Читать книгу Kitty Neale 3 Book Bundle - Kitty Neale - Страница 32

By the last week in August Carol was near the end of her tether. Almost everything of value had been pawned, but her dad spent most of the money on booze. With no sign of him ever getting a job she had gone back to work, and had just arrived home from the paint factory on Friday to find her dad eagerly waiting. It was payday and she knew what he wanted – but he’d have a long wait if he thought she was going to just pass over her wages again.

‘Come on, Carol,’ he urged, ‘give me your pay-packet.’

‘No, Dad,’ she argued.

‘Do as you’re told,’ he snarled in her face.

She reeled back from the stench of his breath and unwashed body, finding the father she had known almost unrecognisable. He was a hopeless drunk now, and though she felt partly to blame, Carol knew that with rent to pay and food to buy, she had to hang on to her wages. ‘Dad,’ she said, hoping appeasement would work as she opened her handbag to pull out a ten bob note, ‘here, take this.’

With hands shaking in his need for alcohol, he snatched it from her, and as though unable to wait a moment longer to get to the pub, hurried out.

Carol’s shoulders slumped with relief, yet she knew that as soon as the money was spent her father would be back for more. Her stomach rumbled, and going through to the scullery she looked for something to eat, finding just a couple of slices of bread and a small piece of cheese, enough to make a sandwich. It would have to suffice, but Carol was determined to go shopping in the morning, to get more food in while her dad would still be in bed sleeping the booze off.

With no television to watch now, by seven thirty Carol was bored. There was housework to do, but after being at work all day she wasn’t in the mood, and anyway, Carol decided, she had the weekend to tackle it.

When there was a knock on the door she was actually pleased to see Amy and let her in with a smile. ‘Hello, aren’t you seeing Tommy?’

‘No, he’s swamped with work and as we’re both taking the day off tomorrow to go to Rose’s wedding, he’ll be working late tonight.’

Carol had once thought that Amy’s life was boring, but now, compared to her own it seemed interesting. ‘What will you be wearing?’

‘A yellow dress and jacket,’ Amy said.

‘Is the dress plain or patterned?’

‘It’s got a pattern of small, white flowers, but the jacket is plain. With so few people going to the wedding there won’t be a bit of a do afterwards, but we’re going for a meal in a restaurant.’

Carol felt a stab of envy. Amy had got engaged to be married last month, her life moving forward, while Carol knew that hers had stagnated. It was as though since the loss of her baby, she’d given up on life too, but now for the first time Carol felt a longing to live again. Even the quiet wedding sounded better to Carol than being stuck at home every weekend, but at least the evening passed quickly as they continued to chat. They spoke more about Rose and her marriage, Carol musing, ‘I suppose Rose is living in clover now.’

‘We haven’t seen Mr Jacobs’ house yet,’ Amy said, ‘but when Rose comes to see us she always turns up in a taxi. She wears lovely clothes now too, sort of classy.’

‘I bet that makes the curtains twitch, though the gossips are probably green with envy.’

‘I don’t envy Rose,’ Amy said. ‘He may be rich, but I couldn’t marry an old man like Mr Jacobs.’

‘I’m not sure I could either, but good luck to Rose. When he kicks the bucket she’ll inherit the lot.’

‘Yes, I suppose so,’ Amy said, then changing the subject, ‘I know you didn’t like working in the paint factory at first. Is it any better now?’

‘Some of the women are a laugh so that helps, and at least I don’t have to work Saturdays.’

‘Talking of Saturdays, I’d best be off. We’ll all have to be up early in the morning to get ready for the wedding.’

‘Have a nice time,’ Carol said, sighing when Amy left. There’d be no nice time for her tomorrow, she’d be spending the day doing housework. For now though, not wanting to be up to see her father rolling home drunk, Carol decided to go to bed.

An hour later, Carol was in the throes of a terrible nightmare and her eyes snapped open in the dark. Someone was on top of her, hands groping – but then she screamed in terror. This wasn’t a nightmare; she was awake, and desperately she fought to throw the man off whilst crying out, ‘Dad! Dad, help me!’

‘Shut up!’

Her mind reeling, Carol froze for a moment, unable to believe it, yet the voice was his, along with the stench. ‘No! No, Dad! It’s me, Carol!’ she cried frantically. ‘Stop it!’

Still it continued, her father deaf to her cries, and almost out of her mind, Carol hit out in the darkness, punching, yanking his hair, and when he yelled she found a surge of strength, enough to throw him off her body.

Frantic to get away from her father, Carol scrambled from the bed and fled downstairs where, grabbing an old raincoat from the hook, she ran from the house.

Carol flung the coat on as she headed for the one place where she knew she’d be safe, protected. Her chest heaving, she only paused occasionally to draw breath, aware of nothing around her but her need to get there, until at last she arrived and thumped frantically on the door. Nobody came, nobody opened it, and sobbing she sank down onto the doorstep.

With no idea of the time, Carol didn’t know how long she sat there, her mind in turmoil at what her father had tried to do, until at last her brothers turned up. Carol rose unsteadily and almost fell into Paul’s arms.

‘Carol, what’s wrong? What are you doing here? Are you hurt?’ he asked urgently.

‘No … no,’ she croaked, feeling her legs crumbling beneath her.

Paul lifted her up, carried her inside and laid her gently onto the sofa, while Davy said, ‘Carol, you’ve got nothing on your feet and they’re bleeding. What the hell happened?’

‘I … he … he …’ she stammered.

‘A man did this to you?’ Paul growled. ‘Who was it? When we get our hands on him we’ll kill him!’

Carol couldn’t take any more – couldn’t bear to relive what had happened again and her mind closed down. Exhausted, she closed her eyes and sank into darkness.

Paul looked down at his sister the following morning. She was still asleep, and seeing the dried blood on her feet again, his lips tightened in anger. Until Carol woke up it was hard to make sense of what had happened, but sick at the thought that she’d been raped, he said to Dave, ‘Look at her. She’s still in her nightdress, so whoever did this must have broken into the house.’

‘But where was Dad?’ Dave asked.

‘We don’t know what time it happened, so maybe he was out.’

‘Yeah, that’s probably it, but surely he’d have seen that she wasn’t there when he came home?’ Dave pointed out.

‘He might have assumed she was in bed.’

‘True,’ Dave agreed, ‘but he’s going to notice that she isn’t there this morning.’

‘If Carol’s up to it we’ll have to take her home, but if she’s been raped Dad’s going to do his nut.’

‘No! No, I don’t want to go home!’ Carol cried, suddenly sitting up.

Surprised Paul said, ‘I thought you were still asleep.’

‘Please,’ Carol begged. ‘Don’t make me go home.’

It she’d been attacked in her own bed, no wonder she was too scared to go back, Paul thought. ‘All right, stay here for now. Dave can shoot down to tell Dad where you are.’

‘No! No, he mustn’t tell him I’m here!’

Confused, Paul asked, ‘Why not?’

‘Be … because he … he tried … in my bed … I … I fought him off, got away,’ Carol sobbed, her words disjointed.

‘Flaming hell,’ Dave said. ‘Surely you’re not saying that Dad tried it on?’

Carol nodded, tears rolling down her cheeks, but Paul couldn’t believe it, didn’t want to believe it and said, ‘Dad wouldn’t do that. He was probably drunk and stumbled into your room instead of his own.’

‘He … he might have been drunk, but I woke up to find him on … on top of me and his hands were … were all over me.’

Paul felt bile rising in his throat and unable to stand the sound of his sister crying, he strode to the kitchen. He put water in the kettle and then placed it on the gas before taking three cups from the cupboard.

‘What are you doing?’ Dave asked as he appeared in the doorway.

‘Ain’t it obvious?’ Paul snapped. ‘I’m making us a drink.’

‘You must be kidding. Carol just told us that Dad tried it on with her, and all you’re doing is making tea.’

‘Oh, I intend to do more than that. First though Carol probably needs a drink and her feet need to be sorted, bathed.’

‘Then what?’

‘Then you and I are going to take a walk to Lark Rise,’ Paul growled.

Mabel had been disturbed by the yelling soon after she’d gone to bed last night, but she’d vowed to keep her nose out of anyone’s business now, especially the Coles’.

Yet here it was, just after nine in the morning, and while they were eating breakfast, the Coles were at it again. It even disturbed Jack this time and he looked up from his morning paper to say, ‘I don’t know what’s going on next door, but they’re making a hell of a racket.’

Something thumped loudly against the adjoining wall, and Mabel jumped. ‘It sounds like someone’s throwing furniture around.’

‘Yes, it does,’ Jack agreed. ‘Maybe I should go and see what’s going on.’

‘No, don’t do that. It’s none of our business,’ Mabel said, ‘and anyway, if there’s some sort of fight going on, I don’t want you getting involved in it.’

‘All right, I’ll stay put,’ Jack agreed.

There was more shouting, but then abruptly, blissfully, it all went quiet. ‘Well I don’t know what that was all about,’ Mabel said.

‘Me neither,’ Jack replied, but then went back to his newspaper.

For a moment Mabel wondered if she should go next door to check that everyone was all right, but then decided against it. Frank Cole would only slam the door in her face again.

Mabel ruminated, wondering again if she was right, that instead of Rose, it had been Daphne Cole who had gone off with George Frost. The dates matched, but once again she had kept her suspicions to herself.

Mind you, maybe it wouldn’t hurt to tell Phyllis. After all, no doubt it would come to light one day, these things always did – and then, Mabel thought, smiling smugly – she’d be proved right.

Unaware that anything untoward had happened in the Coles’ house, Amy was sitting beside Tommy in the registry office, fiddling with her engagement ring. She loved the diamond solitaire, and though she knew Tommy would have liked the stone to be a bigger one, Amy was happy with his choice. On her small, thin finger the diamond appeared large, and now, looking up, Amy had to smile at the scene of Rose standing beside the rotund, grey-haired Samuel Jacobs as the two of them listened to the registrar’s words. Rose looked lovely in a pale pink, shot silk suit, her hat pink too and delightfully frivolous with its tiny veil.

‘My feet are killing me,’ her mother hissed from Amy’s other side. ‘One of the straps on these sandals is cutting into my big toe.’

‘I’ve got a plaster in my handbag,’ Amy hissed back, thinking that though her mother was complaining, she looked lovely too in a beige suit and hat, the brim trimmed with white ribbon which matched her bag and sandals. It had been hard to find suitable outfits that didn’t cost a fortune, but they’d been lucky when they found a ladies’ dress shop that was shutting down. With a bit of bargaining, her mother had got her hat thrown in too, but Amy didn’t think that any she tried on suited her, so had decided not to wear one.

It had been a lovely surprise to find that Rose had arranged a car to pick them up, so they had arrived in style, but now Amy looked at the other guests, two dour-faced middle-aged couples. They had hardly acknowledged them when they turned up, and Amy wasn’t looking forward to sitting with them in the restaurant. She felt it might be a bit strained, but then to her surprise it was suddenly all over. It had happened so quickly, but Rose and Samuel Jacobs signed the register, and then shortly afterwards they were all outside.

‘Congratulations,’ her mother said to Rose and Mr Jacobs.

‘Yes, from me too,’ said her dad, shaking the old man’s hand.

‘Thank you,’ he said, smiling.

The other two couples said nothing but Amy stepped forward to kiss Rose on the cheek. ‘You look lovely,’ she enthused, and meant it. ‘Congratulations.’

‘You look lovely too,’ Rose said. ‘The table is booked for two so I think we should make our way to the restaurant.’

One of the dour-faced men stepped forward then and said, ‘Samuel, we won’t be coming. Rachel is rather tired.’

‘I see, and what about you, Sidney? Will you and Helen be joining us?’

‘We’ve got a long drive home, so no.’

‘Right, goodbye then,’ Samuel said shortly.

‘They don’t like me,’ Rose said as they walked away.

‘It’s the thought of losing my money they don’t like. Now come, my dear, let’s get to the restaurant.’

‘Phyllis, the car is still waiting for you so we’ll see you all there,’ Rose called.

The drive only took about ten minutes, and as soon as they walked into the restaurant they were led to a table. It looked lovely, with a white, crisp linen tablecloth, beautifully folded napkins and sparkling glasses. There seemed to be so much cutlery, several knives and forks laid out at each setting and Amy looked at them worriedly. She glanced at her mother, saw that she looked intimidated too, but then Rose hissed, ‘I was the same at first, but don’t panic. Just watch me and do what I do.’

They both smiled gratefully, and no sooner were they all seated than a waiter poured them a glass of what Amy supposed was champagne. To her surprise she saw her father rise to his feet to offer up his flute in a toast, ‘To Samuel and Rose.’

‘To Samuel and Rose,’ the rest of them chorused as Amy noticed that despite her mum’s best efforts, her dad’s old suit that he’d had for years still looked shiny. There had been no money left for a new one, but he hadn’t complained, happy for them to buy new clothes.

The meal began, and watching Rose, Amy was able to pick up the right cutlery for each course. Samuel Jacobs was charming, amusing, and Amy liked him. Her mother had always called their landlord an old skinflint, but she seemed to have warmed towards him too.

‘Rose has told me that you two are engaged,’ Samuel said. ‘Have you set a date for your wedding?’

‘Not yet,’ Amy replied.

‘When you do, and if you need a house to rent, just let me know and I’ll see what I can do.’

‘That’s jolly kind of you, sir,’ Tommy enthused.

‘Samuel, you must all call me Samuel, or Sam. After all, we’re family now.’

‘Here’s to that,’ Rose said, lifting her glass.

As Amy smiled at Tommy, she was unaware that her mother had had a sudden idea, or that she’d soon be in league with Rose to make sure that if possible, it would come to fruition.

Though they’d been over it before, Paul found himself talking about it again. ‘I was fuming, ready to lay into Dad, to pulverise him, but he was so pathetic that I couldn’t touch him.’

‘Yeah, I was the same,’ Dave said, ‘and I took my temper out on the furniture instead.’

‘What did he say about me?’ Carol asked anxiously, looking ridiculous in a pair of Dave’s rolled-up jeans and a shirt that came down to her knees.

‘That he was sorry, and sickened by what he’d done. He was drunk, Carol, and staggered into your room by mistake. He was so full of booze that the poor sod thought you were Mum.’

‘Yeah, he was crying like a baby,’ said Dave.

‘Yes, yes, you’ve already told me,’ Carol snapped, ‘but I don’t care what excuses he made, I’m not going home. Dad gets drunk every night and he might make the same mistake again.’

‘I don’t think he will. I think you’ll be safe now,’ Dave said.

‘You think I’d be safe! What good’s that?’ Carol said bitterly.

Paul realised that his sister was right. Carol had fought their dad off this time, but if the same thing happened there was no guarantee that she’d be able to again. ‘You’re not going home,’ he said firmly. ‘You’re staying here.’

‘Oh, thank goodness for that,’ Carol said, visibly slumping with relief. ‘If you’d refused to let me stay, I would’ve been stuck with asking Gran to take me in.’

‘That’d be a barrel of laughs,’ Paul said. ‘You’ll be all right here. Dave can share my bedroom and then you can have his.’

‘I dunno about that,’ Dave complained. ‘What about when I bring a girl home?’

‘Don’t worry about it. We’ll work something out,’ Paul told his brother.

‘I’ll need my clothes,’ Carol said, ‘and my other things, make-up and stuff.’

‘Right then, come on, Dave. If we want to try out that place in Old Compton Street tonight, we’d better get Carol’s stuff now.’

‘What place?’ Carol asked.

‘It’s a coffee bar, called the 2i’s. A skiffle group called The Vipers perform there and we’ve heard they’re good.’

‘Paul, will you do something else for me? If I write a quick note, would you give it to Amy? If there’s no one in, just shove it through the letterbox.’

‘Yes, all right,’ Paul agreed, and soon he and Dave were on their way to Lark Rise. He wasn’t looking forward to seeing his father again, unable to believe that the man he’d looked up to had turned into a pathetic drunk; one who was so out of his mind on booze that he’d almost raped his own daughter.