by Anne Hampson
Dangerous Friendship
Anne Hampson
Copyright
Dangerous Friendship
Copyright © 1976 by Anne Hampson
Cover art, special contents, and electronic edition © 2014 by RosettaBooks LLC
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without permission in writing from the publisher, except by a reviewer who may quote brief passages in a review.
Cover jacket design by Alexia Garaventa
ISBN ePub edition: 9780795338885
Contents
CHAPTER ONE
CHAPTER TWO
CHAPTER THREE
CHAPTER FOUR
CHAPTER FIVE
CHAPTER SIX
CHAPTER SEVEN
CHAPTER EIGHT
CHAPTER NINE
CHAPTER TEN
CHAPTER ONE
Lena Ridgeway frowned at her appearance as, glancing in the cracked mirror over the kitchen sink, she noted the dullness of her eyes, the lank strands of hair, the pale drawn cheeks and the lips that lacked colour.
Was it only three years ago that she had been declared the winner of a beauty competition? It had only been a local affair, it was true, but her laughing brown eyes, the russet glory of her gleaming hair, the delicately contoured cheeks with their healthy peach-bloom colour, the rosy mouth, full and generous… all these had com pounded to produce a picture which the judges had described as ‘perfect feminine attractiveness’ and she had won the prize.
And now…
She began to hurry through the washing, taking out numerous small garments from the machine and rinsing them in the sink before putting them into the spin-dryer. It was Sunday, the day her three young stepbrothers went over to their aunt’s home, so affording Lena an opportunity to take a little leisure. Leisure! she thought bitterly. For the past eight months she had not known one single hour’s leisure.
However, this was one occasion on which she was to have something rather pleasant in her life; she was entertaining to tea an old school-friend who, eighteen months ago, had married a South African and had gone to live on his farm in the eastern part of the Transvaal. June and Gerald were over on holiday, and as Lena had come high on their visiting list, she was one of the first of June’s friends to be called on. Lena had been busy for the whole of the previous afternoon, leaving John and Billie and James to play in the garden. This morning she had made a salad, and a trifle, had baked cakes and biscuits, and when at half past two she began laying the table in the small diningroom, she was smiling happily, for the result of her efforts was most rewarding, the table looking daintily attractive, with red roses, snow-white cloth and gleaming cutlery.
‘And now to make myself look pretty!’ She went upstairs to take a bath, saw that the children had played havoc with the room that morning, and so after tidying up she had little time to spend on her appearance. In her letters to June, Lena had deliberately omitted much of what had taken place in her life during the past months. She and June had been close friends since early childhood and, fully aware that June would be filled both with deep anxiety and wrathful indignation if she revealed the drastic changes that had recently occurred, Lena had not confided very much at all. But now, as she darted a look in the dressing-table mirror, she strongly suspected that the observant June would notice the difference in her appearance—and demand to be given the reason for it.
Lena herself, musing over the events which had caused the changes in her life, could not help, as always, becoming enmeshed in a web of deep depression. It had all resulted from her father’s decision to marry Freda, a woman whom he had known only a few weeks. She had been left a widow with three children under four and Lena suspected that it was pity rather than love which had prompted her father to offer marriage to the woman. Lena did not particularly like her, though she naturally kept this dislike to herself. Nor was she at all enamoured with the children, who seemed particularly spoiled and naughty. The change also palled; it was no longer possible to come home and eat a quiet, well-cooked meal with her father—sometimes in the glow of the firelight, and at other times with the spring or summer sunshine streaming through the window. All that was gone; in its place was work, work and even more work.
And then the most unforeseen and terrible thing happened. Her father and stepmother were killed instantly when a coach collided with their car.
Left with the three children, Lena had asked their aunt to have them, and while this aunt had not refused outright, she had procrastinated so long that in the end Lena had given up her work and she and the children were now living on the pension paid to her by the firm for whom her father had worked at the time of his death. In Lena’s life now there was no light, no hope of anything that could change her existence. Marriage was out, for no man would be willing to take on three unruly children—especially children who were not even related to the girl who was taking care of them.
‘You owe them nothing,’ Lena’s solicitor had said at the time of her father’s death, but her response had been,
‘There isn’t anyone else to take care of them.’
Her reverie being broken by the chiming of the clock downstairs, Lena began with more urgency to brush her hair, her attention still more on her features than anything else.
‘A little extra colour to my cheeks,’ she decided. ‘It’ll cover up the lines—Oh, heavens, here they are!’ she exclaimed as the front door bell rang. ‘They’re early!’
She sped downstairs and a moment later she and June were hugging one another, while Gerald, looking as if he would rather be anywhere in the world than here, merely stood by and waited for the emotional scene to come to an end.
‘Oh, but it’s marvellous to see you again!’ Lena gestured and her friends entered the long narrow hallway. ‘First on the left—but you should know! You’ve been in this house so many times!’ After closing the door Lena followed June and Gerald into the sitting-room. ‘Eighteen months since you were married and went away!’
‘It’s gone so quickly! You made the most beautiful chief bridesmaid any girl could have…’ June’s voice faded, and even Gerald was staring at Lena’s drawn countenance. ‘Is something wrong?’ inquired June anxiously even before she had handed her coat to Lena who was waiting to take it from her. ‘You did write to say your father had died, but that was some time ago—’
‘Sit down, June, and I’ll tell you a little about it.’ Taking note, not only of her friend’s expression, but also of the troubled look in Gerald’s compassionate eyes, Lena realized at once that some explanation on her part would be expected. ‘It’s been rather hard since Father died.’ She left the room, hung up the coats, then returned. ‘I thought we’d eat about five—but meanwhile I’ll make a pot of tea—’
‘In a few minutes,’ interrupted June in that customary forceful manner which Lena remembered of old. ‘You look terrible, Lena—No, it’s not tactful of me, or polite, but be damned to etiquette! You know me—I’ve always said what I meant. What’s amiss?’ she added without further preamble.
Lena hesitated a moment, but then, because of the way she felt, so tired and depressed, with the whole of her future seeming to be blighted by the circumstances into which she had been plunged, she talked to her friend without the reserve which, initially, she had meant to adopt. A few interruptions came both from June and Gerald, but for the most part they listened, their changing expressions far more revealing than anything which the spoken word could convey.
‘You’re troubled about me,’ ended Lena with deep regret. ‘I didn’t want you to be, June, and that’s why I didn’t put much in my letters.’
>
‘Much?’ echoed June accusingly. ‘You put precious little! Apart from telling me your father had died in an accident you said nothing!’
Lena bit her lip, feeling guilty.
‘I didn’t want you to worry, June. After all, you’d only just been married; it wasn’t for me to burden you with my troubles.’
‘Just been married? We’ve been married over a year and a half!’
‘At the time it was all happening, I mean.’ Swiftly Lena rose and said she would make that pot of tea. ‘I’ll not be long,’ she added, and went to the door.
‘Getting out of the way, eh?’ grimly from June. ‘Well, we’ll discuss it when you come back! Something’s got to be done—this whole business sorted out—and little June here’s the very one to do it!’
Lena, standing by the door, shook her head dejectedly.
‘Nothing can be done, June. I’m stuck with these three children until they are old enough to look after themselves.’
‘That’ll not be for ten years or more! What about you—and your lost youth? You’re already twenty-four, Lena; it’s time you were looking around for a husband. Doesn’t this aspect of it ever enter your head?’
‘Of course it does; it’s only natural.’ Lena half turned away, her eyes shading as she recalled the many occasions when her mind would lose itself in a delightful mist of imagination. Her ideal man would appear then—tall and dark and handsome—and she would see herself married in a lovely white creation similar to that which June had worn; she would go off to some exotic place for a honeymoon; she and her handsome husband would return to the little nest which they had previously made for themselves.
‘Well then, why don’t you do something about it?’
Lena looked hopelessly at her.
‘There isn’t anything I can do,’ she said, and went from the room to the kitchen to make the pot of tea. About ten minutes later she returned with the tray on which was the tea and three cups and saucers. She poured the tea and handed a cup to each of her guests. And all the while not one word passed any of their lips. Looking at last from June to Gerald, Lena frowned a little to herself, wondering just what they had been saying while she was out of the room. She was soon to know.
‘We want you to come back with us for a holiday.’ It was Gerald who spoke in his quiet and placid voice which was very different in tone from that of his wife.
‘A long holiday!’ inserted June, and her husband nodded his head in instant agreement.
A faint and bitter smile touched Lena’s lips.
‘It’s kind of you both, and I do appreciate your offer, but I can’t leave these children. They have no one else—’
‘Where are they now?’ demanded June, although she had already been informed that they were with their aunt. Lena repeated this, adding in answer to a further question from June that this aunt was the sister of the children’s mother. ‘This aunt must take them—’ began June, when Lena interrupted her.
‘She has a child of her own, June.’
‘So these make four. It’s her problem, not yours.’
But Lena was shaking her head.
‘It’s no use, June. I can’t leave them.’
‘Do you love them?’
‘Strangely, I don’t. They’re unattractive children, all of them. I have a dreadful time—’ She stopped abruptly, not for one moment having intended saying anything like that.
‘Lena,’ said Gerald seriously, his tea going cold on the small table at his elbow where he had placed it, ‘these children are not your responsibility. As June says, your entire youth is going to be lost. It’s neither fair nor necessary that you accept responsibility for their upbringing. It isn’t as if even one of them was your father’s. None of them is a blood relation.’
‘They’ll not thank you, when they grow up, for the sacrifices you’ve made,’ interposed June angrily. ‘No, Lena, you must take our advice and wash your hands of them. Gerald and I talked while you were in the kitchen and we both came to the same conclusion—that you must get right away; if you don’t you’re not going to be able to rid yourself of the encumbrance. This aunt—what a let-out for her! She must be thanking her stars that you’re such a fool as to take on the responsibility of her sister’s children.’
‘I don’t think their aunt would have them—’ Lena shook her head. ‘No, I’m sure she wouldn’t.’
‘Then they must go into a foster home.’
‘I couldn’t…’ But suddenly Lena’s voice trailed away as she put a hand to her head. These violent pains had begun about five months ago, and recently they recurred with what was becoming rather alarming frequency.
‘What’s wrong?’ Sharply June spoke, her green eyes glinting, hard and wrathful. ‘A headache?’
Lena nodded and rose from the chair.
‘I’m sorry… I’ll get an aspirin—’
‘Nerves!’ declared June. ‘Oh, but I’m furious about all this!’
***
Although the tea was a most pleasant meal, with light conversation taking place between the three sitting at the table, Lena sensed June’s anger and the concern of her husband. She sighed inwardly, sorry that this afternoon to which she had so looked forward was being somewhat marred by the revelations which were having so marked an effect on her friends.
And it did not help at all when Mrs Poulton, the children’s aunt, brought them back sooner than was usual.
‘We’ve had some friends call unexpectedly,’ said Mrs Poulton when Lena answered her knock at the back door. ‘So I hope you don’t mind my bringing them a little before their time?’
An agonizing pain shot through Lena’s head as disappointment flooded over her.
‘But, Mrs Poulton,’ she protested, almost ready to cry, ‘I also have friends. They’ve come to tea—and we haven’t even finished—’
‘Well, it’s almost six o’clock.’
‘You usually bring them at half-past seven, Mrs Poulton.’
‘I’ve just said,’ returned the woman impatiently, ‘that we’ve got visitors…’ Her voice trailed away and Lena turned to see June standing behind her, fury both in the compression of her mouth and the glint in her eyes.
‘I’m terribly sorry about this, June—’ Lena broke off as Billie, racing past her, slid on the carpet and, falling, set up a deafening howl. ‘I’ll take them to the kitchen while you and Gerald finish your tea.’ James, his face dirty and his nose requiring the urgent use of a handkerchief, clung to Lena’s freshly washed dress with fingers from which he had just licked the remains of a bar of chocolate.
‘I want a drink!’ he cried peevishly. ‘Auntie Norah wouldn’t give me one. She said I’d have one when I got home!’
‘I want one as well…’ Lena heard no more. The pain in her head was suddenly excruciating and without warning everything went black and had not Gerald, appearing conveniently upon the scene, leapt forward to catch her, there was no knowing what injuries she might have sustained, for she would have fallen against the corner of the electric cooker. Gerald carried her to the sitting-room and she came round almost immediately he put a glass of water to her lips.
‘Oh… what happened—?’ She stopped abruptly, hearing her friend’s wrathful voice.
‘Miss Ridgeway happens to be ill, Mrs—Mrs—?’
‘Poulton—but you see, we have visitors—’
‘All I can see at the moment, madam, is that you must take these children back to your house—and keep them there! Miss Ridgeway is in no way responsible for them, and as she’ll be seeing the doctor first thing in the morning, she obviously can’t be bothered with them—Here, you—Jimmy or Billie or whatever you’re called—outside!’
‘Why, you—!’ Mrs Poulton seemed to be lost for words. ‘I—’
‘And this other little brat—Yes, I’ve got him by the scruff of the neck! Outside! Off with you all! Your auntie is taking you back to her house—’ Then there was a loud bang as the door was closed.
‘Well,’ de
clared June when her husband joined her, ‘that was rather profitable. What an obnoxious bunch of brats they turned out to be! How’s Lena?’
‘Coming round.’
‘Really, June,’ protested Lena trying to sit up, ‘you can’t do that. I’ve agreed to have them—’
‘Signed anything?’
‘No—’
‘It wouldn’t matter if you had. You’re ill—ready to succumb to a nervous breakdown. And as you’ve no relatives, I’m taking charge. Gerald doesn’t object, do you, darling?’
‘Most certainly not. You have all my support.’ Although far less forceful than his wife, Gerald was equally determined to do something for Lena.
‘I’m staying with Lena tonight,’ June told her husband. ‘Will you convey my apologies to Mum and tell her what’s happened? She’s always thought a lot of Lena and she wouldn’t want me to leave her at a time like this.’
Lena opened her mouth to protest, then closed it again. She was so tired and lethargic that at this moment nothing was more appealing to her than to relax and allow her friend to deal with the situation in any way she thought best. As this was running through her mind a sharp ‘rat-tat’ was heard. This time it was Gerald who insisted on going to the door.
His quiet voice reached the two girls in the sitting-room.
‘No, Mrs Poulton, there isn’t a chance of their coming back tonight—or tomorrow, for that matter. Our friend, Miss Ridgeway, is in no fit condition to take care of them. I suggest that, if you yourself are unwilling to have them, you get in touch with the local authority, who will take the children into their care—’
‘You’re suggesting that my poor dead sister’s innocent babes should go into a home! Oh, what kind of a man are you! I’ve never heard of anything so wicked and unfeeling!’
‘You don’t want them to go into care?’ Still the voice was quiet, and unhurried. June, aware that she herself would have handled the woman very differently, gave a grimace, which presently progressed to a laugh. ‘In that case, Mrs Poulton, you’ll prefer to have them yourself. Now, that is most considerate and dutiful in you—’
