Duplicity

by Doris Davidson

  She still couldn’t understand why he had agreed to go to New York - nor, come to that, why he’d gone to Liverpool, in the first place. What drove him on to move about like that? If he’d stayed on in Aberdeen, he would eventually have got a promotion, and the same went for Liverpool. He had never given the impression that he had itchy feet, so why? It seemed that both her children were destined to end up as loners, and they had been so friendly to everybody when they were younger. Even Helen Milne used to remark on that.

  Roselle’s mind transferred to her old neighbour, as it had often done over the fifteen years since they moved to Cruden Bay. She had banished her guilt for not keeping in touch, by secretly sending a Christmas card every year, but she wished she had the guts to defy Brian and send a proper letter with her address in it. She needed someone to talk to, an older person who could help her to understand her children. She needed Helen.

  But for some reason Brian had forbidden any correspondence. She couldn’t explain why he had taken such a dislike to their old neighbour; no, not a dislike, more a distrust. That was it, a distrust - but why? What had Helen ever done to him? She’d been so good when Dilly had meningitis, and she had helped out in so many other ways.

  There was one thing, though. Roselle had considered this several times but it always seemed too far-fetched. Still, it had been immediately after Helen had spoken about her son being a policeman in Northern Ireland that Brian had first mentioned that his firm was transferring him to Aberdeen; almost as if he’d been taking himself (and family) out of harm’s way. He had admitted once, of course, to embezzling money, but surely not enough to warrant this apparent panic of being found out. It didn’t seem likely, anyway, not after all this time, and especially not for a paltry hundred pounds.

  With Roddy in America, a weight had lifted from Brian Lewis’s mind. If his son and daughter had still been in constant touch with each other anything could have happened.

  From what he had noticed before, Dilly had been the force behind their attraction - she hadn’t cared who saw them holding hands or looking at each other in that lovey-dovey manner - whereas Roddy had obviously tried to cover it up. He had accepted the fact that it just wasn’t possible, and had taken himself out of harm’s way. Good for him. Maybe, with temptation no longer present, Dilly could let herself get involved with some nice young man - maybe even that manager she kept speaking about. He seemed to be quite friendly towards her, by what she said, maybe even attracted to her, and she seemed to be leaning towards him a little. It was a start, wasn’t it? If she did fall in love with this Richardson fellow and marry him, the family would be in no danger of landing in the hellish scandal that would erupt otherwise.

  He could breathe easier, with no further repetitions of the searing nightmares he had had for so long. His Roselle would lose that haunted look and be a more loving wife to him. Apart from their son being at the other side of the Atlantic, they would be an ordinary, normal family again.

  That was his sole reason for doing what he’d done all those years ago. Of course, he hadn’t planned everything. One part had just happened!

  Dyllis could hardly believe what was happening to her. For months, years, she had dreamt of being with Roddy, of them living together away from all who knew them, having his darling babies, twins like themselves, one boy and one girl. Over the past few weeks, however, she had been thinking quite a lot about Mr Richardson - Neville, though she could never call him that to his face.

  The one random lunch date had developed into a weekly event, and today, just before they split to go their separate ways back to the office, he had looked at her quizzically.

  ‘Dyllis, would you care to accompany me to His Majesty’s Theatre next Monday night? A friend gave me two complimentary tickets and I am sure you would enjoy it - a new production of Carousel.’’

  Taken utterly by surprise, she said, ‘Oh, I’d love to, Mr Richardson, but I can’t. You see, I’d miss the last bus home. I live in Cruden Bay.’

  ‘But that’s not a problem,’ he smiled. ‘I’ll book you into a hotel for the night.’ He must have mistaken her astonishment for doubt, because he hastened to add, ‘Nothing nasty, Dyllis. I’ll see you to the door of the hotel and leave you, I promise.’

  It was too much for her. She couldn’t refuse a night in a hotel as well as a visit to the theatre - she had never been to a hotel or a theatre before - but she couldn’t tell her mum and dad. They wouldn’t believe that any man would arrange a hotel room for a young woman and not take advantage of her. She would need to find a more acceptable way to explain an overnight stay, but she could surely manage that. Giving it no more thought, she said, shyly, ‘Thanks, Mr Richardson, I’d love to.’

  A huge beam transformed his craggy face. ‘Great, I look forward to Monday then. But can’t you manage to call me Neville? At least, out of the office.’

  Even his last four words rang no alarm bell in her head. She could understand why a man in his position would prefer not to advertise his new liaison with a minor member of staff - very minor.

  At breakfast the next morning, she put out a tiny feeler, a kind of preparation for what she intended to say when she got home that night. ‘I told you about the girl that started working with us a few weeks ago? Her name’s Aimee - spelt A-I-M-E-E - Riddler, and she’s kind of chummed up with me. She’s a nice girl, a year younger than me, but we get on great. I think Tracy Little’s a bit jealous.’

  Her mother raised her eyebrows a little. ‘I can’t think why you and Tracy didn’t chum up together. After all, you were in the same class at school.’

  ‘She was always too keen on boys - she’s been after one of the lads in the office upstairs since she started. She’d an eye on Roddy at one time, you know.’

  Brian pushed back his chair and stood up. ‘Well, I’m glad you’ve made a close friend now, but it’s time we were going.’

  Quite happy at the way her fib had been received, Dilly obediently got to her feet and was waiting in the driveway when her father brought the people-carrier out of the garage. She knew that he wouldn’t quiz her about her new ‘friendship’; his mind was always on his driving. The road from Cruden Bay to where it met the A90 had one awkward curve after another and was always fairly busy, but it was nothing compared to the main road to the city. He needed all his wits about him there so that they wouldn’t end up as statistics in the almost daily reports of accidents somewhere along it.

  Two days later, after having brought Aimee Riddler into her conversations with her parents at any suitable point, Dilly decided to make her big announcement at the evening meal. ‘Aimee’s dad had got complimentary tickets for His Majesty’s Theatre - he puts their ads in his shop window - but he can’t go, so he’s given them to her. She wants me to go with her, it’s Carousel..

  ‘That’s very nice of her,’ Roselle smiled. ‘The Saturday matinee, is it?’

  Dilly hoped that her mother wouldn’t hear her heart thumping in apprehension. ‘No, it’s for Monday night, actually. It’s always the first night for the complimentary tickets, apparently.’

  ‘But … you’d miss the last bus home.’

  ‘I know, but Aimee’s mum says I can go there for the night.’

  ‘But we don’t know anything about her—’ Roselle began.

  ‘You know her father’s got a shop,’ Brian broke in.

  ‘A newsagent,’ Dilly supplied, hopefully.

  ‘That doesn’t prove they’re nice people, though.’

  ‘For goodness sake, Ros, she’s not a child any longer. You’re like a mother hen.’

  His wife’s lips closed indignantly, so the girl said, ‘I’m able to look after myself, Mum, and anyway, I’m sure the Riddlers are a nice family.’ She felt quite guilty as she followed her father out, and an old saying sprang into her mind. ‘Oh what a tangled web we weave, when first we practise to deceive.�
� It was true. One lie led to more lies, and it could grow on from that, so she’d need to watch her P’s and Q’s, remember faithfully what she had said. One slip would be fatal.

  During the journey to Aberdeen, not even the near-misses and long queues took her mind off her own problem, but, thankfully, the more she thought about it, the less guilt she felt. Why should she have to tell lies about something like this? She was over eighteen, past the age of minority, she could do what she liked. She didn’t have to ask her parents’ permission to go out with whoever she liked, and she certainly didn’t need to lie about it.

  She’d concocted that stupid story now, though, and she had better stick to it this time. If Mr Richardson -Neville - asked her out again, she would definitely come clean. Her mother might be pleased, anyway, seeing he was the manager.

  During the ‘Mothers’ Club’ meeting that afternoon, when Roselle mentioned her worries about her daughter,

  she was completely taken back by the reaction of the other women.

  ‘I thought Dilly was nearly twenty.’ Laura Gibbs’ plucked eyebrows had shot up. ‘My Andrea’s only fifteen and she’s out with a different boy every night.’

  ‘My Elaine’s the same,’ Rhona nodded. ‘If I say anything, she tells me I’m living in the Middle Ages. They start pleasing themselves as soon as they’re out of nappies.’

  ‘My Stella’s only twelve,’ Pauline put it, ‘and she hasn’t started with boys yet - I don’t think, anyway - but she plasters her face with make-up when she’s out with her chums, so I don’t suppose it’ll be long.’

  Roselle felt obliged to justify her own worry. ‘But that’s different. Dilly’s going to be staying out all night.’

  ‘Not with a boy, though,’ Pauline reminded her. ‘Or so she says.’

  ‘She wouldn’t tell me a lie,’ Roselle gasped. She had never thought of a boy.

  Regretting making light of the matter and hoping that they hadn’t upset their friend, Rhona changed the subject. ‘I say, have you seen Lena Lornie’s new outfit? Skirt nearly up to her waist and neckline down to her navel.’

  The ensuing hilarity changed the mood. Mrs Lornie, in her fifties, was well known for dressing like a showgirl and treating her house as if it were a brothel, and although all the women in the street spoke about her in a disparaging way, they all - if they were honest - envied her the young men she was seen with.

  Later that day, when everything had been cleared up after the evening meal, the three Lewises were sitting by the fire. Brian had been reading the evening paper, but suddenly laid it down in disgust. ‘Nothing but doom and gloom, and nothing worth watching on the telly. Why is it that some nights there’s good programmes on all the channels at the same time, and other nights it’s just rubbish?’

  It was Dilly who resurrected an old argument. ‘If you’d only agree to be connected to Sky, Dad, we’d have hundreds of programmes to choose from.’

  ‘That’s why,’ he snapped. ‘The blasted set would never be off, would it? Plus, just think of all the arguments there would be - each of us wanting something different.’

  Roselle had been paying no attention to them. ‘Dilly,’ she said now, rather hesitantly, ‘Were you telling us the truth about it being Aimee Thingummy you’re going to the theatre with on Monday night? You’re sure it’s not a boy?’

  ‘It’s not a boy!’ Dilly answered quickly. ‘If you don’t believe me, phone her and ask.’

  ‘God Almighty, Roselle,’ Brian exploded. ‘What on earth’s got into you? Why would she tell a lie about something like that?’

  ‘I don’t know, it’s just - it’s because she’ll be out all night.’

  ‘What difference does that make? In any case, suppose she’s going to be spending a night here and there with a dozen different boys, she’s old enough. She knows the facts of life, and …’

  ‘I’ve no intention of sleeping with one boy, never mind a dozen,’ the girl shouted. ‘What do you take me for? Another Mrs Lornie? Give me credit for some sense. But if you don’t trust me, I’ll tell Aimee I can’t go. Will that please you?’ She rose and stamped out of the room.

  ‘Now look what you’ve done,’ Brian snapped. ‘She needs to be with young people, never mind what sex they are. You can’t hang on to her for ever.’

  ‘Oh, I know, I know. I’m sorry, I just can’t help it. I don’t want to lose her as well as Roddy. Should I go up and—’

  ‘No, leave her alone. She’ll get over it, but don’t do anything like that again. It’s the best way of making her leave home.’

  ‘I didn’t think.’

  The anguish in his wife’s eyes made him wish that he hadn’t lost his temper with her. ‘Look, Ros, darling, I’m sorry, too. I know how you must feel, but she will leave some day, you know. Not for good, of course. With any luck, she’ll get married and give us grandchildren. Do you not look forward to that?’

  ‘I suppose so.’ She did not appear to be any happier, however, as she picked up the newspaper he had discarded.

  Brian lay back and closed his eyes. He wasn’t sure that he was looking forward to having grandchildren, but they had to let Dyllis have her head. At least it would take her mind off Roddy. It had been blatantly obvious that the two of them were in love, and the boy had done the right thing by taking himself off, although it would appear that it had broken Dilly’s heart. She had never looked at any boys, most unusual for someone her age, and he, for one, would be really pleased if she did find someone else to love. She was a lovely young woman and there must be dozens of men who would jump at the chance of going out with her. He had hoped, for a while, that this Mr Richardson, the manager that she spoke so much about for a while, would step in but maybe it was just as well he hadn’t. For all they knew, he could be one of those old Lotharios, biding his time to seduce another young girl.

  Upstairs, Dilly was beginning to simmer down. She had been so stupid not to tell her parents the truth before. Like Dad said, she didn’t need to ask their permission at her age, but having told the lie, she couldn’t back down. She couldn’t even tell them if Neville Richardson asked her out again, otherwise they would recognise the original fib. She wished with all her heart that she had never started down this slippery path.

  Roddy had been returning again and again to the seat in the park where he had first seen the girl, the nanny - he didn’t even know her name - but she had never appeared again. He made up his mind, as he headed for it this lunch-time, that this would be the last time.

  She had probably not given him a second thought, and if she happened to go there again and found him sitting in the same place, she might be embarrassed. It was a whole month now, so he really should give up - after today.

  He couldn’t explain why he had been so sure that she’d come back, and he had no real hope of being lucky this time, so he was completely bowled over when the little boy shouted, ‘It’s the man, Nanny! It’s the man!’

  He jumped up and wheeled round to see the girl - the girl - beaming all over as she hurried down the path to catch up with her charge.

  ‘Hi,’ she said, ‘I didn’t think there was any chance you’d be here today.’

  ‘I’ve been here every day,’ he admitted, bashfully, ‘hoping I’d see you.’

  ‘I’m really sorry about that, but Mr Schueyler was sent to Florida for a month and we all had to go with him.’

  The doubt was yanked straight out of his mind. She had wanted to see him. ‘Mr Schueyler being your employer, I suppose?’

  ‘Yes. They’re a very nice family, and I’m very lucky to be with them. No, Harvey, don’t go near the water,’ she ended sharply. ‘I’d better go, he gets bored if we don’t keep walking.’

  ‘Tell me your name first. I’m Roderick, Roddy Lewis.’

  ‘Patricia Doran, Pattie.’

  ‘May I walk a bit with yo
u?’ he ventured now.

  So they walked, quite close together, although not even touching hands, while the little boy, Harvey, ran backwards and forwards in front of them. Roddy told her how he had asked for a transfer abroad and was sent to New York, while she said she had been at a nursing college in Guildford and then decided to see a bit of the world before settling down into her chosen profession. ‘I’m glad I did,’ she went on. ‘Not only have I seen the greatest city in the world, and been to Florida, but I’ve had an insight into the life of a Jewish family, and I’ve loved every minute of it.’

  ‘Have you never been lonely?’

  ‘Never. I meet other nannies when we’re out, and we compare our jobs, you know. I’m sure I’m the luckiest one. Some girls have very little time off, or the food’s not good, or in some cases, the man of the house thinks they should be playthings for him.’

  ‘Not your Mr Schueyler I hope?’

  ‘Oh, no, he’s a real gentleman.’

  ‘Do you get any evenings off?’

  ‘Two a week, after eight, but I don’t often bother going out. It’s no fun wandering about on your own.’

  ‘No,’ Roddy sighed. ‘I know that, but … would you come out with me some night?’

  ‘I’d love to. I’d have to be in by eleven though.’

  ‘That’s all right.’ Three whole hours with her, he thought. Absolute heaven. ‘Is tonight too soon?’ He didn’t want to sound too eager.

  Her eyes twinkled mischievously. ‘Tonight’s not soon enough.’ Giggling, she added, ‘Ten past eight at the top gates of the park. That’ll give me time to wash my face and make myself pretty.’

  He knew it was corny but he had to say it. ‘You’ll always be pretty to me.’ Then, shy at being so personal, he hurried on, ‘Ten past eight it is.’