Forgotten Child

by Kitty Neale

  ‘All right, Jenny, I’m sorry,’ Edward ground out.

  ‘Why don’t we all sit down?’ Marcos suggested.

  ‘No, I want them to go.’

  Marcos sighed, his tone mellow. ‘I’m sorry, but you heard Jenny and so I’m afraid I must join her in asking you to leave.’

  ‘Jennifer, I truly am sorry that I upset you,’ Delia said. ‘We’ll go now, so goodbye, my dear. I hope we’ll see you again soon.’

  ‘Don’t hold your breath,’ Jenny said derisively.

  Edward couldn’t believe that this was his daughter. He understood that Jenny had been hurt, that he and Delia had a lot to make up for, but they weren’t being given a chance. Delia was trying so hard, but she was being met with only belligerence. ‘Come on, let’s go,’ he said. ‘Goodbye, Jenny.’

  His daughter said nothing and it was Marcos who escorted them to the door. Delia said goodbye to him, but Edward’s mind was still reeling.

  ‘I’m sorry, Edward,’ Delia said as they got into the car. ‘I did my best.’

  ‘I know you did.’

  ‘Marcos was right. Jennifer isn’t ready to forgive me yet, and…and I fear she never will.’

  ‘I still don’t like the way he spoke to you.’

  ‘It doesn’t matter.’

  ‘It does to me, and if you ask me there was something fishy going on.’

  ‘What do you mean?’

  ‘When Jenny came back into the room she was so angry, and her anger was aimed at me. Marcos must have said something to her, something that caused it.’

  ‘He wants to help us so I doubt that. You were rather short with him and as we don’t know where Jenny went it may be that she overheard you.’

  Edward pulled into the drive. Yes, that made sense and he’d give Marcos the benefit of the doubt.

  ‘We’ll have to trust the man to talk Jenny round, and in the meantime we’ll just have to be patient.’

  ‘Do you think they’ll hold a reception?’

  ‘Delia, I think that’s the last thing we have to worry about.’

  ‘I wanted Beatrice and her husband to meet Penelope Grainger.’

  Edward sighed with impatience. ‘I hardly think that matters.’

  ‘Maybe not to you, but it does to me.’

  ‘Is getting in with that crowd more important than establishing a relationship with Jenny?’

  ‘No, of course not.’

  ‘Well, I’m glad to hear it, because it didn’t sound like that to me,’ Edward said, getting out of the car. He was finding that his feelings were all over the place – one minute he was sympathising with Delia, the next with his daughter.

  ‘I’m sorry, Edward, I know I can be shallow,’ Delia said as she too got out of the car. ‘I spoke without thinking.’

  ‘We’re both a bit fraught. I don’t know about you, but I could do with a brandy.’

  ‘Yes, me too,’ she said, watery-eyed now.

  ‘It may take a little longer than I expected, but Jenny will come round,’ he said, hoping he was right and that he really could trust Marcos. A niggle of doubt arose, but Edward pushed it away. The man loved his daughter and, like him, he would only want her happiness, one that he must know included Jenny being part of her family again.

  Delia was still going over what had happened as she lay in bed that night. At first she’d mistakenly thought that Jennifer and Marcos were living together, but then this had been followed by the news that they were married. They had brought the date forward and was it any wonder that she had jumped to the wrong conclusion? No, of course not, and Edward would understand that.

  She had shown Edward that she was trying to build bridges, had been perfectly nice to Jennifer, and it wasn’t her fault that the girl had been impossible. No, she had nothing to worry about; Edward was on her side, she was sure.

  ‘Can’t you sleep?’ he asked.

  ‘No, I can’t stop thinking about Jennifer.’

  ‘I’m the same. She was fine with me before this, but she’s been against seeing you again from the start. It was obvious that nothing has changed and now I’m in her bad books too.’

  ‘You can’t blame me for that,’ Delia protested.

  ‘She still harbours bad feelings towards you and I realise now that her back was up from the start. When Marcos persuades her to see us again you’ll need to make more of an effort, and for goodness’ sake, watch what you say,’ he said, rolling over so that his back was turned towards her. ‘Now let’s get some sleep.’

  Delia was left stunned. These days she always fell asleep with Edward’s arms around her. They had been so close, so happy until he’d found Jennifer again. The girl wasn’t living at home any more, but seemingly that made no difference – as always, Edward cared more about his relationship with his daughter than he did about her.

  ‘That isn’t fair,’ she said, choking back tears.

  ‘I’m sorry,’ he said, turning round again. ‘I know you did your best and I can’t blame you for what happened.’

  ‘You’re upset, we both are,’ Delia said.

  Edward kissed her, but it wasn’t one of passion and, placing an arm around her, he closed his eyes. Delia closed hers too, but sleep still wouldn’t come. Maybe it would be all right after all, she finally decided, and even if Marcos persuaded Jennifer to see them again, it wouldn’t be a daily occurrence, just an occasional one. There was still the compensation that Jennifer was living in Almond Crescent and, if they did have a reception, one to which Penelope Grainger was invited, it could lead to what Delia had coveted for ages – a way into Penelope’s social circle.

  At last Delia drifted off to sleep…and now she had a small smile on her face.

  Chapter Thirty-Five

  It was Monday morning and Tina was back in London. She was in Pimlico, staying in a hotel in Ebury Street, far enough away from the King’s Road to feel safe for now.

  She had plenty of money left, but it wouldn’t last for ever and a part of her regretted turning down the ice cream stand. It would’ve been nice to be her own boss and opportunities like that didn’t come up every day. There’d be nothing to match it in London – well, perhaps a market stall, and the more Tina thought about it, the more appealing it sounded. She could sell just about anything from a market stall, but her first choice would be costume jewellery. Yes, stuff that was different, striking, and sure to attract trendy young punters. First things first though, Tina thought. She had to sort herself out before anything else, and so she now put the finishing touches to her make-up.

  With no idea where Paul Ryman lived, she’d decided that the only way to find him would be to ask for him at the police station. Though nervous, Tina left the hotel and headed for Sloane Square. She’d tried to kid herself that she only wanted to see Paul to ask for help, but there was more to it than that. Unless she straightened herself out, however, she wasn’t fit for a relationship with anyone.

  Tina quickened her pace, keeping her fingers crossed that he’d be on duty, but it was a long walk before she reached Draycott Avenue. She entered the station and hesitantly approached the desk. At first the policeman on duty kept his head down, busy with some kind of paperwork, but at last he looked up.

  ‘Yes, can I help you?’

  ‘Could you tell me if Constable Paul Ryman is on duty?’

  ‘What’s this in connection with?’

  ‘Er…er, it’s a personal matter.’

  The policeman went to a door behind him, opened it and called, ‘Charlie, have you seen Paul Ryman? Is he around?’

  ‘Search me. He’s with CID now, joined them this morning. You could try there.’

  Tina’s ears pricked. So Paul was in plain clothes now, but was he still based in this station?

  The man came back to the desk. ‘I expect you heard that. Take a seat and I’ll ring upstairs.’

  Looking behind her, Tina saw a short row of shoddy-looking chairs and sat down. There were two other people waiting, both men; the younger looked at h
er with interest. Get lost, Tina thought, as the stale stench of sweat and booze from the other one cloyed her nostrils.

  She kept her eyes ahead, fixed on the desk, listening to the one-sided conversation as the telephone was answered.

  ‘I’ve got someone down here to see Paul Ryman,’ the copper said. He paused, presumably waiting until another person came to the phone. ‘Hello, yes, that’s right. No, she said it’s personal. Hold on a sec.’

  He held the telephone away from his ear and Tina was beckoned forward. ‘What’s your name, miss?’

  She told him, watching as he passed it on, and then he replaced the receiver. ‘He’s on his way down.’

  Now that the moment had arrived, Tina suddenly had doubts. She couldn’t talk to Paul here, there was no privacy, what with the desk sergeant and the pair of geezers watching. Thankfully another woman came into the station just then, walking up to the desk and causing a bit of distraction.

  A voice spoke from behind her. ‘Tina.’

  She spun round. ‘Hello, Paul.’

  ‘What are you doing here?’

  ‘I…I came to see you.’

  ‘Why?’ Paul asked, face straight.

  ‘Is there somewhere we can talk in private?’

  ‘Are you in some sort of trouble?’

  ‘No…yes…’

  He opened a door. ‘We can talk in here, but make it quick. This is my first day with CID and a personal visit isn’t making a good impression.’

  Her heart sank as she walked ahead of him. He seemed so cold, as cold and impersonal as this small room.

  ‘I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have come.’

  ‘Why did you bugger off without a word?’

  ‘I…I was all mixed up and I wanted to get away, to make a fresh start, but…’

  Paul interrupted, ‘Get away from what, Tina? Me?’

  ‘No…yes…’ she stammered. She had only told one other person, shame keeping her silent, but now she had to tell him, had to get help. The words caught in her throat but somehow she forced them out. ‘It…it was because of my father, and what he did to me.’

  ‘And what was that?’ Paul asked, but his voice was softer.

  ‘He…he interfered with me, you…you know, touched me.’

  ‘You should have told me that he’d found you instead of running off. I’d have nailed the bastard,’ Paul said venomously.

  ‘He didn’t find me,’ Tina said, fumbling for words. ‘I left because I was frightened of my feelings for you, how you made me feel.’

  ‘Tina, you’re not making any sense.’

  ‘I…I wanted you to…to touch me…but it’s disgusting.’

  ‘No, Tina, it isn’t.’

  ‘I want to believe that, but…but I need help.’

  ‘We’ll sort something out and I’m glad you came back, Tina. I went looking for you, but your flatmate told me her father had given you money to make a new start. I was angry that you’d left without a word, and felt sure that she had your address, but she wouldn’t pass it on to me.’

  Tina had to think quickly. ‘I asked Jenny not to tell anyone where I was going.’

  ‘Look, I’ve got to get back upstairs, but don’t disappear on me again. We’ll talk later, but for now where are you staying?’

  She gave him the address of the hotel in Pimlico and they arranged to meet that evening. Paul then hurried off and Tina left the station feeling much lighter. He was going to help her, and if it worked, maybe, just maybe, they could have some sort of future together.

  In Wimbledon Jenny had been looking at swatches of material. Marcos had told her there was no need to trawl the shops, that he’d arranged for someone to call, and the woman had just left. Jenny had settled on rich, antique gold silk brocade with pelmets to match. They were not the most expensive in the range, about midway, and she hoped Marcos would approve of her choice. He was so generous, not only with the housekeeping allowance, but he’d also insisted on putting money in her bank account too. After having looked after her own finances it felt a bit strange, but Marcos had told her not to be silly. She was his wife now, he’d insisted and therefore he’d see that she wanted for nothing.

  Edna Moon appeared in the doorway, a cheery smile on her face. ‘I’ll be off soon, but do you fancy a cup of tea before I go, Mrs Cane?’

  ‘Yes, lovely, Edna, but I’ve told you earlier, you can call me Jenny.’

  ‘I know you have, but I don’t think Mr Cane would like that.’

  ‘Marcos won’t mind.’

  ‘I think I should stick to his instructions.’

  ‘When we came home on Saturday, I had the impression that you already knew Marcos before coming to work here.’

  ‘Yeah, well, my Tommy works for him.’

  ‘Really, goodness. In what capacity?’

  ‘He…er…works in one of the garages.’

  ‘Has he been there long?’

  ‘Oh yeah, he and Marc…Mr Cane go back years,’ she said, but then her eyes widened as though in fear. ‘Oh Gawd, I shouldn’t be telling you all this. Mr Cane will think I’ve been gossiping. Don’t tell him! Please don’t tell him!’

  ‘Edna, what’s wrong? You sound frightened, but why?

  ‘No, no, I ain’t frightened, it’s not that,’ Edna said quickly. ‘It’s just that I’ve lost jobs in the past because I spent too much time chatting and I don’t want to lose this one.’

  ‘Well, if that’s all that’s worrying you, I won’t say a word to Marcos, and as he won’t be here during the day, there’s nothing to stop us having a little chat now and then.’

  ‘Thanks, Mrs Cane,’ said Edna, looking relieved and bustling off.

  Jenny was left feeling puzzled. Edna’s explanation made sense, but there was something underlying it…something akin to fear. Yet surely Edna had no need to fear Marcos? No, of course not, Jenny decided. Yet just below the surface of her mind, she was left with doubts.

  It was nearly eight in the evening before Marcos arrived home. The legit stuff had all run smoothly in his absence, his choices of managers good ones. On the other side of things, Bernie had done well. The boys had brought cars in and they’d been turned round quickly before being sent out with new papers.

  Bernie had made good money and the boys paid, but with so much high expenditure lately, Marcos felt his cash was running low. Yes, he had good money coming in from both sides, but he had a lot more expenses now and could do with replenishing his coffers in one big hit.

  Still, time enough to think about that later, and for now Marcos just savoured the pleasure of turning into his own drive and seeing his house at the end of it. Yes, it was fit for a lord, Marcos thought as he got out of the car, and he had a lady waiting for him. There’d be no moaning, no hands held out, just Jenny’s soft, relaxing voice.

  ‘Hello, darling,’ he said when she ran into the hall to greet him.

  ‘I’ve missed you,’ Jenny replied as her arms wrapped around him.

  He sniffed the air. ‘It’s faint, but something smells good.’

  ‘I’ve made a spaghetti sauce and just have to cook the pasta.’

  ‘Nice,’ he said, kissing her. ‘While you do that, I’ll get changed.’

  Jenny smiled happily and headed back to the kitchen while Marcos went upstairs to their bedroom. This was the life, coming home to a beautiful woman, one who welcomed him, not only his homecoming, but in bed too.

  In no time he was sitting in the dining room and Jenny was nervously dishing up the meal. ‘I hope it’s all right. I caught a bus to the local shops, but I’m afraid I couldn’t get any garlic bread.’

  ‘A bus,’ Marcos said, frowning. ‘Jenny, I must get you a car.’

  ‘There’s no need – I can’t drive.’

  ‘Then I’ll arrange lessons.’

  ‘Oh, Marcos, thank you.’

  ‘I’ve been remiss and should have thought of it before this.’

  ‘We’ve only just married and moved here, yet already you’re going to arr
ange driving lessons for me. That’s far from remiss.’

  ‘Nevertheless, I’ll get onto it in the morning.’

  ‘I chose the material for our curtains today, antique gold. I hope you like them and that I didn’t spend too much.’

  Marcos smiled. Jenny was perfect, just perfect, completely ungrasping. Now all he wanted was to get her pregnant, to prove his mother wrong. He was a man, nobody crossed him, and already Jenny’s father was finding that out.

  Chapter Thirty-Six

  In November, Tina made the final breakthrough. Thanks to Paul she was seeing the woman twice a week, but at first she’d been reluctant to talk. However, towards the end of her third session and just before her time was up, Tina had suddenly found herself spewing it all out. There had been so much locked inside, not just hatred for her father, but for her mother too, a woman who had stood back and allowed it to happen, instead of protecting her. A woman who had never shown Tina an ounce of genuine affection from the day she was born.

  There was something else tucked safely in another compartment of Tina’s mind, something she hadn’t wanted to face, or admit, her guilt making it unsayable. Today the woman had opened that door and now Tina was crying as if her heart would break. It wasn’t just her parents. She hated herself too and for so, so long, had been disgusted that there’d been occasions when she’d almost enjoyed the touch of her father’s hands. It sickened her, filled her with self-loathing.

  ‘How could I? It’s disgusting.’

  ‘Tina, you craved love, affection, and it would have been a natural response, your body simply reacting to stimulus. It’s a response that men like your father use to justify what they do.’

  ‘He’s made me as bad as him, as sick as him.’

  ‘No, Tina, far from it. Your father took your need for affection and abused it in the worst possible way.’

  ‘I…I’m going out with a bloke now, but if he tries to hold me I back off. I’m frightened of getting those feelings again. It would be wrong…bad.’

  ‘No, Tina, it would be perfectly natural. You see…’