The Reluctant Sinner

by June Tate

  Picking up the paper, he made a note of the address of the establishment. He sat drinking his beer, thinking back to the night he had spent with the young girl who had trusted him enough to let him be her first lover. He thought himself that and not a punter. That would have demeaned their evening. There was no way he ever could think of her as a common prostitute, she was much more than that to him. She was a beautiful girl, an innocent in the ways of men and he had felt privileged to have been the first one – and now he longed to see her again.

  Twenty

  Daisy was alone in the shop at the end of the following day. The staff and Grace had left, but she had stayed behind to prepare some work for the morrow. The outside bell rang, which startled her. Who on earth could it be? Leaving the workshop she walked into the reception and was astonished to see Steven Noaks standing outside. With her heart thumping, she unlocked the door.

  ‘Steven. What a surprise! Please come in.’ She locked the door behind him.

  ‘I saw the light on and hoped you’d still be here.’ He looked around at the exquisite gowns displayed with open admiration. ‘My goodness, are these your designs?’

  She flushed with pride. ‘Yes, they are. How on earth did you find me?’

  ‘Harry showed me the spread in the paper. I’d actually read it on board. My steward brought it in with the daily papers after we docked. Of course I didn’t realize that Daisy Gilbert and Gloria were one and the same person.’

  ‘No, I imagine not. How are you, Steven?’ She gazed at him with affection.

  ‘More to the point, how are you?’ He took her hands in his and added, ‘I’ve thought about you so often.’

  ‘And I’ve thought about you too,’ she confessed.

  He caressed her cheek. ‘It’s so good to see you here and not at the Solent Club.’

  ‘Those days are behind me, Steven. I’m carving out a new life for myself, thanks to my partner, Grace Portman.’

  ‘Come and have dinner with me … Daisy. I’ll have to get used to that name.’

  She looked longingly at him, remembering how he had held her in his arms, had been her first and only real lover. And here he was, holding her hands, gazing into her eyes with the same expression as when he took her to bed that very first night at the Solent Club.

  ‘I’d like that very much,’ she said quietly.

  He took her to a select restaurant in the High Street and when they’d ordered he asked, ‘How much longer did you stay at the club after I left?’

  She felt her skin grow cold. ‘Far too long. My father died but I stayed on to earn enough money to start my business in one room with one assistant, then Grace came along … well you’ve seen the shop.’

  ‘Oh, Daisy, I can’t bear the thought of you being there after I sailed.’

  ‘Please don’t think about it, Steven. It’s all in the past. The only thing I want to remember was our night together. That was very special and I’ll always be grateful to you for that.’

  He tried to blot out the visions of other men and the intimacy they had shared with this lovely girl, who, it seemed to him, gazing at her now, still had such an innocent air about her, but in his heart he knew differently and he couldn’t bear it.

  ‘Tell me about you,’ she urged, anxious to change the subject.

  He told her of the trips to New York, the passengers leaving England to start a new life in America before the ship was commissioned to carry troops. They discussed the war, wondering how much longer it would continue, the tremendous loss of lives, skirting around the way they had met and the life they both knew she had lived.

  Eventually Daisy said she had to leave. ‘My mother will wonder where I am,’ she explained.

  ‘How is she coping after the loss of her husband?’ he asked.

  ‘She has her good and bad days, we both do, but Dad’s no longer in pain, which is a good thing.’

  At the door of her house they paused. Steven was desperate to see her again, but was fighting a battle within himself. He was finding it impossible to blank out the images of the men Daisy had taken to bed and he knew if he wasn’t careful it could come between them. He needed time to sort himself out.

  ‘It was great to see you again, Daisy, and I’m so thrilled that you are doing well. I wish you every success.’ He drew her into his arms and kissed her longingly. Then he walked away without a backward glance.

  Daisy watched him, confused and hurt. During their evening, she’d felt the affection in his voice, his look, his touch. But the sudden departure after the passion of his kiss was like a bucket of cold water thrown in her face. She couldn’t understand it. Putting the key in the door, she entered the house.

  ‘That you, Daisy?’ Vera called from the scullery.

  ‘Yes, Mum. Sorry I’m late.’

  Vera emerged wiping her hands on a glass cloth. ‘I was getting worried about you,’ she said.

  ‘I worked late,’ said Daisy. ‘I needed to prepare the work for tomorrow, then I went out for a meal with a friend. Did you finish those collars and cuffs I gave you?’ Her mother with her sewing skills was now one of Daisy’s outworkers which gave her a small wage and independence.

  ‘They’re on the side table.’

  Daisy inspected the work. ‘This is excellent,’ she said smiling at her mother. ‘Perhaps I should get another sewing machine in the workroom and move you in full-time!’

  ‘If you were short of staff I’d do it for you willingly, you know that,’ said Vera, ‘but at the moment, I’m happy as things are. I still have free time to see my friends.’

  Knowing that such meetings with other widows and housewives were helping Vera recover from her loss, Daisy was pleased to let things stay as they were. She and her mother were getting along well these days. Vera had seemed to come to terms with her past and no longer referred to it, which made things so much better.

  At the Manor House in Brockenhurst, no such understanding existed between Grace Portman and her mother-in-law, who had descended on her that evening, uninvited. When the maid showed Clara into the living room, Grace stood up to greet her – ready for battle.

  ‘Good evening, Clara, and what have you come to complain about this evening?’

  The hostility oozed out of every pore as Clara glowered across the room. ‘How very rude of you, Grace. Have you forgotten your manners?’

  ‘Have you forgotten that your interference into my life is unacceptable?’

  ‘You, Grace, seemed to have forgotten that you are the widow of my son who died a hero and who would be turning in his grave knowing that you, a Portman, are working in a common gown shop!’

  ‘You seem to forget that this same gown shop is a business in which I have shares. Hugh was never against making money as I recall and believe me, our clients are far from common. Some of them have graced your table many times in the past! And let’s face it, Clara – you would never deem to mix with the hoi polloi.’

  There was no answer to this as Clara Portman was well aware that some of her associates and friends had indeed become clients of her daughter-in-law’s gown shop and were full of praise for the work involved, which only infuriated Clara even more.

  ‘It’s unseemly, that’s all. What really worries me, Grace, is that spending so much time in Southampton, the running of the estate will suffer.’

  ‘Oh for God’s sake!’ Grace turned away, furious with the woman, then turning back, she tried to speak calmly. ‘The estate is in good hands. The farms are doing well and are in profit after I made a few changes, the Manor House is in good repair, the grounds are well cared for and your family name is unsullied! These are all under my careful jurisdiction. You have nothing to worry about, so please leave me alone to get on with my life in any way I please.’

  ‘Well if you are going to be so unpleasant I’ll leave.’

  ‘What a good idea. I’ll see you to do the door myself!’ And she ushered the woman out of the house.

  Returning to the living room, Grace poured her
self a stiff brandy. ‘Interfering old bitch!’ she murmured as she sipped her drink. ‘Why the hell can’t she leave me alone?’

  Working at the gown shop had given her a new lease to her life and what’s more she really enjoyed it. In many ways it made up for the fact she had no children; she nourished the business as she would have done a child, looking after the financial welfare side of things, buying materials at the best prices, bargaining hard with the manufacturers. A skill she didn’t know she had. It was all very satisfactory.

  At the weekends, she and Giles would ride out into the country and she enjoyed his company. With him, she could forget her worries, the responsibilities of overseeing the estate and sometimes Giles would advise her when she was in doubt about a decision.

  He teased about this. ‘You really don’t need my input you know; you’re about the most capable woman I’ve ever met.’

  Pulling a face she said, ‘Oh dear, that doesn’t sound very feminine.’

  ‘Believe me, Grace, it doesn’t take away an ounce of your femininity. Not one bit!’

  She blushed at the compliment. ‘Come on, I’ll race you to the edge of the meadow!’ and they both kicked their horses into a gallop.

  These outings, she realized, were important to her and she looked forward to them after a busy week at the shop. There was nothing more exhilarating than a good gallop with the wind blowing through your hair and a nice companion to race. It set her up nicely for a busy week ahead.

  Harry the barman called into the shop one day to see Daisy, who introduced him to Grace. ‘Harry here used to look after me like a father when I worked at the Solent Club,’ she told her.

  Grace took to Harry immediately. ‘I’ve heard so much about you from Daisy. I’m delighted to meet you.’

  Daisy showed him over the workroom and the work in progress. Pride shone from her eyes as she did so. ‘Come on, Harry, I’ll make you a cup of tea and we’ll go into the office and you can give me all the gossip.’

  They sat down together. ‘How’s Flo?’ she asked.

  ‘Same as always, she was really pissed off when she couldn’t get her stuff made,’ he told her with great glee. ‘She came back to the club in high dudgeon, cursing you up hill and down dale!’

  ‘I wasn’t being difficult, Harry. I honestly couldn’t help her. I’m booked up for weeks in advance and I have a waiting list which I did offer to put her name on, which she declined. But I have to say it did give me great pleasure to turn her down. She stormed out of here in an awful temper.’

  His gaze was full of admiration as he smiled at her. ‘Well, Daisy, girl, you have done really well for yourself and I’m right proud of you.’

  ‘Thanks, Harry. It was my dream to work for myself; it made the struggle worthwhile I suppose, although I wish I could have financed it in a different way.’

  ‘You did what you had to do, Daisy’ He sipped his tea. ‘Have you seen anything of Ken Woods?’

  She frowned. ‘No, why do you ask?’

  He shrugged. ‘He still has an unhealthy interest in you, asks me have I seen or heard from you on a regular basis.’

  Daisy felt her back go cold, remembering how the man attacked her and her lucky escape. ‘Do I need to worry about him do you think?’

  He looked pensive. ‘To be honest I’m not sure. I did have a talk to him, but he really is a nasty piece of work. Just keep your eyes peeled, that’s all.’

  After Harry had left, Daisy returned to her sewing, but she couldn’t get the warning she’d been given out of her mind. She’d always secretly feared that Woods was unfinished business but as the weeks passed she’d forgotten about him … until now.

  She’d heard no more from Steven, which was a great disappointment, but in her heart she knew it was because of her time spent at the Solent Club. No man would be able to face these facts and be able to forget she’d been a whore. And if she were to meet a man with whom she fell in love and wanted to marry, she’d have to be truthful about her past, which she realized would probably preclude her for ever from marrying and having a family of her own. This saddened her, but at least she had her work.

  The success of Daisy Gilbert’s business had become an obsession with Ken Woods. He read the local paper every evening and saw the advertisements for the gown shop that appeared fairly regularly. He’d strolled by on several occasions, observing the comings and goings of the well-heeled clients, the fashions displayed in the window, the opening and closing times. He’d watched as Daisy locked up and left the premises on several evenings, usually with at least one of her assistants. Every time he saw her, he became even more frustrated that the one time he’d caught her alone, she’d made her escape … and he made his plans.

  Twenty-One

  It was Friday evening and Daisy had stayed behind in the workshop to finish some beading on a bodice, so that the following day it could be sewn into the skirt, as the client was coming into the shop on the Monday for a fitting. When she’d finished, she tidied up her table, laying the garment across Agnes’ workbench. She sat for a moment and rubbed her eyes, weary after so much close work. Then putting on her coat, she turned out the lights, realizing just how late it was from the darkened street beyond. Unlocking the main door from the inside, she opened it and stepped on to the street. Before she had time to lock the door, she was grabbed from behind and pushed back into the reception area, lifted off her feet and carried through to the workroom.

  Unable to scream as her attacker had her mouth covered, she kicked out, scratched and struggled for all she was worth – to no avail. Then she heard the voice of her attacker. A voice she knew only too well – and it filled her with terror.

  ‘Think you could escape me for ever did you, bitch!’

  She could feel the hot breath of Ken Woods on her neck. ‘Let me go, you bastard!’ she cried.

  He laughed harshly. ‘Not until I get what I came for,’ he threatened and spun her round. Pushing her up against her worktable and grabbing her by the throat, he said, ‘You do as I say or I swear to God, I’ll squeeze your neck until you can’t breathe.’

  In fear of her life, she gasped, ‘All right, all right, just let me go.’

  He eased the grip round her neck. ‘That’s more like it. You behave yourself and we’ll get on just fine.’

  While he was talking, Daisy was frantically feeling around the tabletop behind her until her fingers found the long scissors used for cutting material. ‘All right, Mr Woods,’ she said, trying to keep the fear from her voice, ‘let’s get on with it. I imagine that you want me to get undressed?’

  Filled with confidence at her swift acquiescence, he released his hold on her and stepped back.

  Daisy pointed the scissors at him. ‘Now get out and leave me alone!’

  He looked at the scissors and then at her and laughed. ‘Don’t be so bloody stupid; you haven’t the nerve, so don’t pretend. Now stop messing about and let’s get on with it.’ His eyes narrowed. ‘I’ve waited too long as it is.’

  ‘Keep away or so help me I’ll use these,’ Daisy cried.

  He snarled at her, ‘You little bitch! You – threaten me! Come here.’ He stepped forward to grab at her.

  With lightning speed, Daisy plunged the scissors into him.

  Woods cried out, staggered back, clutching his chest – and fell. Daisy rushed to put on the lights, then looked at the figure on the floor. She gasped as she saw how the blood oozed from the man’s shirt as he lay motionless and looking at her hands, Daisy screamed when she saw they were covered in blood where she’d held the scissors. She dropped them, wiping her hands down the front of her dress and fled from the workroom, through the reception area and out into East Street, still screaming and ran straight into the arms of a passing policeman.

  ‘It’s all right, Miss,’ he said, then seeing the blood on her dress asked, ‘What the hell has happened here?’

  But terror had robbed her of her voice. Daisy just pointed into the shop. The policeman led her to a chair
in the reception area and told her to sit still until he came back. Then he walked into the workroom.

  The next few hours passed in a haze for Daisy Gilbert. She was aware that other members of the police force arrived and an ambulance. She vaguely remembered being taken to the police station and being led into an interview room and given a cup of tea. Then, later, Grace Portman’s voice could be heard somewhere outside. Eventually, a solicitor came into the room to speak to her.

  ‘My name is Edward Davidson. Mrs Portman has hired me to defend you, Miss Gilbert.’ He sat opposite her. ‘Perhaps you would like to tell me what happened.’

  By now, Daisy, still in shock, was able to collect her thoughts well enough to tell him of the events that had taken place.

  ‘Is he dead?’ she asked fearfully.

  ‘I’m afraid so.’

  Daisy put her hands to her head. ‘Oh, my God!’ she murmured, unable to truly believe what had happened. ‘I didn’t mean to kill him,’ she whispered. ‘I just wanted to get away.’

  ‘Did you know your attacker?’ he asked.

  ‘Yes,’ she said.

  ‘How did you know him, was he a boyfriend of yours?’

  ‘No he certainly was not!’ Then she told him how she had worked at the Solent Club. The whole sad story came out. The man listened impassively.

  ‘This is a clear case of self-defence,’ he said. ‘You’ll have to give the police a statement now. Just tell them what you told me. I’ll be here with you while you do it.’

  ‘Will I have to go to prison?’ she asked.

  ‘Let’s not think about that at this time,’ he said.

  ‘Will you please get in touch with my mother. She’ll be worried sick.’