Читать книгу A Family Scandal - Kitty Neale - Страница 9

Jenny Bonner stared at her husband. ‘Do you really have to do this? What about me? What about Greg? He’s only ten. It’ll be a big change.’

Stan Bonner rubbed his head, pushing his hand across his receding hairline. He’d known this wasn’t going to be an easy conversation. ‘I realise that, love. It’s not ideal. But if I want to get on in the firm there’s no getting away from it. I’ve got to travel more, and as I said, it’ll often mean staying away for several nights in a row.’

Jenny shook her head, worried and upset. For a moment she had the horrible thought that this was Stan’s excuse to get away from her, that maybe there was another woman in his life. Then she came to her senses. Stan loved her and wasn’t the type to stray. ‘When does it start, Stan? Are you sure there’s nobody else who’ll do it?’

‘That’s not the point, love.’ Stan tried not to show his impatience. He wasn’t happy either but he knew what would happen if he didn’t agree to do as his boss asked. ‘Plenty of the others would do it. The thing is, they picked me out. That means they like me and I could be in for a promotion. That’d be good, wouldn’t it? Get you more things, and for Greg too.’

Jenny could tell she was on a losing streak but tried again. ‘What about Greg? He’ll be doing his eleven-plus soon. He’ll need you here to help him. I didn’t stay on at school for long enough to be of much use. He’ll get all those practice papers and then he’ll fail because his mum wasn’t clever enough to show him how to work them out.’

Stan came across the kitchen and put his arms round her. ‘Don’t say that, love. He’s a bright boy, and he’ll be fine. You’re bright too and it wasn’t your fault you didn’t stay on at school. Your mum needed you to go out to work, to earn money to help her out.’

Jenny leaned against him and seemed to sag, the fight going out of her. ‘I won’t like it when you’re away. I’ll miss you.’

‘I’ll miss you too, but we want a good life for Greg, don’t we? I’ll be earning more money, and if I get promoted we’ll be in clover.’

Jenny nodded, her head pressing against her husband’s shoulder. She loved her house – it was big for three of them, and to begin with they’d hoped there would be more children, but none had come and now they were used to having lots of space. Greg had his own bedroom and there was a spare room. Stan was an insurance salesman and had a little space he called his office, though now that he was going to be away from home for long periods, it would hardly be used. ‘I suppose if you get promoted, it’ll be worth it.’

‘That’s the spirit.’ Stan pulled back so he could look into his wife’s hazel eyes. ‘I’m doing it for you two. This chance has come just at the right time. Greg’s old enough to understand, and he’s not so little that you have to run round after him anymore.’

‘I liked running round after him.’ Jenny gave a sniff. He’d been an adorable little boy, and she never begrudged him a minute of her time. She didn’t like to think of him growing up and getting independent. But Stan was right. That wouldn’t be far away.

‘I know you did. You were, you are, a wonderful mother. I’m proud of you.’ Stan gave her a squeeze, thinking again how he’d miss her gorgeous curves while he was on the road. ‘It’ll break my heart spending nights away from the pair of you. You know that. But you’ll be fine. You could ask Tommy over, if that would make it easier.’

Jenny hugged him back. ‘I might. He must get lonely in that flat down in Wandsworth. He hasn’t really got any mates there, and Mavis will be busy sorting out her new place. He might be glad of a few evenings round here.’ Jenny had been close to her cousin Tommy when they were little and when his marriage had failed his mean mother had refused to take him in, even temporarily, so he had come to stay with them. That had been two years ago, but the cousins had stayed close, particularly when Tommy had started to date Mavis, Jenny’s great friend and former next-door neighbour from when she’d been married to Alec. ‘I’ll ask him.’

‘You do that. I’d feel better if I thought you weren’t on your own every evening when I’m away.’ Stan was relieved. It looked as if he’d be able to accept his boss’s proposal with a clear conscience. ‘I suppose there’s still no sign of him staying over in Peckham?’

Jenny shook her head, pulling away from her husband. Her brown hair, which these days was cut in a neat bob, swung around her face. ‘You know very well that Mavis won’t do anything until the whole mess with that evil husband of hers is sorted out, and that might take years. It’s a crying shame.’

Stan pulled out a chair at the kitchen table and sat down. He’d never had much to do with the Pughs when they’d lived next door and had found it hard to believe what had gone on only a few yards from their own happy home. ‘Yeah, what a bastard, ’scuse my French. It’d be better off for everyone if he washed up dead somewhere, wouldn’t it? That would solve everything.’

‘I wouldn’t wish that on anybody – but yes, you’re right. After what he did to Mavis and James, it would be no more than he deserves. Mavis has had to bring up their children without a penny of support from him, despite all that money Alec will have gained from selling the house.’

The sound of ‘Please Don’t Go’ blasted out from the Talisman club as Rhona and Penny pushed their way through the entrance lobby. Penny had been worried that she wouldn’t get in as she knew she looked younger than she actually was, but the doorman had taken one glance at her blonde hair and curvy figure and waved her straight through. She giggled nervously as she surveyed the crowd. Everyone seemed very sophisticated and confident. She straightened her shoulders. They were no better than her and she wouldn’t stand in a corner waiting to be asked to join in.

‘Shall we dance?’ she shouted in Rhona’s ear, struggling to make herself heard above the twanging guitar booming from the speakers.

‘Let’s get a drink first,’ Rhona shouted back. She didn’t want to seem too eager. That might put some men off and she wanted to have the chance to scout the place properly before deciding who was worth bothering with and who wasn’t. ‘If we wait until later the bar might be too busy. This way.’ She led her friend around the tables crowded on the edge of the dance floor and across to the bar. The floor was already a little slippery from spilt drinks but she didn’t care. ‘Oh baby, please don’t go …’ she sang to the song under her breath, as she headed for a gap in the press of people attempting to catch the bar staff’s eyes. She had a rule: to buy her own drink to begin with, and not to rush into accepting one from the first man who offered. She didn’t want to risk getting stuck with a total moron for half the evening. She’d mentioned this technique to Penny on the way here on the bus. They’d sat at the back on the top deck, smoking and getting themselves in the mood for a proper night out. Penny had been slightly unsure of her new top but Rhona had assured her it was exactly right, and not too low-cut at all.

Penny had clearly forgotten the plan as when Rhona turned around to check what she wanted, her friend was already chatting to someone, their heads pressed close together. Rhona sighed in annoyance. This was no good. Their eyes hadn’t had time to get accustomed to the dim lights of the bar, and the man could be anybody. She stared at Penny’s bright blonde hair, willing her to look up, concentrating hard.

Something in her attitude must have got through because Penny glanced up and saw her, and then turned to the man in the shadows and pointed at Rhona. She moved away, giving him a little wave.

Good, thought Rhona. She didn’t recognise the bloke but she didn’t think much of his dress sense. He wasn’t sharp enough to be a Mod, looked too conservative to be a rocker and he didn’t have any of that cool air of the jazz fans. So he was ruled out on every count. ‘What are you drinking?’ she shouted at her friend when she was close enough to hear.

‘What are you having?’ Penny shouted back. She wasn’t sure what to choose. She didn’t want to look a fool by asking for the wrong thing.

‘Babycham,’ shouted Rhona. ‘Have you ever had it? The bubbles go up your nose, you’d like it.’

There was a brief pause as one track came to an end before Wayne Fontana’s ‘Game of Love’ began to play. Penny swayed around to it, teetering a little as her knee-high boots had higher heels than she was used to. ‘Lovely. I’ll try that.’

‘You stay here, and remember what we agreed,’ Rhona said, before turning and expertly wriggling her way to the bar. The vivid pattern of her minidress stood out against the dark jackets of the men – and Penny noted that it was mostly men doing the buying the drinks, with most of the women sipping from glasses. Some seemed to have halves of beer, which Penny didn’t fancy. Too bitter for her. She didn’t mind shandy but thought it would be much more sophisticated to have Babycham like her friend – if Rhona was having it, it must be all right. She tapped her foot to the rhythm of the music and, bearing in mind their agreement on the bus, tried not to catch the eye of any of the men. The man who’d first approached her had been OK but she was sure she could do better.

The song was over by the time Rhona reappeared with two glasses of the sparkling drink. ‘Here you go. A filthy sod at the bar tried to pinch my bum. I told him what he could do.’ Rhona knocked back a gulp. ‘Right, let’s find a good spot and check out who’s here. This way.’

Penny once again allowed herself to be led through the crowd, smiling at the people whose gaze she met but not stopping, taking her cue from her more experienced friend. Finally Rhona found somewhere acceptable. They stood with their backs to one of the walls, a little behind a row of tables, and from there they could see all of the dance floor and most of the people sitting around it.

Something by the Kinks came on. Rhona nodded in approval. She didn’t like clubs where they played anything as long as it was in the charts – she preferred music that sounded new, as if it had been written for her generation. She found herself singing along again, lost in the sounds, but then reminded herself to concentrate. She was here for a purpose, and if she didn’t watch out Penny would wander off and get picked up by any old idiot. It was fine to appear to be lost in the music – some men liked that – but you had to be fully alert behind the mask.

‘What about them?’ Penny nodded to a table where two young men were sitting, both in sharp suits, deep in conversation.

‘Hmm, let’s wait. No, they’re no good.’ Rhona pointed to two young women weaving their way to the same table, both in tiny miniskirts. ‘They’ve just got back from the cloakroom over there. Nothing doing for us in that direction.’

Penny scanned the dance floor. ‘Him? I like the way he dances … oh no, maybe not. Look, he thinks he’s on the telly, look at him go.’ The two girls stared at the strange dance and then burst into laughter. The man carried on oblivious, clearly convinced he was God’s gift to women everywhere.

The song ended and another one started up, with some dancers returning to their seats and other people taking their places. The floor grew more crowded and the spotlights moved around, illuminating geometric patterns on the dresses and shirts, light catching the more bouffant hairdos, or picking out the glossiness of the hair gel favoured by some of the men. Penny finished her drink and clutched the empty glass.

‘Fancy another?’ A slim-hipped young man approached them, smiling broadly.

Rhona met his gaze and cocked her head. ‘You asking her, me, or both of us?’

The man’s grin grew even wider. ‘Oh, both of you. Definitely both. How could I choose between you two lovely ladies?’

Rhona assessed him even as she continued flirting. ‘That’s cheesy, that is. You got to do better than that.’

‘I’m wounded,’ said the man. ‘I meant every word from the bottom of my heart. What’ll it be?’

Penny giggled but said nothing, waiting to see if Rhona would allow him to buy them their next drinks.

Rhona made her decision. The shirt was good, the trousers were the right shape and hugged his body quite promisingly, and the hair was almost but not quite like Brian Jones’s. He’d do. ‘Seeing as you’re so sincere, we’d like Babycham,’ she said, giving him her best upwards glance. Then she looked away, as if suddenly shy.

‘Coming right up.’ He took their empty glasses and as he did so, his fingers brushed Rhona’s. ‘Pleased to meet you. I’m Gary.’

Jean clocked on at the factory on Monday morning and looked around for her team. She was early and so didn’t really expect to see everyone there but it was a shock all the same to find she was the only one in, with ten minutes to go until the shift was due to start. She tucked her straight brown hair back under her scarf, buttoned her overalls and pitched up her sleeves. After Rhona’s outburst at the end of last week, and the way Penny clearly looked up to her and followed her every move, Jean was concerned that the two young women wouldn’t make it in.

As if he’d been listening to her thoughts, Mr Forsyth, the foreman, came whistling through the door to the factory floor. His round red face shone in the few beams of sunshine that penetrated the dusty windows.

Jean groaned inwardly. As if Mondays weren’t bad enough, she now had to deal with the boss in chirpy mood, who was definitely a morning person, which she wasn’t. ‘Hello, Mr Forsyth. Did you have a good weekend?’ She reached in her pocket for her headscarf and shook it out.

‘I did indeed, Miss Barker, I did indeed.’ He rubbed his hands as if he couldn’t wait to start work. ‘We saw my brother and his family. I think you know my nephew Andy?’

With a sinking feeling Jean wished she’d never asked what she’d thought was a harmless question. ‘Not well, no,’ she said, ‘but I’ve heard of him.’

‘And would that have been from your young colleague Miss Foster?’ The foreman didn’t wait for an answer.

Jean nodded and made a noncommittal noise. From what she knew of him, Rhona was better off without Andy Forsyth. He was good-looking, as all her boyfriends seemed to be, but he had a vindictive streak and could be thoroughly unpleasant when crossed.

‘And where is Miss Foster this morning?’ Forsyth went on. ‘Here come our two most reliable ladies, but I don’t see Miss Foster anywhere.’ His eyes narrowed. The good mood hadn’t lasted long.

‘Oh, she’ll be here, don’t you worry,’ said Jean, crossing her fingers and hoping she was right. ‘Morning, Margot, morning, Alma.’ The two older women nodded and moved away to hang up their coats. It was still chilly and spring seemed to have forgotten it was due to arrive.

‘Well, she’d better be,’ said Forsyth. ‘I’m keeping my eye on that young woman. But I’m needed for an important meeting with the manager, so I shall leave you to it for now.’ He bustled off, all importance and swagger.

Important meeting with the manager my arse, thought Jean. With the biscuit barrel more like. Still, Penny and Rhona were cutting it fine.

They burst through the outer door together with a minute to go. Rhona looked as if she hadn’t had time to brush her hair, her coat was done up the wrong way and she was breathing heavily as if she’d been running.

‘Blimey, you’re taking a chance getting here with only a minute to spare,’ said Jean. ‘You do realise Forsyth has got it in for you after you dumped Andy? He’s been down here checking. You’d better watch your step or you’ll be out on your ear.’

‘Oh, I’m not worried about him,’ gasped Rhona. ‘I just overslept a bit, that’s all. We’re here now. Go on, Jean, pass me my overall and I’ll be ready in a tick.’

‘Good weekend, was it?’ Jean did as she was asked, arching an eyebrow. She could make a fair guess at why the girl was in such a state.

‘The best,’ grinned Rhona. ‘Thanks, you’re a star. Right, I’m ready to go.’

Jean wondered if her colleague would be safe to work near machinery but decided it wasn’t her problem. ‘OK, let’s make a start. You and Penny get down to the packing end of the production line.’

Rhona and Penny set off to their appointed places, Rhona leaning heavily on her friend.

‘You could have landed me in it,’ hissed Penny. ‘I’m all right to work even if you aren’t. I never should have waited for you on the corner.’

‘But you wanted to hear what happened yesterday, didn’t you?’ Rhona laughed. ‘Just as well ’cos I never would have told this lot the details.’ She grinned. ‘It was worth it, even if I can hardly stand up today.’

‘Rhona! That’s disgusting.’

‘I only meant with tiredness. Seriously, we didn’t go all the way. Not on our first real date, and that in the afternoon.’ Rhona smiled dreamily at the memory. ‘I didn’t mean to stay up half the night with Gary, and we were only talking. Well, and having a drink. Or several.’

‘You better suck on some more mints before Forsyth comes by,’ Penny advised her. ‘I can still smell it on your breath. He’ll notice it at once and you don’t want to be giving him any excuse to fire you. Turning up half drunk when you’re operating machinery is asking for trouble.’ She pulled out a stool and sat down at the conveyor belt.

Rhona collapsed on to the stool next to her. ‘Sorry. But you did enjoy the other night, didn’t you?’

‘Yeah,’ Penny admitted. ‘It was great. Shall we go again or will you just want to be with Gary?’

Rhona jumped to catch a tin that almost made it past her. Damn, she thought, she really was going at half speed today. She’d better sort herself out or it wouldn’t just be her who was in trouble; it would mess up the whole shift. She liked her co-workers and didn’t want to get them in hot water if she could help it – but she wouldn’t be giving up her nights out for anybody.

‘No reason why you can’t come along when I next go out with Gary,’ she said kindly. ‘He might have other friends for you to meet. He’s bound to have, he knows lots of people. We’ve definitely got to go back to the Talisman. They play all the best music. How about next weekend?’

‘You sure I won’t be a gooseberry?’ Penny wasn’t completely convinced. ‘I don’t want to cramp your style or anything.’

‘Not much chance of that,’ said Rhona, tossing her head.