A Family Scandal (29 page)

Rhona reached for Penny’s hand. ‘I feel so guilty. I handled telling you that Gary had left badly. Was it the shock that caused your miscarriage?’

Penny shook her head. ‘No, don’t worry. I asked the doctor if he knows why it happened, and he said it was an ectopic pregnancy so there’s no need for you to blame yourself.’

Rhona didn’t know what an ectopic pregnancy was, but breathed a sigh of relief that she hadn’t caused it. She’d been feeling bad ever since that fateful conversation in Penny’s back yard. ‘How long are you in here for, do you know?’

‘They won’t say. A few more days at least. Will you come again?’

‘If I can,’ said Rhona. ‘I think your mum is blaming me so I’ve got to avoid her.’

Penny shrugged. ‘She’s got to blame someone. She reckons it was you what led me astray in the first place.’

‘I didn’t have to do much leading,’ said Rhona with a grin that she hoped would cheer Penny up.

‘She doesn’t believe it. She still thinks I’m her little girl, or at least she did,’ said Penny. ‘I bet she didn’t tell you I was in here. How did you find out?’

‘Jeff made a few phone calls,’ said Rhona. ‘He rang all the nearest hospitals, spoke with authority, claimed he was related to you and wanted to check if you’d been brought in.’

Penny looked at her friend with interest. ‘Have you been seeing a lot of him, then?’

Rhona shook her head. ‘No, only a couple of times. Stop making that face, there’s nothing in it.’

‘What face?’ Penny exclaimed indignantly. ‘I’m only asking. I wouldn’t have thought he was your type – he’s nothing special to look at, though he’s quite sweet. You wouldn’t call him dishy though.’

Rhona thought for a moment. ‘No, I don’t suppose you would. Then again Gary was good-looking and the spitting image of Brian Jones, but what good did that do us?’

Penny looked crestfallen again so Rhona added hastily, ‘Sorry, I didn’t mean to rub it in. My mouth runs away with me at times and I speak without thinking.’

‘It’s all right. I’ve done a lot of thinking these past few days and I can see Gary more clearly now. If he’d loved me he wouldn’t have buggered off without a word, though maybe if I had told him about the baby it might have made a difference.’

‘I doubt it,’ Rhona said. ‘The chance of joining a group would have been too much for him to turn down.’

Penny sighed. ‘Yeah, you’re probably right, but anyway, it’s too late now. He’s gone, I’ve lost the baby, and to be honest, if he showed his face again I’d tell him to get lost.’

‘Good for you,’ said Rhona encouragingly. ‘You can do miles better than him. Just you wait, we’ll get you down the Talisman as soon as you’re back on your feet again.’

‘Who’s “we”?’ asked Penny with a gleam in her eye. ‘You and Jeff?’

‘He’s just a mate,’ said Rhona firmly. ‘I’m done with men. I like him as a friend and that’s that.’

When she arrived at the school gates, Mavis spotted Mrs Andreou immediately. It made her nervous. She’d been prepared every day to start a conversation with the glamorous woman, but then found Mrs Andreou hadn’t turned up and little Maria went home with various friends. As the days ticked by Mavis grew more anxious. Pete had to know about the contract, and Tommy still hadn’t been released. The only thread of hope she could hold on to was the chance of speaking to Melina to find out what was going on with the construction project.

The chilly breeze hinted that autumn was on its way and Mavis shivered. She drew her thin cardigan around her shoulders, as she scanned the crowd of children for Grace. Her daughter should have been easy to spot as she was in a bright purple jumper that Jenny had knitted for her as a surprise, but Mavis couldn’t see her yet.

‘We’ve seen the last of summer, haven’t we?’

Startled, Mavis almost jumped at hearing the voice. While she’d been looking for Grace, the very person she wanted to talk to had come to her side. ‘Y … yes,’ she replied, frantically thinking how she could steer the conversation towards the right direction, ‘it’s turned colder today. You’re Maria’s mother, aren’t you?

The woman patted her smooth dark hair and Mavis noticed she was wearing the famous sunglasses, despite the change in the weather. ‘Yes, I’m Melina. You must be Grace’s mother.’

‘That’s right. My name is Mavis.’

‘Pleased to meet you, Mavis,’ said Melina, in a voice that had a very slight accent.

‘Have you been away for the summer?’

‘Yes, we have. My poor husband lost his father, back in Cyprus. As the oldest son he had a lot to sort out. We have only just returned.’

‘I’m sorry to hear that,’ said Mavis.

‘Maria missed her usual summer holiday, but we will make it up to her.’

‘We went to Devon and it was lovely,’ Mavis told her, ‘but everyone’s returned to work now.’ She waited to see what the response would be.

‘My poor husband must go back to his office next week.’

‘Oh, thank goodness,’ Mavis blurted out and then could have kicked herself as Melisa looked at her strangely.

‘You seem very pleased to hear that. Do you know my husband?’

Despite almost putting her foot in it, Mavis decided it was now or never and began nervously, ‘N … no, but I think my stepfather does. He … he’s a builder, Peter Culling, and I think he’s waiting for a decision about a new housing project. I … I seem to remember him mentioning your husband’s name.’

Melina’s lips tightened. ‘Yes, there were several calls from my husband’s office while we were away, but it was remiss of them to expect him to make a decision on this matter while he was in mourning for his father.’

‘But he’s back next week?’ Mavis confirmed, thinking how pleased Pete would be at that news.

‘Yes, he is,’ Melina said bluntly, then looked to the side. ‘Do excuse me, there is somebody I must talk to.’ She nodded politely but swiftly, and moved away towards another woman in a very smart, short coat.

Mavis remained where she was, and noticed that some of the other mothers were looking at her and whispering to each other. Dread settled cold and hard in her stomach. Had word got round and her name was tainted by association with Tommy? How dare they judge? Tommy was innocent, and when it was proved she would cock her nose at the lot of them. She pushed her shoulders back, determined not to let them get to her, and then a small figure in a purple jumper emerged from the door on the other side of the tarmac yard.

‘Grace,’ she called, waving at her daughter.

As Grace ran up to her, Mavis was at least pleased that she could tell Pete that a decision about the project might be made next week. However, as she took Grace’s hand to set off home, Melina and the other women that she had gone to talk to, turned to look at her. Mavis smiled and raised her hand to wave goodbye, but neither woman responded. Her stomach turned. Had Melina just heard about Tommy? If she had, she was sure to tell her husband and, by association, it could prevent Pete from getting the contract.

Mavis held back a sob and knew it would take every ounce of strength she possessed to get home with Grace without weeping bitter tears.

Chapter Twenty-Nine

Rhona sat on the number 29 bus as it slowly lumbered its way through Camden. She felt nervous at the thought of going to Jeff’s flat; not at the thought of seeing him, but of making a mess of playing a guitar. Her lessons with Gary seemed like ages ago. What if she couldn’t remember the most basic stuff, like how to hold it properly? She didn’t want Jeff to think she was so useless that trying to teach her to play the guitar would be a complete waste of time.

The bus was full of workers coming back from the centre of town, a lot of them struggling to read their newspapers. The pages were too big to turn easily in the crowded conditions but some had mastered the art of folding them carefully and just turning them to the exact story they wanted.

Rhona watched them curiously, glad of something to take her mind off the next couple of hours. Nobody she knew read the broadsheets, and she only read the occasional magazine. She tried to read the headlines over the shoulder of a short man in front, but he must have sensed what she was doing and turned slightly so that she couldn’t see.

She looked out of the window and counted the stops. Jeff had said he’d wait for her and she would start watching out for him just after the station. Lots of people got off at that stop and she could see the road ahead more clearly. There he was, leaning against a lamppost, hands in his jacket pockets. She got up to ring the bell, weaving her way down the aisle of standing passengers. One or two men glanced at her, but there had been a lot more looks when she had worn miniskirts. Today she’d settled for jeans.

Jeff stood up properly as she hopped off the bus.

‘You found the right place then.’

‘Wasn’t hard,’ grinned Rhona.

Jeff turned off the main road by a row of shops and after a couple of minutes he stopped outside a door covered in fading blue paint. ‘This is it, and it looks a bit scruffy. The landlord says it’s not worth painting the door, but he’s happy to let me decorate inside. He runs the launderette downstairs so there’s not much noise in the evenings,’ Jeff said as he unlocked the door, indicating her to follow him as he bounded up the dark stairwell.

When he opened the door to his flat Rhona was surprised. Light flooded out into the corridor from two big windows in the living room. All the walls were painted white. There were lots of shelves with books on and under the windows were rows and rows of records, LPs and singles, with a record player in the corner. ‘Wow,’ she said. ‘That’s the biggest record collection I’ve ever seen.’

Jeff looked pleased. ‘I’ve been buying them since I was old enough to save up pocket money. Then I got a paper round so I could buy more. Some are really rare, but I won’t bore you with those.’ He raised his eyebrows and grinned, acknowledging that his obsession might not be everyone else’s cup of tea.

Rhona nodded gratefully. She didn’t want her lack of knowledge of obscure bands to be exposed. She was all right with music in the charts, or from her favourite singers and groups, but not much beyond that. She noticed a pile of copies of the
New Musical Express
in the corner by the record player.

‘How about a cup of coffee before we start?’ Jeff went on.

‘That would be lovely.’ Rhona didn’t have high hopes of a decent cup as the only good coffee she’d had was in the Italian bars of Soho, but it turned out this was one of Jeff’s interests too. In his kitchen he had a coffee grinder and a special metal pot which he put on the gas ring. The result was pretty close to what she was used to. She was impressed in spite of herself. ‘Not bad, in fact it’s great,’ she said, sipping at it appreciatively. ‘Where did you learn to do this?’ She wondered if a girlfriend had taught him – not that he’d ever mentioned one.

‘I got fed up with the stuff they get in at work,’ he said. ‘They know how to make tea but if you fancy a change it’s Camp coffee or nothing. I hated the strong flavour of chicory, so I learnt how to make the real thing. Glad you like it.’

He grinned and Rhona thought he seemed a bit shy, yet pleased when she complimented him. Maybe he wasn’t used to it.

‘Right, let’s get started,’ he suggested.

They went back into the living room and Jeff picked up the guitar that was on a stand by the door. ‘You can use this one. I’ll go and get my other one from the bedroom.’

Rhona craned her neck to look as he went to fetch it but she couldn’t see what the bedroom was like from where she was sitting. Not that she was interested, of course, she told herself. It was just nosiness.

‘Let’s see what you know already,’ Jeff suggested as he returned and sat opposite her on the sagging sofa. ‘Show me what you can remember.’

Rhona picked up the guitar, and tried to recall what to do. She frowned in concentration. What had Gary taught her? She felt very rusty as she moved her fingers over the frets, then tried a chord. ‘No, that’s not right …’ She readjusted her fingers a little and tried again. ‘OK, that was one of them. Or at least I think so.’

‘Very good,’ said Jeff. ‘That’s a G major. Useful one to begin with. Any others?’

Rhona racked her brain. ‘Yes, I’m sure it’ll come back.’ After a few attempts she remembered the next one.

‘Yes, that’s a D,’ said Jeff. ‘That makes sense, lots of songs use those two chords. Any more?’

‘I used to know three.’ Rhona tried once more but couldn’t quite find it.

‘Was it this?’ Jeff showed her on his guitar. ‘Copy me and see if it sounds familiar.’

Rhona moved her fingers again and strummed the strings. ‘Maybe. I can’t really remember.’

‘That’s C,’ said Jeff. ‘Also useful when you know G. Try to go from one to the other. Slowly at first.’

Rhona had a go but it didn’t sound as smooth as when Jeff did it. She kept missing a note or slipping. ‘It’s no good,’ she said, angry at her lack of progress. ‘I thought I had mastered this bit at least, but now it sounds like I’ve never played a guitar before. I can’t have any talent at all.’

Jeff looked at her and a smile crept over his face. Rhona realised he had a lovely smile, one she had noticed briefly when he came to the factory. She’d been too busy focusing on what he’d told her about Gary and how it would impact on Penny to realise that when he smiled, Jeff was not bad-looking at all – just not as obvious as the men she used to go for.

‘Don’t be daft,’ he said. ‘It been a long time since you’ve had a chance to practise, that’s all. You’ll be fine. You just need to keep at it until you get it right.’

Rhona hoped he wasn’t patronising her. That would be unbearable. She really wanted to do this, not just for her, but to please Jeff too. He’d given up his evening when he could have been out at a concert or even out with another girl. She owed it to him to concentrate and get this right. She nodded, ‘Yeah, all right. I’m impatient, that’s the trouble.’

Jeff turned serious. ‘You won’t get far with this unless you work at it, and there’s no way round it. Yes, you could be flash like Gary, learn lots of tricks but have hardly any real musical technique. That’s not what you want, is it?’