A Mother’s Sacrifice

by Kitty Neale

  Toby looked down at her intently, but then said, ‘Friends it is, Polly. That’s fine with me.’

  Chapter 33

  Drip … drip … drip … the water slowly leaking from the tap over the sink was driving Johnnie mad. All he wanted to do was close his eyes, block out his thoughts and the world and go to sleep. At night he had been plagued by nightmares of being chased by a putrid-smelling monster dripping with green slime, but no matter how fast he ran, the monster always caught him and ripped his flesh before gradually crushing his bones. And during the day, in his waking hours, he was tormented by memories of Polly and the sadistic way he had hurt her. Johnnie knew the monster represented his conscience that he couldn’t run away from, but he just needed a few hours’ respite from dealing with the shame of what he had done.

  The state of the bedsit he was renting was reflected in the price he was paying for it. The walls were damp, wallpaper hung off where mould was growing and the carpet was stained and threadbare. The bed was comfortable enough, though Johnnie was sure he was being eaten alive by bedbugs. But as he hadn’t returned to work, this was all he could afford.

  He threw off the thin cover and went to the sink to wash his face. He caught sight of his reflection in the small mirror. A scraggy beard had grown over his once clean-shaven face and his unkempt hair was greasy, obviously in need of a good wash. He wondered what had become of him, the good-looking, confident young man who now looked like a tramp and smelled like one too. He hated what he saw and punched the mirror, which shattered into smithereens and left him with a cut knuckle. It was a relief to finally let out some of his anger and he hit out at the wall where the mirror had been, again and again, until he couldn’t take any more pain. As his blood dripped into the washbasin, Johnnie felt a sense of satisfaction. His hand smarted. Good, he thought, he deserved to be hurt.

  After running his hand under the tap and splashing cold water over his face, Johnnie sat on the edge of his bed and rolled himself a cigarette from the dog-ends that were left in the overflowing ashtray. This had to stop, he had to pull himself together and get back out there. After all, apart from himself, what was he hiding from? His dad was the only one who knew what he’d done, and he was pretty sure he wouldn’t tell anyone.

  Johnnie cursed himself for what he had done, and now cursed the day he had met Polly too. He’d been doing all right until Helen had told him about his mother and his search for her had sent him to Kent. He had worked hard, but played hard too, enjoying himself, before Polly had come into his life. Now it was all falling apart.

  Come on, Johnnie told himself, there’s no going back. It was over now and he had to try to be his old self. Yet he knew he would never be the same again. Happiness would evade him and be replaced with fury. His mind was unravelling and becoming twisted. But he would hide his contorted thoughts of self-loathing and he would never let feelings for a woman touch him again. He’d never let another woman come into his heart and destroy it the way Polly had.

  Harry checked his watch. It wouldn’t be long until knocking-off time and today he was really looking forward to going home to some peace and quiet. Liam had been going on all day about the mystery of Johnnie’s whereabouts. It seems he hadn’t shown up for work and there was no sign of him at Maude’s house. He hadn’t been seen in the pub, so now everyone was assuming that he had shacked up with his bird in Kent.

  ‘Give it a rest, will you!’ Harry barked at Liam. ‘What’s the matter with ya, are you in love with Johnnie or something? You ain’t stopped talking about him all day and you’re giving my arse a headache!’

  ‘Sorry, mate, but I thought you could shed some light on where he is, that’s all,’ Liam replied.

  ‘I told you, more than once, that I don’t know where he is and I don’t give a shit. He could be in Timbuktu for all I care so just shut it.’

  The one thing Harry did know was that Johnnie wasn’t in Kent with his ‘bird’, but it was no surprise to him that his son had disappeared off the face of the earth. As far as Harry was concerned his son was a sick pervert, a coward who should be hiding his face away. He didn’t care if Johnnie never showed up again. He didn’t have a son now, not one he could be proud of. Johnnie was dead to him.

  Harry cleaned his tools as his thoughts continued to turn. It had been difficult telling Helen what he had discovered going on in Kent, and he was glad his mother hadn’t been alive to find out that her precious grandson was a nasty, manipulative sex abuser. Yes, that’s what Harry considered his son to be, a sex case who deserved to be locked up with all the other perverts.

  Yet for all that Johnnie was and wasn’t, Harry would never grass him up to the Old Bill, he thought. He’d keep quiet, but if the truth ever did get out, he’d let justice take its course rather than defend his son.

  Helen was thinking that it had been a month or so since Harry had called in to tell her the unbelievable news about Johnnie and Polly. She was on her way home from her little cleaning job when she passed the bookmakers, only to nearly bump into Johnnie as he was walking out.

  She panicked, not wanting to talk to him, but he mistook her expression and said, ‘Wotcha, Aunt Helen. Yeah, I know, it’s a mug’s game but someone’s got to win and I think my luck is about due for a change.’

  Helen saw that he was done up to the nines and wondered how he could act so blasé after what he’d done. ‘I ain’t saying a word, it’s up to you what you do,’ she offered curtly and started to go on her way.

  ‘Hey, hold up, what’s your problem? Oh, let me guess – my dad told you about me and Polly. Well, think what you want, but we were in love and it didn’t seem wrong. Still, it’s over now so you can get that look off your face. As my gran would have said, what’s done is done and it’s no good crying over spilt milk.’

  Helen couldn’t believe that this was the Johnnie she knew talking. Anger rose within her and she couldn’t help but speak out.

  ‘Don’t give me that. Maude raised you to know right from wrong, and don’t tell me you didn’t know that what you were doing was wrong. I’m not only ashamed of you, I’m disappointed and disgusted with you too. From now on, I want nothing more to do with you.’

  Johnnie didn’t try to defend himself. He just looked at her for a moment and then turned to march off. Helen felt like crying. Johnnie had been the closest thing she had to a son, and it broke her heart to see him seemingly so uncaring of what he had done.

  Johnnie tried not to let what Helen said get to him. He didn’t need lecturing. He’d beaten himself up enough over Polly and he was sick of it. He was doing his best to put it in the past, and to make sure that it was onwards and upwards from now on, or at least that was what he would make the world believe. He was due to start work tomorrow on a new site in Clapham. Mary Seacole House was a big project, a large new office block on the high street, and he was the lead bricklayer. It would mean a few bob extra in his pay packet each week which he intended to spend frivolously. So today he planned on taking it easy and having a few pints. Like a peacock, he was intent on showing off his flash plumage.

  He knew that Liam would be in their local at lunchtime and was looking forward to catching up with his mate. Liam had been working with his dad so meeting up with him would be a bit risky, but though Harry had told Helen, Johnnie felt that he wouldn’t tell anyone else.

  ‘Hello, mate!’ Liam said as he walked into the pub and spotted Johnnie at the bar. ‘Long time no see. Where have you been? I was asking your dad about you but he was none the wiser than the rest of us.’

  Johnnie was relieved to hear that. It confirmed that his dad hadn’t said anything about the affair with Polly. ‘You know how it is, Liam, top secret and all that. I couldn’t possibly divulge my whereabouts … if I told you, I’d have to kill you.’

  ‘Stop playing silly buggers,’ Liam said, laughing. ‘Come on, tell us where you’ve been. Having a good time with that bird down in Kent, eh?’

  ‘I was there for a bit, but it got right bloody b
oring out in the sticks so I went up to the West End and met a bit of posh totty who was keeping me in the lifestyle I could quite easily become accustomed to, but then her old man came back from his business trip so I had to scarper.’

  ‘A posh tart – nice one, mate. Did she give out?’

  ‘Like you wouldn’t believe! She was a bit older than me and I’ll tell you what, older birds know what they’re doing!’ Johnnie was enjoying his lies and the impressed expression on his friend’s face.

  ‘Did she have a nice pad and a car?’

  ‘Mate, she had the penthouse suite in an exclusive gaff in Mayfair. I ain’t never seen anything like it! Lap of bleedin’ luxury it was. And her car, she only had one of them brand-new Triumphs.’

  ‘Not the TR5? Convertible?’ Liam asked as his eyes nearly popped out of his head.

  ‘That’s the one. She drove me all round London and took me to top-class restaurants where she paid for everything; cocktails, champagne, steaks, the lot! And check out my new clobber – straight out of the best shop on the King’s Road, this is.’ Johnnie’s electric-blue mohair suit had cost him more than he earned in a week, but he had afforded it by pawning Maude’s brooch that had belonged to her grandmother.

  ‘Blimey, mate, sounds like you landed on your feet. I could do with a bit of that. Has she got any friends?’

  ‘Ha, you’re having a laugh, those uptown ladies wouldn’t give you a second look. That’s more your type,’ said Johnnie, indicating two young women sitting at a table in the corner. Both had blonde, bouffant hair and were showing off their long legs, one wearing polka-dot shorts and the other a red miniskirt.

  ‘Don’t knock them, mate, they ain’t bad,’ Liam said. ‘I’d take the one in the shorts and you could have her mate.’

  ‘Go on then,’ encouraged Johnnie, ‘give it a go. Ask them if they want a drink.’

  ‘Don’t be daft. I’m in my working gear and they don’t look that interested in us.’

  ‘Do you want a bet? I lay five bob on me pulling them, how about it?’

  ‘You’re on, my five bob says they give you a blank.’

  Johnnie supped the last of his drink. ‘Watch and learn,’ he winked before mooching over to them.

  A few minutes later and Johnnie was sitting at their table, calling Liam to join them.

  ‘Liam, this is Rose and Linda. They work at the South London Hospital, but they’ve got the day off so I said I’d take them boating in the park. It’s a shame you’ve gotta go back to work.’

  ‘Hello, Rose, Linda, nice to meet you. Johnnie’s right, I can’t come to the park, but I could knock off early and meet you later.’

  ‘That would be nice,’ said Rose, the one wearing the polka-dot shorts.

  ‘Right then,’ Johnnie said, ‘let’s have one more drink here and then we’re off.’

  Liam went with him to the bar and asked, ‘Where shall we meet up?’

  ‘I dunno. You think of somewhere.’

  ‘When I knock off I’ll need to shoot home to wash and change. How about the café in the park?’

  ‘Yeah, all right, but don’t take too long or I might keep both of them to myself,’ Johnnie said, grinning.

  ‘You wouldn’t do that to a mate, would you?’

  ‘I might if you don’t cough up the five bob you owe me,’ Johnnie said, and as he collected his winnings he was thinking that picking up the girls had been easy. All it had taken was smart clobber and a bit of chatting up and they had been like putty in his hands. All right, they weren’t tarts and he doubted it’d be so easy to get one of them into bed, but it would still help him to forget about Polly.

  A summer shower had Johnnie, Rose and Linda running for shelter in the café. Liam was expected in less than an hour but Johnnie was reluctant to spend any more money on the two women.

  They seemed to be quite worldly wise, and Johnnie thought he was in with Linda but he got the impression that Rose was flirting with him too. The thought crossed his mind that maybe he was in with a chance of fulfilling a fantasy.

  ‘Ladies, how about we go back to my place and we can have a drink to celebrate this special occasion?’

  ‘What special occasion?’ Linda asked.

  ‘Meeting you two lovelies, of course,’ Johnnie answered, convinced that after so easily chatting them up he could charm the birds from the trees. He winked at them both and added, ‘I think we need to get out of these wet clothes too.’

  ‘I don’t know, what do you think, Rose?’ Linda asked.

  ‘Shouldn’t we wait for Liam?’

  ‘Nah,’ said Johnnie, ‘I reckon we could have much more fun if it’s just the three of us.’

  ‘Cheeky,’ Linda giggled, ‘but you could be right. You up for it, Rose?’

  ‘I might be,’ Rose purred, ‘but I want a few glasses of something nice to drink first.’

  ‘Let’s go, and I’ll buy us a bottle of something en route,’ said Johnnie and he linked arms with the women and led them towards the one-bedroom flat he was renting near Battersea Park train station.

  ‘What happened to you?’ Liam asked Johnnie when he saw him in the pub a couple of days later.

  ‘Yeah, sorry about that, mate. It started raining and the girls got a bit wet so I took them back to mine to dry off,’ said Johnnie, giving Liam one of ‘those’ winks.

  ‘Well, thanks for nothing! I bloody well knocked off early and your dad was none too pleased, especially when I told him I had a double date with you and them two lovelies.’

  ‘Like I said, mate, sorry. I would have waited, but the girls wanted to get out of their soaked outfits.’

  ‘Hang on, are you telling me they both took their clothes off?’

  ‘Yep, every bloody stitch! Naked as the day they were born, the pair of them. And I’ll tell you what, that Linda didn’t half have a lovely pair of tits on her.’

  ‘You didn’t do what I think you did?’ Liam asked enviously.

  ‘It had to be done, mate, they were practically begging for it. But it’s hard work pleasing two women at the same time. I think I’ll stick to one at a time from now on,’ Johnnie replied.

  ‘You lucky bugger,’ said Liam, ‘I don’t know how you manage it.’

  ‘Stick with me, mate, and you’ll have birds hanging off of ya,’ said Johnnie. He hadn’t given a thought to Polly; he’d enjoyed himself too much and there was no stopping him now. He’d fulfilled his fantasy of two women at the same time but next he was planning something a bit more risqué, maybe that bondage that he’d read about in a dirty magazine. Anything to stop him from thinking about what he’d lost.

  Chapter 34

  Ross was at work, attending a monthly departmental meeting, but found it difficult to concentrate on what his boss was saying. He hated presentations and meetings at the best of times and after having spent a boring weekend cooped up in his bedroom, giving him plenty of time to think and stew, this was all he needed right now.

  When Toby had left Croydon, it had hit him hard. They had grown up together and done almost everything as if they were joined at the hip, but now his best friend had moved away. To make matters worse, Toby had moved in with Polly!

  Ross scowled. It wasn’t as if Toby had no other choice. After all, Ross had offered him a spare room – Polly’s old room, in fact – but Toby had refused. Instead he’d gone to live at Polly’s rent free in exchange for some handiwork.

  Yeah, I bet, thought Ross, handiwork my eye! Toby had always fancied Polly and it was obvious that he’d rather live with her. It hurt that Toby had chosen Polly over him and Ross felt betrayed. The way he saw it, Toby was prepared to throw away a lifelong friendship in exchange for a girl he had only known for two minutes.

  He’ll be sorry, thought Ross. Polly was bad news and he was sure that Toby would find out soon enough and come crawling back with his tail between his legs. Ross just hoped it would be sooner rather than later as he missed his friend and wanted him back. He wanted everything to return to normal, to
how things were before that bloody girl came into their lives and turned everything upside down.

  ‘Good evening,’ one of the locals greeted Toby as he walked through the village on his way home from work. When he had first moved in with Polly, most of the locals had stared at him or had given him a wide berth and he realised they had probably never seen a black man before. They appeared either fascinated by him or scared of him.

  Polly’s neighbour remained a bit off with her, obviously judging her because she’d first had a man to stay at weekends and now had another staying permanently. However, it was now late into October and he’d become a familiar figure in Ivyfield, securing a job in the village post office. The locals had become friendlier, and a few of them that hadn’t travelled loved to hear tales of what life was like in the Big Smoke.

  ‘Hello,’ Toby called as he opened the front door, ‘I’m home.’

  ‘I’m up here, in the loft again,’ Toby heard Polly shout.

  Toby dashed up the stairs to join her. ‘You should have waited for me.’

  ‘I just wanted to have another look, but if you want to help, go and put some old clothes on. It’s really dusty here at the back, but I found a big metal tin tucked away and it’s full of stuff.’

  Toby quickly threw on some old jeans and a T-shirt before climbing the ladder into the roof space. He stooped and made his way across the loft to find Polly looking very serious as she sat cross-legged in front of an old trunk.

  ‘You won’t believe what’s in here,’ she said. ‘I’m beginning to wonder if I ever really knew my mum and dad. The whole secret life I knew nothing about is all in here, look …’ Polly pointed to a pile of letters and photographs. ‘This stack is mail from a lady called Helen, who from what I’ve read lived in Battersea next door to my grandparents. Some of the stuff she’s written about is very interesting. My grandparents were alive when I was born, but of course I never got to meet them. It seems they were too poorly to come here and my mother was too scared to take me to see them because Harry, her husband, whom she had to run away from, would probably have killed her. They died years ago. That must have been hard for my mum, especially as she couldn’t attend their funerals.’