Till We Meet Again (22 page)

Suddenly all three of them were trying to catch her up. The one called Bob shouted out to her and asked if she’d wanted to meet ‘Bonio’. ‘We call ’im that ’cos ’e’s ’ard,’ he added, and gave a raucous laugh.

She had only about twenty-five yards to go to the bus stop now, she could see it up ahead. But there was no one else waiting, not a person in sight anywhere, and the three men were whispering together.

Her heart was hammering with fear and she willed the bus to come now so she could sprint to it and be gone. Then suddenly the two younger men were on either side of her and they clamped their hands on to her arms.

‘Bonio’s got something ‘ard ‘e wants to show yer,’ Bob said.

She let out a scream but it was stifled immediately by a hand from behind her. She was pulled and pushed into a passageway between two shops, at the end of which was a narrow, dark alleyway.

Beth tried to get away, but they were too strong. When she kicked out at the one called Bonio, he only laughed.

‘Spirited, ain’t yer,’ he said. ‘I like that. There’s not many birds wot put up a fight with me.’

Until the moment Beth saw Bonio unbutton his coat and pull down the zipper on his trousers, she’d imagined they were going to beat her up. That was frightening enough, but now she saw rape was their intent, she was absolutely terrified. She screamed again and tried to shake off the hands holding her, but they had her in such strong grips she couldn’t. They forced her down on to the ground in the alley and the one whose name she hadn’t heard stuck something, a scarf or a handkerchief, in her mouth to silence her.

She was seventeen, and her only experience with boys until then had been a few kisses. But now she was on the hard, cold ground, and the man was yanking up her skirt, ripping her tights and then her knickers apart at the crutch, and he was leering down at her, urging the other two to hold her tight while he had what he called ‘his go’.

Beth could smell cat’s pee and rotting rubbish, but it was so dark she could see nothing more than the walls of the shop yards looming either side of her. Then even that was obliterated by the man lying down on top of her and forcing himself into her.

‘I bet she’s a bleedin’ virgin,’ the blond one chortled close to her ear as he held her tightly. ‘Is it tight, Bonio?’

She tried to scream despite the gag and even managed to make some noise, but Bonio put the side of his hand hard against her throat to choke her, and she could hardly breathe, let alone continue to try to make herself heard.

The pain was excruciating, she felt as if she was being split in two. Then suddenly he stopped and the next one took over, pushing her even harder down on to the rough ground, muttering filthy things about her being wet and hot.

When it was the third one’s turn she was too stunned and broken even to attempt to fight any more. She saw Bonio turn towards the wall, only a couple of feet from her head, to relieve himself, and somehow that act of contempt for her and her feelings was every bit as bad as the rape.

‘She’s like a bill poster’s bucket now,’ the man whose name she hadn’t heard remarked as he got to his feet, then kicked her in the side as she lay there, too ravaged even to cry, let alone move. ‘Filthy slag. You liked it, didn’t you?’

They were gone with the speed of rats in the dark, leaving her lying there in the filth like a piece of sodden rubbish.

‘Oh, Beth.’ Steven’s sigh brought her back to the present, and she saw he had tears trickling down his cheeks. ‘I thought I had the right words to say for any occasion, but for once I can’t say anything except how sorry I am.’

She was shocked at herself for telling it all so graphically, but she felt a huge sense of release that she’d been able to. In the weeks that followed that night she’d done her best to erase most of it from her memory, and what she was left with was just her shame. Yet reliving it again, it wasn’t shame she felt, only sorrow that her life had been permanently tainted by it.

‘What can anyone say?’ she sighed. ‘I know now that only a very small percentage of men can do that kind of thing, but for a very long time I was terrified of all men.’

‘What happened, did you report it?’ Steven asked. He was shocked to the core. It made him feel ashamed of his gender. He had hoped that by getting her to tell him it might heal her, but he couldn’t see how anyone could ever get over something as monstrous as that.

Beth didn’t answer for a moment. Even now, at forty-four, with vast experience under her belt, she was shivering again just the way she had that night as she struggled to get up, with that disgusting mess running down her legs.

They savaged her youth and innocence, stole from her something she could never regain. At that point she was already a little wary of men because of her father, but she’d still been like any other young girl awaiting her first romance. She would sigh over romantic songs and poems, ponder on the meaning of the little yearning feelings in her body she didn’t understand. Then suddenly after that vicious attack everything was ugly, they took everything from her.

Wriggling away from Steven, Beth got up and went over to the window, pulling the curtains back to look out. The view in the dark was like black velvet in a jeweller’s shop window, strewn with millions of diamonds. Yet out there in the seemingly sleeping city she knew from statistics that there would be other women either remembering the horror of rape, or even submitting to it as she stood there.

Steven came over to her and stood by her side looking out, his shoulder just touching hers.

‘I staggered out into the street screaming,’ she continued, knowing she must complete the story, but the aftermath was almost as bad as the rape. ‘I ran right into a bunch of women on a night out together. They saw the state of me and took me straight to the police station.’

‘What was that like?’ Steven said. He wanted to know everything, but he could see her trembling, and he was afraid of pushing too hard.

‘Precious little compassion, sympathy or tact,’ she said sharply, glancing sideways at him. ‘Thank God it’s not like that now for rape victims. They asked me a lot of questions, some so personal I felt as if I was being raped again. Then they left me to wait alone in a room while they went to get my parents. We didn’t have a phone at the house, you see.’

Beth could still picture that interview room. She’d been in hundreds, maybe even thousands just like it since, but she’d know that one again even if she were led to it blindfold.

It was about eight by eight, painted pea green, with no window, and it stank of cigarette smoke from the last occupant. A table and two chairs were the only furniture. She remembered a message scrawled on the wall: ‘Jesus lives, it’s me who is dead’. It seemed to be a profound message that night. She could smell those men on her, she wanted to scratch at herself because she felt so dirty. Someone brought her a mug of tea but she couldn’t drink it because she was trembling so hard.

‘Monty, my father, came in. Mother had stayed home, I think at his insistence,’ she went on. ‘He was purple with anger, and for a minute or two I thought it was because of what had happened to me. But it wasn’t. He was furious at being dragged away from the TV on a cold night. Guess what his first words to me were?’

‘If it were one of my daughters who had been raped I think mine would have been, “I’ll get them and kill them,” ’ Steven said. ‘But I guess that wasn’t what he said?’

‘No, nothing that would make me think he cared about me,’ Beth said, her lips quivering. ‘He said, “This is just like you, always the trouble-maker. I suppose you led them on.” ’

Steven shook his head in bewilderment. It never ceased to astound him how cruel some parents could be.

‘I think even the police sergeant with him was shocked,’ Beth said. ‘He tried to say what a terrible ordeal I’d had and this was no time for recriminations. But he might as well have talked to the wall, Father was too wrapped up in himself to listen. He had a spotted cravat around his neck, I remember, he kept pulling at it: as if it were choking him. The sergeant said I must be examined by the police surgeon, then they’d take my statement, but Father wouldn’t have any of that. He just kept saying I was a stupid fool and he was taking me home.’

‘He didn’t want the police to catch those men and charge them?’ Steven gasped in disbelief.

Beth shook her head. ‘Know what he said to the sergeant? “Come now, my good man, look at the length of that skirt. She was asking for it.” ’

‘I wanted to die then,’ Beth said, her voice rasping with hurt. ‘He was saying it was all right for those men to rape his daughter. But it didn’t end there, Steven. He got the police to drive us home, and when we got in he hit me with his slipper and told me I stank like a polecat. He punished me, even after what I’d been through.’

Steven took her in his arms and rocked her. Once again he found himself robbed of any words of comfort. He wondered how Beth had managed to hold on to her sanity.

‘What about your mother?’ he asked eventually. ‘Surely she didn’t take the same line?’

‘She did what she always did, wouldn’t go against Father openly,’ Beth sniffed. ‘She came to me later that night when he was asleep and tried to comfort me. I know she was distraught, but somehow that sneaking into my room only brought home how feeble she was.’

‘And later? Did you go back to school? Was anything said?’ Steven asked.

‘Mother was crying most of the next few days. I suppose I just withdrew into myself, I can’t really remember much about that time now. But Father must have felt some remorse because he did say a while afterwards that it was his way of protecting me. He told me that if the men were caught and charged, it would be me who would suffer most in the court case, and whether the men were convicted of rape or not, I’d be pointed at, and the stigma would remain for all time.’

‘I’m sure that didn’t make you feel any better,’ Steven said, still holding her tightly.

‘No, it didn’t. Had he apologized for his harshness that night, it might have been different. It wasn’t until years later, when I saw the process of law in rape cases and what the victim has to go through, that I agreed he had a point.’

‘Did you tell anyone else at the time?’ Steven asked.

‘No, never,’ she said into his jacket. ‘Not even Serena or Robert. Apart from my parents, you are the only person who knows.’

‘That was a huge, terrible secret to be carrying inside you,’ he said. ‘How did you bear it?’

‘By planning my escape,’ she said simply, moving back from his arms. ‘I worked like crazy for my A-levels that spring. University was the way out, and I had to get there at all costs. I told myself that if I failed I’d end up as worthless as my father.’

She laughed suddenly, and Steven looked at her in consternation.

‘Don’t worry,’ she said, seeing his expression. ‘I’m not cracking up, only thinking of the revenge I took on Monty. You see, I didn’t let him off scot-free,’ she went on. ‘After I’d got to university, I made it quite clear on rare visits home that it was only to see Mother. I never said a kind word to him. As he got older and frailer, I’d be as callous with him as he’d been to me. I’d grin at his aches and pains, belittle him in any way I could. I made out that I talked about him in the village, and before long he wouldn’t go there any more. I would whisk my mother away on holiday and leave him to fend for himself. Then, when she died, I told him he was going to agree to go into a home otherwise I’d tell Robert about the rape. That shook him up, he didn’t ever want his son to know. Serena and Robert were astounded that he agreed so readily, and that he told them to sell the house to pay for it.’

Steven felt uneasy then. The man may have been a monster, but bearing a grudge for all those years, then blackmailing an old man, did seem to be extreme. ‘You must let it go now, Beth,’ he said, his mind turning to Susan and what the need for revenge had brought her to. ‘Try and forgive him.’

She turned to him and to his surprise kissed his cheek. ‘I wish I could,’ she said, putting one hand on each of his shoulders and looking right into his eyes. ‘You are the first man I’ve ever been able to open up to, Steven. Don’t you find that sad?’

Steven guessed that she meant far more than that.

‘Yes, it’s sad,’ he agreed. ‘But you are over the first hurdle now by talking about it to me.’

She smiled at him, and for the first time since he’d known her he saw real warmth in her eyes.

‘You are such a nice man,’ she sighed. ‘And you’ve got to get over your hurdle and do something about Anna. Promise me you will?’

‘I will,’ he said, and meant it. He could see now why Susan had admired Beth so much. She was courageous, and he suspected now she’d gone in for criminal law because of a real need to help others. She had managed to turn something bad into something good and noble.

‘And we’ll get Susan off together,’ she said, patting his cheek. ‘And we’ll stay friends?’

‘All for one and one for all,’ he said. ‘And now I must go home.’

Chapter twelve

In the weeks that followed her revelations to Steven, Beth sensed a slight change in herself. Nothing dramatic, but she did seem to be less detached from other people, less guarded, and certainly less pessimistic. She had panicked for a moment or two the morning after her conversation with Steven, terrified he would pass on what he had told her, but as soon as she saw him that day, she detected something in his face which told her he would never betray her trust.

Maybe it was just that which made everything better – she couldn’t remember ever trusting anyone implicitly before. Even as Christmas loomed closer, she didn’t feel her usual dejection. In the lunch hour she shopped for presents for her nieces and nephews and found herself enjoying it. When Serena rang and asked if she’d like to spend Christmas with them, she agreed immediately, without asking first if Monty was coming out of the home for the day.

Fortunately, as she laughingly told Steven later, Serena had gone on to say that he was staying in the home anyway. Beth said her new-found Christmas spirit didn’t quite stretch to welcoming the sight of her father.

As for Steven, he had finally given Anna an ultimatum. To his utmost surprise she didn’t seize the opportunity to leave as he’d expected, but went straight to her doctor for advice. He recommended she should spend a week in a private clinic for drink and drug dependency, and she booked herself into one almost immediately. Now she was back home again, and trying very hard with the help of the AA and Steven to kick drink for good.

Steven was cautiously optimistic. His joy that Anna had chosen to stay with him and the girls gave him hope for both her recovery and their marriage, but at the same time he was aware she was likely to backslide on some occasion. This was the hardest part for him, for although he knew trust was crucial, he found it very difficult not to keep phoning Anna during the day to check on what she was doing.

Beth often found herself moved by Steven’s understanding of human frailties. One day over lunch, which they quite often had together now, she told him that having him as a friend was like switching on another light in a gloomy room. Although they’d both laughed at the analogy at the time, and Steven asked how many watts he was, that was how she saw it. He’d thrown light into the dark corners of her mind.

It was in fact love she felt for Steven, though of course she couldn’t voice that for fear of being misunderstood. It was after all the platonic kind, not romantic. She loved his compassion, the little kindnesses that he bestowed on almost everyone he came into contact with. She had never had a confidant before, never thought she wanted or needed one either. Yet she found it so warming to know she could tell Steven anything, without fear he would repeat it. He confided in her too, and it made her feel valued in a very special way.

She could laugh at herself with Steven, something she’d never done with anyone before either. But above all, discovering she could care deeply for another human being was solace for her soul. She hadn’t believed she was capable of that.

Susan appeared to have settled down in the prison regime. Steven reported that she even seemed to have found a kind of contentment there. Freedom, as Roy Longhurst had pointed out, didn’t appear to mean much to someone who had never really experienced it.

Beth had so many pressing cases of her own that she had only been able to visit Susan once, but Steven kept her abreast of everything anyway. He was awaiting Susan’s psychiatric reports and a reply from his letter to Martin Wright requesting an interview.

As for Roy, Beth hadn’t forgotten about him, but with so much else going on around her, he hadn’t been uppermost in her mind. So when he phoned, just a few days before Christmas, and asked her out to dinner that evening, she was pleased. Just the sound of his deep voice gave her a quiver of unexpected excitement and she agreed without a second thought.

‘I’m really glad you fancy it,’ he said, sounding very relieved. ‘Because I was a bit premature. I booked a table on the Glass Boat just after I last saw you. I knew it would be hell trying to find anywhere half decent in the run-up to Christmas.’

‘So who would you be taking tonight if I was busy?’ she asked, amused that he’d had the foresight to book a table but had omitted to tell her.

‘No one,’ he said. ‘I’d make out I was ill. You see, after I’d booked it, I got the colly wobbles that you didn’t like me and I was afraid to ring you in case you told me to get lost. I’m an insecure person you see. Afraid of rejection.’

Beth laughed and said she’d meet him at eight. After she’d put the phone down she realized that just a few weeks ago such a statement, true or false, would only have irritated her. She was definitely unwinding.

Beth had heard that the Glass Boat was excellent, but she’d never been there before, and as the taxi dropped her by Bristol Bridge and she saw the floating restaurant, with all its lighted windows reflected in the dark water, she suddenly felt ridiculously girlish and thrilled.

She felt she looked good in the new red dress she’d bought for the party on Boxing Day at Serena’s. It was slinky, mid-calf length, with short sleeves, quite plain but for a trimming of red feathers around the scoop neck. As there had been no time for the hairdresser’s she’d washed her hair herself and scrunch-dried it. Though she normally felt wearing her hair loose like a wild black storm made her look like an ageing groupie, tonight it seemed appropriate. She wondered if Roy would even recognize her, having only seen her before with her hair scraped back and wearing business-like suits.

Roy was already nursing a drink in the small bar when she walked in. He glanced up, looked away, and then looked back, his face breaking into a wide smile as he realized it was actually her.

‘Beth!’ he said, jumping up. ‘You look sensational! Utterly gorgeous.’

‘You don’t look so bad yourself.’ She smiled. He was wearing a beautifully tailored dark suit and a dazzling white shirt. ‘How are you?’

‘Overworked, but feeling very festive and jolly.’ He grinned. ‘How about you?’

‘About the same,’ she said, looking around her, and smiled because the Christmas decorations were very pretty and the restaurant beyond the bar looked so stylish yet cosy with its candles and flowers.

It was a memorable night. Most of the other diners were in big parties, but although they were noisy with their party-poppers, crackers and great screams of raucous laughter, it didn’t seem intrusive, only atmospheric. The meal was absolutely delicious, and the service attentive but discreet. Each time Beth glanced out of the window at the river, she was charmed by the illuminated bridge, the many Christmas trees and coloured lights in the offices opposite, and the swans cruising regally by in the inky water.

Roy was such good company too, making her laugh with tales of police blunders, and disaster stories about the building work in his cottage.

‘So I take it the cottage is turning into a real home at last?’ she said eventually, smiling at him.

He nodded. ‘I’ve done a lot recently. But you’ll have to come and see it soon, I’ve even laid a path to the front door so your elegant shoes won’t get plastered in mud.’

By the time they had coffee and a brandy, Beth felt she didn’t want the night to end. Roy was such good company – funny, interesting, intelligent and sexy.

As she watched him walk a little unsteadily to the men’s room, she thought that it was odd she should consider sexiness as an attribute. She was usually very uncomfortable with men with that quality.

As he came back up the stairs she could see he was hiding something behind his back and smirking like a schoolboy.

‘What?’ she said as he stood beside the table looking down at her.

‘You look good enough to eat,’ he said.

Beth giggled. ‘Haven’t you eaten enough for one night?’

‘Da-dum!’ he said, pulling a sprig of rather weary-looking mistletoe from behind his back. ‘Just a titbit will do. One kiss.’

Beth thought he looked adorable as he said this. He had such a soft, smiley mouth, and such lovely dark eyes. She didn’t care if other people in the restaurant were watching, she wanted him to kiss her.

It was the most perfect kiss. Soft, warm lips, lingering just long enough to make her wish she was standing, with his arms around her. One of his hands caressed her cheek, presumably the other was still holding the mistletoe.

A cheer went up from the next table. Beth blushed as she realized it was aimed at them.

‘Umm,’ Roy said thoughtfully as he sat down opposite her again. ‘That titbit was scrumptious.’

All at once the old familiar anxiety came back. He would want to go back to her flat with her, and he wouldn’t want to leave either. This seemed confirmed when later she heard him ask the waiter to order him a taxi. Yet to her surprise when he came back to their table, he bent down and kissed her neck and said, ‘I’ve ordered a taxi. I’ll get him to take me on to Queen Charlton after dropping you off. To get one taxi so close to Christmas is rare, two is an impossibility.’

They had to walk along the cobbled quayside to Bristol Bridge as cars couldn’t get down there, and it was very cold after the warmth on the Glass Boat. Beth had only a fluffy shawl around her shoulders, and she was unsteady on her feet too, but Roy put his arm around her and cuddled her close to him.

The trees on the quayside were strewn with coloured lights, and Roy stopped beneath one to kiss her. Beth seemed to melt against him, losing all her inhibitions, and it was Roy who broke away first, looking down at her upturned face.

‘You are beautiful, Ms Powell,’ he said softly. ‘The Christmas lights are making jewels in your hair, and your mouth is the most kissable one I’ve ever seen. Happy Christmas!’

That Christmas was the best one Beth could remember. But then, perhaps that was partially because of the after-glow from the evening with Roy. They had kissed passionately all the way to her flat, but he hadn’t pushed things by abandoning the taxi and asking to come in. The next day he sent her a lovely Christmas flower arrangement, with a note thanking her for a wonderful evening. He wished her a happy Christmas and said he would phone when she got back.

He had struck the perfect balance. Keen, but not so pushy it made her nervous. She left Bristol at midday on Christmas Eve, and despite her conviction there would be traffic jams right around the M25, the roads were quiet and she reached Brightling, the village near Battle where Serena and her family lived, by half past five.

When Beth had worked in London, she’d seen Serena at least four times a year, usually staying overnight. But since moving to Bristol she’d only visited her once, and she sensed that her sister felt hurt by this, even though she knew what a long drive it was. So Beth half expected Serena to be cool with her, at least for a while. But it hadn’t been that way.

She got a joyous welcome from Serena and her husband, Tony. Beth’s two nieces, Becky and Louise, aged eighteen and sixteen respectively, acted as if she were visiting royalty, escorting her to the little guest-room, helping her unpack, and admiring her clothes and shoes with wild enthusiasm.

Serena was well named, for she was serene. She was beautiful too, and had been from childhood. Her hair was dark and curly just like Beth’s, but she had always worn hers cut short, and it emphasized her big, dark, smouldering eyes which were said to be inherited from their grandmother. She was fortunate too that her skin was olive-toned, not pale like Beth’s.

Even at fifty-four, with quite a few grey hairs, wrinkles round her eyes, and her once slender shape becoming matronly, Serena was still a head-turner. She wore loose flowing clothes in vivid colours and ethnic chunky jewellery, which gave her the appearance of an exotic flower. But on top of her looks, Serena was a very social person, and a great organizer. Not only had she decorated the cottage so it looked like Santa’s grotto, she’d laid on enough food for the Third Army and planned a full itinerary for the next three days.

It started as soon as they’d eaten supper, when they went out for drinks at a neighbour’s, then on to the midnight service at Brightling church. Christmas Day began with Buck’s Fizz while they opened their presents, and at midday when Robert, his wife Penny and their two young sons Simon and Edward arrived, several neighbours came in for pre-lunch drinks.

So it went on, people coming and going, visits out to other neighbours, right through till Boxing Day evening when Serena threw her customary big party. As always, Beth was amazed by Serena’s ability to serve food and drinks to scores of people, including a small army of children watching videos upstairs, and still remain unflustered and looking beautiful.

Yet it was the third day of the holiday that meant the most to Beth. Tony took Becky and Louise to Brighton in the morning, so Serena could spend a few hours alone with her sister. They sat in the sitting room by the fire with their feet up and relaxed.

‘You seem very much happier,’ Serena said at one point. ‘Relaxed and cheerful. Is it the job or a man?’

As Serena was ten years older than Beth, their relationship had often seemed more like aunt and niece than sisters. Serena had left home at eighteen for much the same reasons as Beth, but she was always very anxious about leaving her younger sister to bear the brunt of their father’s bad moods. She did her best to make up for her absence by giving Beth clothes and other little gifts, and she had always stood up for her. Yet even now, at fifty-four, and her younger sister a successful solicitor, Serena still carried a burden of guilt. To her the fact that Beth hadn’t married and had children of her own was a reflection on her inability to do more for her as a child.

Beth knew this and it added to her own inner sadness sometimes. Serena was an earth mother, she poured out love unstintingly, not only on her husband and children, but on friends, neighbours and just about anyone else who crossed her path. She did everything with love – work, decorating and furnishing her cottage, arranging the flowers in the church, even visiting their father, who didn’t deserve a moment of her time. Beth thought she would give her sister what would be her idea of the most perfect Christmas present – to hear her younger sister was happy and fulfilled.