Memories Are Made of This (29 page)

‘I wonder what the next big thing will be?'

‘I wonder.' He stifled a yawn. ‘I hope there's a decent bar in this place.'

‘It says in the leaflet that there is one,' said Hester, opening her book again.

They both fell silent. A short while later when she glanced his way, he appeared to be asleep. Relieved, she smiled to herself and was taken by surprise when he said, ‘What are you thinking?'

She did not immediately answer, wondering how he would react if she told him the truth. Instead she said, ‘It shouldn't take us much longer to get there.'

‘How do you know? Have you been up this way before?'

‘I was evacuated not far from where we're staying.'

‘No! You never said anything.'

‘Why should I? I'm planning on visiting the woman I stayed with.'

He frowned. ‘When?'

‘Sunday afternoon.'

‘So you won't be coming back on the same coach?'

‘No.' She fell silent, thinking of Myra and then of Emma and their conversation outside the milk bar when they were alone for a few moments. They had discussed their half-sisters and Hester had told Emma about Jeanette's narrow escape from Billy. Emma knew a little about him as a description of him had been reported to Dougie Marshall when he had responded to a cry for help in Bootle. A woman in one of the houses Billy had burgled had surprised him in the act and his fingerprints were found using the new system they'd just discussed. He had knocked the woman out and made his escape. Billy had still not returned home, so the question was, where was he hiding?

She sighed.

‘What's the sigh for?' asked Cedric.

‘I was just thinking of that young man who stabbed the Stadium doorman. You must have heard about it.'

His eyes flickered over her face. ‘Sure I did. He attacked your sister, didn't he?'

‘Yes. I want him caught,' she said in a hard voice.

‘I can understand that. Pretty girl, your sister,' said Cedric, closing his eyes.

She stared at him and then reached for her book, resisting the temptation to hit him with it. She would be glad when they reached their destination.

Hester slumped against the pillow and yawned. Her head was buzzing, despite having drunk only one glass of wine. She was glad that she had come, despite Cedric. She liked her bedroom and had a lovely view from her window over part of the garden and beyond that Lancashire farmland. The first talk had held her attention and the conversation afterwards had been stimulating. She had met people whose company she had so enjoyed that she was looking forward to talking to them again. A fair number had no connection to the police force. Thankfully, she had seen little of Cedric. Once the talk was over he had made for the bar and had still been there when she had passed by. He had waved to her to come over but she had shook her head. He had scowled and then ordered another drink, from what she could see.

She washed her face and cleaned her teeth in the washbasin in her room and then put on pyjamas and housecoat to go to the lavatory just up the passage. When she returned, the door was slightly ajar and that puzzled her because she could have sworn she had closed it. Once inside the room she was about to lock the door when an arm slid around her waist and a hand covered her mouth. She started with fright and if she had not been so shocked, her reactions would have been swifter. As it was she only had a few moments in which to catch a glimpse of Cedric's profile before he had her face down on the bed and was astride her.

‘Cedric, what are you playing at?' she said angrily, lifting her head from the pillow.

‘I'm just testing the author's theory that surprise is everything,' he said.

An icy chill crept down her spine and she attempted to throw him off. ‘You've proved your point. Now get off me!' she gasped.

He pushed her head down and stretched out on top of her. ‘Like hell I will. Even someone who's been trained in ju-jitsu like you will have trouble getting out of this position.'

Her fear intensified when she heard a jangling noise and out of the corner of her eye saw that the noise came from a pair of handcuffs. Again she tried to buck him off but he was too heavy.

‘Th-this isn't f-funny,' she stammered. ‘Will you please get off me!'

‘No, I told you, I'm trying to prove a theory.' He held her wrists in a vice-like grip and raised himself slightly. She struggled but it was no use and he managed to fasten the handcuffs about one of her wrists and then to the bedpost.

Oh dear God
, she thought, panicking as she struggled to rid herself of his weight. She could hardly breathe. ‘I know what this is about,' she gasped.

‘I should think you do. No one makes a show of me the way you did in the pictures. Who's the bloke you prefer to me?' he snarled. ‘I bet he doesn't exist. It's just that you don't want a real man.'

She was tempted to tell him the truth but knew that would be a mistake in her position. She had to try and appease him. ‘I'm sorry. You're right. Now please, let me go.'

‘No, I'm enjoying myself,' he said against her cheek. The smell of alcohol was so strong that she almost passed out.

‘You're drunk,' she panted.

‘No, not drunk, just less inhibited than usual. Pity you're not much of a drinker. You'd relax more and enjoy this.'

Never in a million years
! ‘Please, Cedric, let me go and we'll forget this ever happened. What would your mother think if she was here today?'

‘My mother? The old bitch is dead! Never left me in peace morning, noon or night, always on at me to do something or other.'

She felt him slide his hand down her pyjama bottoms and clasp her bare buttock and her fear began to spiral out of control. ‘Please don't do that,' she squeaked.

‘I like your pyjamas. I thought you might have been wearing a frilly nightie, but not you. You're a tease. Still, the bottoms will come off easy enough.'

She felt as if a whole block of ice slithered down her spine as he began to drag them down. ‘D-Don't be a fool!'

‘A fool! Is that what you call me? You've proved a big disappointment to me, Hester.'

‘I'm sorry. Please let me go!'

‘Say pretty please.' He bit her neck and she screamed. ‘Naughty-naughty,' he said.

Then he stopped talking and she was helpless to prevent what happened next. Into her head came the words:
Don
'
t provoke an assailant into taking that step too far. Keep calm.
But how could she remain calm when he was behaving like an animal on heat?
She wanted to scream and go on screaming, but instead she
felt as if she was suffocating in a wave of horror and pain. Then, as suddenly as the nightmare had begun, he removed himself. She could breathe again, but strangely she could not move her limbs. She could hear him gasping as he staggered about the room, then the door opened and closed.

She lay there, bruised, humiliated and utterly terrified that he'd return. Tears trickled down her cheeks, for not only had he raped her, but he had left her handcuffed to the bedpost.

Her teeth started to chatter. Nervous reaction, she told herself, gazing about and praying he had left the key behind. Then she saw it on the bedside table. She managed to pick it up and unlock the cuffs before collapsing on the bed.

Then it was as if a light came on in her head. She had to wash herself! She must have a bath. Had to get rid of all trace of him, otherwise she just might get pregnant.

She forced herself upright, not bothering with her pyjama bottoms, and donned her housecoat before grabbing a towel, soap and flannel. She prayed that she would not meet anyone on the way to the bathroom. She intended locking the door to her room this time, but dropped the key twice before she managed to get it into the lock and turn it on the outside. She hoped no one had heard her. How could she face her new friends feeling as she did right now?

The water ran lukewarm but she did not care what the temperature was because she only needed a few inches to sit in. She felt better once in the water and with the door firmly locked. As she sat there, a longing for her mother came over her. The feeling was so intense that she felt her heart would break. She stuffed the flannel in her mouth to stop herself from howling.

Finally, she managed to pull herself together and rubbed herself vigorously with the towel. At least he had admitted that his mother was dead – he had hated her by the sound of it. She forced herself to walk sedately back to her room and, once inside, locked the door and climbed into bed still wearing her housecoat. She was shivering and would have liked a hot-water bottle, but that was out of the question.

Yet she could not lie still, knowing it was here that he had defiled her. She slid out of bed, dragged off the quilt and coverlet and took a blanket and wrapped it round her. Going over to the window, she drew back the curtains and stared out. There was a full moon shining over peaceful fields. She sat down in a chair and for the rest of the night remained there, trying not to think about what had taken place in this room a short while ago.

She must have fallen asleep at some time because she woke to the sound of knocking on her door. Her heart jerked in her chest and the memory of last night came flooding back, drenching her in fear. The knocking came again and she managed to ask who was there.

A woman answered and she recognized the name as belonging to one of the group she had been talking to the evening before. For a moment she thought of saying that she was unwell and must go home, but she could not face going home yet. ‘Give me a few minutes,' she called in a voice that sounded surprisingly normal. ‘Perhaps you should go down and I'll join you there.'

‘No, I'll wait for you,' said the woman.

Hester did not insist on her going. She felt stiff and sore as she got up from the chair, but managed to dress without too much difficulty. She brushed her teeth, ran a comb through her hair and applied lipstick. She gazed at her reflection in the dressing table mirror and forced a smile that was more like a grimace. Her father used to tell her to think happy thoughts when she was troubled. It took a real effort for her to smile naturally. She felt a completely different person from the one who had left Liverpool the day before.

Cedric. How was she going to face him? She couldn't do this . . .

‘Will you be much longer?' called the woman outside.

From somewhere deep inside herself, Hester found the strength to reply, ‘I'm ready now.' She picked up her handbag and unlocked the door.

The woman stared at her and then smiled. ‘You look nice.'

‘Thanks, so do you,' said Hester. ‘Shall we go?'

When they arrived in the dining room, Hester blindly followed the woman to a table where two places had been kept for them. Only when she was seated did she look for Cedric.

Despite having no wish to ever set eyes on him again, she knew that she had to face him. Yet she could not see him. Perhaps he was sleeping off the daddy of all hangovers. God, she hoped so. She wanted him to suffer.

She felt light headed. What if he could not remember what he'd done to her last night? What if he denied it had ever happened? The thought enraged her. She had to force herself to eat, not wanting her lack of appetite to cause comments from the group she now seemed to be part of. Every few minutes her eyes darted towards the doorway in case Cedric should enter.

There was still no sign of him when the criminal psychologist, whom the writer consulted for research, began his talk. Hester had trouble concentrating on what he had to say. Every now and again an image of what had happened last evening would flash up in her mind. She tried to suppress it but was only partly successful.

Cedric was not in the dining room at lunchtime or at the discussion that afternoon either. Where was he? Was it possible that he was too ashamed to face her? Could he be in the bar? Her anger was such that she could not keep still. She wanted him on his knees, begging for her forgiveness. She had an overwhelming desire to put her foot on his head and squash it.

He was not in the bar.

Eventually, when the tension inside her was too much to bear, she went to reception and asked after him.

‘He's left, Miss Walker,' said the receptionist.

Wordlessly, she stared at the woman and then turned on her heel and hurried away. There were questions she could have asked, but at that moment she could only think that she desperately needed some fresh air. She went upstairs for her outdoor clothes and to change her shoes. The handcuffs had gone. She felt a spurt of rage. Somehow he must have entered her bedroom and taken them whilst she was elsewhere. That meant he had not been so drunk that he had forgotten what he had done.

She needed to think about what action to take. She went outside and took deep breaths of frosty air as she circumnavigated the grounds. Part of her wanted to walk out of the place and not return. She could understand now why people disappeared. She wanted to slam a lid on the last evening and pretend it had not happened. Yet another part of her was so outraged by what Cedric had done to her that she wanted to scratch his eyes out at the very least. He deserved to be punished for the degrading way he had invaded her body. She felt sick thinking about it. Suddenly it occurred to her to wonder what he had thought she might do. She was a police officer after all, and he might believe that what she had to say would carry some weight if she should accuse him of rape. What an ugly word that was!

A shiver ran through her and she wrapped her arms about herself. What was she going to do? Of course if she did lay a charge against him for rape, he could counter that charge by saying she had been willing. It was her word against his and the police force was still very much a man's world. But surely they would take her seriously – especially as Cedric was being investigated? But there was no doubt about it, what had happened would upset her father once it was out in the open. She could picture George's broken-hearted expression only too easily, and as for Sam – what would he do? Beat Cedric to a pulp? And what if she were to get pregnant? The thought made her feel icy cold. She needed time to think, somewhere away from this place. Then she remembered her plan to visit Myra Jones. The shock of what had happened had driven it from her mind. She went inside, packed her bag, handed in her key and left.