by Kitty Neale
He sighed, shaking his head slowly. ‘I can’t say I agree with it, Sally, but I do understand the dilemma you’re in. I’ve given it a great deal of thought and I wondered if we could come to a compromise. Would you agree to confine your healing to your gran and not use it on anyone else?’
‘Oh John, of course I will,’ she cried, relief flooding through her body and her eyes filling with tears of happiness. She hadn’t lost him. Oh, it was wonderful.
It was two days before Lottie returned to work. The doctor had sent her for several tests at St Thomas’s Hospital, and now she was waiting for the results. She looked tired and drawn, and Sally tried to help her as much as she could, rushing to serve the customers when they approached the counter. Throughout the day she furtively studied Lottie’s aura, worried by the dark places she could clearly see.
It was when there was a lull in the late afternoon and she could see pain etched on Lottie’s face, that she plucked up the courage to speak. ‘Are you all right?’ she whispered, standing close to her side.
‘I’m not too bad, Sally,’ Lottie answered softly, ‘but I won’t be sorry to go home.’
‘Please, would you let me help you? I’m sure I could alleviate some of your pain with spiritual healing.’
‘No! How could you even suggest it, Sally? You know how I feel about using psychic powers. It’s wrong, very wrong,’ she said angrily.
‘Oh, please don’t get upset. I’m sorry, I just wanted to help you, that’s all.’
‘I suggest that you keep to your agreement with John and confine your activities to your grandmother, and in future, Sally, I don’t want to hear another word about it. Now please go and sort the records out in that rack; they’re in an awful muddle. Put them in alphabetical order, please.’
Sally nodded, knowing by the dismissive tone in her voice that it would be useless to argue, and for the following hour the atmosphere between them was strained.
It was a relief to go home, and as she stepped into the kitchen, Sally was surprised to see her aunt busily laying the table. ‘Hello,’ Mary said, smiling a greeting. ‘Dinner won’t be long.’
‘Where’s Mum?’
‘I’m afraid she’s in bed with a shocking cold and it feels like she’s got a temperature.’
‘Oh no, I thought she sounded a bit hoarse this morning. I’ll just pop up to see her.’
‘All right, my dear, and perhaps you could ask her if she’d like something to eat.’
Quietly opening the bedroom door, Sally found her mum propped up in bed looking distinctly sorry for herself. ‘How are you feeling?’
‘Bleedin’ awful and my head’s swimming,’ Ruth complained.
Sally laid a hand across her forehead, surprised at how hot she felt. ‘Well, you’re in the best place. Have you taken anything?’
‘Just a Beecham’s Powder.’
‘Why don’t you try Gran’s cure-all?’
‘I would, but we ain’t got any whisky,’ she said dolefully.
Sally smiled inwardly at the hint. ‘I’ll pop down to the off-licence to get some. If anything will put you back on your feet, it’ll be Gran’s concoction.’
‘What about you? Can’t you give me some of your healing?’
‘Oh Mum, I can’t cure a cold,’ she said, shaking her head. ‘By the way, Aunt Mary wants to know if you’d like something to eat?’
‘No thanks, me throat’s too sore.’
‘All right, Mum, get some rest now. I’ll pop up again later.’
She rushed to buy the whisky before dinner, despite her aunt’s complaints that it would be ruined, and now watched her gran mixing up her famous recipe. A good measure of whisky, mixed with honey, lemon, and a couple of teaspoons of Galloway’s cough syrup, all topped with boiling water. ‘There,’ she said, handing it to Sally, ‘that’ll do the trick. Make sure she drinks it while it’s hot.’
On Friday evening Sally sat beside her mum, surprised that her cold was still raging. Her temperature was down, but she was still feeling poorly. ‘You won’t be able to go to Blackpool now, Mum.’
‘I know,’ she croaked. ‘I feel awful letting your aunt down, but she’s so determined to go, I couldn’t persuade her to wait.’
Sally frowned; she didn’t like the thought of her aunt going to Blackpool on her own. ‘Mum, I could go with her. I’ve got the day off tomorrow.’
Mary stepped in the room, just in time to hear Sally’s offer. ‘Oh, that would be smashing,’ she said.
‘I don’t think it’s a good idea,’ her mother said worriedly. ‘What if Harry turns nasty?’
Mary smiled sardonically. ‘There’s no chance of that, Ruth. Harry runs away from trouble. He’s a coward.’
‘Yeah, but even so, I don’t like the idea of Sal …’ A fit of coughing suddenly shook her, leaving her drained.
‘Don’t worry, Mum, we’ll be fine. Have you booked somewhere to stay for the night, Auntie?’
‘No, I’m afraid not. But don’t worry, the summer season’s well over now, so we’ll easily find a little B and B.’
‘I think I’ll pop next door,’ Sally said, allaying any further protest from her mother. ‘I’m sure Elsie won’t mind keeping an eye on you and Gran while we’re away.’
‘Of course I’ll make sure they’re all right,’ Elsie said. ‘Though I’m surprised your mum’s allowing you to go.’
Sally grinned. ‘Yes, I know what you mean, but she’s too poorly to put up much of a fight. She still treats me like a child, doesn’t she, and forgets that I’m all grown up now and engaged to be married.’
‘Sally, you’re an only child so she’s bound to be more protective,’ Elsie said, adding with a grin, ‘and as for being grown up, I reckon you’ve got a good few years to go before you get the key to the door.’ She glanced around quickly then as Arthur walked in. ‘Hello, son,’ she said.
Arthur smiled at his mother, then turned his gaze to Sally. ‘Hello,’ he said softly. ‘You look nice.’
‘Thanks,’ Sally said, feeling herself turn pink. Why did he always have this effect on her? It felt as though her stomach was full of butterflies. Like his father Bert, he seemed to fill the room with his presence and looked incongruous standing beside his mother, his six foot two height dwarfing her.
‘Sally and her aunt are going to Blackpool in the morning to sort that Harry out,’ Elsie told him.
Arthur frowned. ‘Will you be all right, Sally? Would you like me to come with you? I could drive you both up there.’
‘Thanks, Arthur, it’s very kind of you to offer, but we’ll be fine. I’d better be off now. Thanks again, Elsie. Bye, Arthur.’
As she left the room, Elsie turned to her son. ‘You’re making it a bit obvious, love. You still like her, don’t you?’
‘Yes, I do. I’ll always have a soft spot for her. But we’re both engaged now and I’m happy enough with Jenny.’
Elsie touched his arm. ‘Are you sure you know what you’re doing? Australia is a long way away, son.’
‘Don’t start again, Mum. We’ve been through this so many times. Yes, I’ve made the right decision,’ he told her, marching swiftly out of the kitchen.
Elsie twisted the tea-towel in her hand as she heard the door slam. I’ve driven him out again, she thought. Yet she couldn’t help nagging him. The thought of never seeing him again was unbearable. Oh, if only he and Sally could have got together, Arthur would never have thought of emigrating then.
Chapter Twenty-Five
The following day, as Sally stepped off the Blackpool train feeling tired and dishevelled, a blast of cold blustery wind whipped around her legs. She shivered as she turned to her aunt. ‘I wonder if Harry’s house is far from the station.’
‘Let’s hope it isn’t, dear,’ Mary answered, struggling to tie a scarf around her hair. ‘Come on, we’ll get a taxi.’
They handed the driver Harry’s address, sinking into their seats, pleased to be told it was only a ten-minute journey.
‘What are we going to do if he’s out, Aunt Mary?’
‘I don’t know. We’ll cross that bridge when we come to it.’ She removed her scarf and ran a comb through her hair. ‘I don’t want to turn up on his doorstep looking a mess. Daft isn’t it, but it will make me feel at a disadvantage.’ Digging in her handbag and taking out a compact, she peered into the mirror, powdered her face, and applied a fresh coat of pink lipstick. ‘There,’ she sighed. ‘Ready for battle.’
Sally reached out to grasp her hand and gave it a gentle squeeze. ‘Are you sure you don’t want to leave it until the morning?’
‘No, I just want to get it over with,’ she answered, as the taxi pulled into the kerb.
Paying the driver, they turned to look at the neat row of terraced houses. ‘Come on, Sally, it’s this one,’ Mary whispered, her face drawn.
Sally stood behind her aunt as a pretty blonde woman, a toddler at her side, opened the door. ‘Yes, can I help you?’ she asked.
‘I’ve come to see Harry. Is he in?’ Mary said curtly, nerves making her voice high.
‘No, he’s just popped into town for a few things, but I’m expecting him back shortly.’ The little boy began to whimper and she swung him up into her arms, asking, ‘Why do you want to see my husband?’
‘Your husband?’ Mary said sharply. ‘That’s a good one, considering he’s still married to me.’
The woman’s face stretched into an expression of utter disbelief, and clutching her son closer to her chest, she said, ‘No, he can’t be, you must be mistaken.’
‘I can assure you there’s no mistake. I have it on good authority that my husband lives at this address, and I’m not moving from here until I see him.’
‘But Harry divorced his first wife,’ she paused, her face turning ashen. ‘Is …is your name Mary?’
‘Yes, it is, and despite what he’s told you, we aren’t divorced. I’m still legally his wife.’
The woman swayed, her voice a whisper, ‘Not divorced? But … but that would mean we’re not married. No, no, I can’t believe this.’ Holding the child with one arm, she clutched the stanchion.
‘Are you all right?’ Mary asked, stepping forward with concern.
‘Yes, I just felt a bit dizzy for a moment.’ Standing aside, she added, ‘It might be better if you came in. I’m sure we can straighten this out when Harry comes home.’
They walked into a sitting room strewn with children’s toys, the woman gesturing them to a sofa. After sitting down they looked up at the little boy sheltered in his mother’s arms, his thumb stuck in his mouth as he stared down at them. Sally gave him a cheeky wink and was rewarded when he removed his thumb, giving her a wide, wet smile.
‘There, Daniel,’ the woman said, putting him gently down onto the floor. ‘Play with your toys, darling.’
He tottered across to a wooden train, squatted down and grabbed it in his chubby hands. Rising unsteadily he stumbled towards Sally, dumping it on her lap. ‘Choo, choo,’ he gurgled.
Sally picked up the toy, chatting to Daniel in an effort to fill the strained silence, and getting chuckles in reply.
The door opened and they all turned their heads as Harry walked in, followed by a little girl. ‘Bloody hell – Mary!’ he exploded. ‘What are you doing here?’
‘Isn’t it obvious?’ she said sarcastically. ‘Aren’t you going to introduce me to your other wife?’
‘Harry, tell me it isn’t true! Tell me you aren’t still married to Mary?’
He lowered his eyes guiltily. ‘Sheila, I …’ His words were cut off as with an anguished wail, she ran from the room. The little girl moved to follow, but Harry put a detaining arm around her shoulders, and she flinched at his touch.
Oh, no! Sally thought, her stomach churning. The little girl’s eyes met hers, and – in that moment – she knew.
Jumping to her feet, unaware of her actions and acting purely on instinct, she flew across the room. ‘Don’t touch her,’ she screamed, grasping the child’s arm and pulling her out of his reach.
Daniel began to howl, his little face bright red, lower lip trembling. ‘Mama, Mama,’ he sobbed, his arms held out.
It was Mary who came to the rescue. Bending down she swooped the child up, throwing a puzzled look at Sally as she left the room, saying, ‘I’ll take him to his mother.’
White-faced, Harry stumbled towards a chair and almost fell into it, while the little girl edged closer to Sally.
Seeing the distress on her face, Sally crouched down, and taking her in her arms, she could feel her thin body trembling.
Mary came back into the room then, staring at Harry distastefully. ‘Your so-called wife is putting your little boy to bed.’ She turned to look down at Sally, her eyes widening as comprehension dawned. ‘No … oh no! He hasn’t, please tell me he hasn’t!’ she cried, her voice rising hysterically.
Standing up, Sally placed an arm around the girl’s shoulders. ‘Please, calm down, Auntie. Can’t you see how upset she is?’
‘I’m sorry, it’s just so awful,’ Mary gasped, struggling to compose herself.
‘I’ll take her out of here and you can talk to him,’ Sally nodded her head in Harry’s direction. Then, turning her attention back to the child, she asked, ‘Where is your bedroom, darling?’
Finding her room, Sally sat down beside the little girl on the bed, saying softly, ‘My name’s Sally. What’s your name, sweetheart?’
‘Linda,’ she whispered.
Seeing that she was still shaking, Sally reached out and took her hand. ‘Listen darling, I promise that Harry will never touch you again.’
Linda’s eyes were like saucers, as though unable to believe what she was hearing. She gave a small cry, throwing herself into Sally’s arms as a dam of pent-up emotions burst from her lips. ‘He … he …’ she stammered, struggling to speak through her wracking sobs.
‘Shh … it’s all right,’ Sally whispered, her own eyes full of tears. ‘I know, sweetheart, but you’re safe now.’ She rocked her back and forth, reliving her own experience at her uncle’s hands, realising it had been nothing – nothing compared to what this child might have been through.
As she stroked Linda’s hair, the child’s sobs slowly turned into soft little hiccups that finally stopped altogether. Then, laying her gently back onto the pillows and covering her with an eiderdown, Sally sat quietly beside her, relieved when she fell into an exhausted sleep.
Closing the door softly she stepped onto the landing, coming face to face with Sheila. Feeling her anger flare, she hissed, ‘I want to talk to you about Linda.’
With a puzzled look, Sheila gestured them into another room, and seeing a double bed dominating the space, Sally’s mouth curled in distaste.
‘You said you wanted to talk to me about Linda?’ Sheila asked.
‘Yes I do,’ she snapped. ‘Your little girl’s in a terrible state. Don’t you know what Harry’s been doing to her? Couldn’t you see?’
‘See what? I don’t understand.’
‘My God, you must be blind. Harry’s a paedophile and he’s obviously been interfering with your little girl. Surely you suspected something?’
The colour drained from Sheila’s face. ‘No … no, you must be mistaken. Harry loves Linda, he would never do anything like that.’
‘I can assure you I’m not mistaken. You see, as a child I had personal experience of his sick perversion.’
Sheila collapsed onto the side of the bed. ‘Oh, this is too much,’ she wailed, bending forward as though in pain. ‘First I find out that my husband is still married to someone else, and now you’re trying to tell me that he … he … oh God, I’m going to be sick.’ She rushed out and soon afterwards, Sally heard dreadful retching sounds from the bathroom.
The anger she felt began to dissipate, leaving her feeling drained. It isn’t over yet, she thought tiredly. There’s still Harry to sort out. She tentatively approached the bathroom. ‘Are you all right?’ she asked.
Sheila
was leaning over the sink, splashing her face with cold water. She grabbed a towel from the rack and roughly dried her face. ‘I don’t think I’ll ever be all right again,’ she croaked. ‘Please, leave me alone. I must go to my daughter.’
Sally made her way downstairs, hearing raised voices as she approached the sitting room. She paused in the narrow hall; there was a telephone on a small table. Picking up the receiver, she dialled 999.
The next morning, sitting on the train on their way back to London, Sally turned to her aunt who appeared both mentally and physically exhausted.
‘Thank goodness it’s all over,’ she said.
‘No, my dear, I’m afraid it isn’t. There will be many more questions and the trial to face yet.’
‘I still don’t know if we did the right thing, Auntie. Maybe we should have told the police that Harry’s been interfering with Linda.’
‘Darling, I know how upset you are, but it’s her mother’s decision – and anyway perhaps she’s right. The child has been through enough and dragging her through the courts would be a dreadful ordeal.’ She sighed. ‘I can’t help feeling sorry for Sheila. The poor woman’s all alone in the world without parents or other relatives to offer their support.’
Sally, remembering the venomous look Harry had thrown at her as the police led him away, shivered. Her aunt hadn’t noticed, she had been too busy comforting Sheila, and instead of bitterness and hatred, Sally had seen a closeness developing between the two women. It had been well past midnight when Sheila insisted that they stay; telling them it would be impossible to find a B&B at that time of night.
The morning had brought fresh tears when Sheila had gently questioned her daughter, finding her worst fears realised. It appeared that Linda might have suffered abuse for quite some time, but she was reluctant to tell them, obviously still in fear of Harry.
Then when Mary warned that Harry might be let out on bail, Sheila had frantically insisted on packing his suitcases, throwing them out onto the doorstep with her mouth set in a grim line. ‘He’ll never set foot in this house again,’ she told them, determination in her voice and the set of her shoulders.