Читать книгу Anne Bennett 3-Book Collection: A Sister’s Promise, A Daughter’s Secret, A Mother’s Spirit - Anne Bennett - Страница 24

Molly was entering a shadowy period in her life when she was only half alive, though most times she was unaware of this. At first there were times when people’s faces would float before her, but when she tried to hold them in her mind, they seem to shroud over with mist and disappear.

When she was eventually worried enough to talk to Ray about this he said, ‘You are thoroughly washed out, Molly, and your brain has shut down a little to enable you to rest and get really fit again, that’s all it is.’

‘You really do believe I will recover eventually?’

‘Of course, and the thing to do is not worry about it,’ Ray said. ‘Sit back, relax and let me look after you.’

Molly gave a sigh. How good that sounded. She felt too utterly exhausted to care for herself. ‘I’d like that,’ she said, ‘but haven’t you got to go to work sometime?’

‘Don’t you concern yourself with that.’

No, Molly didn’t want to concern herself with anything. She hadn’t enough energy, for one thing. And she didn’t want to risk offending Ray, for he was the one she saw every day – the only person, in fact, apart from a couple of brief visits from Charlie. She no longer minded Ray locking her in for her own safety whenever he had to go out. She had no desire to leave the flat herself, because she felt safe in there.

She hadn’t to worry about anything, Ray said, not even cooking the meals, because he would deal with all that – not that she was eating much, but she liked the brandy and the gin that Ray had introduced her to and the white powders he gave her, which he said were a tonic, always made her feel better.

Every few days, Ray would take away her dirty clothes and a few days later they would come back clean and pressed. The first time this happened she had asked Ray who dealt with the clothes and he said she hadn’t to concern herself with things like that. And so she didn’t, because it really didn’t matter. In fact she was finding very few things did matter, and it was better once the half-remembered shadowy figures faded completely from her consciousness.

‘So when are you going to give Molly a try-out?’ Charlie asked Ray one day towards the middle of December. ‘She’s been here over three weeks already. You’ve never kept anyone longer than a fortnight before.’

‘Yeah, I know,’ Ray said. ‘Collingsworth’s been away, though, hasn’t he? He’s back now and I have set it up here for this Saturday night. I tell you, Molly is as ripe as a plum, just ready to be picked. Timing’s good, anyway, because the older couple below us have gone to their daughter’s for a while to escape the bombing, so Collingsworth can make all the noise he needs,’ Ray said with a leer. ‘If you know what I mean.’

Charlie gave a humourless laugh. ‘Oh, I know all right,’ he said. ‘I should say the dirty old bugger is going to have some fun that night. You’ve done the work on Molly, though. God, she’ll be led like a lamb to the bleeding slaughter.’

‘If she knows anything about it, you mean,’ Ray said. ‘Some days she is not aware of much, but in any case, I will prepare her. She will do as she is told, don’t worry.’

‘She certainly thinks the sun shines out of your arse,’ Charlie said. ‘She just does everything you tell her to.’

‘Like she will on Saturday night,’ Ray said confidently. ‘And if she is a really good girl, then I may buy her a specially nice Christmas present.’

Unaware of what was planned for her, Molly accepted it when Ray sat on the sofa and told that he had to go to a special dinner with Edwin Collingsworth, the man who owned the flat she was occupying.

She didn’t remember that he was the man Ray had spoken of before, who’d had girls entertain him in the flat, so all she said was, ‘Does he want me to move out?’

‘No, don’t worry,’ Ray said. ‘He has another place he lives in most of the time, but he does want to meet you, though.’

‘Why?’

‘Sweetheart, you are living in his flat, and rent-free as well. Isn’t it natural that he is curious about you?’

‘Oh, yes, of course, Ray.’

‘He is also my boss, in a way, and it is very important that everything goes well tonight.’

Molly looked at him with a dreamy expression in her slightly glazed eyes. ‘Yes, Ray.’

‘I want you to help me in this.’

‘You know I will,’ Molly said, because she owed such a debt to Ray and would never forget it. ‘What do you want me to do?’

‘I will be bringing him back here after the meal, and if you want to continue to live here and also please me, it is important that you are very, very nice to him, when I pop out for a little while. You do understand what I mean by being nice, don’t you?’

‘Yes, of course,’ Molly said. She knew what nice was, and she was hardly likely to be less than that to a friend of Ray’s who was also her landlord.

‘So you do whatever he wants?’

‘Whatever he wants,’ Molly repeated, and Ray was pleased to hear the slur in her voice from the effect of the drugs that he had given her a little while before. ‘I will do anything he wants because I am to be nice to him.’

‘Good girl!’ Ray said, and Molly basked in his praise. ‘Now, while I am away I want you to have a long bath and wash your hair, because I want you to look your best,’ he said, hauling her to her feet. ‘And I will go and choose the clothes I want you to wear afterwards.’

Edwin Collingsworth had not been in the house five minutes when Molly made up her mind she didn’t like him. There was nothing even remotely attractive about him, for he was an undersized man, with an extremely sparse head of mousy brown hair surrounding a very large and definite bald patch. His wrinkled face was thin and he had a long, pinched nose and lips so lean and narrow they made his mouth look mean and cruel.

His eyes, though, were his worst feature. They were small, too close together and glittered as cold as two pieces of blue flint as they raked over Molly until she felt as if she was stripped naked before him.

He stepped forward and said in a sharp, nasal voice, ‘I am delighted to meet you, Molly, and I must say you are just as beautiful as Ray said you were.’

Molly took Mr Collingsworth’s proffered hand and then wished she hadn’t, for it was limp and clammy. She imagined, as she shook it, that it was like shaking hands with a warm, wet fish. But, for Ray’s sake, she didn’t show any aversion in her manner and just told the man that she was pleased to meet him. Ray at least looked satisfied with her response.

She offered tea, but Ray said he had something Mr Collingsworth would much prefer and produced a bottle of whiskey. He was so obviously right, for it brought the ghost of a smile to the man’s face, which wrinkled it up more than ever and made him look worse, if possible.

‘Ah,’ he said. ‘Bushmills. Nothing beats a drop of Irish malt.’

Mr Collingsworth claimed he couldn’t enjoy the drink unless Molly joined them, which she was more than happy to do, and Ray knew a few drinks, mixed with the powders, would make her like putty in the man’s hand. Collingsworth had already paid Ray highly for providing a virgin, the balance to be paid when Molly had satisfied his desires, whatever they were.

‘We must celebrate this day, don’t you feel, my dear?’ Collingsworth said, chinking his glass against hers.

Molly was puzzled. ‘Why? What’s special about today?’

‘It’s the day I have met you, my dear,’ Collingsworth said. ‘And the day you and I are going to get to know each other better.’

Molly’s eyes sought Ray’s, but she could read nothing in them that she could understand and he had a smile on his face that made her uneasy.

Edwin Collingsworth had never had much luck with women. He knew that most found him repulsive, but his money and influence ensured he had the means to pay prostitutes to satisfy his frustrated lust, and also offer any other sexual deviation he wanted. However, the women he paid were usually older, and had done it many times before, and what he really liked was an untried virgin. He wanted his hands to be the first to explore a young girl’s body and possibly awaken the sexual awareness and arousal wrapped up inside her so that if she allowed herself it could be an enjoyable experience.

Ray was one of the best at finding girls to fulfil his needs and using the powders, which Collingsworth also supplied, together with alcohol, would soon have the girls compliant and eager to please. Now here was another little beauty, and though his penis had throbbed almost painfully at the nearness of her, he told himself to go slow with this one, take his time, and the pleasure would be all the sweeter for it.

The only stipulation Ray had made was that he wasn’t to hurt her physically. He knew that was because she was destined for Vera’s place the following week. Her knocking shop would have a lot of new punters over Christmas, drunk, many of them – not that the girls minded that. They always said the drunks tipped better. Vera said the regulars liked a bit of new blood, but they were no good to her if they had been smacked about a bit. Collingsworth had no desire to hurt Molly, however, just shag her over and over in the long night before them.

Yet he sensed her unease and, in his experience, most women were more amenable after a drink or two, so he said to Molly, ‘Come on now. I said that this is a celebration, so you just drink up that drink and I will pour us each another, and you can sit here beside me and tell me all about yourself.’

Molly had no desire to get any closer to Collingsworth than she had to. He made her skin crawl and there was a sort of aura of unwholesomeness emanating from him. She looked to Ray for help, but his eyes were harder than she had ever seen them, and he gave an almost imperceptible jerk of his head towards Collingsworth so that Molly knew that this was part of being nice to him. Surely, to please Ray, she could do this one small thing? He had never asked her to do anything before, and after tonight she probably wouldn’t see much of Mr Collingsworth at all. So she downed the contents of her glass, welcoming the ensuing dizziness, and Ray took it for a refill as she sank down beside Collingsworth on the sofa and tried not to show her distaste when he pulled her close against him.

She caught Ray’s eyes upon her, shining in approval, so she took a large gulp of the drink he gave her and let her body sag against this man she had to be nice to.

As Collingsworth felt her warmth and closeness, his excitement mounted.

Ray said. ‘As you two seem to be getting along so well, I will leave you now.’

‘Yes,’ Collingsworth said. ‘We will be fine, won’t we, Molly?’

Molly felt anything but fine, but she knew to say that would make Ray angry. She had never seen him angry and had no desire to, nor did she want to disappoint him, and so she gave a brief nod, but when she heard the front door slam, she drank deeply again, hoping it would chase away the nervousness coursing through her veins.

‘Tell me about yourself, my dear,’ Collingsworth said.

‘What d’you want to know, Mr Collingsworth?’

‘It’s Edwin, my dear. Can you call me Edwin?’

Molly shrugged. ‘If you like.’

‘Now I would like to know all about you,’ Collingsworth said.

‘But I don’t know anything,’ Molly said. ‘My past is like a big black hole.’

Collingsworth smiled because Ray had done his work well. It was far better that the girls destined for the whorehouse remembered as little of their former lives as possible.

‘I used to worry that I was losing my mind,’ Molly admitted.

‘Oh, no, not you, my dear girl,’ Collingsworth said firmly. ‘I think that you maybe have suffered a trauma or tragedy of some kind and these memory lapses are in the nature of delayed shock. It is quite common, and temporary too, I believe.’

‘You are so understanding,’ Molly said in slight amazement. His attitude had surprised her and she thought for the first time that she might have misjudged the man. She snuggled in closer so that she felt his breath between her breasts.

Later, when Molly recalled the events of that day, she could hardly credit that she had allowed the man such liberties. In some sort of dreamlike trance, she felt his hand stroking her leg, and she just thought it felt lovely and wasn’t even alarmed when it went higher and higher.

Hearing her contented sigh, Collingsworth felt himself harden in anticipation.

‘I’ll never hurt you, you know that, don’t you?’ Collingsworth said as he released her stockings from their suspenders and rolled them seductively down her legs, to drop on the floor.

‘Of course I do,’ Molly said, her head lolling against him drunkenly, but she suddenly felt incredibly tired and said, ‘I think I am drunk and I need to go to bed.’

‘And so do I,’ Collingsworth said, his voice husky with desire.

Molly giggled. ‘You can’t get into my bed, though. You will need to go home to your own bed.’

‘I don’t think so,’ the man replied.

He hadn’t realised just how drunk and drugged Molly was, and she staggered so much when she was at last upright that the pair of them nearly landed on the floor. This amused Molly no end, and she began to giggle. Collingsworth was just glad that Molly was small and slight, or he would never have managed her, and he half hauled, half dragged her to the bedroom. He lowered her onto the bed, where she lay with an inane smile playing around her mouth.

Collingsworth, however, wasn’t looking at Molly’s mouth. He was aching with desire as he began unbuttoning her blouse.

‘You are so very beautiful, you know,’ he said.

Molly said nothing, for it was as if these things were happening to someone else. She felt as if she was looking down on her body lying on the bed, and watching the man who was stroking her sensually sending her into a stupor-like sleep, and she closed her eyes and sighed. She dreamed someone had their hands on her breasts and it was so beautiful, she never wanted to wake up.

Collingsworth though, was in a fever of anxiety to take the prize before him that he had paid dearly for and he began tearing his clothes off, too aroused now for gentleness. Naked, he launched himself on top of Molly.

He nearly knocked the breath from her body and thoroughly woke her. He clamped his mouth on hers roughly, and when he thrust his thick tongue into Molly’s mouth, she felt as if she was going to choke, and she thrashed her head from side to side to try to dislodge it. But it was when Collingsworth pulled her knickers down and pummelled one hand between her legs brutally, and his mouth filled with saliva, that Molly fully realised what was happening to her.

When Collingsworth heard Molly groan and thrash about on the bed, he thought she was overcome by the same passion that was consuming him, and he guided his pulsating penis to his goal at last. By God, he was going to enjoy every last second of this.

For the life of her, Molly couldn’t understand, or remember, how she came to be on her bed semi-clad, with a naked man on top of her. But Collingsworth was filled with lust and totally unprepared for her suddenly wrenching her lips from his and pushing him with all her might so he fell from the bed in a heap.

In a second he was up, but Molly, even in her semi-drunken state, was quicker and was making for the door.

Collingsworth caught her by the arm.

‘Leave go of me.’

‘You must be joking,’ he said angrily. ‘What the bleeding hell are you playing at?’

‘How can you ask that?’ Molly cried. She wished her head did not feel as if it was filled with cotton wool and that the room would stay still, for she had the feeling that, to counter this, she needed to have her wits about her. She faced the man and said accusingly, ‘You were going to …’

‘I know what I was going to do, and so do you, you drunken whore.’ Collingsworth was so incensed he shot spittle from his mouth as he spoke. ‘So what is all this about?’

Molly was mortified with shame, and she thought that he had every right to be angry and upset. The way she had behaved he must have thought she was offering herself. Hadn’t she gone a good distance down that road? Unbidden, Ray’s face swam before her, charging her to be nice to this man but she fastened her brassiere and blouse before saying in a conciliatory way that she was far from feeling, ‘I am sorry, sorry that you have been upset and disappointed, and I do understand how angry you felt, but I am not that sort of girl and if I hadn’t drunk so much I wouldn’t have allowed things to get this far. Shall we get properly dressed now and we’ll say no more about it?’

Collingsworth jerked at Molly’s arm with such suddenness she cried out as she spun in front of him, and, holding her roughly by the arms, he slammed her so hard against the mirrored wall that the room swam. ‘Listen to me, you moronic slut,’ he ground out. ‘I know exactly what type of girl you are, what you are going to be, and that is a whore in one of the knocking shops in Birmingham from next week, so don’t come all innocent with me. You must have known the score.’

Molly was completely bemused. ‘What are you on about? What score and what do you mean? I am not a whore.’

He gave a grim and humourless laugh that sent a shiver down Molly’s spine as he said, ‘Maybe you’re not yet, but you soon will be.’

‘I will not!’

‘Jesus Christ, did you come over on the banana boat or were you born half-witted?’ he demanded. ‘Why d’you think Ray took you in, eh? Thought he was a bleeding charity, did you?’

‘I don’t know what you mean?’ Molly said, though her body seemed to be filling up with dread. ‘Ray has shown me nothing but kindness.’

‘Course he has, darling,’ Collingsworth said in a voice dripping with sarcasm. ‘Heart of gold, has our Ray, and a few days ago out of kindness he sold you to me for tonight.’

‘Don’t be ridiculous.’

‘Ridiculous, am I?’ the man sneered. ‘I speak the truth, and I bought you for my own use tonight because you have something that is prized and that I wanted and that is your maidenhead. I take it you are a virgin?’

‘Of course I am.’

‘There is no “of course” in this business.’ He pressed himself so close to her that he was spitting in her face as he spoke. She noted his eyes seemed to shine with a demonic light as he said in levelled tones that were as cold as ice, ‘And let me tell you another thing: I intend to have that prize that I paid for and you can be accommodating or not. Either way, it makes no odds to me.’

Molly was so frightened her heart seemed to be jumping about in her chest as she ground out, ‘I don’t think so.’

‘Well, I do,’ Collingsworth suddenly bellowed. Rage that he had been duped, made fun of, took hold of him. Someone would pay. Molly was unprepared for both the suddenness and the power of the punch that knocked her to the floor and caused blood to pour from her nose.

Collingsworth looked at her coldly. He had promised Ray he wouldn’t hurt her physically, for it was well known that he sometimes liked to rough his woman up, and he would have been banned from many a whorehouse for it if he hadn’t been such an influential man, whom they all depended on. He hadn’t had any intention of hurting Molly when he had arrived that night, but that had all gone by the board now. She deserved all he was prepared to mete out to her and he powered a kick into her side as he said, ‘Get to your feet and let’s get down to it because I always get what I pay for.’

Molly gave a groan as the man’s foot caught her, and she curled up instinctively. Through bloodshot eyes she lay and watched the blood drip from her nose and pool on the carpet, as her assailant said, ‘Get up unless you want some more of the same.’

She heard his voice and saw the foot raised, and then she saw an old woman as if through a window in her mind. This image was not misty or hazy, though. The old woman’s cold eyes, like Edwin Collingsworth’s, were filled with malice and hatred, and her fists were raised. The image engendered such anger in her that she leaped to her feet and threw herself at Collingsworth with a shriek, like some sort of screaming virago.

Collingsworth was unprepared, both for the attack and for the strength of the girl, who looked as if a puff of wind would blow her away. He threw her against the wall, but as he came towards her, she kicked him between the legs.

She had no shoes on, however, and so, although he doubled up at first, he had recovered enough to be after her as she made for the living room. She wondered where Ray was and how long she had been with this mad man, and knew she had to get out of the place, out into the street and shout for help.

Collingsworth, who had thought Molly would be easily subdued, was taken aback at first and then he seemed to increase in strength. Chairs and small tables were overturned, and vases and lamps crashed to the floor as he crossed the room in pursuit of Molly until he had caught her by the arm and smacked a hard hand across her face so that for a moment she was blinded. In that moment he had her against him, his fingers pulling her knickers to one side. She gave a yelp of terror and punched him to each side of his head with her fists, which were as hard as little hammers. Then she tore herself from his grip, hearing her blouse rip but paying no heed as she made for the door.

But when Collingsworth caught hold of her again, she felt despair fill her being and she knew this was it. She was spent. He would have his way with her and there was nothing she could do about it because she had no strength left.

He kicked her to the floor, and she saw he had the heavy base of a table lamp raised to crash down on her head. She dived under a coffee table. Before her were Collingsworth’s legs, and in a split second she had hold of them and jerked with all her might. Collingsworth had been unbalanced, ready to smash Molly’s skull, and before he was able to recover himself he fell heavily. His head hit the table with a sickening thud as he went down so when he hit the floor he was already unconscious, and blood was seeping from a gaping wound, staining the carpet crimson.

For a moment Molly sat and looked at him. She was petrified and didn’t have a clue what to do, but she knew one thing: if he came to again he would kill her as easily as swatting a fly. She had to get him to the door, bolt and lock it against him and wait for Ray to come home. He would tell her what to do.

Ordinarily, Molly wouldn’t have been able to move even a man of Collingsworth’s stature, but that night she managed it although she was both sweating and crying with the effort when she eventually heaved him outside the door of the flat. She couldn’t leave him there – he was too close – and she rolled him to the top of the stairs, pushed him with her foot, watched him topple down the first couple of steps and then disappear into the darkness. She heard him hit every step.

She gave a sudden shiver and realised that, while she was scantily clad, Collingsworth was naked. She ran into the bedroom, collected up his clothes and threw them down the stairs. Shaking from head to foot, she bolted and barred the door behind her. Then, overcome by nausea, she fled for the bathroom where she vomited over and over into the toilet.

Now that the fight was over, she was aware of aching pain everywhere and she could plainly see why when she stood before the mirror. Her body was a mass of bruises, but her face had borne the brunt of Collingsworth’s anger and she sported two black eyes, her face was smeared with blood from the shattered nose, and her bottom lip was split wide open. She wanted to lie on the floor and weep but she knew that that would achieve nothing, so she forced herself to run a bath. She sank with a sigh into the perfumed waters, knowing everything would sting and throb afresh, but she felt defiled and dirty and she needed to try to wash that feeling away.