A Family Scandal (12 page)

‘A bit,’ admitted Rhona. ‘I still feel like death warmed up but that’s an improvement. Well, anything would be, to be honest. You wouldn’t believe what the last few weeks have been like.’

‘You’ve really been in the wars. I’m glad you’re on the mend. You’ll be back on the dance floor in no time now.’

‘Maybe, but I can’t imagine it. I’ve sort of lost interest in everything. I haven’t even been listening to the radio. Mum has the Light Programme on and that’s about it.’

‘You’re kidding!’ Penny couldn’t hide her astonishment. ‘You won’t have heard any gossip then and there’s been a few police raids round here. And you love music, the charts and going out to the nightclubs. I’d have thought you’d be climbing the walls to get out of here by now.’

‘I’ve been too tired to care,’ Rhona couldn’t seem to make her friend understand, ‘and I couldn’t dance if you paid me. It’s good that you’ve been going out without me though, I wouldn’t want to think I’ve ruined your social life.’

‘I’m glad you said that. I wondered if you thought I was mean, having fun while you were stuck in here,’ said Penny, a guilty expression flitting across her face. ‘But everyone’s been so nice, I haven’t felt lonely.’

‘That’s good then,’ said Rhona. ‘I meant to ask, how’s Gary? He’s been really quiet. I thought he might have got in touch.’

‘Oh yeah, he said get well soon,’ Penny replied. ‘He definitely asked me to tell you that.’

‘That’s nice of him. It was just that I thought he’d do more,’ said Rhona. ‘Maybe he’s one of those blokes who gets embarrassed if someone’s ill, you know, they don’t know what to say in case it’s the wrong thing and so they do nothing. I just didn’t think he was like that. Oh well.’

Penny shifted in her seat. ‘Shall I say something to him if I see him?’

Rhona shrugged again. ‘No, don’t bother. He probably thinks I’m infectious or something and hasn’t got in touch in case I ask him round. I don’t want him to think I’m all clingy or anything.’ She forced a broad smile. ‘Anyway, what do I care? He’s a free agent.’

‘Exactly,’ said Penny. ‘We’re not tied down, are we? Young, free and single, that’s us.’

‘Yeah.’ Rhona sighed. ‘Except this last month I’ve felt like a pensioner. Never mind, it’ll be over soon and then world, watch out.’ She slumped back, exhausted by the effort of talking.

Penny watched her anxiously. ‘You all right? Are you feeling bad again?’

‘Nah, just tired. Tell me what you’ve been up to.’

Penny gazed at the floor as if trying to work up the nerve to say something. Then she glanced up again. ‘I’ve … I’ve met someone.’ She blushed.

‘Wow. Good for you. Is it serious?’ Rhona was impressed; she’d only been out of circulation for a matter of weeks and Penny had been hanging on to her coat tails up till then; now the girl was out there making a life of her own. ‘Was it at a club, or a concert, or pub, or what? Not at the factory, was it?’

Penny snorted. ‘Don’t be daft. You know what a bunch of weirdos the blokes are at work. No, I met him at the Talisman club.’

Rhona nodded. That made sense. Lots of the men there had been giving Penny the eye, and once Rhona herself was off the scene she’d have got a lot more attention. ‘Is he good-looking then? Bet he’s a fab dancer.’

‘Yeah, he really is. He’s a dream boat.’ Penny didn’t elaborate.

Rhona wasn’t sure why her friend wasn’t saying more but if Penny wanted to be coy about it, then that was her business. Rhona didn’t have her usual energy to fire questions until she got to the heart of the matter.

‘The thing is … the thing is …’ Penny was nervous now. ‘Oh, I don’t like to ask.’

‘Come on, this is me you’re talking to.’ Rhona tried not to be annoyed. How scary could she be, in her condition?

‘OK, well, the thing is … he’s asked me to go all the way with him.’

‘They all do that.’

‘I know. But this time … this time, I want to.’

‘All right, as long as you’re sure,’ Rhona said. ‘You don’t want some sweet talker to persuade you into going to bed with him then you wishing you hadn’t done it.’

‘Yeah, I know.’ Penny wrung her hands. ‘He’s not putting any pressure on me, he just said it was up to me to decide. But I need your advice. About … you know.’

‘About sex, you mean?’ Rhona asked.

Penny nodded.

‘I’ve told you what happens.’

‘I know.’ Penny nodded. ‘You’ve told me far more than Mum ever did, but … but I’m nervous. I’ve heard that it … it will hurt. Is that true?’

Rhona could feel the exhaustion creeping up on her again but she made an effort to hide it. ‘It’ll be your first time, so it might, but not much. Just don’t let him rush you. Make him wait until you’re ready and then you’ll be fine.’

Penny leant forward impulsively and hugged her friend. ‘You’re a brick, you are, Rhona. You’re kinder than what I deserve.’ She picked up her patent handbag. ‘That’s a weight off my mind, that is. Mind you, I’ll have to make sure my mum doesn’t find out. She’d go mad.’

Rhona didn’t doubt that. She remembered the almighty row that had broken out when her own mother had found out what she’d been up to. ‘Let me know how you get on. I want all the details.’ She grinned at her friend.

‘Oh I will,’ said Penny, hugging the bag to her chest.

‘Do you really think it will be all right?’ Jenny was trying not to get too excited. ‘Your landlady won’t mind? And Mavis is OK to take Greg?’

‘How many times have I told you?’ Stan was part exasperated by his wife’s worries and part happy to see her so pleased. ‘Mrs Hawkins can’t wait to meet you, and Greg too when he’s finished for the school holidays. Meanwhile it makes more sense for him to stay with Mavis and then you can ride down in the car with me. We can have a proper long weekend, and he won’t miss school.’

‘I can’t wait,’ Jenny exclaimed, her eyes shining.

Stan beamed, proud of what he’d achieved. He’d asked his boss if he had any objections to him taking Jenny with him for a weekend, pleased when there were none. In fact his boss was so delighted with the results of his first few trips to Devon that he had said the firm would foot the bill for a double room.

‘Do I need to buy anything special?’ Jenny went on. ‘It’s warmer down there, isn’t it? Maybe a sunhat?’

‘Oh that’s it, any excuse to go shopping.’ Stan pretended to be annoyed. ‘They do have shops down there, you know, and while I’m off visiting my clients you could have a look round and see if there’s something you fancied. You could get one of those sexy sundresses, show off your figure. You might get a tan.’ He raised his eyebrows. ‘Then I’d have to check just where it ended, wouldn’t I …’

‘Shush, Greg will hear.’ Jenny pushed her husband’s hands away, but she didn’t mean it. She could just see it now: sunshine, the sand, maybe they’d take a blanket down to the edge of the sea, and she could get one of those halter necks … She gave herself a shake. They wouldn’t be going for a couple of weeks yet, but she couldn’t wait.

The painted sign above the door of the narrow-fronted shop read ‘Collier’s Collectibles’. Stencilled on the glass of the door in fine gold lettering were the words ‘Rare Stamps’.

From his position behind the counter the owner of the shop smiled. He didn’t have to add ‘No Women’ to the shopfront. Any ladies who tried to come in soon thought the better of it, as it was immediately evident that they were unwelcome. That was exactly how he wanted it. It was his all-male kingdom, uncontaminated by the female form in any shape except for the occasional figure or head on one of the many stamps he was so proud of. Fortunately for business, most serious collectors were men. He ran his hand along the beaten brass strip that edged the counter, pleased to see there was no dust on his fingertips. He did make one exception to his all-male rule, as his cleaner was an old woman who lived nearby, but she had to come and go when he wasn’t on the premises. He couldn’t have borne to see her touching his property.

To all appearances, the proprietor was a mild-mannered man in his early thirties, with mousy brown hair which had started to thin increasingly rapidly of late, and a tidily trimmed moustache. His clothes were neat and nondescript, his Crimplene trousers keeping their shape no matter how much lifting of heavy catalogues he did during the day. He brushed them now out of habit, but there were no longer any dog hairs clinging to the fabric. His beloved Labrador, who he’d named Hunter, had died three months ago. He still missed him and was often surprised at just how big a gap the dog’s death had left in his life. After what he’d gone through, he had thought he would never be able to feel affection for any living thing ever again, but the dog’s unswerving devotion had broken down his defences. Still, he reminded himself, it was understandable. The dog had been male. Females, even dogs, were not to be trusted and could not be loved.

He had not always been like this. Until she had died, he had adored and worshipped his mother, even though he knew she was prone to be controlling. But she had been ill for many years and he’d made allowances, always believing that she had raised him as well as possible after having to cope with being widowed so early in her marriage. That was before he had found out everything he had held as true, was in fact a tissue of lies. His mother had made up the entire story of her past – there had been no husband, and he himself was actually a bastard, which meant that his whole life as Alec Pugh was based on thin air.

He didn’t even know his real name, something he’d discovered only after his mother had died, and so he was never going to find it out now. In an act of rebellion, he had chosen the name Charles Collier, and moved to an area of the country where nobody knew him. He was safe to reinvent himself here, far away from everyone who would have mocked him if they had found out, laughing at his superior ways and manners that had all been founded on lies.

He had no regrets about severing all contact with his wife and small children. They deserved to suffer. Mavis had taken them when she’d walked out on him, all because he gave them all the discipline they so badly needed. Mavis had ultimately refused to respect his position as head of the house and he certainly didn’t owe her any of the profits from selling the family home. He hoped she’d gone back to the poverty he had misguidedly rescued her from when he’d agreed to his mother’s idea that she should marry her. Walking away from his former life and leaving her in limbo was the best thing he’d ever done.

As far as he was concerned, Alec Pugh no longer existed. The man he had once been had suffered betrayal beyond imagining, and it made him shudder even now to recall the details of his mother’s web of falsehood. She had built him up to be something he wasn’t, filling his head with false notions and tying him to her with a bond of unbreakable guilt, which had been shattered only by her death.

During his first weeks and months in this new location, he had endured some very dark times, when his mind had clouded over and he had thought he would be unable to bear the weight of it all. But now he had settled and Charles Collier was doing increasingly well. Now he watched the crowds walking along outside his window, most of them ignoring the small shop. He didn’t mind in the slightest; he was interested only in similar-minded men who shared his obsession with rare stamps. The common hordes were of no importance to him as they wandered by, licking their ice creams and swinging their brightly coloured buckets and spades. Some were eating chips with their fingers from greasy newspaper as they passed, in a show of unforgivably bad manners. His mother would never have approved … Angrily he brought himself up short. No matter how hard he tried, the bloody woman was still festering in his mind, still infecting his thought processes. In frustration he thumped the countertop and turned away, just as a shortish woman with bobbed brown hair caught the corner of his eye.

It wasn’t that her hair was striking, but she wore a dress that stood out from the rest of the holiday makers as it was in bold geometric patterns. She had paused to reach into her handbag and he looked at her more closely. She was facing away from him but he could see that it had a nipped-in waist and almost obscenely thin shoulder straps. He hoped she got sunburnt; she was asking for it in a skimpy top like that. It shouldn’t be allowed. He would never have permitted his wife to go out in public so brazenly, flaunting her flesh for all and sundry to see. It wasn’t decent.

He shook his head. He hated the very idea of Mavis, the cold, scheming bitch. At first she’d seemed so malleable and innocent that he’d believed his mother when she’d strongly hinted the young girl was attracted to him. His mother had been adamant that he should make his move and win the girl, despite his nervous misgivings. Of course he’d been set up, he saw that clearly now. His wife had never loved him, but had just used him to get a house that was far more comfortable than the hovel of a place she’d been brought up in, in a more respectable area, and then she’d gone and spawned two little copies of herself. He’d insisted, quite reasonably, that the children must be seen and not heard around the house as he didn’t want them to disrupt his habits, but they had refused to obey. The little girl in particular had taken to answering back almost from the day she’d started to talk. She had deliberately ignored his rules, which he’d only made so that she would learn her place in society. Nobody liked an uppity girl, and he hadn’t wanted that for his daughter. As for his son, his lack of politeness had been a big disappointment too. He’d had to beat the child to get him to understand what acceptable behaviour was. He hadn’t done it for pleasure, but for the boy’s own good.

Then, after all the effort he’d made, the things he’d done for them, his wife had still left him and taken the children. How that hurt him even now. Not because he’d loved them but for the social blow it had dealt him. His standing in the community was in smithereens. He should have shown her who was boss much more forcefully. He had exercised his God-given right to punish her severely when she had displeased him but it hadn’t been enough. She’d somehow retained enough independence of spirit to walk out on him. Maybe her appalling mother had had something to do with it – she was common as muck and if he had had his way there would have been no communication between them. In that way too he had been disobeyed.