by RJ Hunter
"What do you mean, live like this?"
"Well, look at this house for a start, and all these vile decorations," Remarked Lizzie, now with the bit between her teeth. "You've done nothing to it, apart from put this awful carpet in."
"We're quite happy with the way it is," replied Janice haughtily. "Besides, Graham is a very spiritual man, and doesn't believe in having too many material possessions. We have what we need and no more."
"Come on Janice, you only married him because looking after Mum was getting too much for you. I can't blame you for that, but why Graham? He's a bloody bore, and he's an extremely seedy character!" Lizzie then looked around the room, critically, "Is this really what you want out of life?"
"I want you to leave, that's what I want!" Janice was seething and pointing towards the door. "Where were you when Mum needed your help? When she had to be got up, washed, dressed, fed and then cleaned up after she'd soiled herself? You were out with your bearded, beatnik friends, sitting around in coffee bars, talking a lot of rubbish!"
"It was philosophy actually!" Sneered, Lizzie, ignoring Janice's order to leave.
"I loved my mother, and was proud to look after her!"
Lizzie turned her back on Janice and paced the room, hastily lighting another cigarette. Her hands were shaking and her make-up, usually so immaculate, was in in dire need of a quick renovation.
Sally was also shaking, she couldn't believe two sisters could attack each other in such a manner. The silence in the room was now intense, apart from the steady tick of a sun-shaped wall clock, mounted above the fireplace. Sally glanced at the time, and realised her birthday was finally over. She felt exhausted and longed for a hot bath, and a nice comfortable bed.
Lizzie, ready for another onslaught rounded on her sister, but Sally was up, and now stood between them like a boxing referee. But, before she could say a single word to pacify the two combatants, an ear-piercing shout did the job for her. The three women all looked to the small figure standing in the doorway.
"Please stop shouting - you're scaring me. I don't like it." Uttered the little boy, still clutching his now-cold, hot water bottle.
"Bobby! Bobby! I'm sorry, we didn't mean to frighten you," called out Lizzie, as she went over to hug her little brother.
The boy was shivering in his pyjamas, but soon broke into a smile when he saw his sister. He had much of his father's proud features, and dark curly hair, but more prominent were the big, brown doe-like eyes, he shared with his mother.
Sally was greatly relieved and thankful that this horrid, bitter argument had been laid to rest, at least for the moment anyway. She looked at Janice's stern face, and saw so much sadness, that she had to reach out in a re-assuring manner, and gently touch Janice's arm.
Janice looked blankly at Sally, and pulled her arm away.
"I'm so sorry, whatever must you think of us? We don't always fight like this - its just been a difficult time you see." Forcing a smile, she then politely added, "You can both stay here tonight, I'm sure you must be very tired. I'll go and make us all some tea and sandwiches."
Graham was a tall, thin, anaemic-looking man, with receding red hair, and a pale complexion. He was aged about thirty, but could have passed for someone many years older. He stared grim-faced at Lizzie as she continued to cuddle and make a fuss over Bobby. If first impressions were anything to go by, then Sally immediately understood why her friend had been so hateful to him earlier. Janice, it would appear, had found the perfect partner. Sally however, was also very aware that Graham had a certain presence about him, despite his feeble physical appearance.
He beckoned the two sisters into the living room, leaving Sally to entertain young Bobby, who was immediately smitten with his pretty new friend.
"You are going about things the wrong way," said Graham, in a low but authoritative tone. "You must not waste anymore energy fighting yourselves, especially under my roof. A great wrong has been committed. Not only has your father's adulterous actions effectively ended his marriage to your mother, but it has split his family, and is now causing grave concern to his children." Graham's voice seemed to get louder and more powerful as he spoke. "Your father is committing a serious, moral crime, and both of you must save your mother from its circumstances. You must also save your brother. He should be at his own home, not living here, having his life and schooling disrupted. When you have shown your father the error of his ways, he will come to thank you one day, for not only saving his family and all it stands for, but for saving his mortal soul. Janice and Lizzie, you must stand together as one and forget your differences. Remember, you are on the side of good and what is right."
Even Graham was surprised by the outcome as he continued with his stirring call to action. He expected complete loyalty from Janice, but never expected to bring Lizzie to a near-frenzy, and have her baying for both Edward and Pamela's blood.
Graham was a chiropodist, and had met Janice while attending to her mother's feet on home visits. In order to see Janice more frequently, he had taken it upon himself to visit the house on a weekly basis, and read scriptures and psalms to Margaret. This was in his other role - of lay preacher.
Now, having married the eldest daughter of a wealthy man, there was no way Graham was going to allow the likes of Pamela Cartwright to come into the equation and complicate matters concerning Edward's will, by becoming the next Mrs. Marchmont.
Sally was glad to finally get to bed. But she did have to share the room with Lizzie, but on this occasion she was rather glad, as she found Graham more than a little spooky. The room, like the rest of the house was characterless, chilly and bare, and Sally even found herself missing her old, lumpy, mattress back in her room at university. She yawned and felt her teeth chatter as she folded the cold nylon sheet over the eiderdown, and slid down, deep into the bed to get warm.
While she waited for Lizzie to return from the bathroom, Sally stared up at the ceiling and began to think about where Frank would take her. She did feel awful about letting him down, but Lizzie had to come first on this occasion. Perhaps, there was some way she could make it up to him. As she allowed her mind to wander, she again thought back to the student she had met in the library. She knew it would be impossible to get back to Wales in time to see him, and wondered if there was any way of contacting him. Perhaps, she could telephone the library and explain the situation to the librarian, perhaps it would be the same person who was on duty the evening they had met? Or maybe, Lizzie could drop her off at the station in the morning, and she could make her own way back to Falcondale. But no, that was ridiculous, the more Sally thought about these options, the more she realised she was clutching at straws and not thinking rationally. She was tired and needed to sleep, but as she closed her eyes, she then began to think about the Christmas dance the following evening. They had both been so looking forward to it - would they still be able to go? Obviously, it was an inappropriate time to ask Lizzie, so she tried to dismiss it from her mind. Anyway, Lizzie may still need her support when she and Janice go over to confront their father in the morning, and demand he send Pamela packing.
It had been decided that Sally would wait for Lizzie at Janice's house, and then the two girls would return to Wales in the afternoon. This was very much to Sally's relief, as she certainly didn't want to be in the firing line when the two sisters took on the might of their father, on his home territory
.
5. THE DINNER DATE
Set in nearly five hundred acres of rugged Welsh landscape, the family-owned, Falconbury Hotel was in fact, a huge, converted country house, complete with additional annexes, function rooms and its own golf course.
The hotel was enormously popular with hill-walkers, pony-trekkers and just about anyone seeking the chance to escape the rat-race for a while. The interior of the main house was distinctly Edwardian, and one could easily conjure up images of Miss Marple or Poirot strutting their stuff among the potted plants and ornate railings.
Pauline picked up
her glass and sucked the remaining dregs of her cocktail through the two straws. She made a slurping sound, as if she were just finishing a delicious, frothy milkshake, and looked around anxiously to see if anyone had heard her indiscretion. She glanced towards Frank, who was still busy at the bar ordering more drinks, before delving into her bag for her compact.
Despite Pauline's part-time job at the student's club, she still wasn't what could be classified as a drinker. She was certainly aware of cocktails, and had seen people drinking them in those old Hollywood movies, but as yet, she hadn't been called upon in her line of duty to ever provide one.
Frank however, was very knowledgeable when it came to not only cocktails, but seemingly every known drink to man. It was he, who suggested she try a Pina Colada, and to Pauline, it was delicious - even better than a snowball, her other favourite.
She lifted up the tiny mirror, and checked her face. It had all been such a rush, and the last thing she wanted was to be a disappointment to Frank. She knew her cheeks and ears would be red - that always happened, even if she just had a sip of anything remotely alcoholic. Dabbing on more powder, she brought the mirror closer to her face to ensure her eye make-up was perfect. Maureen and Jenny had done it for her, by copying a page from a fashion magazine. Pauline was still very much a novice at such things, anyway - it would have taken her far too long, and she didn't want to be late on her first ever date.
At least her hands had finally stopped shaking, perhaps it was the effects of the drink. Putting back the compact in her bag, she heard Frank laughing with the barman, maybe they knew each other. She watched him as he turned and began to walk back to their table, holding a tray of fresh drinks. Pauline couldn't help smiling at him, after all, he looked so handsome and dashing in his dark blue suit, and sleek, back-combed hair.
Somewhere in one of the function rooms, she could hear a private Christmas party taking place. Every so often the laughter would intensify when one of the white-shirted waiters threw open the double doors, to push in another trolley laden with further supplies of beer and wine.
Pauline and Frank were seated in a vast bar area that was often used to hold meetings or lavish wedding parties. Tonight however, the early entertainment was in the form of a solo pianist, who was currently going through his extensive repertoire of Christmas carols. These were combined with requests from the dozen or so other customers in the bar. The pianist was situated on a raised wooden platform, which was also home to the largest, and most beautiful Christmas tree Pauline had ever seen. It stretched right up to the high ceiling, and was dripping with masses of colourful decorations of every kind. Pauline had never felt so grand and sat back in the sumptuous, armchair and wished the evening would go on for ever.
The conversation had at first been quite strained and awkward. Pauline's social skills when concerning members of the opposite sex was still very limited. She attempted to try and keep the topic confined to general campus talk and revision technique. Frank however, who believed he had few difficulties communicating with women, soon became bored with this, and turned the subject towards cars, in particular E-type Jaguars.
"A new one can set you back well over two grand, you know. But if you have the right contacts you can usually get a good deal. There's not much that can beat it at 150mph!" He had been intrigued to know how impressed she had been, when he had arrived to pick her up. But in reality, Pauline had been oblivious to the car. She had only been interested in Frank, and to her, the Jaguar was just another facet of him to be admired.
She soon discovered that, apart from cars, he loved to talk about himself, and how wealthy his family were. But when asked a direct question about them, he went on the defensive.
Pauline however, was to regret mentioning that she had recognised Frank in some of the framed pictures back at the club. They were all connected with rugby matches, and she had to endure Frank telling her endless stories of the many dangerous tackles he and his friend, Ken had made, and the match-saving tries he had scored, snatching victory from the jaws of defeat.
Frank made two further visits back to the bar, and Pauline was more than relieved when the waiter came over to tell them that their table in the restaurant was ready. Frank rose to his feet a little unsteadily and motioned for Pauline to link his arm. She felt her spine tingle at this first physical interaction between them. Holding on to him tightly, she inhaled the strong aroma of his sweet-smelling aftershave as he pulled out a chair for her at the table.
From Pauline's awkward manner and the way she studied the menu with a pained look on her face, it became apparent to Frank that his companion was quite new to dining out. He summoned over the waiter, and after deciding upon which champagne he wanted, proceeded to order dinner for both of them.
Looking around the impressive dining room, with its magnificent, crystal chandelier, Pauline felt far too excited to eat, and just took a couple of mouthfuls of the rack of Welsh lamb, Frank had ordered. Besides, as a result of her rigid dieting, she now seldom felt hungry and was in total control of her eating habits.
The waiter replenished her glass with more champagne, and Pauline let out a little squeal of delight, which made Frank laugh. He then began doing impersonations of some of the lecturers at the university, which in turn made Pauline giggle uncontrollably, and down even more champagne. She accidentally knocked one glass over and blushed, as the restaurant suddenly went quiet and the other diners stared over at her disapprovingly.
"Frank, I've never been drunk before - isn't it weird? I don't think I can stand up. It's so funny - there's two of you, which one is real?"
A couple sitting at the next table had stopped eating completely, and were staring in disbelief at Pauline, as she fought a losing battle trying to get her dessert from the plate, up to her mouth. Eventually, she gave up after the fork totally missed its target and fell to the floor with a loud clatter.
The couple quickly looked away, as Frank turned to face them aggressively. He then stood up, and moved menacingly towards their table. As he was almost upon them, he abruptly changed direction, to the couple's relief, and bent down to pick up Pauline's fork. Wiping the utensil on a serviette, and passing it to her, he placed his hands on her shoulders, and decided to take things a stage further.
"Do you like dancing, Pauline? There's a band playing here later tonight."
"I can't dance to save my life," she replied, her speech now quite slurred. "Would you teach me, Frank?"
"It would be a pleasure, a nice slow one, I think." He smiled at her and went to re-fill her glass, but she placed her hand over the top.
"No, Frank, please. If I have anymore you'll have to carry me home."
After the pianist's final rendition of 'White Christmas', he left the stage to muted applause, and was replaced by The Blue Jets, who wasted no time belting out, Johnny Tillotson's, 'Poetry in Motion'.
Pauline was still very giggly, but after a few dances under Frank's guidance, she seemed to get the hang of it it quite well. Although, she had never done the Jive, or the Twist in public, she had often seen others dance in the students club and had secretly practised in her room with Jenny and Maureen. Now, it just took Frank to add the final touches.
Frank liked the way Pauline moved. She certainly wasn't as lithe and as athletic as Sally when she danced. But now, having had a few drinks, Pauline had completely lost her earlier shyness, and was allowing her own distinctive sexuality to emerge, a sexuality that Frank was determined to exploit later that night.
However, to Frank's frustration, Pauline actually began to sober up after a while, and despite his insistence, she still refused to drink anymore. But, perhaps, her hesitancy to drink might not necessarily be a problem after all, he re-assured himself. She hadn't objected to him getting close to her during some of the dances, and she didn't exactly push him away when he put his arm around her on returning to their table.
At the interval, Frank went to the bar and brought Pauline a Tizer, and himself, a large whisky. Then h
e went over to the lead singer of the group and spoke a few words to him. The singer looked at his watch and nodded, then Frank brought him and the rest of the band a round of drinks.
Pauline took Frank's hand and led him back out onto the dance floor, as soon as the band struck up again. She reminded him about his earlier promise to teach her to tango, but now it was getting late and Frank had other plans for Pauline.
"Okay folks, this one's just for you lovers out there, and in particular for Pauline and Frank. Yes, that's right, Pauline, this is for you!" The singer then waved over at her and began to sing, 'Moon River'.
Pauline was in raptures, "This is from, 'Breakfast At Tiffany's'," she beamed excitedly, "Have you seen it, Frank? It's wonderful, I think Audrey Hepburn is simply fantastic, don't you?"
Frank wanted to tell her to shut up, but instead, he led her out onto the centre of the dance floor. He pulled her close to him, so she couldn't see the bored expression on his face, and she responded by reaching up to place her arms around his neck. How marvellous, she thought - to be here with him, the two of them dancing like this. How would she ever explain it to Jenny and Maureen, they would never believe that Frank was such a romantic. She knew all those awful things she'd heard about him, couldn't have been true. They were just a pack of lies, spread by girls who were simply jealous. She pressed her head against his chest and felt as if she were floating on the clouds.
Frank let his hands wander up the side of Pauline's waist, and as they reached higher, he felt the outline of her bra, and discovered exactly where it was fastened and by how many hooks. He felt her bosom nuzzling gently against his ribs, as they slowly moved around the now, half-empty dance floor. He noticed how wisps of her raven hair had worked themselves free, and were now partly obscuring her eyes, and dangling loosely around her pale neck. She gazed up at him, her face slightly flushed in contrast, and smiling warmly.
