Charity

by Lesley Pearse

  ‘I couldn’t,’ Charity said point blank, holding out a warm towel to her friend. ‘Any man spending a lot of money on a girl hopes for something in return.’

  ‘Did John?’ Dorothy smirked.

  ‘No. He isn’t like that,’ Charity said indignantly. ‘If I’d said no he’d have been just as nice.’

  Dorothy smiled in triumph.

  ‘It’s just the same with these men. You make the ground rules right from the start,’ Dorothy said as she pulled out the plug and swished the bathwater round. ‘You don’t go back to their hotel room. You steer the conversation away from sexy things and if they do try anything, you put them down firmly.’

  ‘No.’ Charity turned away to the door. ‘You two do it if that’s what you want, but don’t include me.’

  ‘You could make about forty quid a week,’ Dorothy called after her. ‘Think what that would mean on top of your daytime wages!’

  Charity closed her ears to temptation. The only job she wanted was the one for Glamour Girl Cosmetics.

  Charity was nervous. She knew she looked good in her blue jacket and toning plaid skirt; Rita had helped with her hair and makeup. But although the girls had play-acted interviews with her last night, they couldn’t prepare her for the close scrutiny these two men were putting her under.

  The man right in front of her had introduced himself as Mr Burgess, the sales director. Around forty, he was a suave-looking man in a pin-striped suit, and had thick dark eyebrows. He had done all the talking so far, explaining how he intended to make his products market leaders.

  The other man was older, with grey hair and glasses, but he hadn’t spoken and he seemed to be just an observer.

  Miss Rushton, who made up the trio, sat at the side of the desk, presumably there to give the two men guidance about the interviewees.

  ‘Well Miss Stratton,’ Mr Burgess looked down at her application form and then back at Charity, ‘I’m a little puzzled as to why a girl who looks as good as you has only experience of domestic work.’

  He couldn’t fault Charity’s appearance. With her clear skin, shining, well-cut hair and that blue leather jacket and skirt she had the chic of a French girl.

  Fortunately this was one question Dorothy had anticipated.

  ‘I had to find a living-in job when my parents died,’ she explained, looking him straight in the eye as Dorothy had said she must. ‘I would’ve preferred something more challenging, but that was all there was. I studied in my spare time and I’ve just been waiting for a chance to break into the beauty world.’

  ‘I see.’ He was surprised too by her voice and confidence. ‘We give training, of course, as a beautician, but the job also requires selling ability. Now just suppose Miss Rushton came to your stand, how would you persuade her to change her brand of cosmetics?’

  Charity looked across at Miss Rushton. She was an elegant blonde in her thirties, with faultless makeup.

  ‘I’d start off by admiring her appearance.’ She gulped hard, unsure of herself. ‘Clearly I couldn’t claim to improve on her makeup, but once I’d discovered what she used already, I could maybe point out that Glamour Girl products were less expensive, yet of a similar quality.’

  ‘Very good, Miss Stratton.’ He smiled. ‘But is talking enough?’

  ‘I think I’d try and get her to let me smooth some of your face cream into her hand,’ Charity said. ‘Once she felt how nice it was she’d be tempted. Or I could show her the colours of the lipsticks and nail varnish. Every woman wants a new colour now and again.’

  The two men exchanged glances and the older man nodded.

  ‘Are you free to start two weeks’ training next Monday, Miss Stratton?’ Mr Burgess asked.

  Charity was stunned for a moment. She had expected a far longer grilling.

  ‘Yes please,’ she said eagerly, assuming this meant she’d been selected. ‘I mean, yes sir,’ she said, blushing.

  Mr Burgess stood up and held out his hand, smiling at last.

  ‘Welcome aboard, Miss Stratton,’ he said. ‘Keep that enthusiasm, it’s the salesgirl’s best weapon. Miss Rushton will give you all the company rules, explain the uniform and so on. Providing you prove satisfactory during training, we will allocate you to a stand in a London department store to start mid-March.’

  ‘Thank you sir.’ Charity shook his hand, her smile as wide as the office windows.

  ‘That’ll be Carmel,’ Dorothy called out to Charity as the doorbell rang. ‘Let her in and make her a cup of coffee, will you?’

  It was four weeks since Charity had returned from Florence. She had joined another seventeen girls for two weeks’ intensive training and now each of the girls on the course had been sent to a store in London or the Home Counties as a beauty consultant. Charity was at Barker’s in Kensington High Street, and after only one week her sales had been impressive enough for the floor manager to extend the intended four-week promotion for another month.

  During this time Rita and Dorothy had continued to act as escorts, three or four times a week. Charity’s feelings swung between disapproval and envy. They were making a great deal of money, and having a good time, but Charity was still concerned for their safety.

  ‘Carmel?’ Charity asked as she opened the door and found a big but elegant woman standing there.

  ‘I am.’ The woman smiled knowingly. ‘Not what you expected?’

  Charity blushed. She had pictured the owner of the escort agency as a brassy blonde, but she could hardly admit that.

  She had hoped her friends would drop this nighttime work now they had a good job. But neither Rita nor Dorothy seemed as committed to Glamour Girl as herself and they never missed an opportunity to try and get her to join them as an escort. She suspected they’d invited Carmel to the flat as further persuassion.

  ‘You’re much younger than I imagined,’ Charity said diplomatically. ‘Do come in. Dorothy and Rita are dressing.’

  The woman was undeniably attractive. Although stout, she carried it well. Her complexion was flawless, her dark hair worn in a becoming bouffant style and her emerald green suit was impeccably cut.

  ‘How kind.’ Carmel chuckled, dark eyes sparkling with youthful mischief. ‘I won’t see fifty again, but I do try to keep old age at bay.’

  Despite Charity’s convictions that this woman was nothing short of a procurer of young girls, she liked her instantly. Although she was glamorous in her stilettos and her beautiful suit, her face was comfortingly maternal.

  ‘Are you enjoying your job?’ she asked Charity, as she sat down on the settee. ‘Dorothy and Rita said you’re outshining all the other girls!’

  ‘I don’t know about that.’ Charity blushed modestly. ‘I’m still learning. But I do love it.’

  From the first time she’d nervously asked a woman customer to come on to her stand for a facial and makeup demonstration, Charity had discovered the creativity there could be in selling.

  ‘Your own skin is the best advertisement,’ Carmel said, looking at her critically. ‘If I was to walk into a store and see you offering advice on makeup, I’d assume it was entirely due to your products.’

  ‘I learned a lot of handy hints in the training,’ Charity admitted. ‘I was hopeless at makeup before.’

  Learning about beauty had added to the confidence John had boosted. Now she’d lost her timidity and every day seemed an exciting new challenge.

  ‘Well, you look wonderful,’ Carmel said firmly. ‘I wish you’d join Rita and Dottie working for me. Some of my gentlemen would be thrilled to take you out.’

  ‘I can’t,’ Charity said firmly. But she was tempted. The girls seemed to go to such swish clubs and restaurants and she was getting fed up with staying in alone at nights, thinking about John and jumping every time the phone rang. But deep down she still felt it was immoral.

  Carmel studied Charity carefully. Running a marriage bureau was her main business; the escort work was a lucrative sideline which was gradually taking over. But findin
g the right girls was tough. They had to be attractive, intelligent and well mannered, with enough poise and sophistication not to show her gentlemen up in smart places.

  ‘I understand your fears,’ she said gently. ‘I know many escort agencies are just a front for prostitution. But not mine. I vet each client carefully. I know about men, Charity, and when I say mine are all gentlemen, I mean it.’

  ‘I’m sure they are,’ Charity said. She was reassured slightly now she’d met the woman Dorothy and Rita spoke so highly of, but she was still hoping that John would be back from Germany soon and he certainly wouldn’t approve of her doing such a thing. ‘It’s just not my scene.’

  She was saved from further persuasion by Dorothy appearing.

  ‘What’ve you got for us tonight, Carmel?’ she asked, eyes sparkling with anticipation. ‘David Niven look-alikes, or a roly-poly midget?’

  Charity reached the safety of her bedroom just in time to hear Carmel’s answer.

  ‘Yours is almost a Rock Hudson, Rita’s more Peter Cushing, but they are both directors of an international stationery company and they want to see a show, then dinner afterwards.’

  Charity felt rather lonely once the others had left, and phoned Lou for a chat. Now she almost wished she hadn’t. Toby was in trouble.

  It was Lou’s reluctance to talk about anything other than Charity’s job that made her suspicious. But she had kept probing until finally Lou blurted it all out.

  It was serious – not minor naughtiness or disobedience. Toby had stolen money from another boy at Wellington and he was found to have a huge amount of sweets and chocolate hidden in his locker. Only Uncle Stephen’s powers of persuasion had prevented his being expelled.

  ‘But I thought he was happy,’ Charity said. ‘Why is he doing this? Why would he want so many sweets?’

  ‘I can’t say. He has more than enough pocket money of his own.’ Lou sounded distressed. ‘I suspect though he has been trying to buy other boys’ friendship with the sweets. That’s a fairly classic symptom in a child who feels isolated.’

  ‘But Toby was always good at mixing with other boys,’ Charity said, her anxiety mounting.

  ‘He still is,’ Lou assured her. ‘He keeps up with his schoolwork, he’s very good at sport, but he’s had a great many changes in his life, dramatic ones. Moving from a terraced house in Greenwich to Studley Priory and discovering he’s to inherit it one day is enough to disturb any child. Your uncle overindulges him during the holidays and he’s constantly reminding the boy he has to excel.’

  ‘And I don’t suppose he gets any love or affection,’ Charity said, a lump coming up in her throat.

  ‘Oddly enough, from what I can see, I think Stephen has grown rather fond of him,’ Lou said. ‘He may not be the ideal guardian, and perhaps Toby needs more demonstrative affection, but they are quite close. Geoff and I are taking James there at Easter. We’re going to try and talk to the colonel then and to your grandmother. Maybe we can make him see sense about you.’

  ‘Me!’

  ‘You know both Geoff and I totally disapprove of him keeping you from the children,’ Lou said. ‘I hope we can make him see you might be able to help Toby.’

  ‘Do Toby and Prue talk about me?’ Charity asked. She couldn’t stop a tear trickling down her face, and her voice was breaking.

  ‘Yes, when they are alone with Geoff and me.’ Charity felt Lou was choosing her words carefully. ‘We’ve tried to make them understand that you had no choice but to take the job at Bowes Court. Unfortunately Stephen has managed to paint a rather different picture.’

  ‘They don’t think I abandoned them?’ Charity’s voice rose in alarm.

  ‘Not exactly,’ Lou said too quickly. ‘But they choose to believe you were given the opportunity to live at Studley too. Geoff and I have done our best to explain your side of it, but you must understand we’re in a difficult position. If Stephen was to think we were undermining or opposing him in any way, he could very well take James from us.’

  After Charity had put the phone down she just sat there, overwhelmed by what she’d heard.

  ‘They think I deserted them,’ she said to herself.

  Even in the blackest moments in the past three years this had never occurred to her. She had worried about them being ill treated, imagined every kind of horror from illness to neglect. But always she’d believed they had understood why she’d had to leave them.

  She had thought Uncle Stephen had done his worst when he cut her off from the children, and the fear they would forget her had been the biggest worry. But now she saw that Stephen was even more vindictive than she supposed: he hadn’t been satisfied until he’d poisoned their minds against her too.

  Everything was going so well – or so she’d thought until she phoned Lou. Today she’d been told her sales figures were the highest on the team. John was flying back from Hanover tomorrow and she’d just received her first commission cheque from Glamour Girl. But now all that happiness had been wiped out by one phone call.

  Prue and Toby now had an enviable life with good schools and nice clothes. Toby was riding, Prue having dancing and piano lessons and Stephen had convinced them that she could have had the same. Who could blame them for reaching the conclusion that their elder sister had run out on them for selfish reasons?

  Charity climbed into bed and lay there brooding. She wanted to think about John coming back tomorrow and what she was going to wear when he took her out to dinner. But all she could think of was how much she’d lost.

  There was hardly a day when she didn’t think about Daniel, trying to imagine how big he was, how many teeth he had, whether he crawled, or shuffled around on his bottom as James did. Daniel was ten months old now, happily unaware there had ever been anyone else in his life but the woman who now fed and changed him. But her brothers and sister did remember her: she had been a major part of their lives from the moment they were born, and they carried that inside them. How could she let them know that her love for them was still just as strong and that the promises she’d made to find a home one day so they could all be together hadn’t been abandoned?

  ‘I’m going back to Africa, Charity,’ John said, his eyes on the tablecloth.

  ‘For how long?’ she asked, reaching out across the table to touch his hand.

  ‘For good.’

  Charity knew by his expression and the finality of his words that he hadn’t come back from Germany for her.

  ‘You mean, that’s it?’

  John shifted in his seat. He had chosen the restaurant in Queensway purposely. It was crowded with people of all nationalities, noisy and busy. He had let her eat her dinner, heard about her job and her worries about the children, how she’d painted her room pink and white and made new curtains. Now he knew he had to come to the point.

  ‘I wanted to say goodbye for good when we parted at the airport,’ he said in a low voice, ‘but I couldn’t do it. I thought of writing it in a letter, but that seemed cowardly.’

  ‘Why?’ she asked. She was begging him with her eyes to say he didn’t mean it. ‘We’re so good together.’

  ‘We might be now,’ he said gently. ‘But in another ten years it will be different. I’m too old for you, Charity. You need a young man who can give you children. Not a rootless wanderer like me.’

  All the time he’d been in Germany his mind had been in turmoil. So many times he’d been tempted to let his love for her override caution, to come back and sweep her off with him. But it was madness to think that way. She had the job she wanted now, her flat and her friends; he couldn’t offer her a secure home with his lifestyle.

  ‘Without you I don’t have anything,’ she said, wiping a tear from her cheek.

  ‘That’s not so.’ He took her hand and squeezed it. ‘You’ve got far more here than I could give you. You’ve got a career now, you’re young and beautiful and the world is at your feet. Trust Geoff and Lou to help you get to see your brothers and sister. Toby and Prue are teenager
s now and your uncle can’t keep them away from you for ever. Find a young man to love and one day soon you’ll look back on this and be glad I left you.’

  ‘I’ll never, ever love anyone but you.’ She held on to his hand tightly. ‘You don’t know how I feel inside.’

  ‘I do,’ he said, his eyes full of understanding. ‘But I know it will fade.’

  He poured Charity another glass of wine. Everything he felt was mirrored in her eyes and the pain inside him was so intense he had to look away. He wanted to run, to get to the airport and catch the first plane out of London – anything but see the heartbreak in her face.

  Charity pushed her chair back and stood up, trembling and white-faced. ‘I think you’re cruel, selfish and cowardly. Go back to Africa, John. But if you think I’m going to say I hope you’ll be happy, then you’re mistaken. I hope you’ll be as miserable as you’ve made me.’

  She turned and ran out of the restaurant. People looked up in surprise as she passed.

  Charity sat by the open window painting her nails bright red. It was her day off, she’d just arrived back from the hairdresser’s and the afternoon sun was warm on her face.

  It was a month since John left for good and until today the weather had been as miserable as she’d felt. Strong winds and rain, fog, ice and even snow. Rushing off to work in gloom, arriving home in darkness, Sundays spent hugging the fire or staying in bed, continually thinking of John. One moment she was sobbing because she wanted him so much, the next she was angry and bitter.

  He was too old. He didn’t really want children. Maybe she’d only been a substitute for his daughter Susie … However many excuses she offered, it didn’t make it stop hurting. She began to think that if she couldn’t manage to make a relationship work for love she might as well do it for money.

  But today she’d woken to April sunshine, and as she looked down at the garden in the square the sudden change from winter to spring seemed reassuringly symbolic.

  An almond tree was in blossom; beneath it a massed choir of daffodils opening their golden trumpets as if to herald the arrival of spring. The grass glistened, a couple of pigeons perched companionably on a bare branch and a lone blackbird kept a vigil for worms.