by Rosie Clarke
‘Trust me, darling,’ he whispered huskily. ‘I’ll look after you. We’re going to be married. There’s nothing to be frightened of – unless you don’t love me?’
‘You know I love you, Paul.’
‘Then just relax, darling. Trust me. It’s all going to be wonderful for us.’
He was kissing me again, tongue flicking inside my mouth. I was melting, losing the will to resist. How could this be wrong when it felt so lovely? His hand stroked the inside of my thigh, gently, so that I felt my whole self responding to this wonderful new sensation. I moaned, my back arching towards him instinctively. His fingers slipped inside my French knickers, seeking out the sensitive essence of my womanhood. I jerked with pleasure as he touched me there, stroking gently yet insistently with the tip of his finger.
‘You’re so wet,’ he murmured throatily against my ear. ‘You want me as much as I want you, don’t you? Say it, darling. Say it.’
‘I want you,’ I whispered. ‘I love you, Paul.’
I was being carried away on a tide of emotion, swept ever forward with the relentless surge of a passion I had not known existed.
I felt him lifting himself. What was he doing? Something hot and soft was pressing against me there, where his finger had been. Now it was nudging at me, pushing into me. It felt huge and hard as he suddenly thrust up inside me. I realized what he was doing and was frightened.
‘No, Paul … we mustn’t … not that.’
He wasn’t listening. His breath rasped against my ear as he thrust himself right into me. I gave a cry of pain, which he smothered with a kiss. He was crushing me, hurting me. I struggled, trying to push him off, trying to stop him. This was wrong! The warm feeling I’d felt earlier had vanished. I didn’t want this to happen, not like this.
He was too strong for me. I felt tears come to my eyes as I realized he wasn’t going to stop. He didn’t care that he was upsetting me. He wasn’t going to stop. He wasn’t going to stop …
All of a sudden it was over. I felt him jerk and he groaned loudly, then slumped down on me, his breathing rasping in my ear. For a few minutes he lay on top of me, then rolled away and sat up.
I was crying as I sat up. I felt ashamed and somehow used. I couldn’t look at him.
‘You should have said no earlier,’ Paul muttered, looking annoyed. ‘I thought you wanted it. You said you wanted me – what did you expect?’
‘I did – I do.’ I took the handkerchief he offered and wiped my cheeks. ‘I love you. I just didn’t want it to happen yet, not like that. It was wrong.’
‘Not for me.’ He sounded sulky. ‘You know I love you. Don’t make so much fuss, Emma. It always hurts a bit the first time. You will enjoy it more the next time we do it.’
‘Can I use the bathroom please?’
‘Yes, of course. Down the hall – the last door to your right.’
I left quickly. I was hurt and humiliated. Paul had done what he wanted without bothering how I felt. How could he love me and do that?
I found the bathroom and locked myself in. It was a huge, old-fashioned room, and in the middle of the floor was a large Victorian bath with legs.
I needed a bath; I felt dirty. Turning on the taps, I discovered the water was barely warm. The boiler must have been shut off for the weekend. Paul’s parents had expected the house to be empty, of course. There had never been any intention of introducing me.
I ran sufficient for my needs, took my clothes off and got in. It felt cold and made me shiver but I had to wash down there. I jumped out as soon as I had cleaned myself, wrapping myself in a towel to get warm again.
I saw blood on my knickers and rinsed them under the cold tap, wetting only as much as I had to and rubbing them with the towel to dry the damp patches.
It must have been at least half an hour before I felt sufficiently in control of my emotions to face Paul.
I believed our future relationship depended on what I did now. He had expected me to be more sophisticated. I had made a fuss but it had shocked me, the whole business. Somehow I’d always thought it would be more romantic, nicer – but perhaps Paul was right. Perhaps it got better the more you did it.
I finished dressing and used a comb from the painted wall cabinet to tidy my hair, then walked back down the hall. Approaching the room I’d left earlier, I heard voices – Paul’s and another man’s. I hesitated, feeling nervous, reluctant to go in. It was difficult enough to face Paul, let alone a stranger.
‘For goodness sake!’ Paul raised his voice irritably. ‘Couldn’t you just do as I asked, Jon? I asked you to deliver the money. I didn’t appoint you guardian of my morals.’
‘She was nervous of going through with it. She asked for my advice and I felt obliged to give it. I thought it was wrong and told her so. And besides …’
The man stopped speaking as I walked in. He stared at me, his greenish eyes opening wide in surprise. He was as tall as Paul, but thin and wiry with sandy-coloured hair and gentle, rather ordinary features. As he stared at me, a look of disgust came over his face. ‘Damn you, Paul!’ he said and took a fat envelope from his pocket, tossing it on to the settee. ‘Do your own dirty work in future. You deserve whatever is coming to you!’
He walked past me into the hall. A moment or two later I heard a door slam and then the sound of a car starting. Paul hadn’t spoken. His face was white and he looked worried.
‘I’m sorry,’ I said. ‘I wasn’t sure whether to come in or not.’
‘It was only my cousin Jonathan,’ he muttered, still angry. ‘Take no notice of him. He’s a sanctimonious fool. Are you feeling better now?’
‘Yes, thank you. I’m sorry if I was silly just now. It – it was my first time and I was frightened.’
His frown eased. ‘Yes, I know. I’m sorry, Emma. I shouldn’t have rushed you. It’s just that I wanted you so very much. I really do care about you, darling.’
‘I love you, Paul. Don’t be cross with me.’
He moved towards me, smiling now. ‘I’m not angry with you, darling. I’m the one at fault. I’ve been clumsy and I’ve hurt you. Forgive me, please?’
‘It was silly …’
He reached out, drawing me to him, his lips moving against my hair as he made soothing noises. His kiss was gentle this time, understanding.
‘Feeling more the thing? I’ve behaved like a brute, darling.’
‘It – it doesn’t matter.’
I was lying. It did matter, but I was scared of losing him. He would think me an ignorant country girl, which of course I was.
‘Have a glass of wine and a canape. It will make you feel better.’ He offered me a plate. Some of the food had been eaten and I thought he might have waited for me. ‘These little salmon things are very good.’
I took one and bit into it. The pastry melted on my tongue and the soft filling tasted delicious, but my throat was so tight I could hardly swallow. I took a sip of wine to help it down.
Paul nodded his approval. ‘That’s right. Sit down, darling. Listen to the music. This is Mozart … you can tell your father you listened to the Requiem Mass, that should impress him.’
I sat down. The envelope was still lying on the settee where his cousin had thrown it. I saw it had split open and there was money inside – a lot of money. Perhaps two hundred pounds.
Paul saw I had noticed. ‘I asked Jon to settle a debt for me. He made a mess of things. I shall have to take care of it myself.’
‘Is that why you were so angry just now?’
‘Partly.’ He was frowning again. ‘It’s just a nuisance. Nothing important. Forget it, Emma. Come here and let me hold you. We won’t do anything else, I promise. Not until you’re ready. I’ll be more gentle with you next time. Just remember I love you and want to marry you.’
‘Do you really, Paul?’
‘Of course I do, Emma. Silly girl! I’ve never been to so much trouble to get a girl to come out with me before, believe me. Just trust me. I promise everything will
be perfect.’
I lay thinking after I got to bed that night. Paul had promised we wouldn’t do anything else if I let him hold me – but he hadn’t kept his word. I hadn’t struggled the second time, and it hadn’t hurt quite as much, but I’d still felt empty and disappointed afterwards.
Tears trickled down my cheeks as I remembered the lies I’d told my parents when I’d got home. I felt so guilty! Particularly about lying to my mother, who had trusted me.
What had I done? Why had I let it happen?
I wasn’t sure. The brandy had made me feel relaxed, but I hadn’t drunk enough to become intoxicated. I had known what was happening. I’d wanted Paul to kiss and touch me, but I hadn’t expected him to go all the way. Was that naive of me? I supposed it was. Men were like that – and yet I had believed Paul would take more care of me. He knew how strict my father was – how difficult things would be for me if … but I dare not even think about that!
‘Don’t worry,’ Paul had said as he dropped me outside the shop at a quarter to nine that evening. ‘We’ve done nothing wrong, darling. We love each other and we’re going to be married. I’ll speak to your father soon, I promise. And I’ll bring you an engagement ring next weekend.’
‘Paul … do you think I—?’
‘No, I don’t.’ He kissed the tip of my nose, giving me a teasing look. ‘It doesn’t happen the first time. Don’t give it another thought, Emma. You’re not pregnant. Besides, we’ll be married within a couple of months. I promise.’
Supposing my father refused his permission? Supposing I was pregnant despite Paul’s reassurances to the contrary?
A shudder of fear ran through me. I couldn’t face my father if that happened. I would rather run away!
Chapter Five
‘Do you enjoy yourself at the concert?’
I carefully avoided Gran’s eyes as I replied, ‘It was all right. I think I like the ballads and dance music we get on the wireless better.’
‘And what about Paul’s mother? Was she nice?’
‘Yes.’ I could feel my cheeks burning as I lied. ‘A bit posh.’
Gran drew on her clay pipe, studying me in silence. I felt uneasy beneath her knowing gaze. But she couldn’t know what had really happened, could she?
‘You are friendly with Sheila Tomms, aren’t you?’
A tingle went down my spine. Gran wasn’t saying, but somehow she had guessed my secret.
‘Yes, I know her. Why?’
‘There was talk of her being in trouble,’ Gran said. ‘She’s a nice lass, always polite to me, thoughtful.’
‘Is the talk true?’
‘Aye, I reckon so. I reckon that’s why she’s gone off so sudden.’ Gran shook her head. ‘She should have come to me when she first missed her flow. I would have given her something to bring it on.’
‘Can you do that?’
‘Aye.’ Another puff of the pipe. ‘But only for a few weeks. Safely, that is. If the baby is more than six weeks or so the dose needed would be too strong. It could kill the mother then, as well as the child. It has to be straight after the first missed flow.’
‘Isn’t it wrong to do that?’
‘Some might say so. It depends on the mother’s circumstances. I wouldn’t do it for everyone.’
‘Is it dangerous?’
‘There are other, more dangerous ways of doing it. In London there’s places where they’ll do it up to three months or more. I’ve heard of women bleeding to death after visiting houses like that. My way is safer, more natural. It’s just a herbal drink.’
‘Does it always work?’
‘Mostly. If you know what you’re doing.’
I got up and started to clear the table. What would Gran say if I told her I might need her medicines?
‘You said Sheila had gone off?’ I bent over the sink, rinsing the crockery. ‘Who told you that?’
‘Her mother told me – said she went out on Friday night and hasn’t been back since.’
‘She was in the shop on Friday, buying some sweets. She was laughing … cheerful.’ I frowned. ‘It seems odd. Why didn’t she say if she was thinking of going away?’
‘Maybe she wanted to keep it a secret – or she might have made up her mind quick.’
‘I suppose so.’ I felt a cold trickle down my spine, though I wasn’t sure what was bothering me. ‘She didn’t sound as though she was thinking of leaving town.’
‘What did she say to you?’
‘Oh … just silly things.’ I dried my hands on the towel next to the sink. ‘I’d best get home now.’
‘Not getting a lift today then?’
‘No.’ I avoided looking at her. ‘Paul expects to be busy until the weekend.’
‘Oh well, the walk won’t hurt you, lass.’ Gran caught my hand as I moved past her chair. ‘If you’re ever worried about anything, you can always talk to me.’
‘Yes.’ My eyes pricked with tears. ‘I love you, Gran.’
‘I’m always here if you need me, love. There’s no one else I care for as I do you. I’ll always be on your side, no matter what.’
She did know! I bent to kiss her cheek, then left quickly before the tears could start.
I walked slowly, eyes cast down, as I left Gran’s cottage. She had guessed the truth somehow. I felt awful as the shame washed over me. She had said nothing to censure me – but others would! Why on earth had I let it happen?
I had looked for Paul on my way to Gran’s that afternoon, but he hadn’t appeared. I tried not to feel frightened or let down, though I knew he had been annoyed by my lack of sophistication. Just because he hadn’t come didn’t mean he had deserted me. He was a busy man with a responsible job. I couldn’t expect him to be here every Wednesday.
‘Hello, Emma. Penny for them?’
I jumped at the sound of Richard’s voice. I hadn’t realized he was following me. My heart thumped as I swung round to face him.
‘You frightened me. Sneaking up like that!’
‘I wasn’t.’ His eyes narrowed as he studied me. ‘You were dreaming.’
‘Yes, I suppose I was,’ I admitted.
‘Sorry if I scared you. You know I wouldn’t hurt you, Emma.’ He sounded sincere, and I was sorry that I had snapped at him.
‘It was just the shock. I haven’t seen you since the church social.’
‘I was on a different shift last week.’
‘Oh.’ I felt vaguely guilty, though I had no idea why I should. ‘Have you seen Sheila recently?’
Something flickered in his eyes. ‘What do you mean? Sheila who?’
Was he angry or nervous? I couldn’t be sure.
‘Sheila Tomms. She was talking about you the other—’ I gasped as he grabbed my arm. ‘You’re hurting me!’
‘Sorry.’ He let go instantly. ‘I don’t know what she told you – but if it concerned me it was a lie. I don’t go out with girls like that.’
I rubbed at my arm. It was tender where he had dug his fingers too hard into my flesh. ‘She didn’t say that – only that she liked you.’
‘I wonder why she said that? We’ve hardly spoken.’
‘She thinks you’re good-looking.’
‘It’s what you think that matters to me, Emma.’ He took my arm again, more gently this time. ‘You must know you’re the only girl I care about.’
‘No …’ I moved away from him, not wanting him to like me too much. ‘Please don’t. I don’t want you to say things like that to me.’
‘Is there someone else?’ His gaze narrowed in suspicion. ‘Is it that toff I saw you with once? He’s an architect or something … comes from Cambridge.’
‘What’s it to you if it is?’
‘I didn’t think you were fool enough to fall for his sort.’ Richard glared at me. ‘He’ll sweet-talk you, Emma, but he won’t marry you. Don’t fall for him or he’ll break your heart.’
‘If he does it’s my business,’ I snapped. ‘I’m not your girl, Richard Gillows; you don’t ow
n me and I’ll do as I please.’
I walked off, head in the air, leaving him to stare after me in dismay.
I could hardly bear to be out of the shop that week in case Paul came in. My heart raced every time the bell went, but it was never him. He had promised to be in church without fail on Sunday, but when we got there that morning his usual place was empty.
‘Don’t be too disappointed, love,’ Mother said, squeezing my arm gently. ‘I expect he’s too busy to come.’
The look on her face told me she didn’t believe her own words. She probably thought Paul’s mother had disapproved of the relationship. If only it was that simple.
I was almost sure my period was a couple of days late. I didn’t keep the exact dates of my monthly flow, because I’d never had reason before this, but I would normally have expected it to come by now.
No, I was being silly, letting my imagination play tricks on me. Paul had told me it didn’t happen just like that. I couldn’t have fallen for a baby; we had only made love twice.
‘It takes some women years to conceive,’ he’d said with a teasing kiss. ‘So why should you happen to fall just because we made love a couple of times?’
Why wasn’t Paul here to reassure me with his smile?
I felt wretched throughout the service. He had promised to bring me an engagement ring, so where was he?
My eyes were gritty with tiredness and I felt as if I wanted to weep. When Mother stopped to talk to friends after the service it was all I could do to stop myself walking off.
‘Have you heard about the murder?’
Mrs Henty came bustling up to us full of the news. She looked shocked, her complexion an odd yellowish-white.
‘Murder – who has been murdered?’ Mother asked in hushed tones. ‘When did it happen?’
‘Over a week ago, so they’re saying. The body has been in the river for several days. Some eel fishermen found it caught in a bed of reeds. It had been swept down river for some distance – but the police discovered a bus ticket in her pocket and they’re making inquiries in March. And I’ve heard Sheila Tomms has been missing for just over a week …’
‘Sheila … they think it may be her?’ I felt the colour drain from my face as I stared at her, horrified. ‘Oh no! Why would anyone want to murder her?’