by Kitty Neale
Sally could see the tight expression on her mum’s face and sighed, longing for the closeness they had once shared. It was the same with gran; since she had been going out with John there was a constraint between them. She held out her hand, the ring sparkling as it caught the light.
Ruth gave it a cursory glance. ‘Yes, very nice,’ she said quietly.
‘It belonged to my mother, Mrs Marchant,’ John told her.
She didn’t make any comment, just smiled grimly, her manner dismissive as she sat down.
The strained atmosphere made conversation impossible. Sally squirmed with embarrassment, relieved when, after a short time, John said he had to go. She saw him out, lifting her lips for a kiss that was as light as a feather as his mouth skimmed across hers.
‘Bye, darling, see you tomorrow,’ he murmured.
Standing on the doorstep she gazed after him as he sauntered down the Lane, only turning her head when she heard a car pulling into the kerb. Her aunt was the first to climb out, followed by Arthur, hurrying round from the driver’s side to assist her gran as she struggled stiffly onto the pavement.
Sally went across to help. ‘Was everything all right at your house, Auntie?’
‘Yes, and I’ve brought a few more things back with me.’ She turned to Arthur. ‘Thank you so much for taking us, it was very kind of you.’
‘That’s all right, it was no trouble. Hello, Sally,’ he grinned. ‘How’s things?’
‘Fine, thank you,’ she told him, smiling happily. ‘In fact John and I have just got engaged.’
‘What!’ her gran yelped. ‘Don’t tell me you’ve got engaged to that poncy git?’
Glaring at her gran, Sally felt her happiness draining away. How could she say that, and in front of Arthur too! Turning on her heels, she marched indoors.
Now, sitting gazing out of her bedroom window, she wondered what was wrong with her family. Why didn’t they like John? He was wonderful. Gentle, kind, and not at all like Arthur who made her shiver with fear every time he looked at her, his eyes dark with lust.
She ignored the soft knock on her bedroom door, not even turning her head when her aunt came into the room.
‘Sally, can I talk to you?’
‘No, not now. I’m sorry, I just want to be on my own for a while.’
‘Please, dear, we really do need to talk. There’s something I want to tell you, something that nobody else knows – except for my psychiatrist, that is. Can I trust you to keep it confidential?’ she added softly.
Despite her unhappiness Sally found that she was intrigued, and twisting around to look at her aunt, she said, ‘Yes, you can trust me.’
‘Sally, I’m sure you know the facts of life, so you must know what happens between a man and woman when they get married.’
She shivered. Yes, she knew a little, but she was mainly in ignorance of what really happened. It was something she preferred not to think about and always pushed to the back of her mind.
‘This is so difficult,’ her aunt murmured, taking a deep breath before continuing, her hands clenched so tightly together that the knuckles gleamed white. ‘You see, Sally, even though I’ve been married to your uncle for twenty years, I’m still a virgin. Yes, I can see by your face that you’re surprised, aren’t you?’ She paused, the parody of a smile on her face. ‘The reason I’m telling you this, is because I don’t want you to end up like me.’
Sally averted her eyes, embarrassed by her aunt’s revelations and suddenly nervous about where this conversation was leading. She folded her arms across her chest defensively, shrugging in an effort to look nonchalant. ‘Why should I end up like you?’
‘Because, like me, you’ve had a bad sexual experience. Mine made me frigid, terrified of sex. I just want to make sure that you haven’t been affected in the same way by what your uncle did to you.’
Her breath caught in her throat; she felt herself go hot, then cold. It had never been discussed before; it had been buried, like her shame. Why did her aunt have to bring it up after all these years? ‘I don’t want to talk about it,’ she croaked.
‘But not talking was the cause of my breakdown,’ Mary said urgently. ‘I understand that now. I’ve never spoken about my feelings, I’ve always been too proud. Always worried about people’s perceptions of me, and to cry in front of anyone would have been anathema for me, a sign of weakness. So you see, I never had an outlet for my pain.’
‘Is that what caused your illness, this OCD thing that you’ve got?’
‘Well, partly I suppose. But what really caused it was guilt, Sally. Guilt and self-hatred, and that’s why I keep washing my hands all the time. My psychiatrist said it’s the root of my illness.’
She stared at her aunt. ‘I don’t understand: what have you got to feel guilty about?’
‘Oh, my dear, I was feeling guilty about you, of course. I thought that if I’d been a proper wife to Harry he might not have turned his sexual attentions towards you.’
Sally placed her elbows on the windowsill and rested her head in her hands as she contemplated her aunt’s words. She sighed deeply, raising her eyes at last. ‘Do you know, Auntie, I too have always felt guilty for what happened. I thought it was my fault that Uncle Harry did those horrible things to me.’
Her aunt advanced across the room, placing a hand on her arm. ‘Oh, how awful. I didn’t realise that you felt like that,’ she said, her voice deep with compassion. ‘Hasn’t your mother talked to you about it?’
‘No, it’s never been discussed.’ She smiled ruefully. ‘Until now.’
‘Well, I’m glad we’re bringing it into the open at last. I’ve learned a lot from my psychiatrist, some of it not very pleasant. But one of the things I’ve come to realise is that your uncle is a paedophile. Do you know what that is?’
‘No, is it an illness?’
‘Huh, he’s sick all right, but not in the way you mean,’ Mary answered, her face grimacing in distaste. ‘A paedophile is a person who is attracted to children sexually. I know, disgusting, isn’t it? But you see, when my psychiatrist explained that my rejection would not have turned him into a paedophile, it was such a huge relief. He told me that I wasn’t to blame for what Harry did to you. A normal man would have looked for a sexual relationship with another woman – not a child.’
She stared hopefully at her aunt. ‘So if he’s a paedophile, does … does that mean it wasn’t my fault either?’ she whispered.
‘No, of course it wasn’t, and it’s awful to think that you’ve carried this burden for so long. But now, I must ask you a very difficult question.’
Her aunt began to pace the room, head down as she walked back and forth in agitation. Then, suddenly coming to a halt she blurted out, ‘Are you frightened of sex?’
Sally bristled. ‘John is wonderful. He doesn’t expect sex before we’re married.’
‘That’s nice, dear, but it isn’t what I asked. All right, perhaps I have no right to ask you such a personal question. But please, I just want you to know that if you do have a problem, it is possible to get help.’
‘I don’t need any help,’ Sally protested, squirming with embarrassment. ‘I’m fine.’
‘That’s all right then. Please forgive me for probing into your personal life, but you see I just wanted to make sure that your uncle didn’t cause you any lasting damage.’ Mary smiled tenderly. ‘I’ll leave you in peace now, but I’m glad we had this little chat.’
As the door closed behind her aunt, Sally turned back to the window, going over the conversation in her mind. For so long she had shied away from thinking about her uncle, but now that her aunt had brought the whole thing into the open, she found herself relieved that it hadn’t been her fault after all. Now, as she gazed down into the Lane she let out a long sigh, feeling that a huge weight had been lifted from her shoulders.
She was about to turn away when she saw Jenny crossing the road, tottering on high stiletto-heeled shoes, a tight skirt clinging to her hips. Arthur was
polishing the chrome bumper on his car and smiled as she draped herself seductively across the bonnet. He threw down his duster, reaching out to pull her into his arms, their bodies merging passionately.
Sally averted her eyes, clicking her tongue with disgust. Ugh, she thought. Thank goodness John doesn’t hold me like that. Unable to resist another peep, she saw that their lips were now fused together in a long and ardent kiss. Her stomach lurched, and though she didn’t want to acknowledge the feeling, she felt a surge of jealousy.
Chapter Twenty-Two
Sally found that the months following her engagement were something of an anti-climax. The subject was rarely mentioned at home and though her gran had apologised, there was still a constraint between them.
One Friday as she walked home from work, the sun low in the sky and an autumn chill in the air, she was once again realising how much she missed Ann. She desperately wanted someone to confide in about her relationship with John, but who? Mum and Gran made it obvious that they didn’t like him, and somehow she thought her auntie was still too fragile.
She hunched her shoulders. Perhaps she was worrying about nothing. Yet John rarely held her in his arms and had never really kissed her, except for an occasional peck on the cheek. It had been wonderful at first, she had felt so safe, but lately she had begun to notice how much he avoided touching her, almost as if he found her repulsive. Should it be like this, she wondered. Did he really love her?
Turning into the Lane, she was surprised to see Nelly Cox standing on her doorstep. Her steel-grey hair was pulled back into an untidy bun and although the evening was chilly, she only had a thin cardigan over her faded cotton dress. Since her husband’s death she had become very frail, almost as if she had lost the will to live, and every time Sally saw her, she was wracked with guilt.
‘Hello, Nelly, are you all right?’ she asked worriedly as she approached.
‘Yeah, I was looking out for you. Do you fancy coming in for a cuppa?’
Sally sighed inwardly; she wasn’t in the mood, but how could she refuse? ‘Yes, all right, I’d love one. I can’t stay for long though, Mum will have my dinner ready.’ She followed Nelly inside, wrinkling her nose at the sour smell. It had been so different when George was alive, the house had been immaculate, but now, sitting at the kitchen table, Sally couldn’t help but notice how grimy everything looked.
‘What’s up? You look a bit down,’ Nelly said, spooning condensed milk from an encrusted tin into her tea.
Sally averted her eyes from the dirty cup, and balked at the thought of drinking from it. ‘Nothing’s up, Nelly, I’m fine. I’ve just had a hard day, that’s all.’
‘How’s that boyfriend of yours?’ she asked shrewdly. ‘Is he treating yer right?’
‘Yes, of course he is.’
‘Well, I hope he turns out to be a good husband like my George. Do you know, we hardly had an argument in nearly fifty years.’
Sally touched the old lady’s hand where it lay on the table, remembering the day when she had apologised for using healing powers on her husband. Nelly had been so kind, dismissing her apology and saying that it had made his last few weeks less painful. It was obvious that she was just trying to make her feel better, and Sally had come to love this brave old lady.
Realising that Nelly wanted to talk about him now, she settled back in her chair to listen patiently. ‘Yes, he was a lovely man,’ she told her.
‘My only regret is that we didn’t ’ave children, Sally. I know he’d ’ave been a smashing father, he loved kids.’ She chuckled, adding, ‘Blimey, we tried hard enough. Thank God there was nothing wrong in that department, if you know what I mean.’
Feeling her cheeks burning, Sally lowered her head. Fancy Nelly saying a thing like that.
‘I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to embarrass you, it just sort of slipped out. Though I’m surprised to see you blushing. I thought you youngsters knew it all nowadays.’ She grinned at Sally across the table. ‘Things were different in my day. When George and me got married I knew nothing about – well, you know, sex. My mother just told me to lie back and to think of England until my husband’s base desires were satisfied. Base desires, I ask you! I didn’t have a clue what she was talking about. Still, it was fun finding out,’ she added with a saucy little wink.
Sally felt a lump in her throat. Somehow, as Nelly talked about her marriage it increased her worries about John, making her realise even more strongly that something was missing in their relationship.
‘Come on, Sally, spit it out. I can see you’re upset. Is it me talking about my George?’
Shaking her head vigorously, she said, ‘No, Nelly, of course not. It’s just … well, you see … I don’t think my boyfriend really loves me.’
‘Now why would you think that? He’s asked you to marry him, ain’t he, and surely he wouldn’t do that unless he loves you?’
‘Yes, maybe, but he never really shows me any affection and sometimes there’s a strange expression on his face when he looks at me, almost as if he finds me distasteful.’
‘Are you sure you’re not imagining things? I seem to remember yer mum telling me that he’s a very religious chap, is that right?’
‘Yes, he is,’ Sally told her.
Nelly smiled in satisfaction, folding her arms under her drooping bust. ‘There’s yer answer then. He probably doesn’t trust himself. You see, once men get started, it’s sort of difficult for them to stop. I mean, just look at you – you’d be a temptation to any man. Perhaps he’s frightened that he might go too far before you get married.’
Sally gazed across the table, feeling a surge of hope. ‘Do you really think that’s what it is, Nelly?’
‘Of course. You should count yourself lucky, my girl. After all, more and more girls are getting pregnant before they’ve got a wedding ring on their finger. Look at that Judy Wilson at number ten, for instance. Six months gone by the look of her, and no sign of the father. I don’t know what things are coming to, I really don’t,’ she added, shaking her head.
‘Oh Nelly, I’m so glad that I’ve talked to you,’ Sally said, a smile on her face. ‘You have really eased my mind.’
‘That’s nice to hear, ducks. Perhaps I ain’t so useless after all. Now how about another cuppa?’
Sally, happier now, glanced at the clock. ‘I’m sorry, but I really must go. Mum will be wondering where I am.’
She kissed Nelly gently on the cheek, pleased to see that a little spark had returned to her eyes. Perhaps our talk has done us both good, she thought, as she hurried home.
Sally had just sat down when the back door flew open and Elsie staggered into the room, her face white and drawn.
‘What is it?’ Ruth asked anxiously, rushing forward, her arms outstretched as though she expected Elsie to collapse into them.
‘Oh, God … Oh, God,’ she sobbed as Ruth led her to a chair. ‘It’s my Arthur,’ she wailed.
‘Arthur? What’s wrong with him?’ Sally gasped, feeling her heart thumping in her chest.
‘He’s going away, emigrating.’ Their neighbour pulled at her hair in anguish, adding, ‘And I’ll never see him again.’
‘Now slow down and start at the beginning,’ Ruth urged, rubbing her hands gently across her friend’s bent shoulders.
Elsie drew in long shuddering breaths in an effort to compose herself, then raised pain-filled eyes. ‘It’s that Jenny’s family. They’re all emigrating to Australia and my Arthur’s decided to go with them. Oh, I can’t bear it,’ she sobbed, fresh tears filling her eyes.
‘I can’t believe it,’ Sally whispered.
‘No, neither could I at first,’ Elsie said, and with a trace of venom now evident in her voice, she added, ‘I’ve never liked that bloody Jenny. She’s a right flighty piece and I’ve tried to warn Arthur about her antics, but he won’t have it, and now she’s taking my son away from me.’ She reached up, grasping Ruth’s hand. ‘Oh, what am I going to do? How can I stop him?’
Sal
ly stared at Elsie’s bent head as only her snuffling sobs filled the silence in the room. It was the first time she had ever heard her say a bad word about anyone, and she was shocked at her opinion of Jenny. She fumbled in her mind for something to say, unable to think of any words of comfort. ‘Perhaps he’ll change his mind,’ she stammered ineffectually.
‘Yeah, Sally’s right,’ Ruth agreed. ‘That family in the next street waited for over a year before they emigrated. Don’t you remember, they had all sorts of formalities to go through first. Anything can happen in that time, Elsie.’
‘I didn’t see it in the cards,’ the woman cried, her face twisted with anguish. ‘There was nothing there, I’m sure there wasn’t. Oh yes,’ she nodded her head, ‘I saw travel, but then that’s to be expected when he works for his father.’ Hope glimmered suddenly in her eyes. ‘I didn’t see a sea voyage – do you think that’s a good sign, Sally?’
She shook her head. ‘I don’t know, Elsie. I don’t believe in using the cards now, you know that.’
She jumped back in surprise when Elsie suddenly reared to her feet. ‘Yes, you’ve made that perfectly clear, haven’t you! You even had the nerve to tell my Ann that I’m being misled by the devil. Well, it isn’t me who’s being misled, miss. It’s you!’ She shook her head indignantly. ‘How can you stand by and let your gran suffer so much pain when you’ve got the power to help her? Jesus healed the sick, yet you and your hoity-toity boyfriend seem to have forgotten that. I’ll tell you something else, my girl. This is all your fault, and you needn’t look at me like that. My Arthur has loved you for years, but you didn’t want to know, did you? What’s the matter – wasn’t he good enough for you? And now look what’s happened. Because of you he’s going to bloody Australia.’
Sally was stiff with shock. How could Elsie blame her? She had never given Arthur any encouragement; in fact, she was always nervous when he came near her and avoided him as much as possible. She threw her mum an agonised glance before dashing out of the room, and was only halfway up the stairs when she heard Elsie’s shout. ‘Wait, Sally, please wait.’
