‘For you, my pet, anything. Or almost anything.’
Jonathan glanced at the rowdy group. He didn’t want them listening to this. One whiff of gossip and his worries would be all over the compound.
‘Let’s get away from this lot,’ he said.
To a chorus of ‘Ooh—’ and ‘Look at them!’ from the others, they decamped to a small table in the corner, and Jonathan explained his concerns.
‘I’m wondering whether it’s her father,’ he said. ‘He’s a drunk. He doesn’t look after her like a father should. In fact, if anything, she looks after him.’
‘If that’s it, why don’t you ask her?’ Judy said. ‘If she’s worried, she’ll be glad to tell you about it.’
‘It’s difficult. We had this big row about him, you see. He’s all she’s got in the world by way of family, so she defends him. In fact she said that if I couldn’t accept her father, I could sling my hook.’
‘Mmm—’ Judy pursed her lips and considered the situation. ‘Even so, if she hasn’t anyone else to turn to, she might really need to talk to you but after what she said she doesn’t know how to start. If you were to write something like, “You sound very worried. Is everything all right at home?” Not mentioning her father by name, just sort of opening the door, so to speak.’
‘Yes—’ Jonathan turned it over in his mind. ‘Yes, that might do it.’
But somehow he didn’t really feel any better about it.
Judy leaned forward. ‘Look, Jonno, you don’t think it’s anything else, do you?’
‘Like what?’ he asked sharply.
‘Well, shout at me if you like, but I’ve seen her photo, and she’s a very pretty girl, your Scarlett. And you say she goes dancing every week.’
‘So what are you saying?’ Jonathan asked, though he knew perfectly well.
Judy just raised her eyebrows a little and looked at him.
‘Scarlett loves me,’ he told her.
‘Well, then, you’ve nothing to worry about, have you?’
‘No.’
Except that the nasty little suspicion just wouldn’t go away.
* * *
Scarlett fought Ricky off in the back seats of cinemas, in the van and outside dance halls and pubs. Each time it got more difficult to say no. But what she did hold out on was letting him in to the flat. As long as she kept him out of there, she felt she was safe.
‘So your precious Jonathan’s out of the picture, then?’ Brenda said.
‘No!’ Scarlett said. ‘Ricky’s just a bit of fun, until Jonathan comes back. I love Jonathan. I always will.’
‘But you don’t mind two-timing him?’
‘I’m not two-timing him.’
‘Looks like it to me.’
‘Well—he goes out with all those nurses to parties and things.’
‘But does he snog them in car parks?’
‘I don’t—!’ Scarlett began.
Brenda snorted. ‘I’ve seen you,’ she said. ‘I bet you ain’t told him about Ricky.’
Guilt surged through Scarlett. Brenda had hit it right on the button. She had not told Jonathan about Ricky. She used to mention Pete and the other boys at the Kursaal, but she had never once let Ricky’s name drop.
‘I bet there’s things he doesn’t tell me,’ she said.
‘Oh, well, if you two really love each other like you say you do, then that’s all right, ain’t it?’ Brenda said. But there was an edge of sarcasm to her voice.
‘Yes, it is,’ Scarlett said.
But she was becoming increasingly confused. Going out with Ricky was a roller coaster ride. There were evenings of wild excitement and days of guilt and worry. It wasn’t like going out with Jonathan. They didn’t talk much. They weren’t utterly engrossed in each other. The only time she had Ricky’s full attention was when he was snogging her. And he was wearing her down. Her body cried out for his touch. Even as she batted his hands away, she wanted him to carry on, to go further.
Then Jonathan’s letters would arrive, full of tales of his strange and distant life on the compound, but always ending with a declaration of his undying love. Reading them, she was sure she did still love him and knew that she shouldn’t be going out with Ricky. It was playing with fire. The trouble was, she was becoming as addicted to Ricky as her father was to alcohol. The more she had of him, the more she wanted.
After a gig at one of the sea front pubs, they walked home together. Scarlett felt quite ill as they passed the Trafalgar. A sharp longing for times past pierced her heart. Things had been simple then. She and Jonathan loved each other, and that was all that mattered.
‘Let’s go along the cliffs,’ Ricky said.
The cliffs were full of places where the grass was long and the trees gave cover. Even now, in autumn, there would be courting couples taking advantage of the friendly dark.
Scarlett looked over at the broad frontage of the pub. Up there was his parents’ flat. Jonathan’s home.
‘No,’ she said. ‘I’m tired. I want to go straight home.’
In answer, Ricky steered her round the sea side of a shelter. Under the fancy roof, he kissed her expertly and ran his hands down her back and over her buttocks.
‘Now then,’ he said, ‘you don’t really want to go home yet, do you?’
‘Yes, I do.’
Scarlett tried to wriggle free, but Ricky backed her against the side wall of the shelter. With his body pressed against hers, Scarlett could feel her resolve falling away. Ricky kissed her again, covering a breast with his hand, running his thumb across her nipple. Scarlett couldn’t suppress a moan of pleasure.
‘No, you don’t,’ Ricky said.
She could hear the wolfish smile in his voice.
‘We’ll go for a little walk on the beach,’ he told her.
With his arm firmly round her waist, he guided her down the nearest steps and onto the pebbly sand. Scarlett’s high heels sank in, making it difficult to walk. She took her shoes off and carried them in one hand. It was quieter here, away from the traffic and the throngs of noisy drinkers coming out of the pubs. The smell of salt and seaweed fought with the wafts of chips and candyfloss and onions. The multicoloured lights of the illuminations reflected in the puddles on the glistening mud, and beyond them the pier strode out into the sea with lights strung along it like a giant necklace. The pebbles were cool under Scarlett’s bare feet.
Ricky stopped and kissed her again, gripping her buttocks and pulling her against him. She could feel him, hard and eager, against her groin, awakening an answering flame.
‘God, but you’re fantastic, babe,’ he said in her ear. ‘I want you so much I can’t stop thinking about you. You’re on my mind all the time.’
Scarlett’s legs were so weak that it was easy for him to pull her down on the sand with him. Before she had time to protest, his mouth was fastened on hers and his hand was inside her blouse, pulling down her bra strap, exposing her breast, cupping it with his hand, stroking and squeezing.
He stopped for a moment, sitting up to strip off his jacket, which he rolled and put under Scarlett’s head.
‘Now—’ he said, ‘you’re going to like this, babe. You’re going to love it.’
And she did. From the moment he slid his hand up her thigh and explored between her legs, she was helpless, swept away on a hot tide of desire. She cried out with pain when he entered her, but soon the need and the pleasure overcame it, until both of them collapsed in a slippery, satiated heap.
‘Christ, babe,’ Ricky said hoarsely, pushing the hair back from her hot face. ‘You were a virgin, weren’t you?’
‘Yes.’
‘You’re a natural, babe. We gotta do this all the time. You’re just amazing.’
Scarlett said nothing. She was feeling so many different things that she couldn’t take it all in. But most of all she knew that there was no going back now. She had done It with Ricky, and nothing would ever be the same again.
For once, Ricky noticed that she
was unnaturally quiet.
‘You all right, babe?’
‘I think so.’
‘You did enjoy it, didn’t you? I said you would.’
‘Yes.’
There was no denying that. She was only now beginning to notice that she was sore and bruised.
‘That’s all right, then. Come on, we better get going.’ He sorted out his clothing and handed her a clean handkerchief. ‘Here—d’you want this?’
Dazed, Scarlett realised that real life had been going on all the while she had been in some other place with Ricky. Drunks were still rolling along the sea front. The chip shops were still frying. Embarrassed now, she cleaned herself up with the offered handkerchief and felt about for her knickers and shoes and bag.
Ricky stood up and pulled her to her feet. Scarlett clung to him, wobbly and disorientated, and they made their way back up the steps and joined the homegoing crowds milling about on the sea front. Ricky was in top spirits.
‘God, you are just the greatest, babe,’ he said.
He put his arm round her waist and sang all the way back to the flat.
After that, there was no point in putting up any resistance. Every evening that he wasn’t playing with the band, Ricky came round to the flat. While he was with her, Scarlett gave herself up completely to this new and amazing pleasure. At all other times she was in turmoil.
The rules of the game, as outlined by the girls in every factory she had worked at, were that you didn’t give in. Boys were only after one thing and, though they didn’t like it when you refused, they did at least respect you. Once they got what they wanted, they lost interest. More often than not they boasted to their friends about you, and then you lost your reputation. Scarlett lived in fear of Ricky losing interest and on top of that was ashamed of how much she enjoyed making love with him and worried that this meant she was a bad girl.
Then there was the guilt. It was all too easy to deceive her father, who still thought she was an innocent young girl, but it made her feel bad. What made her feel worse was deceiving Jonathan. She knew she should tell him what was going on, but couldn’t bring herself to do so. She couldn’t bear to hurt him, or to destroy everything they were to each other. But it made writing to him a nightmare. She put it off until she got a letter from him wondering if one of hers had gone astray as he hadn’t heard from her, and asking if everything was all right at home.
And then she missed a period.
She was never late, so she knew straight away that something was wrong. Overheard conversations amongst the older women at work gave her plenty of clues as to why she had tender breasts and a bloated stomach. For a while she held on tight to the fact that she was not sick in the mornings, but she knew really that this was no help. Not everyone had morning sickness. That didn’t mean that she wasn’t… She refused to actually put a name to it.
‘You’re quiet,’ Brenda complained. ‘Can’t get a word out of you. What’s up?’
‘Nothing,’ Scarlett told her.
Perhaps it would all go away. Maybe she was just late. Just because she had been regular up till now, it didn’t mean it couldn’t change.
‘Ricky given you the push?’
‘No.’
But what would happen if she had to tell him? She couldn’t see Ricky as a father.
The problem dominated her life, pushing out all the minor worries.
By November she knew there would be no reprieve. She took a morning off work and went to the doctor, who confirmed it and worked out the due date. It was official. She was having a baby.
‘And what about the father?’ the doctor asked, looking at her disapprovingly over the tops of his glasses.
‘What about him?’ Scarlett said.
‘Does he know about this child?’
‘Not yet.’
‘Then I suggest you tell him straight away. There are arrangements to be made.’ His gaze hardened. ‘You do know who the father is, I hope?’
‘Of course I do!’ Scarlett said. ‘What do you think I am?’
It was the first indication of what was to come.
Walking home in the drizzling rain, Scarlett considered all the people she had to tell. Ricky. Her father. Jonathan. Oh, God, how was she going to tell Jonathan? It was going to break his heart. She had been such an idiot. How could she have done this? Tears of shame and regret trickled down her face with the raindrops. She reached her road and looked down it. Going out with Ricky had distracted her from looking for somewhere better. What if he didn’t stand by her? They wouldn’t even be able to afford this horrible flat without her wages. She would be stuck in one room with a baby and her father. It didn’t bear thinking about.
For several long minutes she stood at the end of the street, tempted to just walk away and keep walking. For the umpteenth time she wished for her mother. She needed someone to turn to more than ever before. And then it struck her how terribly upset and disappointed her mother would have been to find that her one daughter was an unmarried mother, and something changed inside her. At least her mum would never know. She might hurt all the others around her, but she couldn’t hurt her mother. Scarlett took a long shuddering breath and straightened her shoulders.
‘Come on, girl,’ she said out loud. ‘Let’s face the music.’
It was her father’s day off. He was sitting listening to the radio with a drink in his hand. Scarlett’s announcement seemed to sober him up instantly.
‘You’re what?’ he yelped, getting up out of his chair. ‘It’s that singer, ain’t it? That Ricky? The little bastard, doing that to you! I knew he was no good. My God, when I get my hands on him, he won’t know whether he’s coming or going. I’ll wring his bloody neck. How dare he touch my little girl?’
Scarlett didn’t like to tell him that she hadn’t exactly been forced.
‘Have you told him yet?’ Victor asked.
Scarlett shook her head.
‘When are you seeing him again?’
‘I don’t know. Tomorrow, probably.’
‘I’m working tomorrow. This has got to be sorted out. Where does he live?’
Scarlett gaped at him.
‘We can’t go round his house, Dad!’
She knew where he lived. She had even been past his house on a couple of occasions, but she had never been invited inside to meet his parents.
‘Oh, yes, we bloody well can. What time does he get in from work?’
However hard Scarlett tried to persuade him that it would be best to tell Ricky quietly by herself, Victor wouldn’t back down.
‘I know these young lads. They’ll wriggle out of it if they possibly can. No, we got to get him in front of his parents. They’ll bring him into line.’
Defending his chick had a wonderful effect on Victor. He washed, shaved, cleaned his shoes, looked out his one suit and brushed it and had Scarlett iron him a shirt. By the time they set out for Ricky’s house, he looked a different man from the one who couldn’t get up in the morning without a drink. However much she was dreading this confrontation, Scarlett was glad to have him at her side. For the first time in ages, she felt she had a proper father. If it hadn’t been for the desperate circumstances, she would have been delighted.
Ricky’s parents lived in a neat terraced house in Westcliff. The privet hedge was clipped, the front path was swept and the brass knocker and letter box were polished. A small thin woman in a frilly apron with tightly permed pepper-and-salt hair opened the door to them.
‘Yes?’ she said, looking coldly from Victor to Scarlett.
‘Mrs Harrington? This is my girl, Scarlett. Your boy Ricky’s been taking her out.’
Ricky’s mother made no move to ask them in.
‘Yes?’ she repeated.
‘Well—’ Victor shifted uncomfortably. Scarlett felt her fleeting confidence in him begin to seep away. ‘Well…er…we got things we need to talk about. Things that’s better said inside. Sitting down, like.’
‘I don’t know who you are,�
� Ricky’s mother said.
The man who used to run the Red Lion surfaced. Victor introduced himself and held his hand out. Ricky’s mother did not appear to be impressed, but she grudgingly let them in. She showed them into the front room, where a green moquette-covered three-piece suite was placed round a television set with a lamp on top of it in the shape of a crinolined lady. A small coal fire burned in the grate, but it had been recently laid and wasn’t yet giving out much heat. Scarlett and Victor perched uneasily on the sofa while Mrs Harrington fetched her husband.
‘This is George. I’m Betty,’ she said.
Mr Harrington was an older version of Ricky. He nodded silently at Scarlett and Victor and sat down in the chair nearest to the fire, staring resentfully at them.
Victor cleared his throat. ‘Well…er…’
‘I hope this is important. I was eating my tea,’ Mr Harrington said.
‘I’m sorry—’ Victor began.
Scarlett wanted to disappear into the stiff sofa. This was going to be dreadful. Her father was backing down before they had even started.
But Victor managed to bring himself up to the mark.
‘But yes, it is important. Very important.’ He plunged straight in to the business in hand. ‘Your son’s got my girl in the family way, and I want to know what he’s going to do about it.’
Mrs Harrington squawked with shock and horror.
‘My Ricky? With you? I don’t believe it. He’s a good boy.’
Mr Harrington just sat there, stony-faced.
‘It’s true. She’s been to the doctor’s and everything. It’s due in June.’
Mr Harrington finally spoke. ‘You sure it’s Ricky’s?’
Scarlett was outraged. This was the second time she had been doubted and she wasn’t having it. It was bad enough being pregnant without everyone assuming she was a bad girl.
‘Of course it’s his. What are you saying? I’ve never been with anyone else in my life.’
At that moment, there was the sound of a key in the door. Everyone’s heads swivelled round as footsteps came into the hall. Scarlett felt ill.
Mr Harrington broke the silence. ‘Richard! Come in here.’
Bye Bye Love Page 18