Forgotten Child (8 page)

Summer passed and it was now close to Christmas, the weather outside cold, though in the café Jenny was hot and perspiring as she worked. She was up to her elbows in soapy water, her hair damp, stringy and clinging to her face. She glanced across at Tina to see that her friend wasn’t faring any better.

Tina became aware that Jenny was looking at her, and hissed, ‘We’ve stuck it out since August, but I ain’t taking much more of this.’

‘I feel the same, but we have to find new jobs first.’

‘That’s easier said than done. Look at the pair of us. We look like bleedin’ ragamuffins and no wonder we ain’t fit to be seen out front.’

Jenny knew Tina was right. They were scruffy, their hair a mess and faces bare of make-up. What they still needed was a new look, but what with paying the rent along with feeding the gas and electric meters, there was little left over from their small wage. At least they got a meal when they were
working, and Jenny had developed a taste for Italian food as a consequence. The chef was temperamental though, and everyone knew when he was in a mood, all keeping their heads down.

If they wanted to find new jobs, Jenny knew there was only one thing to do, but she was loath to break into what was left of her savings. Even if she did, it wouldn’t stretch far, but now, thinking about Susan, she had an idea. Their downstairs neighbour was a mine of useful information about the Chelsea scene and it was worth a shot.

‘Tina, let’s have a word with Sue when we finish our shift. She might be able to help.’

‘With what?’

‘She may be able to point us in the direction of some decent second-hand clothes shops.’

‘Gawd, we weren’t well off when I lived at home, but at least I didn’t have to wear other people’s cast-offs.’

‘I know, but if we can just smarten ourselves up enough to go for interviews, we’d stand a better chance of finding decent jobs.’

‘I don’t pay you to chit-chat. Get on with your work!’

Jenny’s face flamed, hoping Mr Cane hadn’t heard their conversation. It was rare that they saw him, for he usually left the restaurant in the hands of a manager, but trust him to turn up just when they had been talking.

‘Sorry, Mr Cane,’ she said, turning swiftly back to her work.

She was aware of him walking up behind her and tensed as she felt his breath on her neck. Jenny knew she was mad, but on the rare occasions she saw him her body responded in a way that left her breathless. There was something exciting about him, something magnetic that drew her, and it took all her will not to turn around.

It was madness, Jenny told herself again as he moved away. What would a man like him want with someone like her? To him she was just a kid, and a scruffy, sweaty one at that.

Tina surreptitiously watched Mr Cane, almost daring him to lay a hand on Jenny. It was the way he stood behind her, almost like an animal sniffing her scent, and she was sure the day would come when he’d make his move. Thankfully this time he moved away, but he was yet another reason why Tina wanted to get them out of there, to find new jobs. Now, while she loathed the thought of wearing second-hand clothes, Tina knew it was their only option.

By the time their shift came to an end they were like wet rags and the cold air outside was welcome after the hot and steamy atmosphere of the kitchen. Shop windows looked festive, cheering the gloom and, unbidden, Tina’s thoughts turned to
her family. She knew that most people looked forward to celebrating Christmas at home – but not her. Because of her father it was the last place she wanted to be. She and Jenny might not be well off, and their Christmas celebrations would be Spartan, but for Tina it would be like heaven. There would be no cringing in bed, dreading the sound of his footsteps coming towards her door, then it opening, his silhouette framed from the light behind him before he closed it and advanced into her room.

Never again, Tina vowed as she glanced at Jenny. Sometimes she felt years older than her friend, her innocence long gone, and now she felt a twinge of worry. Jenny might not feel the same way she did. She might want to see her family again.

‘Jenny, I know you haven’t been in touch with your parents, but it’s nearly Christmas. Are you going to see them or, failing that, send them a card?’

‘I don’t want to see my mother again, though Delia wasn’t really my mother and she certainly won’t want to see me. I miss my dad at times, but he isn’t really my father either and sometimes I feel that I was just a distant relative who he felt obliged to adopt. I might send him a card though, just in case he’s worried, but he might be in touch with your parents so I won’t give him our address.’

‘Good thinking,’ Tina said. Her thoughts now turned to happier things. Susan was sure to have
some ideas for their new look and in this classy area, especially Sloane Square, the second-hand shops might even have some designer gear on offer.

After having a bath and changing out of their damp clothes, both girls went downstairs to see Susan. As always, Jenny looked around her large studio room, loving the decor. There was a pink satin throw on the sofa, that doubled as a bed, tossed with red velvet cushions that should have clashed but somehow looked great. Colourful beads hung from lamps and picture frames, and an Indian-style patterned rug covered part of the lino.

‘Sue, we’re looking for a new look but we haven’t much money,’ Jenny said as she flopped onto the sofa. ‘We thought that maybe second-hand clothes would be our best bet and wondered if you know of any shops in the area.’

‘Yes, a few, but what sort of look are you after? It can be cheap and easy to find clothes like mine, or perhaps you’d prefer the Biba style?’

‘Biba! I wish. When we looked in the boutique most of the dresses were around seven pounds.’

‘That’s not a problem. You could buy material, copy the cut and knock it on up on my sewing machine for a fraction of that.’

‘I wouldn’t know where to start.’

‘No problem. I’ll show you how to do it.’

‘That’s great! I can’t thank you enough…though I’m still not sure what look to go for.’

Susan stood back to study Jenny. ‘You’ve got a look of Twiggy about you. If you had your hair cut, I reckon you’d be a dead ringer.’

‘Twiggy! Me! You must be joking.’

‘I’m not, and you’ll see for yourself if you let me sort out your hair.’

‘You could do it? Cut it?’

‘Jenny, I’m a hairdresser.’

‘You are? But you told us you work in a pub.’

‘I do now, but I trained at Vidal Sassoon’s school.’

Tina looked amazed at this, jumping in to say, ‘Blimey, why did you pack it in?’

‘I got fed up with the long hours and always working on Saturdays. There’s more to life than that and I prefer it behind the bar. But just in case I want to go back to hairdressing one day, I like to keep my hand in and cut friends’ hair now and then. I’ll do yours too, Tina, if you like.’

‘Wow, thanks, but I’m not sure I can afford it. How much do you charge?’

‘I know you’re both struggling so it’s free. I took a beauty course too and can show both of you how to make the best of yourselves with make-up.’

‘Thanks and yes please,’ both girls chorused almost in unison.

Susan got her kit, and soon, as her locks began to
fall to the floor, Jenny prayed that she hadn’t made a big mistake. What if she didn’t suit short hair? But it was too late to turn back now…

Over an hour later Jenny was looking at her reflection, blue eyes wide with amazement.

‘I can’t believe it. You’ve even managed to make it look as though I’ve got some colour in my cheeks.’

‘That was easy with a bit of blusher.’

Tina was stunned too and said, ‘Blimey, Sue’s right. You do look like Twiggy.’

‘I can see a bit of a resemblance, but I’m not as pretty as her.’

‘You’re just as lovely,’ Susan insisted, then turned to smile at Tina. ‘Right, it’s your turn now.’

Tina was eager for a makeover and gave herself up to Sue’s skilled hands. After another hour had passed, she noticed Jenny looking at her, mouth agape.

‘What’s wrong?’ she asked worriedly. ‘Do I look funny?’

‘Funny! You must be kidding. You look incredible.’

Tina stood up to gaze in the mirror. She was hardly able to believe she was looking at herself. Susan had cut her straight dark hair to jaw-length into what looked like a shiny sheath with a full, straight fringe. Her eyes had been lined with black and the shadow on her lids was smoky. Red lipstick completed the look and for Tina it was as if she’d been transformed into an exotic stranger.

‘Tina, you look sort of Egyptian, mysterious, and so much older,’ Jenny said.

‘I think you both look wonderful,’ smiled Sue. ‘One so dark, one so fair, and I think you’re going to turn a few heads when you go out and about.’

Tina wasn’t sure how she felt about that. She might feign interest in boys, her pretend idol Marc Bolan, but she’d seen enough and experienced enough at the hands of her father to last her a lifetime. She didn’t want to be touched again.

Yet as she continued to look in the mirror, a thought crossed Tina’s mind. She wasn’t a child now, she was a woman and, instead of being abused, she could become the abuser. Men would be just like her father, all after her body, but from now on none would ever get near her. If they tried she’d empty their pockets before dumping them, and not give them a thing in return. They might want more, but they wouldn’t get it.

Tina now smiled. She was looking forward to getting her own back on the male sex.

In Wimbledon there had been changes too. Contrary to Delia’s expectations, she and Edward had grown closer in their shared concern about Robin. Edward had been a strong shoulder to lean on and Delia had gladly taken advantage of it. Despite the excellent surgeon, an infection had set in soon after Robin’s operation and for a while they had feared he would lose his arm. That fear became terror when the infection threatened his life. Delia had been near to collapse, Edward giving her strength, but, just when they had almost given up hope, Robin had responded to the treatment and begun to recover.

Delia busied herself with a batch of mince pies, at last able to look forward to Christmas. Edward was watching for the post again, hoping for a card from Jennifer, but so far his hopes had come to nothing. It was strange to have him home after so many years of working away, but there was no doubting the change in her husband. He still worked for the same insurance
company, but he was now a branch manager. It was a position that incurred a drop in salary, but at least it meant he was based locally.

Edward’s concern for Robin and Jennifer had aged him and worry lines now ravaged his face. Delia knew that the last few months had taken their toll on her as well. Of course her worry had been for Robin and in truth, though she would never have admitted it to Edward, Jennifer had barely crossed her mind.

It was only when Delia thought about her bargain with God that she shivered. But if they couldn’t find Jennifer, how was she supposed to make amends? Not only that, without the girl in the house and Robin home from hospital, she was happier than she’d been in years. Maybe she should attend church again, volunteer for some sort of good works – perhaps that would be enough to honour the pact.

‘They smell good,’ Edward said, sniffing the air.

‘I’ve still got the cake to finish, but it can wait until tomorrow.’

‘What can wait?’ Robin asked as he came into the room.

‘Icing the Christmas cake.’

‘The icing on the cake would be to have Jenny home again.’

‘I know, Robin, but you never know, we might still hear from her,’ Delia said, wishing for a change of subject. Her relationship with Robin was still fragile
and it was only thanks to Edward’s intervention that her son was at last talking to her. Despite Robin being so ill, she’d borne months of silence, with barely a word passing between them, her son ignoring her in favour of his father.

It had almost broken her heart, but as soon as Robin was in recovery and stronger, Edward had spoken to him on her behalf. He may not have listened to her, but he listened to his father. Edward had been able to convince Robin that his mother really was sorry and wanted Jennifer to come home. Yet in her innermost thoughts, Delia knew it wasn’t true, that her happiness would come to an end if they ever found Jennifer again.

Robin sat opposite his father and saw the strain etched on his face. There’d been nothing from Jenny, not a phone call, nor a letter and, like his dad, he was beginning to give up hope. When he glanced at his mother, he couldn’t fail to see the contrast. She was happy, and though it was said to be because of his recovery, Robin suspected there was more to it than that. His mother was supposed to be sorry, to want Jenny home again, but was it real, or another one of her acts?

What a blind fool he’d been, Robin thought…yet how could he judge his mother when he was no better? He had been living a lie, pretending brotherly concern, but now the thought of what
he’d really wanted sickened him. If he was anything to go by there’d be other sick bastards out there after her body too. Jenny was so innocent that she’d be helpless against them.

‘How does your arm feel?’ asked Edward.

‘What? Sorry, Dad, I was miles away.’

‘I asked about your arm.’

‘It still feels a bit weak, but the physiotherapy helps.’

‘That’s good. You should be able to go back to college for the new term in January.’

‘I’ve missed so much, and with A levels to sit in June I doubt I’ll pass.’

‘Don’t worry, son, we’ll get you some extra tuition.’

‘Thanks, Dad. I just hope it works.’

‘Of course it will, darling,’ his mother said. ‘There’s no need to fret, you’ll be fine.’

Yes, possibly, Robin thought, but what about Jenny? She was prey to so many dangers, and his only consolation was that Tina Hammond was probably with her. Had they found somewhere to live? Had they found work by now, or were they half-starved and penniless? And if that were the case, would it force them to come home? God, he hoped so.

Edward could see that his son was worried. Was it college on his mind or was he fretting about Jenny too? If only she would get in touch, he thought sadly. Though he’d been able to partly forgive Delia at last,
it was hard to forget that his daughter had left home because of her.

Yes, he’d forgiven his wife in part because, during the many hours he’d sat by his son’s bed, Edward had looked at himself and not liked what he saw. He had been a bastard in the past, had lied to Delia and then blamed her for the choice she’d forced him to make. He hadn’t been able to stand the guilt and had left her with a new baby and toddler son to look after while he drowned his misery in work.

The telephone rang, snapping him out of his thoughts. For a moment Edward froze but then he was on his feet and rushing out to the hall to answer it.

‘Hello,’ he said eagerly.

‘It’s Bert Hammond. I’m calling again to see if you’ve heard from your daughter.’

‘No, have you? Has Tina been in touch?’

‘Nah, not a word.’

In his search for Jenny, Edward had found out where the Hammonds lived and been to see them. They soon established that the girls had probably run away together and now Bert or his wife rang every week. They were a bit rough around the edges but they were a nice couple, and while he could accept that Jenny had good reason for not wanting to get in touch with them, surely Tina had no need to feel the same about her own family?

‘Let’s hope we hear from them soon.’

‘Yeah, fingers crossed, mate,’ agreed Bert. ‘I’ll keep in touch. Bye for now.’

Edward murmured his goodbyes, aware then that Robin was at his shoulder. He too looked disappointed that it wasn’t good news. They returned to the kitchen.

‘Who was it?’ Delia asked.

‘Bert Hammond, but he hasn’t heard from Tina.’

‘I’m glad you answered the telephone. I hate talking to him, his wife too. They sound so common.’

‘Delia, like us, they’re worried sick about their daughter.’

‘I didn’t approve of their friendship and, if you ask me, it was Tina who encouraged Jenny to leave home.’

‘Don’t push the blame onto Tina,’ Robin snapped.

‘I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have said that, but sometimes it’s easier to find a scapegoat than to look at ourselves. It was my fault, of course, and I know that now.’

Robin looked surprised, but then approving as he smiled at his mother. Edward was relieved. Yes, Delia could be a snob, could say the wrong things, but at least she’d been quick to apologise in this instance.

He wanted Delia’s relationship with their son to return to normal – at least that would help to assuage some of his guilt. Of course there were other things to torment himself with too, things that he would
never be free of. Could he ever really forgive Delia for putting him through that?

Somehow Edward doubted it.