by Joan Jonker
And make it he did. With flying colours, Nigel said, as he suggested they park in one of the side roads as the wind was very strong coming in from the sea, and high waves were lashing over on the promenade. ‘Yer picked a fine day for it, Nige,’ Bobby said, making sure the handbrake was on. ‘We’ll get blown off our feet if we venture out there. And after me getting yer here safe and sound, I’d not take kindly to yer being drowned. In fact, I’d think yer were very inconsiderate and ungrateful.’
‘The wind won’t be so strong in the back streets,’ Nigel said. ‘And we need to stretch our legs. So we’ll find a café, have something to eat and drink, then make our way back home because it’s getting dark now.’
When the girls stepped out of the car they were almost blown off-balance and they put their arms around each other for support. After Nigel locked the car, he said, ‘You look after Abbie, Bobby, and I’ll see to Doreen. The wind will be at our backs so it won’t be too bad.’ He put his arm across Doreen’s shoulders and led the way up the street.
‘Come on.’ Bobby pulled Abbie close. ‘Girl of my dreams.’
She snuggled up for warmth, so there wasn’t an inch between them. ‘Flatterer.’
His answer was blown away in the wind, but although she couldn’t be sure, she thought she heard a faint, ‘It wasn’t flattery.’
They found a small café and as soon as Nigel pushed the door open, the smell of fish and chips wafted up their nostrils. ‘I couldn’t resist that smell. I didn’t think I was hungry but I realise I’m starving.’ He saw an empty table, and when they were seated, he asked, ‘Who’s game for fish and chips?’
The girls nodded, glad to be out of the bitterly cold wind. ‘They smell lovely, and I could do with warming up,’ Doreen said. ‘How about you, Abbie?’
‘I’m all for it.’ Abbie was rubbing her arms briskly. ‘And could I have plenty of salt and vinegar on, please?’
Nigel gave the order to a waitress and asked if they could have a pot of tea for four to be going on with. And ten minutes later, warmed up inside, they were tucking into fish and chips that were delicious. ‘This batter is the gear, just the way I like it,’ Bobby said. ‘As good as the chippy at the bottom of our street.’
Refreshed and warm, Nigel asked the waitress when she was clearing the table, if they could have another pot of tea. It was at this point the girls excused themselves to visit the ladies’ room and repair the damage to their hair and make-up.
‘We picked a lousy day to visit the seaside, Nige. It’s not fit weather for man nor beast.’
‘The object of the exercise was to let you have a long run in the car. And it’s been good in that respect because you really did very well. I think I’ll drive part way back, though, Bobby because this wind will be blowing the car from side to side. You can take over halfway if you want to get some practice driving in the dark.’
‘Whatever you say is all right with me, Nige. We’ll see how it goes, eh?’
Nigel picked up the spoon from his saucer and began to tap it lightly on the rim of the cup. ‘I’d like to ask Doreen to come out with me one night, to the pictures, but I haven’t got the nerve. I was wondering if you’d come and make up a foursome with Abbie.’
‘Nah, yer know I don’t get too friendly with girls, Nige, so I’d rather not if yer don’t mind. I feel mean after yer’ve been so good to me, but no, I wouldn’t want to do that.’
‘But it’s only with our Abbie – and only for the once. I wouldn’t feel shy about asking Doreen after that.’
‘No – sorry, mate.’
‘What’s the matter, don’t you like my sister?’
‘Of course I like her, how could anyone not like Abbie?’
‘Well why, for heaven’s sake?’
‘Because taking a girl to the pictures is like being on a date, isn’t it? And if a girl thinks it’s a date, she’ll expect yer to take her home and make another date. Then ye’re hooked.’
‘Abbie wouldn’t expect that. She’d take it as a bit of fun. But I can’t understand you refusing something as innocent as going to the pictures with a girl you’ve known nearly all your life and is like a sister to you.’
Bobby turned his head away, and it was so unusual for him not to look you in the eye when he was talking to you, Nigel listened with more than a little interest. ‘Your Abbie doesn’t feel a bit like a sister to me, that’s the trouble.’
‘I don’t understand,’ Nigel said, hoping he wasn’t getting too hopeful too quickly. ‘What’s the trouble?’
‘This is strictly between you and me, Nige, OK? If yer repeat one word then you and me will be out of touch with each other for another ten years.’ Bobby leaned his elbows on the table and rested his chin on his clenched hands. Gone was the cocky lad who turned everything into a joke and pretended not to take anything seriously. ‘Yes, I do like your Abbie, and not like a sister either, if yer know what I mean. But she doesn’t want to bother with the likes of me, she wants a bloke who can give her the things she’s used to. So it’s no good starting something that I know wouldn’t have a happy ending. Your Abbie might treat it like a bit of fun, but I wouldn’t, and I’d end up being hurt and miserable.’
Nigel was sorry when he saw the girls coming through a door opposite; he would have liked to have continued the conversation and perhaps make Bobby see sense. ‘They’re here now, we’ll talk about this some other time. I won’t ask Doreen for a date, not tonight.’ He pushed his chair back and stood up. ‘Shall we make a start, girls? I’m driving halfway, then Bobby can take over if he wants to.’
It was ten o’clock when Robert got home. He was halfway up the stairs when he heard his name being called. When he turned it was to see Edwina standing in the hallway looking up at him. ‘Did you call me?’
‘Yes, I want to talk to you.’
‘Can’t it wait until I’ve hung my outdoor clothes up?’
‘I think not. I have something of great importance to tell you. Please come to the drawing room immediately.’
Thinking it was news that she had found a house to suit her and Victoria, Robert ignored her curtness. He wouldn’t have to put up with it for much longer. So placing his hat and gloves on the round mahogany table in the centre of the hall, he followed his wife. ‘I’ll leave my coat here for now,’ he said, draping his overcoat over the arm of a chair. ‘What is this important news?’
Edwina looked down at her clasped hands for a second, then met his eyes. ‘Victoria is with child.’
Robert thought he hadn’t heard right. ‘I beg your pardon?’
‘Your daughter is expecting a baby.’ There was no emotion in the voice or on her face. It was a statement made in a matter-of-fact tone.
The colour drained from Robert’s face. He could feel himself going light-headed and sat down in the nearest chair. ‘Surely this is not true?’
‘I would hardly tell a lie about something so serious. She is upstairs now, distressed beyond measure.’
Robert lowered his head. His wife never pulled anyone’s leg, nor told a joke, because she had no humour in her. So he knew what she was saying was true. But, dear God, how could this have happened, and apart from his daughter, who else was involved? ‘If this is true, who is the father?’
‘It is true, and Charles Chisholm is the father of the child.’ Again the words were spoken without emotion, and this brought on Robert’s anger.
‘You said Victoria was upstairs, distressed beyond measure. Surely you mean she’s ashamed beyond measure? Because, by God, she should be thoroughly ashamed of herself. And you seem to be taking it very calmly, Edwina. Do you have any idea of the scandal this will cause? The scandal will affect the whole family, not just her. Nigel and Abbie will be devastated, and I will have to face my colleagues and friends.’
‘I might have known it would be your favourites you thought of first. But Victoria is your daughter, too. Have you no feelings for her?’
‘She is twenty-three years of age, and she must tak
e responsibility for the consequences of her actions. Not for one moment would I believe she was taken advantage of, because she wouldn’t allow anyone to take advantage of her. So she went into this with her eyes wide open, and now must shoulder the burden of guilt and scandal.’ Robert could feel beads of sweat on his forehead and reached into his pocket for a handkerchief. ‘Has Charles Chisholm been informed?’
‘Victoria phoned him this afternoon and he came immediately. He didn’t want to believe it at first, but she told him if he didn’t tell his parents, then she would.’
Robert shook his head as though bewildered by the turn of events. ‘She is a scheming bitch, and although I have no time for Charles, I can feel pity for him now. She was determined to marry him, and this is the only way she could achieve it. And I know why you’re not shedding any tears, because you wanted it as much as she did. Well, I think your high society friends will be turning their backs on you when this becomes public.’
‘Charles will marry her. If they arrange a wedding quickly, no one will give a second thought when the baby is born.’
‘D’you know, Edwina, I believe you are as wicked as your daughter, if not more so. If there is no wedding, and I can’t see the Chisholms giving their consent, then the child will be born a bastard. And neither you nor your precious daughter will be able to hold your heads high again. I wouldn’t pity you because you would be getting your just deserts. But I would have pity for the poor innocent child who would have to live with the stigma all its life.’
It was almost as though he hadn’t spoken, as Edwina ignored all he had said. ‘Would you have a word with Victoria? I think she would like to ask you to intercede on her behalf with George and Annabel Chisholm.’
Robert held his head in his hands. He felt absolutely beaten. Just when he was getting a little happiness into his life, this bombshell had to fall. And he had no doubt that his eldest daughter did what she did to trap a man she thought rich enough to be worthy of her. And for that, the family name would be disgraced.
‘I do not have the desire nor the stomach to face my daughter right now. I will eventually have to come to terms with it – if, in fact, it is true. But right now I feel the shame that Victoria should be feeling. And if the family name suffers, I will never forgive her.’
‘No one need ever know.’ Edwina’s tone was flat, as though the subject had nothing to do with her. ‘Both Victoria and I believe Charles will do the right thing by her. After all, he is hardly blameless.’
‘I realise that. I believe there are three people who share the blame equally. Charles, whose reputation as a philanderer is common knowledge, Victoria for leading him on and allowing him to have his way with her, and yourself, Edwina. You are the one who brought our eldest daughter up to be an out-and-out snob, only interested in a person’s status. And in this you certainly succeeded. But what a pity you didn’t teach her how to say no to any sexual advances – something I remember you were extremely good at seventeen years ago.’ Robert got to his feet and reached for his overcoat. ‘I’m going up to bed now. Perhaps with a clearer head tomorrow, I will be able to face Victoria.’
‘Will you please not discuss the situation with anyone until word comes from Charles. He has been persuaded by Victoria and myself, that the best solution to stop wagging tongues, would be to elope to Gretna Green.’
She’s talking to me as if I were a child, Robert thought. Not once has it ever crossed her mind that it is through my hard work that she lives in this luxury. What a blind fool I was years ago not to have seen how she was changing, and put a stop to it. But it was too late now to be thinking about what might have been. ‘You and your daughter are good at scheming, are you not? I think all this was planned, and if she can drag Charles to Gretna Green by the scruff of the neck, you both get what you’ve plotted for, without any of the scandal. Or so you think.’
Robert’s shoulders were drooping and he felt he’d aged ten years. He wished he could close his eyes for a minute, then open them to find he’d been having a bad dream. ‘Goodnight, Edwina, we’ll talk further in the morning.’ He got to the door and turned. ‘I have been to visit your mother and father today. I wonder what they would think of a granddaughter who is too much of a snob to visit them, but is low enough in morals to have an illegitimate baby? I’m glad they don’t know you or Victoria as you are now, because you would break their hearts.’ With a weary sigh he left the room to climb the stairs slowly. And he passed Victoria’s room without a glance.
‘Have you gone quite mad?’ Annabel Chisholm looked from her son to her husband. ‘George, have you nothing to say? Please tell Charles that marrying the Dennison woman is quite out of the question. I just will not allow it.’
‘We told him that weeks ago, dear, and he promised then he had no intention of marrying her. Unfortunately, our son can’t resist taking his trousers down.’
‘George, what a dreadful thing to say! And completely unhelpful.’
‘You only see what you want to see, my dear, and only hear what you want to hear. He is your beloved son and can do no wrong. You view him through rose-coloured glasses. But the reality is far different. I am going to shock you, but that is the only way to bring you to your senses. I wonder if you realise that many of the women you invite here as friends, have been bedded by your son?’
Annabel’s hand went to her throat. ‘George, how can you say such a thing? Charles, tell your father that is not true.’
Charles, whose face was as white as a sheet, coughed before saying, ‘I really don’t think bringing all these things up is going to help the present situation, Father. In the circumstances, I would be glad of your help.’
George viewed his son through lowered lids. ‘If she is pregnant, how can you be sure it is your child?’
‘Oh, I’m very sure, Father, because Victoria was a virgin.’
Shaking his head in disgust, George asked, ‘Was it to win a wager with your friends that you stole her virginity?’
‘No!’ Charles was going to admit to as little as possible. ‘It was her idea that we book a room at the Adelphi, not mine.’
‘Do you love her?’
Charles gave this some thought. He couldn’t say he didn’t even like her, his father would ask why he had taken her to bed if that were the case. Or, worse still, he’d accuse him of sleeping with anyone who wore knickers. ‘I’m fond of her, yes, but whether it’s love I really couldn’t say.’
Annabel was rocking back and forth, crying with sadness that her beloved son was being treated like a villain, while all the time it was the Dennison bitch who’d brought him to this.
George glared at his wife. ‘Weeping and wailing won’t solve the problem, Annabel, so please stop making such a noise. I can’t think clearly.’ He turned to his son, whom he had never viewed through rose-coloured glasses. ‘And what do you and Victoria intend to do?’
‘I haven’t agreed to any plans, I said I would be guided by you and Mother. But one suggestion from Victoria, which would stop wagging tongues and any scandal, would be to elope to Gretna Green.’
‘And you really believe your friends and business colleagues are so naive they will think you are head-over-heels in love, and can’t wait to be married properly in a church? Give them credit for some intelligence, Charles, for God’s sake.’
‘You don’t have to marry this woman, Charles,’ Annabel said in a tearful voice. ‘Your father will give her a generous allowance for herself and the baby. She is as much to blame as you, so don’t let her ruin your life.’
‘Have you faced Robert Dennison yet?’ George asked abruptly. ‘What does he have to say about the mess you and his daughter are in?’
‘He wasn’t at home, so I didn’t have a chance to talk to him.’
‘Well, my suggestion is that we leave things until tomorrow before coming to any hasty decisions. I will ring Robert and meet with him in the morning.’
‘Will I have to be present at the meeting, Father?’
&nbs
p; George viewed his son with disgust. ‘I don’t think anything would be gained by you being present. You’re good at creating problems, but when it comes to solving them, you haven’t got the guts or the intelligence. Please leave your mother and I now, so we can each air our views. I will tell you tomorrow what decision we reach.’
‘Come in, Robert.’ George Chisholm waved to a chair on the opposite side of his desk. ‘Sit down and I’ll have my secretary bring us a pot of tea. Unless you would prefer a stiff whisky?’
‘Need you ask, George?’
‘I think we could both do with a double.’ Charles’s father entertained clients in his large, well-furnished office, and he kept an excellent supply of wines and spirits in the magnificent oak dresser that graced one of the walls. From a cupboard he produced a bottle of the finest Scotch whisky and poured a generous measure into two glasses. He handed one to Robert, then sat facing him. ‘Well, what are your thoughts on the problem that has landed in our laps?’
Robert looked at the clear golden liquid and swirled it around in the glass. ‘Do you want the truth, George, or would you prefer I came cap in hand and made excuses?’
‘The truth, of course, man. I would expect nothing less from you.’
Robert drank deeply before placing the glass on the desk. ‘My opinion is that my daughter and your son deserve each other. Victoria is a scheming woman, and a first-class snob into the bargain, while Charles is a womanising philanderer who has played the field and finally got his fingers burnt.’
George’s chuckle was hearty. He knew Bob Dennison was one man he would get the plain unvarnished truth from. It made a pleasant change from listening to his wife crying all night, that her son had been trapped and under no circumstances should he be saddled for the rest of his life for one little mistake. ‘And do you think they should wed?’