‘That’s very generous,’ said Mrs Pickering in surprise.
‘We couldn’t have done it without her,’ Annie said. ‘But we’d prefer this to be our secret. Melanie can’t do much until she’s eighteen, anyway. But it means if we sell up she’ll be entitled to her share.’
‘But,’ Vanessa said bluntly, ‘we’d just as soon Mr Pickering didn’t get to hear about this. A woman, even if she’s a girl like Melanie, needs a little bit behind her, tucked away where nobody knows, hers and hers alone. Let’s face it, once a man knows a woman’s got something he automatically assumes it belongs to him …’ She looked at Jenny, who nodded. ‘It’s no blame to him,’ Vanessa continued tactfully. ‘That’s the way it is. Anyway, let’s keep this between us, eh?’
Jenny looked Vanessa in the eye and said softly, so that the others wouldn’t hear, ‘Could be Dave may not be living with us much longer.’ Vanessa stared at her quizzically. ‘Who knows?’ Jenny added.
‘Who indeed?’ Vanessa responded as Pickering returned. He gave her a dirty look.
As they went through the barrier Annie called, ‘Come back soon, Melanie.’
Melanie turned on the platform and put her thumbs up. ‘I’ll be back,’ she mouthed, then walked on with the others. She turned round again. ‘Give my love to Jackie,’ she shouted boldly. Jack was on holiday, like Melanie’s friend Viv, so neither knew Melanie was going home.
‘So long, then, Mr Pickering,’ Vanessa said loudly and she and Annie quickly left him alone in the busy station concourse. ‘What a father,’ she said to Annie as they walked to the Underground. ‘Jenny Pickering’d be well shot of him.’
‘I wonder how much he contributed to what happened to Ruth,’ commented Annie as they went into the Underground station. ‘All that bullying, the fact Jenny couldn’t stand up to him …’
‘And the groping,’ Vanessa added grimly.
‘Yes,’ said Annie. They stood silent as the train came in.
On the train, Vanessa said after a pause, ‘She can come back.’
‘She’s done better than Ruth,’ Annie said. ‘What’s going to happen to her?’
‘I’d kill that Mrs Hedges with my bare hands if I found her,’ Vanessa declared savagely.
‘She could get caught and punished,’ Annie said. ‘And Johnson. But the men who went to that house and used those children will never be found. And where are the rest of Mrs Hedges’ little charges?’
Vanessa shook her head. ‘It’s the worst thing – that’s got to be the worst thing anyone can do. And when you think about it, you realise how much of it must be going on. You don’t think about it, do you? You can’t. You’d go mad.’
‘Mm,’ said Annie.
‘Look at that man opposite,’ Vanessa said bitterly in an undertone, not looking at a middle-aged man in a suit, opening his briefcase. ‘You begin to wonder about everybody. Who’s to say he isn’t one of them, slips home, has his tea, tells his wife he’s off to the Dog and Duck for a pint and, next thing, there he is driving to some place like that one. They must look like everybody else, those men. Like you say, the chances are Mrs Hedges and Johnson will never be found. The other kids they had have scattered and there’s no one to rescue them.’
The man with the briefcase shifted uneasily under Annie’s eyes. Even as they left the train Vanessa looked behind her, as if to catch some betraying gesture from him which would show him for what he was, a child molester, rapist and pederast. Then she went to the Arcadia, as it was her night on there. Annie took over the snack bar from Madame Katarina, who had offered to help, and later locked up and went home.
A savoury smell reached her as she opened the door. Jasmine came from the kitchen, a glass of wine in her hand, saying, ‘I’ve made a macaroni cheese – I thought it’d make a change from your monotonous diet of oysters and champagne. Tom rang up and said he’d be arriving later. But I see signs of hasty packing. Does that mean the Pickcrings have gone? If so, can I stay here? Vanessa can do without me, I suppose.’
‘Yes,’ said Annie rather sadly. ‘I was thinking how quiet it would be without Melanie.’
‘Has she gone home? What happened?’ Jasmine asked. So Annie told her, as she went about the kitchen, making a salad, getting out knives and forks. As she concluded she turned to Jasmine saying, ‘Isn’t that an awful story?’ then took in Jasmine’s white face and cried out her name in alarm as her sister bolted out of the room, one hand over her mouth, and dashed upstairs.
Annie waited a bit, then went up after her. She stood outside the lavatory door, listening to the sound of Jasmine’s violent retching. ‘Jas – are you all right?’ she called.
Jasmine came out, pale and sweating. ‘I’m OK,’ she said numbly. ‘Have you got any brandy?’
‘If you’re sure it’s what you need—’
‘It’s what I need all right,’ Jasmine said.
‘Are you ill?’ Annie asked.
Jasmine shook her head and sipped the brandy Annie poured her. Then she said gloomily, ‘I’m pregnant, Annie.’
‘Congratulations!’ exclaimed Annie. ‘That’s marvellous, Jas.’ She hesitated studying her sister’s grim face. ‘But—’
‘No – I don’t know whose it is,’ Jasmine said. ‘It was worrying me so that was why I came. Now,’ she added, ‘that doesn’t seem to matter so much.’ Annie wanted to ask why not, but something in Jasmine’s manner discouraged her.
She turned on the television to watch the news. Over the voice of a man talking with assurance about an opinion poll she asked, ‘You’re having the baby, Jasmine?’
‘Christ – I don’t know. I shouldn’t be here. But where else? I can’t even go home to Mother, because Mother’s only half a mile away from the matrimonial home.’ She added, ‘The family’s trying to hang on to the twins now. They’re definitely Sim’s so the Fellowses think they own them. They can’t help themselves. They think they’re entitled to them. I was hoping the baby was Nigel’s but – well, I have to ask myself if I want to bring another little Fellows into the world. And it’s not only that,’ muttered Jasmine after a pause.
Annie’s anxiety increased. Was Jasmine breaking down under the strain?
Tom let himself in, finding the two sisters silent in front of a television game show neither could have been watching. He kissed Annie, then Jasmine, muttering, ‘You look awful. Have you told her—?’
Jasmine looked up at him and she was crying. ‘I’d like to talk to you, Tom.’
‘Yes – sure – of course,’ Tom replied.
There was a silence and Annie asked, ‘Without me, you mean?’
Jasmine said, ‘You know I—’ and Tom said at the same time, ‘I think so, Annie—’
Annie shrugged, annoyed, and said, ‘All right. I’ll go – er – I might as well go to the Arcadia.’
‘No,’ said Tom. ‘You stay. We’ll go. All right, Jas?’
Jasmine nodded doubtfully. ‘Will there be many people there?’
Tom looked at Annie. Annie shrugged. ‘Ring up and ask,’ and sat resentfully in her chair as Tom questioned Vanessa about the state of affairs at the restaurant. ‘We can have a booth,’ he told Jasmine. To Annie he said, ‘It’s serious,’ and Jasmine added, soberly, ‘It is, Annie, really,’ and Annie was left behind, feeling like a child from whom secrets are kept and yet again wondering how it was that Jasmine and Tom were, and always had been, so close – closer than she and Jasmine were although they were sisters.
It was only half an hour later, when she stood up to turn off the dried-up macaroni cheese that she began seriously to wonder what on earth was upsetting Jasmine so much. It couldn’t be, could it, that Tom was among the possible contenders for the title of father to Jasmine’s child? Jasmine had asked. Tom said he’d refused. But – supposing he hadn’t? He’d hardly been candid with her about his past, had he? No, Annie thought angrily, he hadn’t. Another mess, she thought, picking up some of Colum’s comics and throwing them in the wastepaper basket. Another mess.
As she sat down to read she became suddenly nostalgic for the quietness of the library where she’d once delved into the hard and often shameful lives of the Victorian poor.
In the Arcadia Jasmine said in a nervous voice, ‘I didn’t want to tell her. I was so shocked. I still don’t know if I want to tell anybody—’
‘Jasmine – just tell me,’ said Tom steadily, trying to calm her down. ‘Then I’ll tell you what I think. It can’t be that bad.’ He paused and said uncertainly, ‘Is it?’
Jasmine gave a short laugh, like a cough. ‘Oh no?’ she said. ‘You’d be surprised.’
‘So – surprise me,’ Tom requested.
Vanessa came up with a menu.
‘Hi, Vanessa,’ said Tom.
Vanessa, looking at Jasmine, said, ‘I’ll leave you two alone. Call me when you need me.’
Tom said, ‘Thanks, Van. You’re a brick.’
Vanessa pulled a face, then went back to the kitchen. There was a large party of ten, on the other side of the restaurant from Jasmine and Tom. As it was early, none of the other tables was taken.
‘OK, so …’ prompted Tom.
Jasmine steadied. ‘You’ve heard what happened to Ruth?’
‘Melanie’s sister? I heard she was in hospital with pneumonia.’
‘Oh, God. You mean you don’t know about the house she was kept in. Annie didn’t tell you?’
‘No,’ Tom replied. ‘House? What house?’ An idea dawned on him. ‘You don’t mean that kind of house?’
Jasmine slumped, seeming unable to speak.
Then Vanessa plumped down in the seat next to her and chin on hand regarded Tom. She said, ‘I’ve been snooping. I know all about it. They’re looking for the man and woman who kept Ruth in a child brothel.’
‘How did she get there – someone picked her off the street?’ asked Tom. Vanessa nodded. Tom groaned, ‘Oh God. Bloody hell. How long was she there?’
‘She’s not sure. About a year. Then she escaped – after she’d attacked a man with a knife and thought she’d killed him.’
Tom’s mouth dropped open. He looked at Vanessa, then Jasmine, then back again.
‘Jasmine,’ he said soberly. ‘Do you think the man she attacked was Bernard Fellows? Where did it happen – where was the house, Vanessa?’
‘Colindale,’ she told him. ‘I’d better get on, Tom.’
‘Thank you, Vanessa,’ Tom said. He looked at Jasmine and asked, ‘Do you really think Ruth Pickering attacked your father-in-law? Do you think he was the sort of man to be a client in a child brothel?’
‘You heard about his wounds?’
‘There was an inquest, wasn’t there? Not too much came out. There was some intelligent news management. But, yes, I heard. So did a lot of people. I gather it hasn’t helped business much.’
‘Tom – you know a lot of people,’ pleaded Jasmine. ‘Can you believe Bernard would have gone to a place like that?’
‘Easily,’ Tom replied with assurance. He added, ‘You do hear these things, you know. There’s a great big underworld out there, seething away, all the time. It’s like old Annie’s famous paper she wrote at Oxford, “Threpp Street 1888”. It hasn’t changed. When she was so chuffed about it I told her she should go back to Threpp Street, or whatever it was called now, and do a sequel called “Threpp Street 1990”. She just gave me a hard stare and said she wasn’t a sociologist.’ Tom was talking to give Jasmine time to think. He now concluded, ‘It’s over. There’s nothing you can do, Jasmine. Except live with it.’
‘I want to help the girl,’ she replied simply.
‘Yes,’ he said patiently. ‘So what are you going to do? Put up a stained-glass window to her at the parish church? Or send a cheque and a letter and start the biggest lawsuit of the century? Anything you do involving that man Pickering can only lead to trouble. And there isn’t even any proof.’ He leaned forward. ‘What Ruth Pickering needs is to get over what’s happened, if she ever can. You can’t help her. The damage is done. It doesn’t matter now if Sir Bernard was involved. Dozens of others were. Don’t start thinking about that girl as if she were just another adjunct to the famous Fellows family – you’re learning the Fellows egotism, and it doesn’t suit you, Jas. Ruth Pickering’s the one with real problems and her family has got to help her work it out and whether Bernard Fellows or someone else got jabbed with a penknife doesn’t matter to them, much. It’s the year she spent in that place that matters, not that one episode. And also,’ he went on firmly, ‘it’s your decision, Jas, but stop and think if exposing all this won’t do more harm than good. There’s Lady Mary – Nigel—’
‘I’m carrying Sir Bernard’s grandchild,’ Jasmine said.
‘Possibly,’ Tom pointed out. ‘Or someone else’s.’
‘Well, how do you think I feel?’ said Jasmine.
‘God, Jas,’ Tom said in a low voice. ‘If every dirty old man’s grandchild was born with a big red splodge on its bum few of us would be without one. You don’t know what men are like. Guys like John Woodford get all the criticism, dirty jokes are made about them while these heterosexual old beasts walk about with their heads held high—’
But Jasmine, not listening, went on, ‘You see, Tom, Nigel’s gone mad. He’s so upset. He’s been so disturbed since his father died, like another person, and now there’s this – I can’t stand it, Tom. I really can’t. How could Bernard?’
Tom said gently, ‘That’s not your problem. You can find out how Ruth’s managing through Melanie. Then, perfectly normally, you can help, in the ordinary way. Pay for a shrink, or something, if necessary, but I doubt if it will be – she’ll get help on the National Health. Probably better than you could pay for. The rest’s up to her, her mother – and Melanie, whose own short girlhood now ends in a big way once she hears this story. Bernard’s been a bastard. All right – Bernard’s wrecked a family, but not his. Bernard’s got away with it. Bernard’s gone, respected by all, with full pomp and ceremony into the family plot. It’s over. You’ve got to forget it.’
He looked at her, hard. ‘You’re having a baby, never mind who’s the grandfather or if he was an evil man. It’s not genetic. Do you want some food?’
She shook her head.
‘Well, I do. If we’re not going to order dinner I’d like to go back and have a sandwich. I think you’re going to have to tell Annie the whole story but that’ll be your little luxury. After that, your lips are sealed.’ He stood up, ‘Come on, Jas. Tell Annie, have a cup of cocoa, then bed, that’s what you need.’
‘It’s not too late for an abortion,’ she said.
He subsided into his seat. ‘That was a matter I didn’t like to raise.’
She sighed. ‘I’m thinking about it.’
‘It might wreck your marriage.’
‘I know.’
He put his hand to his brow, stared at the table, and said, in a low voice, ‘Oh, Jasmine. Not again.’
‘I know,’ she said.
Annie, unable to sit still at home any longer, now came into the Arcadia in a rush. She stood by them staring at the two sad faces, turned startled in her direction. She felt a childish sense of exclusion and said loudly, ‘What’s going on?’
Vanessa, carrying a tray of liqueurs to the large table on the other side of the restaurant, glanced at her. A woman at that table was also staring.
Annie looked at the empty table in front of Jasmine and Tom and said, accusingly, ‘You haven’t eaten a thing.’ She paused and went on, ‘Come on, Jasmine – Tom. He’s one of the lucky fathers of your child, isn’t he? What are you doing, taking up subscriptions?’ Her voice, though fairly low, carried towards the far table, silencing the diners, in front of whom Vanessa was placing the glasses.
‘Have you got any port?’ a man tactfully enquired, but the others couldn’t resist listening. Vanessa filled their glasses as swiftly and calmly as possible and, ignoring a whimper for more coffee, moved efficiently across to Jasmine’s and Tom’s table where Annie stood, her body
rigid with pent-up energy.
She put her hand on Annie’ shoulder and said, ‘Annie – not here.’
Annie shook off her hand. Vanessa persisted, ‘Annie – I haven’t heard every word, but it’s about Ruth.’
Tom nodded, ‘Yes, Annie.’
Annie subsided. ‘Why are you talking about Ruth?’
‘We shouldn’t discuss it here,’ he said.
‘Why not?’ she asked, sitting down. Vanessa went back to the table to ask who wanted coffee, but the possibility of a scene involving a man, two women and the paternity of a child had spoiled the mood. As the three at the table opposite the party now continued their conversation in mutters, the frustration of knowing they would never find out the end of the story was enough to break up the final part of the dinner. The guests settled up and left. Vanessa began to clear the table. Tom got up and helped himself to a whisky from the bar. He put down two pounds.
‘No need, Tom,’ Vanessa said.
‘Just ruined the evening of a large party,’ he replied.
‘They’re the sort who’ll enjoy a little episode to talk about afterwards,’ she replied. He sat down at the table she was clearing.
He waved at a chair, saying, ‘Can I get you a drink?’
Vanessa in reply got herself a clean glass and poured the last glass from a bottle of wine on the table. She took a sip, observing, ‘Not bad, and it’s free. Am I allowed to hear what’s going on?’
Tom hesitated. ‘It’s not a pretty story,’ he said. ‘And can you keep a secret from Ben? It really shouldn’t go much further.’ Vanessa paused and thought. ‘He couldn’t print it anyway,’ Tom told her. ‘Samco would crucify the paper.’
They told Annie and Vanessa the story. She finished her glass of wine and told them, ‘I expect you’re right that Ruth doesn’t need to hear any more, not now, anyway. But,’ she added wisely, ‘of course if they catch Mrs Hedges or Johnson, it’ll all come out.’
In Search of Love, Money & Revenge Page 34