A Sister's Promise (23 page)

‘But why brandy?’ Charlie asked. ‘She will get nowt but gin at Vera’s.’

‘Yeah, but I prefer brandy,’ Ray said. ‘Don’t worry, by the time she goes to Vera’s, she will drink anything going, and be willing to sell her old grandmother for the price of a fix.’

‘Hear hear,’ Charlie said, and they chinked glasses as the all clear sounded.

When Molly realised she was naked in bed the following morning she was filled with mortification. Never in her like could she remember going to bed in such a state, and she looked at her clothes littering the floor with horrified surprise, for she had always folded her clothes neatly, even the hated dungarees, before getting into bed.

She also felt ill, really ill. Her head was pounding and she felt as if she had weights pulling at her, dragging her down. She knew that day she had to look for Kevin, but she didn’t know whether she had the strength even to get to the bathroom unaided. There was a knock at the door and as Ray entered with a cup of tea, Molly swiftly pulled the clothes to her neck.

Ray smiled as he laid the tea on the side table and surveyed the floor. ‘You went a little wild in here last night,’ he remarked. Then he picked up the nightdress Molly had worn the previous night and said, ‘Did you choose another nightdress for yourself?’

Molly’s eyes were like circles in her head as she shook it slowly from side to side, dislodging the sheet as she did so and displaying her bare shoulders. Ray cried, ‘You have nothing on at all, have you?’

‘No.’

‘Well, now, you brazen little hussy, you try and tell me
now that you are not trying to break out of the prudish prison your upbringing and the Catholic Church has put you in.’

‘I don’t know. Maybe,’ Molly said. ‘I feel so confused, and my head is spinning. I feel really ill, Ray.’

‘Have your tea,’ Ray advised, handing her the cup and saucer. ‘I’ve put a wee drop of brandy in it to guard against the cold. That will put you right.’

‘Good,’ Molly said. ‘Because I have to get up then. I have to look for something.’ For a moment her eyes were troubled and her brow puckered as she tried to remember. Then her eyes cleared and she said, ‘No, not something, but some people: my brother, Kevin, Granddad and Hilda.’

‘Not today I don’t think,’ Ray said.

‘Oh, but—’

‘Look,’ Ray said, and he drew aside the blackout curtains. Molly saw rain teeming down outside. ‘You couldn’t go out in this,’ he said. ‘And anyway, do you feel up to it?’

‘No,’ Molly said in a small voice. ‘Ray, what is happening to me?’

‘I’d say you were exhausted and you might have caught a chill or something on the way over. Nothing a couple of days in bed won’t cure.’

‘You think so?’

‘Yes, I think so,’ Ray said reassuringly. ‘Now, I’ll see if I can rustle us up some breakfast and you needn’t lift a finger. What do you say?’

‘I say that sounds just fine,’ said Molly.

Molly spent the day in bed, getting out of it only to use the bathroom, not even bothering to dress so that Ray laughingly called her his little wanton, but the next day she felt worse instead of better, and was only helped by the especially laced tea that Ray brought her in.

The weather had improved slightly by the afternoon, and as Ray drew the blackout curtains he noted the clear skies and the half-moon visible in the dusky sky, and knew that
there could easily be a raid that night. In her drug-induced sleep, Molly had slept through the light skirmish on Wednesday night and there hadn’t been a raid on Thursday, but in case there was one that night, he gave Molly an extra ladle of brandy and more powder than usual to ensure she would sleep through it before he left the flat.

However, Molly had a nightmare, and in the middle of it she began to scream and woke with a jolt, panting with fear, which increased when she realised it wasn’t her screaming at all; it was coming from outside and it was the air-raid siren.

She felt disorientated and strange, and she struggled out of bed, calling for Ray. Her legs felt very wobbly and, holding on to the bed and the bedside cabinet, she made a staggering lurch to the door and was alarmed to find it locked. She hammered on it and shouted until she was hoarse, then faced the realisation that she was alone in the flat. Then total terror took hold of her. She sank to the floor and sobbed while all around her was the drone of planes, the whistle of descending bombs, the crump and crash of explosions, the barking of the ack-ack fire and then the ringing bells of the emergency services.

The hours ticked by and there was no let-up in the bombing. Time lost all meaning. There was no sign of Ray returning either, and surely now, she told herself, he couldn’t return in the teeth of a raid. Shaking like a leaf, Molly gingerly pulled herself up and stood swaying and holding on to the bedpost for dear life, waiting for the room to stop its listing. She was going to watch what was happening outside, face her fear like her father had always told her to do.

There were two windows in the bedroom, one overlooking the factory and the other on to the street, and she made for that one because she could hold on to the bed all the way round. Then with the blackout curtains pulled wide, she stood and watched as Birmingham burned.

Pockets of fire were everywhere, littering the skyline, spitting and crackling into the night with flames of yellow,
orange and red vying with the arc lights raking the sky. Molly heard the bombs descend, saw buildings crumple in balloons of dust, some bursting into flames. Firemen valiantly played their hoses on them and ambulances streaked through the night. She watched for some time, mesmerised by it all, until in the end she cried at the sight of her city being destroyed and for the innocent men, women and children who had to try to live through it. She knew many would be injured or killed before the raid was over.

Suddenly, a bomb fell close, so close it shook the building. Molly felt the tremor beneath her feet and she fairly leaped onto the bed with a howl of anguished fear. Her whole body was quivering and her teeth chattering as she sat with her knees meeting her chin, her arms wrapped around herself and her head down, and waited for the building to collapse on top of her and for her to die.

Ray found her there the next morning. He had sat out the raid in a public shelter and then gone back to his own place after the all clear had sounded in the early morning to grab a few hours’ sleep. When he first saw Molly curled as she was on the bed, she was so still and the room so quiet he thought for a moment she had died of fright. The thought passed through his mind that Collingsworth would not get the virgin he craved, nor would he and Charlie get the money he had promised them.

However, Molly was not dead. As Ray took hold of one of her arms, he felt the pulse and he peeled her hands away from her knees. Molly’s eyes were open. That had startled him at first, but he realised they were seeing nothing. She was in some sort of trance and he caught hold of her shoulders and shook her a little.

When Molly came to and saw Ray’s face before her, the one face she had longed to see, she, who didn’t hug and kiss easily, was so overcome with joy and relief that she
threw her arms around his neck and began kissing him all over his face.

He pushed her away and she began to babble, ‘Oh, please, don’t leave me, Ray. I can’t bear it when you do. Please stay with me. I will do anything, just about anything, if you stay with me.’

Ray smiled. He knew now that Molly would be putty in his hands and he put his arms around her and said, ‘All right. Stop this now. You are trembling like a leaf. I’m here, aren’t I, and not going anywhere?’

‘Oh, thank you, Ray, thank you.’

‘You are a silly girl to get into such a state.’

‘It was the raid, Ray,’ Molly said. ‘I was so scared and I called for you, and the door was locked.’

‘Of course it was,’ Ray said. ‘It always is when I leave, to keep you safe.’

‘But where do you go?’

‘To my own flat,’ Ray said. ‘I told you from the start that I have my own place.’

‘Did you?’

‘Don’t you remember when I offered you this place first?’

Molly shook her head. She concentrated hard, but when she tried to remember, all she saw was deep blackness, and the effort of trying to break through that made her head ache. The absolute terror she had felt during the raid, which she had been sure she would never survive, plus the powders Ray was feeding her, had obliterated her memory.

‘I remember nothing but the raid last night,’ she admitted at last.

‘Nothing?’

Molly shook her head. ‘All that went before is a blank. I don’t even know what I am doing here.’

‘We were in a shelter together because of the bombing, me, you and Charlie, my mate, and you said you had nowhere to go and I offered you this place.’

‘I don’t know who I am.’

‘Your first name is Molly, you told us that much,’ Ray said. ‘But I don’t know your surname. Does it matter? Are you unhappy?’

‘No.’

‘Well, then?’

‘But my memory—’

‘Will probably return all the quicker if you don’t worry at it.’

‘You think so?’

‘I know so,’ Ray said. ‘Trust me.’

‘Oh, I do totally, Ray,’ Molly said and added, ‘Will you stay here tonight?’

‘There is no bed but yours,’ Ray reminded her.

Molly remembered how intense her fear had been the night before and feared she would die of fright if she had to experience that again alone.

‘You can share it with me,’ she said.

‘Do you know what you are saying?’

Molly swallowed deeply and then looked Ray full in the face and said, ‘Yes.’

Ray knew then that if he had been a proper red-blooded male he would have taken the girl up on the offer and to hell with the consequences. The fact that he had no interest that way was one of the reasons he had been employed to collect up the runaway girls and those escaping council care, and groom them for the whorehouse, so his emotions were not moved in any way by Molly’s offer.

However, it would never do for her to know this and so he said, ‘I think you are not really yourself, Molly, or you would never have said that. And if I were to do this you could well regret it and resent me afterwards.’

‘I would never resent you,’ Molly said firmly. ‘I couldn’t. I think I love you.’

‘And I am fond of you too, Molly,’ Ray said, draping an arm casually about her shoulder. ‘That is why I can’t do what you ask.’

‘Oh, but, Ray, I can’t bear to be alone, really I can’t.’ ‘I can give you something to help,’ Ray said. ‘Do you trust me?’

‘I do, Ray. Truly I do.’

‘So if I say that I can give you something that will make you sleep like a baby till morning, when I will be back, you’ll take it?’

‘I’d rather you stayed.’

‘We have been through this,’ Ray said, tight-lipped.

‘Oh, please don’t be cross with me,’ Molly cried, distressed. ‘I will do anything you want.’

‘Right, then,’ Ray said. ‘Now we know exactly where we stand.’

Molly was entering a shadowy period in her life when she was only half alive, though most times she was unaware of this. At first there were times when people’s faces would float before her, but when she tried to hold them in her mind, they seem to shroud over with mist and disappear.

When she was eventually worried enough to talk to Ray about this he said, ‘You are thoroughly washed out, Molly, and your brain has shut down a little to enable you to rest and get really fit again, that’s all it is.’

‘You really do believe I will recover eventually?’

‘Of course, and the thing to do is not worry about it,’ Ray said. ‘Sit back, relax and let me look after you.’

Molly gave a sigh. How good that sounded. She felt too utterly exhausted to care for herself. ‘I’d like that,’ she said, ‘but haven’t you got to go to work sometime?’

‘Don’t you concern yourself with that.’

No, Molly didn’t want to concern herself with anything. She hadn’t enough energy, for one thing. And she didn’t want to risk offending Ray, for he was the one she saw every day – the only person, in fact, apart from a couple of brief visits from Charlie. She no longer minded Ray locking her in for her own safety whenever he had to go out. She had no desire to leave the flat herself, because she felt safe in there.

She hadn’t to worry about anything, Ray said, not even cooking the meals, because he would deal with all that –
not that she was eating much, but she liked the brandy and the gin that Ray had introduced her to and the white powders he gave her, which he said were a tonic, always made her feel better.

Every few days, Ray would take away her dirty clothes and a few days later they would come back clean and pressed. The first time this happened she had asked Ray who dealt with the clothes and he said she hadn’t to concern herself with things like that. And so she didn’t, because it really didn’t matter. In fact she was finding very few things did matter, and it was better once the half-remembered shadowy figures faded completely from her consciousness.

‘So when are you going to give Molly a try-out?’ Charlie asked Ray one day towards the middle of December. ‘She’s been here over three weeks already. You’ve never kept anyone longer than a fortnight before.’

‘Yeah, I know,’ Ray said. ‘Collingsworth’s been away, though, hasn’t he? He’s back now and I have set it up here for this Saturday night. I tell you, Molly is as ripe as a plum, just ready to be picked. Timing’s good, anyway, because the older couple below us have gone to their daughter’s for a while to escape the bombing, so Collingsworth can make all the noise he needs,’ Ray said with a leer. ‘If you know what I mean.’

Charlie gave a humourless laugh. ‘Oh, I know all right,’ he said. ‘I should say the dirty old bugger is going to have some fun that night. You’ve done the work on Molly, though. God, she’ll be led like a lamb to the bleeding slaughter.’

‘If she knows anything about it, you mean,’ Ray said. ‘Some days she is not aware of much, but in any case, I will prepare her. She will do as she is told, don’t worry.’

‘She certainly thinks the sun shines out of your arse,’ Charlie said. ‘She just does everything you tell her to.’

‘Like she will on Saturday night,’ Ray said confidently. ‘And if she is a really good girl, then I may buy her a specially nice Christmas present.’

Unaware of what was planned for her, Molly accepted it when Ray sat on the sofa and told that he had to go to a special dinner with Edwin Collingsworth, the man who owned the flat she was occupying.

She didn’t remember that he was the man Ray had spoken of before, who’d had girls entertain him in the flat, so all she said was, ‘Does he want me to move out?’

‘No, don’t worry,’ Ray said. ‘He has another place he lives in most of the time, but he does want to meet you, though.’

‘Why?’

‘Sweetheart, you are living in his flat, and rent-free as well. Isn’t it natural that he is curious about you?’

‘Oh, yes, of course, Ray.’

‘He is also my boss, in a way, and it is very important that everything goes well tonight.’

Molly looked at him with a dreamy expression in her slightly glazed eyes. ‘Yes, Ray.’

‘I want you to help me in this.’

‘You know I will,’ Molly said, because she owed such a debt to Ray and would never forget it. ‘What do you want me to do?’

‘I will be bringing him back here after the meal, and if you want to continue to live here and also please me, it is important that you are very, very nice to him, when I pop out for a little while. You do understand what I mean by being nice, don’t you?’

‘Yes, of course,’ Molly said. She knew what nice was, and she was hardly likely to be less than that to a friend of Ray’s who was also her landlord.

‘So you do whatever he wants?’

‘Whatever he wants,’ Molly repeated, and Ray was pleased to hear the slur in her voice from the effect of the drugs that he had given her a little while before. ‘I will do anything he wants because I am to be nice to him.’

‘Good girl!’ Ray said, and Molly basked in his praise.

‘Now, while I am away I want you to have a long bath and wash your hair, because I want you to look your best,’ he said, hauling her to her feet. ‘And I will go and choose the clothes I want you to wear afterwards.’

Edwin Collingsworth had not been in the house five minutes when Molly made up her mind she didn’t like him. There was nothing even remotely attractive about him, for he was an undersized man, with an extremely sparse head of mousy brown hair surrounding a very large and definite bald patch. His wrinkled face was thin and he had a long, pinched nose and lips so lean and narrow they made his mouth look mean and cruel.

His eyes, though, were his worst feature. They were small, too close together and glittered as cold as two pieces of blue flint as they raked over Molly until she felt as if she was stripped naked before him.

He stepped forward and said in a sharp, nasal voice, ‘I am delighted to meet you, Molly, and I must say you are just as beautiful as Ray said you were.’

Molly took Mr Collingsworth’s proffered hand and then wished she hadn’t, for it was limp and clammy. She imagined, as she shook it, that it was like shaking hands with a warm, wet fish. But, for Ray’s sake, she didn’t show any aversion in her manner and just told the man that she was pleased to meet him. Ray at least looked satisfied with her response.

She offered tea, but Ray said he had something Mr Collingsworth would much prefer and produced a bottle of whiskey. He was so obviously right, for it brought the ghost of a smile to the man’s face, which wrinkled it up more than ever and made him look worse, if possible.

‘Ah,’ he said. ‘Bushmills. Nothing beats a drop of Irish malt.’

Mr Collingsworth claimed he couldn’t enjoy the drink unless Molly joined them, which she was more than happy
to do, and Ray knew a few drinks, mixed with the powders, would make her like putty in the man’s hand. Collingsworth had already paid Ray highly for providing a virgin, the balance to be paid when Molly had satisfied his desires, whatever they were.

‘We must celebrate this day, don’t you feel, my dear?’ Collingsworth said, chinking his glass against hers.

Molly was puzzled. ‘Why? What’s special about today?’

‘It’s the day I have met you, my dear,’ Collingsworth said. ‘And the day you and I are going to get to know each other better.’

Molly’s eyes sought Ray’s, but she could read nothing in them that she could understand and he had a smile on his face that made her uneasy.

Edwin Collingsworth had never had much luck with women. He knew that most found him repulsive, but his money and influence ensured he had the means to pay prostitutes to satisfy his frustrated lust, and also offer any other sexual deviation he wanted. However, the women he paid were usually older, and had done it many times before, and what he really liked was an untried virgin. He wanted his hands to be the first to explore a young girl’s body and possibly awaken the sexual awareness and arousal wrapped up inside her so that if she allowed herself it could be an enjoyable experience.

Ray was one of the best at finding girls to fulfil his needs and using the powders, which Collingsworth also supplied, together with alcohol, would soon have the girls compliant and eager to please. Now here was another little beauty, and though his penis had throbbed almost painfully at the nearness of her, he told himself to go slow with this one, take his time, and the pleasure would be all the sweeter for it.

The only stipulation Ray had made was that he wasn’t to hurt her physically. He knew that was because she was destined for Vera’s place the following week. Her knocking
shop would have a lot of new punters over Christmas, drunk, many of them – not that the girls minded that. They always said the drunks tipped better. Vera said the regulars liked a bit of new blood, but they were no good to her if they had been smacked about a bit. Collingsworth had no desire to hurt Molly, however, just shag her over and over in the long night before them.

Yet he sensed her unease and, in his experience, most women were more amenable after a drink or two, so he said to Molly, ‘Come on now. I said that this is a celebration, so you just drink up that drink and I will pour us each another, and you can sit here beside me and tell me all about yourself.’

Molly had no desire to get any closer to Collingsworth than she had to. He made her skin crawl and there was a sort of aura of unwholesomeness emanating from him. She looked to Ray for help, but his eyes were harder than she had ever seen them, and he gave an almost imperceptible jerk of his head towards Collingsworth so that Molly knew that this was part of being nice to him. Surely, to please Ray, she could do this one small thing? He had never asked her to do anything before, and after tonight she probably wouldn’t see much of Mr Collingsworth at all. So she downed the contents of her glass, welcoming the ensuing dizziness, and Ray took it for a refill as she sank down beside Collingsworth on the sofa and tried not to show her distaste when he pulled her close against him.

She caught Ray’s eyes upon her, shining in approval, so she took a large gulp of the drink he gave her and let her body sag against this man she had to be nice to.

As Collingsworth felt her warmth and closeness, his excitement mounted.

Ray said. ‘As you two seem to be getting along so well, I will leave you now.’

‘Yes,’ Collingsworth said. ‘We will be fine, won’t we, Molly?’

Molly felt anything but fine, but she knew to say that would make Ray angry. She had never seen him angry and had no desire to, nor did she want to disappoint him, and so she gave a brief nod, but when she heard the front door slam, she drank deeply again, hoping it would chase away the nervousness coursing through her veins.

‘Tell me about yourself, my dear,’ Collingsworth said.

‘What d’you want to know, Mr Collingsworth?’

‘It’s Edwin, my dear. Can you call me Edwin?’

Molly shrugged. ‘If you like.’

‘Now I would like to know all about you,’ Collingsworth said.

‘But I don’t know anything,’ Molly said. ‘My past is like a big black hole.’

Collingsworth smiled because Ray had done his work well. It was far better that the girls destined for the whorehouse remembered as little of their former lives as possible.

‘I used to worry that I was losing my mind,’ Molly admitted.

‘Oh, no, not you, my dear girl,’ Collingsworth said firmly. ‘I think that you maybe have suffered a trauma or tragedy of some kind and these memory lapses are in the nature of delayed shock. It is quite common, and temporary too, I believe.’

‘You are so understanding,’ Molly said in slight amazement. His attitude had surprised her and she thought for the first time that she might have misjudged the man. She snuggled in closer so that she felt his breath between her breasts.

Later, when Molly recalled the events of that day, she could hardly credit that she had allowed the man such liberties. In some sort of dreamlike trance, she felt his hand stroking her leg, and she just thought it felt lovely and wasn’t even alarmed when it went higher and higher.

Hearing her contented sigh, Collingsworth felt himself harden in anticipation.

‘I’ll never hurt you, you know that, don’t you?’ Collingsworth said as he released her stockings from their suspenders and rolled them seductively down her legs, to drop on the floor.

‘Of course I do,’ Molly said, her head lolling against him drunkenly, but she suddenly felt incredibly tired and said, ‘I think I am drunk and I need to go to bed.’

‘And so do I,’ Collingsworth said, his voice husky with desire.

Molly giggled. ‘You can’t get into my bed, though. You will need to go home to your own bed.’

‘I don’t think so,’ the man replied.

He hadn’t realised just how drunk and drugged Molly was, and she staggered so much when she was at last upright that the pair of them nearly landed on the floor. This amused Molly no end, and she began to giggle. Collingsworth was just glad that Molly was small and slight, or he would never have managed her, and he half hauled, half dragged her to the bedroom. He lowered her onto the bed, where she lay with an inane smile playing around her mouth.

Collingsworth, however, wasn’t looking at Molly’s mouth. He was aching with desire as he began unbuttoning her blouse.

‘You are so very beautiful, you know,’ he said.

Molly said nothing, for it was as if these things were happening to someone else. She felt as if she was looking down on her body lying on the bed, and watching the man who was stroking her sensually sending her into a stupor-like sleep, and she closed her eyes and sighed. She dreamed someone had their hands on her breasts and it was so beautiful, she never wanted to wake up.

Collingsworth though, was in a fever of anxiety to take the prize before him that he had paid dearly for and he began tearing his clothes off, too aroused now for gentleness. Naked, he launched himself on top of Molly.

He nearly knocked the breath from her body and thoroughly woke her. He clamped his mouth on hers roughly,
and when he thrust his thick tongue into Molly’s mouth, she felt as if she was going to choke, and she thrashed her head from side to side to try to dislodge it. But it was when Collingsworth pulled her knickers down and pummelled one hand between her legs brutally, and his mouth filled with saliva, that Molly fully realised what was happening to her.