by Lily Baxter
‘No, madam,’ Susan cried angrily. ‘It was him. He attacked me, the dirty devil.’
‘Watch your tongue, young lady,’ Mrs Kemp hissed. ‘You can’t make accusations against a man of Mr Thomson’s standing and get away with it.’
‘You saw him, Miss Virginia,’ Susan said, turning to Virginia. ‘You saw what he did to me.’
Pale-faced and trembling, Virginia shook her head. ‘You’re nothing but trouble, Banks. Dudley is a man and he’s led by his male member, but you must have encouraged him. He hasn’t the guts to try something like that unless someone led him on.’
‘I say, old girl.’ Dudley straightened his tie and hastily buttoned his double-breasted pin-stripe jacket. ‘That’s a bit harsh.’ He held both hands up as Virginia rounded on him, eyes blazing. ‘But completely justified in the circumstances.’
‘Get that beastly creature out of here.’ Mrs Kemp took a swipe at Charlie, who had left teeth marks on the end of her walking stick. ‘You’re at the bottom of this, Banks. Of that I’m certain.’
Susan made a grab for Charlie, sweeping him up in her arms. ‘Leave him alone. He’s just a puppy.’
‘And you brought him into my house without my consent.’ Mrs Kemp spat the words at her. ‘I was a fool to rescue you from the orphanage. I should have let you stay there and end up on the counter at Woolworth’s or waiting on tables in a Lyons teashop.’
‘You did it out of the goodness of your heart,’ Dudley said, twisting his lips into a smile. ‘You’re a good woman, Jane Kemp. She doesn’t deserve to live in a house like this.’
‘That’s not fair. It was him. He tried to rape me.’ Susan was shaking with rage, but she was determined to have the last word. ‘He’s the villain, not me.’
Virginia gave her a shove that sent her tottering across the room. ‘Dudley is a fool, but you’re a little Jezebel. He’d never have behaved that way unless you gave him some encouragement.’
Dudley nodded his head, but a look from Virginia made him cower and drop his gaze. Mrs Kemp stared at the broken plate, and the telltale scatter of crumbs around the upturned basket. ‘That’s one of my best plates, Banks. You’ve been taking the food from our mouths. Call the police, Virginia.’
‘It was just a few scones,’ Susan said defiantly.
Dudley cleared his throat, running his finger round the inside of his stiff collar. ‘Do you think that’s strictly necessary, Mrs Kemp? I mean, wouldn’t it be simpler to sack the girl? She’s obviously up to no good, but you wouldn’t want any of this to become public knowledge, I’m sure.’
Virginia slipped her hand through her mother’s arm. ‘Yes, Mummy. I hate to admit it, but Dudley is right. We don’t want anyone else involved in this sordid mess.’
‘Brandy,’ Mrs Kemp said faintly. ‘I feel quite faint.’
Virginia turned her head to shoot a scornful look at Dudley. ‘Don’t stand there gawping, you fool. Take Mummy to the drawing room and give her some brandy. I’ll deal with this.’
‘Yes, darling. Of course.’ With an ingratiating smile he proffered his arm to Mrs Kemp. She accepted his help with obvious reluctance, and was still insisting that it was a police matter as they left the room.
Susan waited until the door closed on them before putting a wriggling Charlie down on the floor. She opened the cupboard beneath the sink and took out a dustpan and brush.
Virginia stared at her, arms akimbo. ‘What do you think you’re doing?’
‘Clearing up the mess. I don’t want Charlie or the beastly cat to cut their paws.’
Virginia snatched the cleaning tools from her. ‘It’s not your problem now. You heard what my mother said. You’re to pack your things and leave this house immediately. Do you understand, or do I have to throw you and that flea-bitten cur out?’
‘But I haven’t anywhere to go and it’s nearly Christmas.’
‘You should have thought of that before you tried to seduce my fiancé.’
‘I didn’t do anything of the sort. I wouldn’t touch him with a bargepole.’
Virginia’s eyes narrowed to slits. ‘You’re a liar as well as a thief. Just thank your lucky stars that we’re not pressing charges. Now get out, and don’t come near this house again.’ She stormed out of the kitchen, leaving Susan standing in the middle of the room staring after her.
She remained motionless for a full minute as the full impact of Virginia’s words sank into her confused brain. Charlie seemed to sense her distress and he jumped up in an attempt to nuzzle her hand. Binkie-Boo curled up on his bed and closed his eyes, wrapping his tail around his body as if to indicate that the matter, as far as he was concerned, was closed. As the clock struck six Susan came back to life. It was time to start getting the dinner ready – except that she was not going to do that ever again in this house. All she could think of was that the Kemps would go hungry this evening, and for the foreseeable future unless either Pamela or Virginia could find their way around the kitchen. The odd thing was that it was no longer her responsibility. After four long years she was free from their constant demands and their complaining ways. But freedom came at a price. She had no money and nowhere to go. She should have been given at least a week’s wages in lieu of notice, but that seemed highly unlikely in the circumstances, and there was no one to whom she could turn for advice.
She went to her room and took the small cardboard suitcase from beneath her bed. It was the same one that she had brought from the orphanage, and had contained her few belongings. She would be leaving with little more. She took off her brown dress and folded it neatly, laying it on the bed together with the black uniform, aprons and caps. She wondered if anyone would notice that there were buttons missing on the dress that Dudley had ripped. Would they bother to look outside and find them on the gravel? She already knew the answer to that question. Virginia might have railed at the man she intended to marry, and she obviously knew his weaknesses, but she was not the sort of woman to allow them to stand in the way of her marriage to a man with prospects. Dudley, with his smarmy, toadying manner, was well on the way to fulfilling his ambition to become one of the youngest branch managers at the Westminster Bank. With Virginia behind him he would probably end up in their head office, and she would bask in his reflected glory. She would breeze through life without ever having to lift a finger to earn her own living, and if her husband had his little flings with girls from the typing pool or waitresses from the staff canteen, she would turn a blind eye.
Susan selected a tweed skirt that Pamela had passed down to her when it became too tight to fit her chocolate-fed frame, and a woollen jumper that she had purchased in a church jumble sale for sixpence. It did not take long to pack the rest of her wardrobe, all of which had been bought second-hand. Apart from her black lace-up work shoes, she possessed only one other pair, which she put on, despite the fact that they were sandals and it was bitterly cold outside. She left the much-hated lace-ups on the floor by the chest of drawers, not wanting to be accused of taking something that did not belong to her. If Mrs Kemp had been prepared to summon the police over some missing scones, she would not hesitate to prosecute if footwear went missing. Buoyed up by anger and indignation, it was not until she was outside the house with Charlie straining on the leash that the full impact of what had just happened hit her. She was homeless and alone. The wailing of the air raid siren was just another addition to her parlous state.
She walked slowly, head down against the north wind that flung dead leaves in her face and tugged at the scarf that she had tied around her head. It was dark without the benefit of street lamps or moonlight, and she almost bumped into an ARP warden coming from the opposite direction. ‘You ought to be in a shelter, miss. They don’t put out a warning for fun, you know.’
‘Yes, I’m sorry. I’ll go now.’
‘You shouldn’t be out at all, if you ask me. A young girl alone in the blackout is asking for trouble.’
Susan could not make out his features clearly, but he sounded q
uite old. He was probably someone’s husband, father and maybe even grandfather. He must have a home of his own to go to when he came off duty, and someone waiting for him with his slippers warming by the fire and a nice hot cup of tea brewing in the pot. At this moment that seemed like the best thing in the world.
‘Are you all right, miss?’ He sounded anxious.
‘Yes. I’m fine. I know where the nearest shelter is. I’m going there now. Thanks.’ She pushed past him and hurried off in the direction of the tube station. She would spend the night on the platform amongst the other hundreds or maybe thousands of Londoners who went underground at night.
‘Hurry along then, and think twice before you venture out after dark.’ The warden walked off on his round, leaving Susan standing on the pavement with Charlie tugging at the lead. She toyed with the idea of going up on the hill and sleeping under a tree, but it was too cold and damp. Perhaps it was not the best idea she had ever had. She quickened her pace, trying to ignore the cannonade of crumps, thuds and the constant drone of aeroplane engines. Her thin raincoat and sandals offered very little protection against the chill of night, and she was shivering by the time she reached the parade of shops.
She hesitated outside the one owned by Mr Richards, wondering what he would say if she knocked on his door and asked if she could stay, just for one night. Tomorrow she would think of something, but her mind was as numb as her feet and she was both tired and hungry. She glanced up at the living-room window, but the blackout curtains were drawn and she had no way of telling whether he had decided to take refuge in the air raid shelter, or had gone for his nightly walk on Primrose Hill in order to commune with his late wife. He must have loved her with all his heart, she thought wistfully. How romantic and how touching that was. She wondered if anyone would ever care that much for her. No one had in the past, not even her mother and father. If they had loved her they would not have abandoned her so carelessly. She was still deliberating, but sleety rain had begun to tumble from the sky and Charlie was whimpering at her feet. ‘He did say we could come and see him any time, didn’t he, Charlie?’
Taking his tail-wagging as an answer in the affirmative, she hurried down the passageway and rang the doorbell at the side entrance. After what seemed like an eternity the door opened and Dave peered out into the darkness. ‘Who’s there?’
‘It’s me, Susan.’
‘Good heavens. This is a surprise. Come in.’
‘I’m sorry to turn up like this, Mr Richards.’ She stepped into the welcome warmth of the narrow stairway. The smell of hot toast wafted down from the flat above and her stomach rumbled.
He closed the door and switched on the light. ‘What’s up, love?’ He angled his head, studying her face with a worried frown. ‘No. Never mind the explanations for now. Come upstairs and get warm. You look perished.’
‘Charlie’s a bit wet and his paws are muddy,’ Susan said warily.
Dave threw back his head and laughed. ‘You’ve seen my flat. I don’t think a few paw prints are going to make much difference.’ He led the way up the steep staircase. ‘Mind how you go, Susan. The lino’s a bit worn. I keep meaning to do something about it, but I never seem to get the time.’
Minutes later, she was seated by the fire in the living room sipping a cup of hot, sweet tea with Charlie curled up on the tatty hearthrug, oblivious to anything but his own comfort.
‘Now then,’ Dave said, settling himself on the settee. ‘Tell me all about it.’
She had been dreading this moment, but once she got started she found it surprisingly easy to talk to him. She told him about her life in the Kemp household, although she only made vague references to the daily humiliation she had been forced to undergo at their hands. She made light of the drudgery she had endured since she was little more than a child, and she spoke highly of Mrs Wilson, without whom her early years with the Kemps would have been almost impossible to bear. But she left nothing to his imagination when she came to the subject of Dudley and his wandering hands. She was trembling by the time she finished relating the sickening events that had led to her eviction from the house and the loss of her job.
Dave listened quietly without comment, but as she came to a faltering halt he jumped to his feet and paced the room, puffing hard on a cigarette. She wondered if he was angry with her, or whether he blamed her as Virginia had done for leading Dudley on. She gulped the remainder of her tea, which was now tepid. The sound of the all clear echoed round the room, breaking the silence. She leaned over to stroke Charlie’s head. ‘We’ll go now, if it’s all right with you, Mr Richards. Thanks for the tea.’
He came to an abrupt halt and turned slowly to face her, taking the cigarette from his lips. ‘I won’t hear of it, Susan. I’ve a mind to go round to the house and punch that bastard on the nose, if you’ll forgive my language. It makes my blood boil to think of a young girl like you having to put up with such treatment. That Kemp woman should be shot and her daughters too. I never heard such a sorry tale in all my born days.’
‘You won’t do anything rash, will you?’ Susan had visions of him riding one of his bikes round to Elsworthy Road like a middle-aged knight on a rusty charger.
‘No. I’m not that daft, but I am very angry.’ He tossed the dog-end into the fire. ‘Not with you, love. I’m seething at the thought of what you’ve been through since you were little more than a kiddie. But never mind all that now. You’re safe here. You and young Charlie can stay as long as you like. To tell the truth I’d welcome the company.’
Susan blinked back tears. Such unwarranted kindness was as overwhelming as it was unexpected. The best she could have hoped for was a bed for the night, but Mr Richards had offered her what felt like sanctuary. She nodded silently, not knowing how to respond, but miraculously he seemed to understand. He cleared his throat and picked up her empty cup. ‘I think this calls for another cuppa,’ he said, smiling. ‘And I don’t suppose you’ve eaten.’
She shook her head, not trusting herself to speak.
He made for the door. ‘I’m afraid it’ll have to be beans on toast. I don’t suppose it’s what you’re used to up in poshville.’
His description of the Kemps’ Edwardian terraced house made Susan giggle. ‘Beans on toast would be lovely, Mr Richards.’
‘Dave,’ he said cheerfully. ‘I told you before, love. We don’t stand on ceremony here.’
‘Can I help?’
He grinned. ‘You’re the guest tonight, but tomorrow you can heat the beans and make the toast for tea. How about that?’
‘I’d like that very much. Thank you, Dave.’
*
Next morning Susan set to work with a will. Surprisingly, she had slept well in the tiny boxroom, and had been kept warm by Charlie who snuggled up against her back, barely moving all night. She had awakened refreshed and with a renewed spirit of optimism. The now familiar smell of burnt toast and cigarette smoke wafted along the corridor from the kitchen, and she found Dave in his shirtsleeves staring at a pile of washing-up in the sink. He turned his head and gave her a beaming smile as she entered the room. ‘I dunno where it all comes from,’ he said, scratching his bald head. ‘It just sort of gets away from me.’
‘I’ll soon get it sorted,’ Susan said confidently. ‘But if you don’t mind I’ll take Charlie down to the back yard. I’ll clear up any mess he makes.’
‘I know you will. We won’t worry about small details like that.’ Dave stared down at her flimsy sandals, frowning. ‘It’s very wet and slushy out there. Haven’t you got anything more substantial to put on your feet?’
‘I had to leave my uniform and that included the shoes. These are all I’ve got.’
He shook his head. ‘I’m not a vindictive man, Susan. But it would serve that woman right if an incendiary bomb landed on the roof of her house, and burnt it to the ground. Not that I wish anyone to be killed, you understand. I’d just like to see how she and her witch daughters would like it if they were left in the clothes t
hey stood up in and no money to buy new.’
‘They’d have a pot of gold buried in the back garden and claim on the insurance. But don’t worry about me. I’m fine with sandals.’
Susan was about to take Charlie downstairs when Dave called her back. He cleared his throat, which she was beginning to recognise as a sign that he was embarrassed. ‘I don’t want to offend you, love,’ he said, eyeing her warily. ‘But I’ve got a wardrobe full of Christine’s things. I never had the heart to throw anything of hers away, but I know she’d be more than happy if you could find a use for any of them.’ He took out his hanky and mopped his brow. ‘There now, I bet I’ve put my foot in it good and proper. I know you young ones don’t care for old-fashioned or second-hand things.’
Susan laid her hand on his sleeve. ‘I’m not like that, and it’s a really kind offer, but …’
He took his glasses off and began polishing the lenses. He looked surprisingly youthful and defenceless without them, and Susan longed to give him a reassuring hug, but she was too well trained to show her feelings.
He gave her a reassuring smile. ‘But you don’t want them. I understand.’
‘No, that’s not it either. Just about everything I have is second-hand or came from jumble sales. I was just worried that it might be hard for you to see them worn by someone else.’
‘It’s time to move on, love. I’ll never forget my Christine, but the memories I carry are in here.’ He tapped his chest in the area of his heart. ‘She was a good, kind woman, and I know she would want you to have her things. She hadn’t got a mean bone in her whole body, and more to the point she was tiny, just like you. So while I’m downstairs in the shop, you can go into my room and take anything you need, but I suggest you start with a stout pair of shoes.’ Taking a packet of Kensitas from his breast pocket, he selected a cigarette and lit it by bending his head over the lighted gas jet beneath the simmering kettle. Susan held her breath, half expecting him to lose his eyebrows as well as his hair, but he came up smiling and puffing smoke as he left the room.