“Listen,” she murmured, stepping back, surveying him from head to foot. “Let’s get this place straightened up, shall we? Get someone to come, get the curtains fixed, get the furniture polished up, get the kitchen modernised, Alfred, for God’s sake! We are in the last half of the 20th century, after all! Yours looks like something out of the 40s!”
“It is something out of the 40s,” he said calmly, tucking the money into his wallet. “But you’re right, I do need a new cleaning woman, mine’s old and tired and only just about vacuums the carpet for me.”
“Do it. And put a new ad in the magazines where you advertise, say there’s a mistress here too. I’ll deal with your wimpish men for you, you deal with the ladies. And sometimes I’ll deal with the ladies too.” She paused, waiting to see what affect her words would have. His eyes lit up, he began to look very excited by the whole idea. Then as she stood with her hand on the door ready to leave, Annie landed the knockout punch. “One day I’ll cane you, Alfred, just as you secretly want. All right?”
She turned her back and walked out.
Chapter Thirty One
Q. It seems there was some disaster in the family around this time, Tammy, is that right?
A. Disaster? Tragedy, yes, there was. It was Annie’s fault. You see, along with her ability to conjure things she could thought fix someone, ill wish them! To use an old term.
Q. How did she learn to do this?
A. Projection? She had learned to project her thoughts to create the literal images of things, so it was one step on to project her thoughts to a living person and affect what happened. She could for example put Father off his swing, if she was in the Golf Club when he was out on the green. Mother too, she could put her off very easily. She was like a jinx of some kind, if she was around, things went wrong. Everyone knew it, and joked about it, and no one took it seriously.
Q. So what happened?
A. Annie had been brooding over the ‘walk in the dark’, as she called it, my walk out to find someone and I’d met Phil. Uncle Phil. For some reason that got to her, whether it was because her plans for me finding a stranger had gone so wrong or because she was disappointed it was him, I don’t know. But what had really got her was the answer to the question - what was Phil doing out at that time of night?
Q. What was he doing out that time of night?
A. Well, first we had to find out. Annie got Alfred Wrayland on it. Poor devil didn’t know what had hit him with Annie, she had uncovered his darkest secret. She told me all about it, giggling like a lunatic when she got home. She said it was a wild stab in the dark and it had gone home, drawn blood, to use her terms, but I don’t think so. I think she knew her men only too well, and knew that under the bluster lay a submissive man crying to get out. With that secret, with his shocked reaction to her comment she had him even more under her control. So she said to him.
“I want to know where Phil goes at night,” and gave him the address.
Q. And what happened?
A. Annie couldn’t have known anything about our relations’ habits, you see, or she’d have phrased it like that. I know that’s what she said, she told me. But Phyl and Phil if you say them, they sound the same. And where does Phyl go at night? To beauty salons and beauty parties and things like that. She was a demonstrator for a cosmetics company.
Q. But Annie didn’t know that?
A. No. She didn’t like Aunt Phyl, if anyone talked about her around Annie she switched off. I could feel it, it was like a huge shutter coming down. Having no real interest herself in make-up and things, only when she wanted to use it for her own ends! She didn’t take any notice. If she thought about it at all, I bet she assumed it was cosy afternoon chats, not evenings out.
Q. So Annie got the message -
A. Their car was seen here and there and everywhere all over Salldown.
“Hm,” she sniffed to me. “Phil’s leading a rare life here! I’ll do something about him,” and I wondered why, because he’d done everything we wanted, got Gran into the home, given us driving lessons, given me hidings” Everything she could want, but for her it wasn’t enough. So, she though fixed the car. Or something. Affected the steering, or the person steering, I’ll never know, no one will ever know. All the Police said was the car went out of control, but no other vehicle was involved. And Phyl, dear Aunt Phyllis whose only crime was to have married our Uncle, was dead of a broken neck.
Q. Another funeral?
A. Another funeral. Black clad twins, demure and delicate, with Annie secretly torn up, delighted if not absolutely thrilled to bits that her thought processes worked, shocked rigid that it was the wrong Phil.
Q. Did you ever find out what Phil, Your Uncle Phil, was doing out that night?
A. No. We never did. And we couldn’t ask, not after that!
Q. And then what happened?
A. She sent me out for that walk in the dark again. Only this time there was no Phil there to rescue me.
Chapter Thirty Two
Spring touched everything, from the new unfolding buds to the sound of birds nest building and calling each other in courtship rituals. The sun slid slowly from the sky, leaving behind a coolness touched with sadness.
Tammy walked along the roads of Salldown, heading for the centre, where shops held their fascination for those who had little money and plenty of time to gaze into the elaborate displays and wish. Her instructions were precise, repeated at intervals silently in her head by Annie, lying flat on her bed at home, earphones on, listening to music and picking up Tammy’s fear and trepidation of the ordeal ahead.
First she was to walk. Just walk, just be seen, to see what reaction she got from passing cars and strolling men.
The build up to the walk had been almost as overwhelmingly thrilling as the walk itself. Time and again Annie had described her emotions - the fear, the stark naked fear of what a strange man would do, how hard he would hit her, how long the spanking would go on, how long the bruising would last, with Tammy squirming in pure sexual excitement in her bed night after night picturing it.
And here she was, walking in her tight red skirt and black cropped top, small plastic bag swinging at her side, high heeled shoes tapping out their own rhythm ‘come and get me come and get me,’ over and over, as her feet found the flagstone pavements.
“Hey, doll, doing anything?” Tammy smiled, shook her head, walked on. A wolf whistle from the other side of the road, unintelligible shouts from a gang on the corner outside The Plough pub, smell of drink and staleness wafting to her. God, don’t ask me to approach one of them! She begged Annie silently. There was no response. Tammy walked on, relieved.
Suddenly Annie’s voice spoke in her head.
“The next man, whoever he is, the next man!” Tammy felt her breath catch in her throat, her heart begin to pound, as a man walked along the road, heading toward her.
Then she recognised him.
Her real father.
* * *
The leather cracked and moved under her weight as she shifted on the bench, waiting for Mr. Gibling to come back with a drink for her, busy inventing a story that would satisfy him. He was bound to ask. The pub was full, voices raised in loud dispute and laughter, thud of darts hitting the board, eyes watching her every movement.
“Here, kid.”
“Thank you.” Tammy took the glass and sipped the drink. Too much gin and not enough tonic. Never mind. She put it down on the table.
“Well, go on, tell your old Dad what you was doing walking the streets looking like that?”
“An experiment.” Tammy began to tell him about her non-existent social study, how she wanted to assess sexiest remarks by walking along the road. He seemed to buy it, for a while.
“Damn strange things you girls get up to! You could have been took off and raped and all sorts!”
He shook his head, downed half the pint of dark beer he had bought himself, and smiled at her. “The old woman’s been that set up since you and your sister come around, you know.”
“Has she? What about you?”
“What about me?” He stared at her, hooded eyes peering over a glass. Tammy noticed how dirt lay in the creases of his face, how wetery his eyes were, and shuddered inside. Was this really her father, was this man responsible for part of the genes that made her?
“How did you feel when we came round?”
The rest of the beer disappeared, he got up and ambled over to the bar, slamming coins down on the top, collecting another pint. He came back and sat down.
“I needed that small break from you, kid, to make up me mind what to tell you. And I decided to tell you the truth, because I think you’re a truthful girl.” A coldness began to creep over her neck, creeping up into her brain. She was not going to like what she heard.
“I ain’t your father. The reason my old woman give you girls away was because some Yank fathered you two. Well, she said it were some Yank, but I never proved nothing. Reckons she met him at the pub one night.”
“Where were you?” Tammy was surprised to find her voice was calm and steady. It should have been shaking after a relevation like that. Not only had they been given away, they were also illegitimate!
“Me? Long distance lorry driving, weren’t I? Off heaving me old lorry around the Continent, come back to find me old woman up the spout, bun in the oven, you know what I mean. So, I said to her, get rid of the kid or get rid of me, one or the other. But she’s a bit religious, you know, old soft hearted thing that she is, and she weren’t having none of that abortion, let some poor buggers have them. And that’s what happened. Mind, she got bit of a shock when they told her it was twins! God, she said, glad I decided to be rid of them! Fancy having two mouths to feed!”
“I have to go.” Tammy drank a little of her gin and tonic, pushed the glass away. Mr. Gibling took hold of her hand.
“You asked how I felt when you come round, I felt like I do now, ready to stick one in you any time. You’re a delicious pair of - well, you are and you knows it.”
“I have to go,” Tammy repeated, and stood up.
“Not wanting to stay with me now, are you? Bit scared of me, I think. Yeah, that’s what I think. Go on, kid, get going, before I do sommat I shouldn’t. You’re jailbait if ever I saw it.”
Tammy smiled weakly, shook his hand off and made for the door, sliding past the gathered men, ignoring their comments. One of Salldown’s taxis was touting for business outside the pub, Tammy hailed it and got herself driven home, feeling as if stone had taken the place of her feelings. Dead inside, dead to everything. Wait till Annie finds out! Was all she could think, over and over, a litany of unhappiness. Wait till Annie finds out!
Annie’s response was immediate and savage.
She phoned Mark and got him to come round and watched as he whipped Tammy until she could cry no more, a punishment for disobeying orders. Father or no father, stranger or not, he should have been asked to spank her. Annie told her that as the whip found Tammy over and over again.
Even as she felt the lash curl round her, even as she cried out, Tammy knew that Annie was only giving half her attention to the whipping. Annie, for sure, was planning her revenge.
Chapter Thirty Three
Q. Was there ever a moment when you realised things weren’t - quite right - with Annie?
A. Yes, and I can tell you exactly when it was. Phil came round one night, a broken man. He sat talking about Aunt Phyl, reminiscing, saying things like how they met - she’d said ‘I’m Phyl’ and he said ‘so am I’ and they laughed about it and - got together. And how she’d been his only love and he was devastated without her. And Annie just sat and laughed, inside, silently, but it was welling out of her and into me. She was revelling in his misery. A look passed between them, and I think he could have killed her right there on the spot even though he didn’t know she had anything to do with it.
Q. But he wasn’t her only enemy, was he?
A. Oh no. Alfred Wrayland would have killed her too, if he’d had the guts.
Q. You’re saying he didn’t do it.
A. I’m saying he didn’t do it. He didn’t have the strength. In almost every bossy man there is a weak man trying to get out, but is too weak to get out. He hated Annie because she revealed his secret weakness, and because she did, just once, cane him to please him and he knew he’d never be the same person again.
Q. Who else hated Annie?
A. Oh, who didn’t? Our lecturers at college hated her, because she could outsmart them every time, or if she didn’t do that, she would create some diversion in class to annoy the hell out of them. Danny Gibling hated her because he loved her really and wanted to get his hands on her but couldn’t, because she’d led him on and got him wound up before he found out she was his half-sister. Or did he think she was his full sister? Whatever, it was illegal. I don’t know how Mr. Gibling felt really, he never admitted it.
Q. But none of them hated her enough to kill her.
A. They might have done, but they didn’t have the strength of mind or the necessary anger or rage if you like. It’s very hard to kill someone, no matter what crime writers might like to tell you.
Q. What about Mark and Niall?
A. What about them? In their way they were both wimps, Niall for allowing Annie to dominate him to the point when she had drawn blood, and still he sat at her feet and worshipped her, Mark, while being able to give someone a good whipping if she said so, did it because she said so, so he was dominated by her in that way too. Even if it did give him a huge erection I had to deal with afterwards, or Annie did it, as the mood took her. She ruled our lives,you see, in every way. And that was before she destroyed the Giblings.
Chapter Thirty Four
Sometimes Annie felt as if the world was against her, that everything conspired to turn itself back and annoy her. First, you get used to the shock of being adopted, that the elegant and expensive creatures you had called Mother and Father weren’t you Mother and Father after all, even if they had provided for you loved you and kept you.
Second, you find out your real parents are slum dwellers, lower class, pig ignorant people who knew nothing, read nothing felt nothing but their own basic instinct for survival. Fancy being related to Danny Gibling! He was one step away from Neanderthal man!
And then, as if that wasn’t bad enough, you find out that the man you had reluctantly come to accept as your real father wasn’t your father at all, but some unknown person, possibly an American, possibly an Englishman, and that her mother, her real mother, was and probably is nothing more than a slut!
Annie paced her bedroom floor, anger burning through her, demanding a release, angry at the perfect summer day outside, angry at the emotions churning her up. She had Alfred where she wanted him, had Mark and Niall where she wanted them, but the Giblings! They were the rogue card, they were the ones destroying her peace of mind.
Then I’ll go and see the Giblings, she decided, snatching up her bag and clattering down the stairs.
“Going out, darling?” Mother, clad in leotard and leggings, on her way in, red faced and sweating after another workout at the gym.
“Mother, why don’t you give this all up and grow old gracefully?” Annie demanded, arms akimbo as she eyed her mother with disdain. “You’re making a fool of herself.”
“Just keeping fit for my old age, darling,” she disappeared into the kitchen as Annie crashed out of the house, slamming the front door after her.
Her mini stood in the drive, sunroof open just a little, headlights staring at her. I’m waiting, it said, come and drive me.
Annie got behind the wheel, started the engine and with vicious spurt of gravel swung round out of the drive, sensing
Tammy’s thoughts racing after her - where why and what do I do?
Nothing, she shot back silently, pounding the horn as a pedestrian jaywalked in front of her. Nothing. Just wait.
Kensington Drive drowsed under the summer sun, wilting plants and litter offended her eyes, angered her even more. She slammed the car door, felt the Mini rock on its wheels, patted the roof and apologised.
Mrs Gibling - Mother - opened the door as Annie stormed up the path.
“I wondered if you’d be round again,” she said by way of greeting, the cigarette bobbing dangerously in the corner of her mouth. “The old man said he’d told your sister, it was your sister, wasn’t it? Not you. He said it was the quiet one, and you ain’t quiet. Anyway, he said he told your sister what really happened.”
Annie pushed past into the smelly house, feeling the dirt and poverty wrap itself around her. She stood in front of the fireplace, back to the crinkled tissue paper and few dried flowers and grasses, looking at the woman who had given birth to her.
“Who was it?” She asked, cool and calm, controlling her temper well. “Who is my father?”
Mrs Gibling stabbed out her cigarette and collapsed into an armchair.
“I’ve gotta be honest with you, girl, I don’t know. Me old man was on the Continent, see, and the old fires were burning, you wouldn’t know about that, would you?”
“Oh yes, I know,” Annie spoke slowly, with deliberate cruelty. “You could call us sluts too, as I think of you. But I know who my lovers are, Mother.” The word was spat out.
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