Forgotten Child

by Kitty Neale

  ‘No! Oh, Edward, that’s dreadful. Are you sure?’

  ‘Yes, there’s no doubt,’ he said darkly. ‘The poor girl looked terrified when I mentioned him, and Jenny told me why.’

  ‘At least the money gave Tina the opportunity to get away from him again and I suppose that’s some compensation.’

  ‘Yes, it is,’ Edward agreed, ‘though I doubt that anything can truly compensate for that sort of abuse.’

  The subject soon returned to Jennifer and Delia was glad when at last Edward did what he always did on Sundays: he went out to the garden and, secateurs from the shed in hand, began to prune dead blooms from the roses.

  Edward was over the moon that he’d found Jennifer, but though she’d pretended to feel the same, pretended to feel unhappiness that Jennifer didn’t want to see her or to come home, in truth that suited Delia just fine.

  Paul Ryman was at the pub again on Sunday evening, but there was still no sign of Tina. The landlord had said she’d rung in sick on Saturday, and he was disappointed that they’d missed their date that afternoon.

  ‘No Tina again?’ he said casually to the landlord.

  ‘Nah, and this time she hasn’t rang in. I ain’t too happy about it.’

  Paul pursed his lips, wondering when Tina would return to work. They’d had several dates, but there was a reserve about Tina, a sort of hands-off attitude, and he wondered if she was upset that he’d kissed her. Tina wasn’t easy to get close to, that was for sure, and he doubted she’d appreciate it if he called round to see her without an invitation.

  It was ten thirty before Paul left the pub, a little unsteady on his feet and smiling wryly that he’d drowned his sorrows in drink. He didn’t turn towards home and instead walked to Tina’s street where he stood looking up at her window. He was a daft sod, Paul told himself, but the drink had lowered his inhibitions. He needed an excuse to ring Tina’s bell, and as she was under the weather he could say he’d called round to see if she was all right. Yes, that would do it, Paul decided, placing his finger on the doorbell.

  There was only the dim light from a streetlamp a little further along the street, and Paul strained to see who had opened the street door by just a crack. It wasn’t Tina but a young blonde girl who was peering back at him.

  ‘What do you want?’ she asked nervously.

  ‘I’m a friend of Tina’s. She didn’t turn up for work. Is she all right?’

  ‘She’s gone. She doesn’t live here any more.’

  ‘Gone! Gone where?’

  ‘I don’t know, and I don’t care,’ the girl said, about to close the door.

  ‘Hold on, are you Tina’s friend, Jenny? She once mentioned you.’

  She just nodded and, annoyed now, Paul said, ‘If you’re her friend there’s no need for that attitude.’

  ‘Believe me, there is. Now please go away.’

  With the door firmly closed this time, Paul was left floundering. What was going on? Tina had left the flat and now it seemed her job too. Why? And where had she gone?

  With no answers he walked away, yet determined to return. He was sure that Jenny knew more and somehow he’d get his answers.

  Chapter Twenty-Seven

  By the time the weekend came around again, Jenny had almost forgotten the young man who had called looking for Tina. She had a lot on her mind – her father, but mostly Marcos. When they had been viewing the house, his swift anger had allowed her to see another side of his character. She’d also seen what Sue had warned her about – Marcos was controlling.

  Insidious doubts wormed into her mind, ones Jenny fought by making excuses for him. Yes, Marcos had chosen the house, but he was a successful businessman who was used to making his own decisions. He wasn’t used to consulting anyone, so hadn’t realised it was inconsiderate. He had, surely, just wanted to please her.

  His apology for his anger had been equally swift, and after hearing about his background she could understand his need for privacy. Marcos had so many wonderful qualities, Jenny decided, and those were the ones she should focus on. He was kind, caring and wanted to look after her, and she felt loved, cherished. She loved him too, so very much.

  Jenny glanced at the clock. It was Saturday morning and her father would be here soon. Not only that, Marcos had agreed to meet him. When the doorbell rang she looked quickly in the mirror to check her appearance before running downstairs. The last time her father had seen her she’d been blotchy-faced with tears, but this time her smile was bright as she opened the door.

  ‘Hello, Dad.’

  Edward stepped inside to hug her. ‘I know it’s only been a week, but I’ve missed you.’

  ‘Same here, but come on up. Marcos should be here to meet you shortly.’

  ‘I’m looking forward to meeting him.’

  ‘Sit down, Dad. Can I get you anything?’

  ‘No thanks,’ he said, taking a seat on the sofa. ‘Jenny, I know you’re getting married soon, but won’t you come home until then? You’re mother is longing to see you and she really does want to make amends.’

  ‘No, Dad, I told you.’

  ‘But—’

  ‘That’ll be Marcos,’ Jenny said when the doorbell rang, relieved at the interruption as she ran downstairs again to let him in.

  ‘Is your father here?’ Marcos asked after kissing her.

  ‘Yes, and looking forward to meeting you.’

  Her father looked a little surprised when he saw Marcos, but recovered well, standing up to hold out his hand. ‘Hello, I’m pleased to meet you.’

  ‘Good morning, Mr Lavender,’ Marcos returned, shaking it.

  ‘There’s no need for formality. Call me Edward.’

  ‘Thank you.’

  They both looked so stiff, Jenny thought, like two businessmen, dressed in immaculate suits and wearing ties despite the hot weather.

  ‘Dad, Marcos, sit down,’ she urged, hoping that the ice would soon break.

  They sat, her father the first to speak. ‘So, Marcos, you’re going to marry my daughter?’

  ‘Yes, sir, with your permission of course.’

  ‘It’s a bit late for that, don’t you think?’

  ‘Well, yes, Jenny has already agreed to marry me, but I am sure she would want your blessing.’

  ‘Tell me a little about yourself, Marcos. Jenny said you have a restaurant, and other business interests.’

  ‘Yes, that’s right, though the restaurant was a new venture for me. I’m involved in import and export, mainly cars, and have showrooms along with garages.’

  ‘I see, and your family?’

  ‘Unfortunately, my parents have passed away.’

  ‘I’m sorry to hear that, but tell me…’

  ‘Dad, stop it,’ Jenny protested. ‘This is beginning to sound like an inquisition.’

  ‘No, it’s all right, darling. Your father is looking after your best interests and I respect that.’

  ‘Thank you, Marcos. However, I was only going to ask you both about the wedding arrangements. Jenny, I realise that any plans you’ve made won’t have included your mother and me, but they can be changed. And, Marcos, as Jenny’s father, I will of course pay for everything.’

  ‘Dad, we’re getting married in Scotland, in a registry office, and I don’t intend to change anything, including the fact that there’ll be no guests.’

  ‘No guests! Oh, Jenny, please have a proper wedding and at least allow me the honour and pleasure of walking my daughter down the aisle.’

  ‘Oh…Dad…’

  ‘I’m sorry,’ Marcos cut in, ‘but I’m afraid it’s too late for that. The arrangements are already in place and, as Jenny said, she doesn’t want to change them. Now, darling, have you told your father about the house?’

  ‘Er…no…not yet,’ she said, floundering at the abrupt change of subject.

  ‘I’ve just purchased a property, Edward, close to yours in Almond Crescent, and we’ll be moving in when we return from our honeymoon.’

  ‘Th
at’s marvellous and it’ll be lovely to have my daughter living close by, but I’m still disappointed about the wedding and my wife will be too. I know she wants to meet you, Marcos, so can I persuade you both to come to dinner tomorrow?’

  ‘What do you think, darling? It’s up to you.’

  In that one moment any doubts Jenny had harboured about Marcos being too controlling were swept away. He had deferred to her, and as she knew he didn’t want any interference from her parents, and that she certainly didn’t want to see Delia, she said firmly, ‘Sorry, Dad, but the answer is no.’

  ‘Jenny, please, I know you were treated badly, but if you come to dinner you’ll see that your mother really has changed.’

  ‘I said no, Dad.’

  ‘Marcos, can’t you talk some sense into her? As I said, my wife wants to meet you.’

  Marcos thought about it for a moment, and then said, ‘Jenny, it will make me appear rude if I don’t meet your mother, and preferably before we’re married.’

  Jenny was not only confused, she felt chastened. ‘All right, Marcos, we’ll go to dinner.’

  ‘Jenny, that’s marvellous,’ her father said, smiling with delight. ‘Thank you, Marcos. Shall we say around two tomorrow? Is that all right for you?’

  ‘That’s fine. There will be just enough time for me to meet your wife before Jenny and I go on our trip.’

  Startled, Jenny said, ‘Trip? What trip?’

  ‘I’ve been very busy, but things are a little quieter now and it’s the ideal time to take a holiday.’

  ‘Where are we going?’

  ‘It’s a surprise and I don’t want to spoil it.’

  ‘When are you leaving?’ asked Edward.

  ‘On Monday.’

  ‘That soon!’ Jenny exclaimed. ‘But I haven’t booked any time off work.’

  ‘Don’t worry, it’s done and I’ve covered your shifts,’ Marcos said, then turned to her father. ‘Please be assured that I’ve booked separate rooms.’

  ‘I’m glad to hear that. How long will you be away?’

  ‘I’m not sure yet, a week, maybe longer. It depends if business calls me back.’

  ‘I see. Well then, Jenny, I’m so pleased you’ve agreed to come to dinner before you go and I think I’d best be off. Your mother is going to be so happy and she’ll want everything to be perfect, which means of course giving her advance warning.’

  Jenny’s head was reeling. A holiday sounded wonderful, but it was such short notice. She’d need time to sort out her wardrobe and pack, but instead they were going to Wimbledon tomorrow and she would be seeing her again, the woman she now refused to call her mother. Memories of the last time they’d been face to face surfaced – the yelling, the shouting, fighting with Robin to wrench her rucksack from his hand.

  Now, already regretting her decision to go, Jenny wondered if she could so much as look at the woman again without all the bitterness she still felt inside spilling out.

  Edward shook Marcos’s hand again, hugged his daughter and then left. His feelings about Marcos were mixed. He’d expected someone younger, more Jenny’s age, but there was no getting away from the fact that with several business interests, the man would be well able to take care of his daughter. A restaurant, showrooms, garages…Marcos had done well for a man who looked to be in his late thirties.

  It made Edward wonder how Delia would have fared if she had started up her own business, but for some reason she had changed her mind of late and the subject was no longer mentioned. He doubted that Delia could have coped, that she had the experience or acumen needed for success in the business world. That thought brought Edward back to Marcos. He had wanted to find out more about his background, but Jenny had put a stop to that, his questions cut off.

  There was no trace of an Italian accent, instead Marcos’s tones were those of an upper-class and well-educated Englishman. Of course with Jenny living close by, Edward knew he’d be able to keep an eye on her, yet in reality he didn’t think it would be necessary. Marcos was a gentleman with the wherewithal to afford a house in Almond Crescent, and he obviously came from a very good background.

  As Edward drove home, he thought about the wedding, feeling upset that he couldn’t give his daughter away. It rankled that Marcos had insisted that the arrangements had already been made. Surely a registry office affair in Scotland could be cancelled and a proper wedding arranged? He didn’t know what Delia was going to say about it, though at least he’d be able to tell her that they were both coming to dinner tomorrow. Perhaps between them they could talk both Jenny and Marcos round, persuade them to change their plans. After all, a man had the right to walk his daughter down the aisle, and Marcos had seemed a reasonable sort of chap.

  Edward arrived home, pleased to be able to pass the good news on to Delia.

  ‘Well, Delia, it went really well. I met Marcos, Jenny’s fiancé, and he’s a gentleman, a wealthy one at that, so much so that he’s bought a house in Almond Crescent.’

  ‘What! But that’s the most exclusive place in this area. Penelope Grainger lives there and her husband’s a consultant. There’s a judge too, a merchant banker, and now you’re telling me that Jennifer is going to be living there? Oh, wait until I tell Penelope Grainger, she’s sure to be impressed.’

  Edward had to smile. He didn’t feel the same, yet knew how much importance Delia placed on her social standing, that she coveted getting into that particular circle, and now it seemed that Jenny had given her an opening.

  ‘That isn’t all, Delia. Jenny and Marcos are coming here for dinner tomorrow.’

  ‘They are?’ Delia squeaked, her expression then changing to one of anxiety. ‘Oh goodness, there’s so much to do and I’m not sure our small joint of meat will stretch to four. I’ll dash to the butcher’s…and vegetables, I’ll need more…’

  ‘Delia, calm down, there’s plenty of time.’

  ‘Of course there isn’t. On top of the shopping there’s the housework and…’

  ‘What housework? Everything looks fine.’

  ‘No it doesn’t. I must polish the furniture, the best cutlery, clean the bathroom…’

  ‘All right, tell me what you want from the shops and I’ll go, but before that I could do with a cup of tea.’

  ‘Tea! What now?’

  ‘Yes, and for goodness’ sake, take a deep breath,’ he said, urging his wife into the kitchen. ‘They’ll be here for dinner tomorrow, not today, and between us I’m sure we’ll get everything done.’

  Delia made the drinks, calmer now as she said, ‘If Marcos comes from a wealthy background I should think the wedding is going to be very grand.’

  ‘I’m afraid not,’ he said and saw the shock on Delia’s face when he told her about Scotland.

  ‘But if he’s so well off, why have such a mean little wedding?’

  ‘I don’t know, but Marcos has lost both parents so that may be it.’

  ‘What a shame. I’m sure all girls dream of a fairytale wedding, but Scotland, and no guests! Poor Jennifer.’

  ‘I asked her to change her mind, and thought for a moment that she was wavering, but Marcos insisted it was too late to change their plans now.’

  ‘Nonsense. Though it would be jolly rushed, an off-the-peg dress, I’m sure I could organise a dream wedding for Jennifer.’

  ‘In that case, when they come to dinner tomorrow, maybe between us we can persuade her to let you do just that.’

  ‘Oh, yes, and it would be the perfect way to show her that I want to make amends.’

  Edward reached across the table to grasp Delia’s hand. She wanted to help Jenny, to arrange the perfect wedding for her, and it proved how much she cared. Soon, Jenny would see that for herself.

  Chapter Twenty-Eight

  Paul Ryman was back, and in uniform. This time it wasn’t late in the evening, but one o’clock in the afternoon, though once again on a Sunday. He knew it was out of order, that this wasn’t an official enquiry, but Paul was desperate enough to risk
it. He doubted Jenny would recognise him as it had been dark the last time he’d called, and now he rang the doorbell.

  As most people did when they saw a policeman on their step, Jenny paled. ‘Is something wrong?’

  Paul quickly flashed his warrant card. ‘It’s nothing to worry about, miss. I’d just like to ask you a few questions concerning Tina Hammond.’

  ‘Tina…but she’s gone.’

  ‘Do you have a forwarding address?’

  ‘No, but can you tell me what this is about?’

  ‘All I can say is that Miss Hammond is part of an ongoing enquiry,’ Paul lied, hoping that sounded official enough to discourage any more questions.

  ‘Is it about the money she took from my father?’

  Paul was startled, but recovered quickly. ‘What money is this, miss?’

  Jenny hesitated, bit on her lower lip, and then said, ‘It’s nothing really…er…just money my father gave her for a fresh start.’

  ‘So Miss Hammond didn’t “take” it. Your father gave it to her?’

  ‘Yes…yes that’s right.’

  ‘I see, and does he have a forwarding address for her?

  ‘No, I’m afraid not.’

  It all sounded a bit fishy, Paul thought, and he persisted, ‘Didn’t Miss Hammond give any indication of where she was going?’

  ‘No, none.’

  ‘But surely you expect to hear from her?’

  Once again there was a hesitation, followed by a floundering answer. ‘No…well, maybe. I…I don’t know.’

  ‘If you hear from her I want to know,’ Paul said, pulling out his pad to quickly write down his phone number. ‘You can reach me on that.’

  She took it, but her eyes failed to meet his as she said, ‘Yes, all right. Now is that all?’

  Paul still felt there was something fishy going on, but with no other choice he said, ‘Yes, miss, but as I said, if you hear from Miss Hammond, ring me.’

  She nodded and closed the door. Tight-lipped with frustration at what had been a fruitless interview, Paul walked away.

  With no information, no clue as to Tina’s whereabouts, he was stumped. Of course if he got into CID a great deal more resources would be open to him, ones he could use to find Tina. Now more than ever he hoped that his application for promotion would be successful.