaning, men can’t get pregnant so we don’t get to decide. It’s down to the woman to do that.”

I felt my shoulders relax.

“So, what do we do now?” Doug asked.

“Wait and see,” I said. “Maybe it’s a false alarm.”

“I hope so,” said Doug. “For everyone’s sake.”

I got up, rubbing my arms.

“We going?” Doug asked.

“I’m cold.”

“I’m hungry. Let’s go to Tony’s,” Doug said.

An hour later, we arrived in Clayville and parked in front of Tony’s, where there was a lineup out the door.

“Damn, I was really wanting pizza,” Doug said.

Then a family walked out the door, the father carrying two pizza boxes, the two kids chattering excitedly.

“We could get takeout and eat at my house,” I suggested.

“Excellent idea, girl.”

Back at my place, Doug poured wine while I grabbed plates and glasses from the cupboard. Just before we sat down, I went to the living room and put on the cassette he’d made me.

“You never did tell me what happened to your mother,” I said, handing him a napkin.

A shadow passed over Doug’s face. “She tried to kill herself.”

“What?”

“After Dad drowned, in the run-up to the funeral, she took to walking up above Little Cove, at the rocks near the end of the bay. She was out all hours, didn’t eat, didn’t sleep. And she fell out with Lucille something bad.”

“Why? What happened?”

Doug topped up his glass.