“I still hope you can forget her and get on with your own life.” She disguised the emotion in her voice by giving a little cough.
“I’m your mother. It’s only natural I want the very best for you.” She went on softly, “Life is cruel, son. Make one single mistake and you’ll spend the rest of your days paying for it.”
“What mistake? Are we talking about Kitty?” His dark eyes glittered angrily. “Because if we are, you might as well know I mean to marry Kitty when she’s old enough…if she’ll have me.”
His dark striking looks carried her back over the years, tearing at her heart and filling her with shame. She tried to shut out the memories but they persisted, bringing other images of another young man: the landlord of the first house she and Ron had rented when they were first married. He too was tall and dark, with rich wayward hair and smiling eyes that set your heart racing; he had a warm strong nature she had never known in anyone else since…except in her son, Harry.
She wondered, as she had wondered many times since, about the one occasion when that young landlord had taken her into his arms and right there on the sitting-room floor made love to her. It had been one brief, exciting episode in an otherwise uneventful marriage.
Sometimes she wondered if her husband guessed that Harry was not his son. Maybe that was why he was so unloving. But how could he know? If he suspected he would surely have confronted her before now? With every day that passed her secret grew harder to live with. It was one that must never be told, least of all to Harry. She would have to live with it until the day they laid her to rest. In Harry she saw his real father, and wanted the world for him. In Kitty Marsh she saw her own punishment.
The time came for him to leave. Linda had packed a flask and sandwiches for the long train journey to Lancaster.
“It’ll save you a small fortune,” she told Harry, ramming them in his rucksack.
“You’ll need every penny you can get. Stretching your grant won’t be easy, and with your dad not earning like he used to, we won’t be able to help.”
Harry hugged her.
“You’ve done enough for me.” If only his parents could accept his love for Kitty, he would feel so much better. He glanced round anxiously. There was still no sign of his father.
“Dad isn’t coming to see me off, is he?”
Linda shook her head.
“I’m not sure what he’s more angry about…opting out of university, or still wanting Kitty.” He frowned, “I thought Sarah was coming home last night?”
“You know her. Here one minute, gone the next. She might as well move in permanently with that new friend of hers!”
He hardly ever saw her these days.
“Sarah has more freedom than I ever did.”
Linda chose not to answer.
“You’d best get off, son, or you’ll miss that train.”
Right up to the moment of departure, Harry looked for his father.
There was no sign of him. Low-spirited, he strapped his rucksack to his back and began his way down the path.
“Ring me when you get there, son,” Linda called. He promised he would. She watched him out of sight and remained on the step, thinking. She was alone now. Alone with a man she no longer loved. It was a sobering prospect.
From behind the net curtains, Ron saw Harry leave. Then he sat in his chair and took out a packet of cigarettes. Lighting one up, he lapsed into deep thought. After a while he took a long drag on the cigarette, let the smoke trickle out through his half-open lips and muttered bitterly, “I’m sorry you couldn’t see things my way. Harry. But then why should you? After all, you’re not my son.”
The tears trickled down his face as he realised what a coward he’d been all these years. From the first minute Linda uncovered the face of her newly born son, he’d known the baby did not belong to him. The infant’s hair was too dark, his limbs were too long, and later, when those black eyes smiled up at him, his suspicions were confirmed. But it was already too late. In those early days his love for Linda overrode everything else. Besides, even before he could crawl. Harry had wormed his way into Ron’s heart.
“But you’ve left us now, Harry boy,” he said, walking to the window and looking out.
“Your sister will be next, I suppose.” Sarah had grown distant, and selfish too. In truth she had never been much of a daughter. He sighed from deep within.
“Where do we go from here…me and your cheating mother?”
There was no anger in him, no revenge or guilt. There was just a feeling of immense relief, and a crippling sense of uselessness.
It was chilly on the platform. Beyond the enclosed station the sun shone brightly and the day promised to be glorious. But here, where Harry stood, the air was cold, mischievously gusting through the tunnel and lingering where the sun could not penetrate. He toyed with the idea of putting on his sweater; he even got it out of the rucksack, but then he reasoned it was only a few minutes before the train arrived. It would probably be packed and hot, with hardly a window opened, and he would only have to take the sweater off again.
He dismissed the idea and, after a struggle, stuffed the sweater back into the rucksack, wondering why it was that things never went back the same?
While he waited, his glance was drawn to the end of the platform. This was where Kitty’s mother was said to have jumped. This was where Kitty too might well have lost her life. Suddenly she loomed large in his thoughts. If she had died that day, his life would have had little meaning. The thought made him tremble inside. Even though she was out of reach just now, she was alive, thank God. He stared at the fatal place a moment longer before looking away.
Kitty remained at the forefront of his thoughts. He wondered if she was happy with her new family. He hoped so. He hoped she was already regretting her decision to end their relationship. He hoped she was already planning to get in touch with him. He hoped she loved him still. He hoped the years would pass quickly. He hoped. Dear God! He wanted her so much, wanted to see her…to touch her.
“Hope it’s on time.” The young woman’s voice startled him. She was tall and slim, with bright eyes and well-groomed hair; dressed in old jeans and a loose-fitting blouse that fluttered in the breeze. Through the flimsy material he could see the outline of her breasts.
“It’s bloody cold on this platform!” she remarked with a shiver.
“Like the North Pole,” he laughed. She had a look of independence he thought, and maybe a little arrogance. There was a severity about her eyes that detracted from her smile.
Pointing to his rucksack, she said, “You wouldn’t have a sweater in there, would you?” In fact she had watched him take it out and put it back again. She shivered again for good measure.
“As a matter of fact, I have.” Looking down, he saw the goosebumps on her arms.
“Would you like to borrow it?” he offered.
“Why not? As we’re going on the same train.”
“Where are you heading?” Taking the sweater out of the rucksack, he gave it to her. He would have given far more, if only it were Kitty here with him.
Putting on the sweater, she hugged herself.
“Smells good,” she said.
“Girlfriend wash it, did she?”
He laughed and shook his head.
Brazenly eyeing him up and down, she asked, “Where are you headed?”
Taken aback by her boldness, he took a minute to answer.
“Lancaster College.”
Laughing out loud, she revealed jubilantly, “That’s funny. So am I!”
“Oh?” Somehow he wasn’t surprised.
He smiled.
“It’s a small world.”
She laughed again.
“Same train, same college.” Hugging his sweater to herself, she remarked with delight, “Thrown together by the wicked hand of Fate.” Looking up at him with calculating eyes, she asked, “What do you think?”
“I think we’d best get on this train.” It was bearing do
wn fast.
In a few minutes they were boarding.
“Hot and stuffy in here,” he remarked. The train was packed and the windows shut tight. Excusing himself, he leaned over to open the nearest one.
“Is that all right?” he asked a rather fat and irritable man.
The man was about to open his mouth when his companion, a plump kind-faced woman, replied, “That’s fine, young man. Thank you.” The man scowled at her, and she smiled sweetly in return. Harry imagined the man must rule the roost at home.
“What’s your name?” his own companion asked, throwing her rucksack on to the parcel shelf.
“Mine’s Susan, and I don’t like it shortened to Sue, so be warned.”
Holding out his hand, he answered in a friendly voice, “Harry. Pleased to meet you.”
She didn’t let go of his hand straightaway. Instead she held on, her eyes devouring him.
“Harry, eh? That’s a good strong name…suits you.”
When at last she was sitting opposite, still wearing his sweater in spite of the clammy atmosphere, Harry wondered if she meant to chatter all the way to Lancaster.
Much to his relief she didn’t chatter at all. Instead she read a magazine, flicked through a newspaper, and finally started on a novel.
She seemed to busy herself throughout the journey when all the time she was slyly peeking at him, at his long legs and handsome face, at the way his thick hair fell over his ears and tumbled across his fore head. And what she was thinking was, Wonder what he’s like in bed? And she made up her mind to find out at the first opportunity.
PART THREE
•••
1980 ~ LOSERS
CHAPTER TEN
Kitty was eating her toast when the postman slipped the mail through the letter-box.
“I’ll get it!” she yelled excitedly. Leaping out of her chair she was down the hallway and at the front door before Mildred could open her mouth.
There was a card from Paris, showing the Eiffel Tower; it was from Miss Davis, who according to the short note was ‘thoroughly enjoying the coach tour’, and ‘in two minds about the proposed trip to a night club to see some rather well-endowed women kicking their legs up in the air’.
Kitty was still laughing when she returned to the table. When Mildred read the card she laughed even louder.
“Looks like she’s seeing another side of human nature,” she said. Kitty agreed, and they both envied her a little.
The only other correspondence was a small white envelope stained with tomato sauce.
“No need to ask who that’s from,” Mildred observed with a grin.
As soon as Kitty saw the childish scrawl she knew it was from Georgie.
Tearing open the envelope she scanned the one-page letter with eager eyes, then smiled as she realised it contained hopeful news.
Mildred finished her breakfast, waiting patiently while Kitty returned to the table. Engrossed in the letter, she propped it against the teapot, reading it over again while she nibbled at her toast.
“Well, are you going to tell me what she says?” Mildred enquired adding with a little grin, “Or is it too private?”
“Course it isn’t,” she chuckled, wiping her hands on a paper napkin.
“She hasn’t been up to her old tricks again, has she? Hasn’t got into trouble with the authorities again?”
“Nope!” Kitty mischievously kept her guessing.
“What then!” Mildred was used to Kitty’s delightful little ways. They made life worthwhile. She had found a new lease of life when the authorities agreed her niece could come home with her.
“I’ll read it to you, shall I?”
“Go on then.”
Taking the letter in her hands, Kitty began.
Hello again, As promised when you last visited, I’m giving you the news the solicitor gave me this morning.
I expect you’re waiting to hear whether I’ll be coming out soon? Well, so am I! It seems like I’ve been in here for a bloody eternity. I know it’s my own fault! Every time they’re about to let me go, I cock the bugger up!
Anyway, I’ve just been told the appeal board meets next week. As you know, I’ve been on my best behaviour since the last fight, so I’m hoping they’ll kick me out.
I know I’ll still have to report and all that stuff, but it won’t be so bad, not after losing my freedom for so long.
I wish I wasn’t so quick-tempered. The trouble is, in these places everybody wants to rule the roost. I just have to let them know who’s boss!
Anyway, I must say cheerio. We’ve to go and queue for the slop they call breakfast, though I must admit the new cook does a tasty spotted dick. Which reminds me…the minute I get out, I’m picking up the first fella I find. I’ll give him such a thrill his hair will stand on end…along with other things!
Right, I’m off then. See you next visiting. Till then, keep your fingers crossed, gal. At least we’ve got an appeal date at last. If they don’t let me out for Christmas I’ll break down the bloody walls!
Lots of love from,
Yours truly, Convict 99
Mildred laughed.
“She’s as nutty as ever,” she declared, pouring herself another cup of tea.
Kitty lapsed into thought. Georgie’s letter had brought a smile to her face, but it had also unsettled her. There was something underlying her remarks, and Kitty was concerned.
“Georgie’s desperate,” she remarked thoughtfully.
“I’m worried about her.”
“Desperate?” Mildred glanced up in surprise. “What makes you say that? She sounds bright and chirpy enough to me.”
Kitty was convinced.
“You don’t know her like I do. She might want me to believe everything’s all right, but it isn’t. I can read between the lines. Georgie’s had enough. She wants out of that place, and if the appeal is unsuccessful, who knows what she’ll do?”
Seeing the anxiety in Kitty’s lovely face, Mildred reasoned, “It’s no good thinking the worst. Anyway, if Georgie has been on her best behaviour, they’re bound to take all that into account.”
“I hope so.” There had been two previous attempts to have Georgie released and each time she had blotted her copy book.
“As long as she doesn’t lose her temper and start a fight before the hearing.” Knowing Georgie, it was very possible.
“Oh, I’m sure she has more sense.”
Kitty’s thoughts had already moved on.
“If they do release her, I don’t suppose she could stay here until she gets on her feet?” Seeing the horror on Mildred’s face, Kitty was quick to reassure her.
“I’m sorry. You’ve had enough problems. Georgie would only be another.”
After giving the idea some thought, Mildred asked worriedly, “If I said no, would you move out and find a place where you and Georgie could share?” The thought of Kitty leaving haunted her. Her niece had been her salvation; her strength. She still was.
“Why do you ask?” In fact Kitty had toyed with that very idea, but was well aware how vulnerable her aunt was.
“Because I know what good friends you and Georgie are.”
“We’re good friends too, aren’t we, you and me?” She decided it might be better if, for now at least, she avoided the issue of Georgie’s possible homecoming.
Mildred’s smile said it all.
“I hope we’re the very best of friends,” she answered.
“I can never thank you enough for what you’ve done, Kitty…forgiving me…coming here to stay. You’ve turned my life around. I lost one family and gained another in you. I have a job, my selfrespect, and I have you.” Reaching across the table, she touched the back of Kitty’s hand.
“I don’t deserve you. After what I did to you, it’s a wonder you didn’t want to tear out my throat.”
Kitty’s mind returned to the day she had run from here; run from herself, from the despair inside her.
“There was a moment,” she admi
tted. On that day when Mildred clung to her, drunk and demanding, trying to explain away the awful things she had done, pleading for pity and tearing at Kitty’s heart, there had been one shocking moment when, if she had not wrenched herself away, she might have done her aunt harm.
“It’s best forgotten,” she replied now.
“We all make mistakes.”
There was a brief silence, during which Mildred considered how close she had come to ruining her life. Kitty would never know how truly grateful she was.
In the momentary lull. Kitty contemplated the future. As always. Harry figured large in her mind. Deep in her heart she still saw herself in that wonderful wedding gown; saw the church as plain as if she had known it all her life when in fact she had never set foot inside such a quaint little place. Beside her stood Harry…handsome as ever.
She ached for him. Where was he right now? she wondered. In two weeks’ time it would be Christmas. Colleges and universities would soon be closed for the holidays. Harry would be footloose and fancy free. The thought hurt, though she tried not to let it cloud her image of him…of his tall lithe figure and easy stride, his dark tumbling hair and brooding eyes. Footloose and fancy-free. What was he planning for the holidays? Without her.
Her heart grew heavy. She made herself think rationally, made herself feel good for him. Pride surged through her. He was making something of his life, and that was wonderful.
But what about now? Right now? This very moment in time? Was he on his way home to Wobum Sands? Did he have a student friend striding along beside him? No doubt his parents would make the student welcome. No doubt his father would be delighted; he always had such ambitions for his son.
A thought occurred to her…perhaps he wasn’t coming home for Christmas! Perhaps his studies had taken him on a trip abroad? Now she imagined him on a plane or a train, being whisked away to foreign parts. Globetrotting. Pride mingled with sadness. He felt so far away, yet so near she could feel his presence.
She had let him go to carve out a career without her holding him back.
Living a Lie Page 18