Kitty Neale 3 Book Bundle

by Kitty Neale

  He could barely look at Amy now, and at least at the unit he was out of the house. Tommy knew that he couldn’t go on like this; that he would have to have it out with Amy soon, but the thought of being told that Bobby wasn’t his son, tore him apart. He didn’t want to face it yet – couldn’t face it yet, and when the telephone rang Tommy snatched it up, glad to escape his tortured thoughts as his mind snapped back to work and a customer asking for a quote.

  Chapter Forty-Eight

  As the days passed the stress continued to take its toll on Amy, and her milk dried up. She had to put Bobby on a milk formula, but at first he rejected the teat on the bottle. It was Celia who managed to coax him, and as they smiled at each other in relief, for the first time Amy felt an affinity with her mother-in-law.

  On Monday, the day of the funeral, the sky was low, with a dark grey blanket of cloud hanging over Lark Rise. Tommy had shut the unit for the day and when the hearse slowly drove off, only two cars followed it. Celia was sitting between Thomas and Amy in the first one, a black veil masking her anguished features. The second car held Amy’s parents, along with Samuel and Rose, just seven of them to attend the service – but when they got to the chapel Amy saw Len Upwood and his wife standing outside, along with other men who worked for Thomas and who bowed their heads in respect when the coffin was lifted from the hearse.

  Tommy took his mother’s arm as they walked behind the coffin bearers into the chapel, where sombre music played. When they were all seated, the service began, but Amy hardly took in a word of what was said. She was cold, the pew hard, and when they were asked to stand Tommy was as rigid as a statue beside her. She felt the gulf between them, but felt powerless to bridge it.

  The last hymn was sung, but they still had to go to the graveside for the interment. There were coughs, the shuffle of feet as they made their way out of the chapel, but close to the back two people were just leaving their pew. It was the couple she had seen in a car at the registry office, and this time there was no mistaking them.

  Celia must have noticed them too for there was a gasp, yet they were outside before there was a confrontation. Amy was expecting fireworks, but instead Celia held her head high and in a dignified manner, nodded to her husband and Lena Winters before regally walking past them.

  ‘I didn’t know what to expect,’ George said as he turned to Tommy. ‘At least your mother didn’t do her nut.’

  ‘Dad, how could you do this to her, and today of all days?’

  ‘Now look, I saw a piece about Jeremy’s accident in the local paper and it shocked me to the core. He’s my son too and I have every right to come to his funeral.’

  ‘You didn’t have to bring her with you,’ Tommy snapped, before hurrying after his mother.

  George went after him, but then he stopped and just stood, looking at his son’s retreating back.

  ‘I told George I shouldn’t have come,’ Lena Winters said to Amy.

  She looked at her former manageress and said coldly, ‘I never guessed. I should have, especially on those occasions when we supposedly bumped into each other. You always encouraged me to talk about Tommy.’

  ‘I’m sorry for the deception, but it kept George in touch with his son’s life for a while.’

  ‘I can’t work this out. How did you meet each other?’

  ‘It was just by chance. I had a broken window, called a local firm and George came to repair it. We talked, got on well, and it just sort of went from there.’

  George came back and said, ‘Everyone is heading for the interment.’

  ‘You go, George. I’ll wait in the car until you’re ready to leave,’ Lena said.

  Amy walked away from them to join the others in the sad procession through the cemetery. Jeremy was now going to be put into the ground, his final resting place, but there was no rest for Amy’s tortured thoughts. This was the man who had raped her, the true father of her son, and though dead now, he still threatened to tear her life apart.

  Tommy had his arm around his mother and could feel her trembling. He would never know how she managed to hold it together, to show such dignity and composure when it was now obvious that she was deeply upset. If his father had come alone, it might just have been all right, but to bring that woman with him must have been like a slap in the face.

  Though he was furious with his father, it did nothing to stop the biting wind from cutting him to the core as they stood by the freshly dug grave. He was aware that Amy had come to stand by his side, but didn’t acknowledge her presence. His father was at least standing alone now, a little apart from everyone else, his eyes lowered as the vicar intoned while the coffin was being lowered.

  There was a sob and as he felt his mother sag, Tommy did his best to support her, until at last, after she threw a single white rose onto the coffin, he was able to lead her away. They were heading for the car when they were approached by Len Upwood, his wife and the other men.

  ‘We’re off now,’ Len said, ‘but we’d just like to offer your mother our condolences.’

  ‘Thank you,’ she said with a tremor in her voice, ‘and thank you all for coming.’

  Tommy knew she was making a supreme effort, and was relieved when with a few more murmured words of condolence, they drifted away. It wasn’t over yet though and as they reached the car, his father walked up to them, saying, ‘Celia, can we talk?’

  ‘I’ve got nothing to say to you, except that I want a divorce,’ she said and climbed into the car, adding before she closed the door, ‘I will expect to hear from your solicitor.’

  Tommy didn’t want to talk to his father either, as seeing him only added to the pent-up emotions he was trying to hold in check. Amy walked up to them with her parents, while Rose and Samuel stood a short distance apart. ‘Come on, Amy, we’re leaving,’ Tommy said curtly.

  ‘We’ll see you back at the house,’ Phyllis called as Amy got into the car.

  Tommy climbed in too, ignoring his father, his gaze set rigidly ahead as the car drove off.

  Stan walked up to George Frost and said, ‘It’s a sad day, but after all this time I didn’t expect to see you here.’

  ‘Jeremy was my son and I had to come. Until I saw that bit about the accident in the local paper, I didn’t even know he was back in the country.’

  ‘There’s a lot you don’t know. For instance, you’ve got a grandson.’

  ‘A grandson! I had no idea.’

  ‘I don’t get it, George. When a man walks out on his wife it isn’t a criminal offence, so why have you been laying low?’

  ‘You have no idea what Celia is like. If she had been able to find me, she’d have made my life a misery, but I kept an eye on Tommy for as long as I could. I knew he was making a success of the business and once he married Amy I felt he was fine, settled.’

  ‘When you left, it was Tommy who had to pick up the pieces and take care of his mother financially. It was a lot to put on his young shoulders.’

  ‘Maybe, but he coped,’ George said dismissively. ‘Celia just asked me for a divorce so it seems she’s moved on. It means I can come out of the woodwork now and it’ll be great to see my grandson.’

  ‘Come on, Stan, it’s time we were leaving,’ Phyllis called.

  ‘I’m coming,’ he said, but before walking away from the man he now saw as a selfish pig, Stan left a parting shot. ‘George, from what I saw and heard, Tommy wasn’t pleased to see you. If you turn up at his door, I doubt you’d get a warm welcome and if he slams it in your face, I wouldn’t blame him.’

  Mabel had stepped in and offered to look after Bobby while they attended the funeral, but he had been fretful that morning and Amy was anxious to collect him. She needn’t have worried. He was sound asleep on Mabel’s sofa, a blanket over him, while little Sandra was quietly playing with a doll.

  ‘He’s been no trouble,’ Mabel said, smiling fondly down on him. ‘He went to sleep soon after I gave him his bottle.’

  ‘Can we keep him, Auntie Mabel?’ Sandra a
sked as she awkwardly scrambled to her feet. ‘I want to play with Bobby when he wakes up.’

  ‘No, I’m afraid we can’t, darling. His mummy has come to take him home.’

  ‘Thanks for looking after him, Mabel,’ Amy said as she gently lifted Bobby into her arms.

  ‘Any time, love.’

  ‘I’d best get back. Mum made some sandwiches and a few other bits and pieces which she’s put out on my dining table, though I doubt Samuel and Rose will stay for long. I think they can see that Celia is only just holding it together.’

  ‘I haven’t had much time for Celia in the past, but I know what it’s like to lose a child and my heart goes out to her now.’

  Amy couldn’t imagine how she’d cope if anything happened to Bobby and found her arms tightening around him. She thanked Mabel again for looking after him and then went home, feeling the familiar tension as soon as she walked in the door. Somehow she got through the next couple of hours, until at last when Rose and Samuel left, and Tommy took his mother home, she was left with her parents.

  ‘Amy, is everything all right between you and Tommy?’

  ‘Yes, of course,’ Amy said, hiding the truth.

  ‘Are you sure? From what I’ve seen Tommy hardly speaks to you.’

  Amy clutched for Carol’s words and said, ‘He’s grieving, Mum. Tommy’s way of dealing with it is by closing in on himself and shutting off his emotions.’

  ‘Men react differently to women so I can understand that,’ Stan said. ‘I don’t suppose it helped when George Frost came out of the woodwork today.’

  ‘Yes, it must have been a shock for Celia, let alone Tommy,’ Phyllis agreed. ‘Well, as long as you’re all right we’ll be off, Amy.’

  ‘I’m fine, Mum,’ she said, managing a small smile, which left her face as soon as her parents left.

  Tommy was sitting opposite his mother, in no hurry to go home. His emotions were locked inside, yet they were threatening to erupt. Every time he looked at Amy he had to clench his jaws to stop words of vitriol spewing from his mouth.

  ‘I can’t believe your father turned up today, and to bring that woman …’ Celia said as tears flooded her eyes.

  ‘Mum, other women might have lost it, screamed at him like a fishwife, but you were incredible, dignified and … and I was so proud of you.’

  The tears spilled now, and she said, ‘I’m an awful woman and I don’t deserve your pride.’

  ‘Don’t be silly, of course you aren’t.’

  ‘I don’t know how I’d have coped without you and Amy. She’s been wonderful, but I thought she wasn’t good enough for you and did everything I could to undermine your relationship. If it had worked I wouldn’t have my lovely grandson and Robert is such a comfort to me. When I hold him I can see Jeremy in his features, and it’s as though a part of him remains.’

  That was too much for Tommy and standing abruptly he said, ‘I need a drink. Do you want one?’

  ‘Yes, a sherry please.’

  Tommy poured it and a large whisky for himself. It was followed by another, but neither deadened his feelings. When Tommy reluctantly went home, he barely said a word to Amy as he sat morosely by the fire, staring into the flames as his mind smouldered like the burning coals. The evening passed, and though Amy spoke to him, his replies were monosyllabic, until at ten o’clock he abruptly said he was going to bed.

  Amy followed fifteen minutes later, settling Bobby in his cot before she climbed in beside him. In that moment Tommy broke and he pulled Amy roughly into his arms, wanting to hurt her, to punish her. There was no love in the act, just anger as he forcefully entered her, ignoring her cries of distress.

  ‘Shut up! It’s no more than you deserve and if you get pregnant at least I’ll know it’s mine this time,’ Tommy spat as he carried on using her body, pounding into her until at last he was spent.

  Amy lay sobbing, but hearing Bobby crying she got out of bed to pick him up, clutching him closely as unbidden words blurted out of her mouth. ‘You’re as bad as your brother. He … he raped me too.’

  ‘What! What did you say?’

  ‘That Jeremy raped me.’

  Tommy said nothing at first, but when he did his tone was scathing. ‘If that’s the truth, why wait till now to tell me? No, don’t answer that, I can guess. Jeremy’s dead and buried so he can’t dispute it.’

  Anger replaced tears and abruptly sitting on the side of the bed she spilled it all out. ‘Jeremy threatened me, said that if I cried rape he’d tell you that I led him on. I shouldn’t have listened – should have told you, but I was so frightened that you’d believe him and I’d lose you. Then … then when I found out I was pregnant, I nearly went out of my mind. I didn’t want a man like Jeremy to be the father of my baby,’ Amy gabbled on, unable to stop now that she had started. ‘He suspected he was, but I denied it. I saw him as a monster, hated him, feared him, and … and when you held Bobby for the first time and I saw how much you loved him I just couldn’t do it, couldn’t tell you. I … I wanted you to be his father.’

  ‘Oh God … oh God …’ Tommy groaned.

  Amy heard the anguish in his voice, but she had to get it all out. ‘I … I think Jeremy had something wrong with his mind. He seemed to forget that he raped me and I think he became obsessed. He wanted me, wanted Bobby, so much so that no matter how much you deny it, I think he tried to kill you.’

  ‘No more … no more,’ Tommy said hoarsely.

  ‘Tommy, please, you’ve got to listen. Jeremy raped me, and if I wasn’t telling you the truth, if I had wanted him, there was nothing to stop me from leaving you. I could have gone off with him just as your father went off with Lena Winters,’ she said, spent now, her body sore and her mind exhausted.

  There was only silence now, a silence that seemed to stretch and stretch, until at last Tommy spoke. ‘I’ve been an idiot, my mind all over the place, but I should have worked that out for myself.’

  Amy waited for more, but Tommy was silent again. Bobby was asleep in her arms now so she gently put him back in his cot. Tommy threw back the blankets and came to stand beside her, looking down at him as he said softly, ‘He still feels like mine. The bond is there and my feelings haven’t changed. I love him, Amy, and I love you too.’

  ‘Oh, Tommy,’ she said, turning into his arms.

  It would take time for the wounds to heal, for both of them, but their love was strong and somehow Amy knew it was going to be all right.

  Nobody’s Girl

  KITTY NEALE

  Nobody’s Girl

  Dedication

  For Rita McAneny.

  We have worked together, laughed together, shared sadness and tears, my precious friend for over twenty years.

  Contents

  Cover

  Title Page

  Dedication

  Prologue

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen

  Chapter Fourteen

  Chapter Fifteen

  Chapter Sixteen

  Chapter Seventeen

  Chapter Eighteen

  Chapter Nineteen

  Chapter Twenty

  Chapter Twenty-One

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  Chapter Twenty-Six

  Chapter Twenty-Seven

  Chapter Twenty-Eight

  Chapter Twenty-Nine

  Chapter Thirty

  Chapter Thirty-One

  Chapter Thirty-Two

  Chapter Thirty-Three

  Chapter Thirty-Four

  Chapter Thirty-Five

  Chapter Thirty-Six
<
br />   Chapter Thirty-Seven

  Chapter Thirty-Eight

  Chapter Thirty-Nine

  Chapter Forty

  Chapter Forty-One

  Chapter Forty-Two

  Author’s Note

  With thanks to Maxine Hitchcock, Keshini Naidoo, and all the team at Avon for their much appreciated kindness and help in bringing this novel to print.

  Prologue

  The moon was in its first quarter as the man climbed out of his car. A high wind wailed through the skeletal branches of trees, the sound echoing that of the tiny bundle clutched in his arms. He ignored the cries, uncaring, feeling only disgust as he held the bundle away from his body.

  His face was grim. He was going to make his daughter pay for almost ruining the family name, and her bastard would pay too. It would cost him dearly, yet worth it to watch her suffer, not once, but twice. My God, he had thought her perfect, his only child, but she had turned out to be a slut.

  He reached the end of the lane, his eyes flicking from side to side as he turned onto a small, built-up road. He had chosen well. There were no houses, and with a wartime blackout in force, no streetlights pierced the dense blanket of darkness.

  The building loomed, but still he was cautious, looking swiftly over his shoulder before roughly laying the bundle on its concrete steps. The wrapping fell to one side, the infant mewling, but the man was heedless of the cold night air.

  At first he had wanted the bastard dead, but then decided it would be too easy for her, the slut’s suffering short. No, he’d bide his time, watch her grieve, and then one day, when the time was right, he’d tell her the truth. And when he did, he’d watch as she suffered all over again.

  His smile thin, he swung on his heels now, swiftly walking away.

  He was only just out of sight when a door swung open. A woman emerged, running swiftly down the steps and, taking up the baby, she carried it inside.

  Chapter One

  Battersea, South London, 1956

  Dolly Dolby picked up a thick white plate from the stack and scowled. ‘Gertie, get in here!’