by Gloria Cook
‘I thought he was pushing up daisies on Froggy soil,’ the man said with a hard laugh. He pushed his hands inside his flapping coat and stuck his thumbs down the inside of his trouser pockets, a pose she recognized only too well. ‘Hello, Susan. Aren’t you pleased to see me?’
‘Kenny! What on earth are you doing here?’ She backed away from him. ‘How do you know my husband’s name?’
‘I’ve made it my business to find out about you. After all, you’re my only kin, Susie, girl. That wasn’t much of a greeting to give your long-lost older brother.’ He feigned hurt, then put on the leering grin she’d always hated. ‘It’s been years. Thought you’d have forgiven me by now.’
‘For running out and leaving me to put up with Mother’s nagging and rotten temper and her drinking, her tight-fisted ways and dirty habits? I don’t think so. You stole the money she’d had stashed away. She took it out on me, beat me black and blue, and said I should have stopped you. How, only the Lord knows; you bullied me too. I’ve got a scar on my back from where you leathered me.’ Anger and indignation took over from her fright and she made to march past him. ‘Go away, Kenny. I never want to see you again.’
‘Where’re you off to, Susie? I’ll walk along with you. Got half an hour to spare before my lift comes back.’ He took her arm and she wrenched away. He didn’t seem to care, and matched her fast steps, nonchalantly. ‘Shame to find you’re the unforgiving sort. You was a sweet little maid.’
‘I know better now,’ she replied curtly.
‘Life treated you badly then? Shame. If you’re short of a few bob, I could slip you something.’
She stopped dead still. ‘I’ll take nothing from you. You’ve never come by anything legally in your life. Clear off!’ Kenny shook his head, amused. He was blunt-looking with harsh thin lips and piggy eyes, but he had a charmer’s tongue and was a master of deception. He was a decade older than Susan, and had a different father; their mother hadn’t married either man. He had treated Susan like a slave and a punch bag. ‘You was never snappy, you was always too scared to stick up for yourself. You must have something to protect, or someone. Got a little maid of your own, I hear. That your little place back there then?’
Susan’s disgust and dread turned to prickles of fear. What did he know about Maureen? He wouldn’t be interested in her in the usual way of an uncle; he’d always despised children. ‘No, I was calling on someone and they’re not at home.’
He leant forward from the waist, and Susan knew he could be more of a threat to her than Lance had ever been. Lance had bawled and shouted at her, demeaned her, criticized her and controlled her. Occasionally he’d thrown things at her, but only weightless things like newspapers and tea towels, not designed to hurt her physically. Kenny had hurt her several times, and he’d enjoyed it, and laughed at her childhood tears. He was capable of anything. ‘There’s no use in lying to me, sis,’ he trilled in a mocking singsong voice. ‘I know all about you. Everything. You and your daughter live there, in the little cottage, and your late hubby was as bent as I am and he furnished it out for you with knock-off goods. Your Lance sounded just my sort. We could have gone into partnership together. He should have spivved his way through the war like I did.’ He tapped on his leg and laughed. ‘He should have had himself a crocked leg. I’ve spent the last years up in the Smoke. It took me a while to track you down, but this is a nice little village. The shopkeeper is a talkative bloke. I couldn’t get him to shut up. He told me about your nice job at the big house not far from here. That you’re babysitting for your boss’s adopted swarm of brats tonight. I’m glad to have found you so well set up, Susie. Your fashion sense is lousy, though. The women I hang about with wouldn’t be seen dead in what you’ve got on. If I was hanging around I’d do something about that for you.’
‘You’re going back up to London?’ She snatched eagerly at the glimmer of hope.
‘Oh, God, yes.’ He carried on walking, taking her arm and pushing it inside his, and she went along with it to keep him sweet. ‘I couldn’t stand it down here, not enough fun, not enough action.’
‘Why did you come down?’ she made her voice light and chatty, hoping this would help ease him out of her life again. You could never be sure with Kenny. He was a born liar.
‘Bloke I knew, his old ma snuffed it, and I got curious about my own family. Thought I’d look up the old woman, and you, Susie. Remember Mrs Jago, that stuck-up old cow next door? After I’d been banging on the door for ten minutes she came out and told me Ma had died, in the infirmary, of pneumonia, two years ago. She knew you’d got married, to some good-looking bloke, she said, who was a few years older than you. She wondered if you’d moved up-country, as she hadn’t clocked you in years. Didn’t you know the old woman was gone, Susie?’
They had come to a crossroads. If Kenny knew all about her, there was no point in heading him in a different direction to Tremore House. Susan pointed left. ‘I’m going that way. No, I didn’t know Mother had died. I can’t say I’m sorry. She hated me.’ Later, when she had time alone she’d absorb the news and see how she felt about her mother’s death then.
Kenny put his arm round her waist and hugged her. ‘I feel the same way. She hated our fathers, so therefore she hated us. Well, seems we’ve both risen above it. I can’t help noticing you’re a pretty piece. Bag yourself a rich husband if you can, live in comfort and without worry. Look around at the older blokes, they’re a sucker for a sweet young widow.’
‘I’m happy as I am. Are you married, Kenny?’
He roared with glee. ‘In name only. I hitched meself up to a rich old dear and moved on when I’d bled her dry. Look Susie, I can see you’ve got a nice quiet life here and I’m pleased for you, honest I am. I’m off and away tonight and we’ll probably never meet up again. You take care of yourself.’
‘Thanks, Kenny.’ She was relieved he was going, but apart from Maureen, she had no other living relatives, and she took a good look at him. He exuded the same brash confidence of years ago, and although his clothes might be top drawer, he still came across as common. He’d always lived on the wrong side of the law. Perhaps the law or some bigger and more vicious criminal would get the better of him one day. ‘You take care too.’
They were closing in on Faye’s farm. A big border collie came scampering out, guarding the property, but not aggressively. Susan remembered that the only things Kenny feared were dogs. She stepped in between them. ‘Hey Sky, good boy. Lie down.’ The dog lay down obediently. ‘Don’t worry, Kenny, he’ll stay until he gets a command.’
Kenny glared at the dog and made a show of straightening his coat cuffs. ‘Just as well for the bastard.’
‘Sky!’ It was Tristan, in the garb of a country gentleman, and Susan was glad he wasn’t close enough to hear Kenny swear. Sky bounded off to him. ‘Hello, Susan. Oh, you’ve got company.’
‘Um, this is—’
‘Susan’s older brother,’ Kenny said before she could think what to say. He kept his distance until Sky ran away into the farmyard. Then he went forward, all smiles, with his hand outstretched. ‘Kenny Locke. Pleased to meet you, um…?’
Tristan’s brow rose. He took an instant dislike to the man, and he could see Susan was uncomfortable in his presence. He glanced at her and smiled. ‘I didn’t know Susan had any family. I’m Tristan Harvey.’
‘She only has me and her little girl. Harvey, eh? One of Susan’s bosses. I trust you’re looking after her properly.’ Kenny’s small hard eyes flicked from his sister to the man he’d summed up as a soft toff. A toff who admired Susan, going by the warm smile he’d given her.
‘Susan is a great asset to the household.’ Tristan didn’t know how to take Kenny Locke’s last remark.
‘Look, afraid I’ve got to scootle off, me mate’s due back for me any minute at the crossroads.’ Kenny dipped a hand inside his breast pocket and took out a wad of notes inside a gilt clip. Before she could object, he thrust a five pound note into Susan’s hand. ‘Fo
r Maureen, buy her something nice or put it in post office savings for her. Say hello to her from her Uncle Kenny. Well, cheerio, sis. Good luck. Cheerio, Mr Harvey.’ He turned on a flamboyant heel and strutted away.
Susan and Tristan stood together and watched him until he’d covered several yards. He didn’t look back. Tristan rubbed the back of his neck. ‘Well…’
‘He’s not the sort of relative you want to admit to,’ Susan said. She folded the money and dropped it into her coat pocket. She didn’t want Kenny’s money, but she would put it away for Maureen’s future.
‘So you weren’t pleased to see him?’ It gave Tristan the excuse to look into her face as they fell into step to walk the short distance to the house.
‘No, Kenny’s bad news. He’s vindictive.’
‘Where was he going? Does he live locally?’
‘No, thank goodness. He’s going back up to London. Mr Harvey, can I ask you not to mention him to Maureen? Hopefully, he’ll never come back and there’s no point in her knowing about him.’
‘Anything you say, Susan.’ They were rounding the bend before the house came into view, and he wanted to enjoy this time of being alone with her. He’d like to ask her out to dinner, but it wasn’t appropriate. How on earth was he to proceed with her? She had no idea he was taken with her, and the last thing he wanted was to hurt her. It didn’t need a high degree of intelligence or foresight to realize she had suffered already in life. He’d made some discreet probing in the village about the state of her marriage, though all he’d learned was that she and Lance Dowling had ‘seemed happy enough.’ He should give up all thoughts of a closer attachment with her and simply treat her as an employee. But his heart was ruling his head; he hadn’t expected to fall in love again, and he was bewitched and befuddled, and panic-stricken that he’d never win her. At least they now had shared a confidence. ‘I heard Faye calling the children into the house a quarter of an hour ago. They were playing cowboys and Indians and making a terrific noise.’
‘I hope Maureen won’t get too excited tonight and become a nuisance.’ Susan frowned.
‘Oh, she’d never be that. With the imagination she’s got, she keeps the others continually interested in something, which means they don’t grumble they’re bored. She’s a joy, a real sweetie.’ This was true, and praising Maureen was a useful route by which he could make a favourable impression on Susan.
‘I was thinking of Mark. He won’t want to put up with a lot of giggling and racket.’
Tristan liked her calling Mark by his first name. Perhaps she might not mind if he suggested quite soon that she do the same to him. ‘Don’t worry about Mark. Justine will keep the children in line if they’re bothersome, and they both like the children anyway. They played a game of marbles with the twins in the hall for a short while last evening. She’s a lot of fun. She’s lifted Mark’s spirit no end.’
They had arrived at Tremore House and were strolling up the stone sett drive. ‘Do you think they’ll reconcile?’
‘I hope so. I’d feel relieved about Mark’s future, and watching them together I can’t see any reason why they should part. Can you?’
‘None at all.’ In spite of her own unhappiness, Susan was conservative enough to believe that except for violence and persistent adultery, couples should stick to their marriage vows.
They entered by the back entrance. ‘Well, here we are,’ Tristan said, ushering her inside. ‘I hope you enjoy your stay with us, Susan.’
‘I’m sure I will.’
She headed off for the kitchen, leaving him in the back corridor, unaware that his good wishes had been so much more than a polite welcome.
Chapter Seven
After Sunday lunch at Tremore, Mark excused himself to take a rest. He got into bed in his underwear, tired but for once not exhausted, and he gazed up at the Art Nouveau frosted glass, hanging bells light, thinking he couldn’t have come among better people, envying the extended family. He was an only child of uninterested parents, and he’d had no idea until now how natural and comforting a solid home life could be. From the serious talk round the table, he’d gleaned that one of the number from Ford Farm was having marriage difficulties, and the Boswelds and Harveys were all pulling together to form a network of support. The only encouragement he’d got off his parents was to do well at his lessons, to make them proud on the sports field and to marry a suitable girl. They’d approved of all his choices, but if they were still alive they’d be horrified at his and Justine’s intention to divorce.
‘All right, darling?’ Not unexpectedly, Justine was there. She had fussed over him since her arrival and he had enjoyed every moment of it.
‘Just a little whacked. You don’t need to keep tucking me up, darling.’
‘I like to.’ She knelt beside the bed and smoothed his brow. ‘You mean a lot to me Mark. I’ll be leaving here in a couple of days. Are you planning to come with me?’
‘How do you mean? To get out of the Harveys’ hair?’
‘No. I mean what do you hope to do? Have you been able to think about the future yet? You’re certainly not in Faye or Tristan’s way. They obviously enjoy having you here, and so do all the children.’
Mark pushed back the bedcovers and sat up. ‘You want to talk seriously, Justine? Good. I want that too. I’m not really sure where things stand between us now.’
Justine smiled into his eyes. Mark didn’t own dreamboat looks, but no one would know, until his face filled out, how arresting and sexy his strong features normally were. She gentled a finger along his temple. ‘Are you up to it?’
‘Yes. We need to come to some firm decisions. I’ll get up.’
‘No, no, I’ll get in there with you.’ She kicked off her shoes, then started on the buttons at the front of her woollen frock. It was a short, plain, utility style. Justine had never bothered with fashions. ‘I must get this off, it will crease.’
Mark watched in profound amazement and pleasure as her gorgeous figure became revealed to him. Her magnificent breasts swelled above her brassiere and slip, the silky material of which clung to her generous curves. After their friendship had passed to passion and then marriage, her body, except during the weeks of his release from the convalescent home, had never failed to fill him with desire. Justine was usually of the same mind as he was, but she might not fancy him now he was skeletally thin and smelled offensively – he could not get the fear out of his mind that he stank, despite her reassurances.
With her half-naked before him he was consumed with a terrible lustful need, coupled with a ghastly sense of loss and shame. ‘You may not want to come in here with me at this moment.’ His voice emerged choked, in anguish, and he wrapped the covers tightly round his middle to hide his arousal.
‘Don’t be silly, darling,’ she said, aware of his predicament. ‘I’m pleased to know you’re back on form. Let’s not waste it.’ She pushed a hand tantalizingly through her hair, then in slinky movements she peeled off her slip, her brassiere and French knickers.
Mark had never been more excited. He couldn’t move to reach out for her, just stare like some famished beast. Justine pulled the bedcovers out of his grasp and he sat in stunned bliss as she pulled off his singlet. Coming to life all over his starved body, he shook and clumsily wriggled out of his underpants. He was in such a fever of anticipation he could hardly breathe. He could die later this afternoon and he wouldn’t care a jot as long as he had Justine. He put his hungry hands on her. Such heaven! She pushed him down and climbed on him, clamped her hands over his and smiled a cat-like smile and licked her bottom lip, always guaranteed to drive him wild.
He went nearly out of his mind. ‘Darling, don’t be cruel!’
In the past she had sometimes teased him for ages, but she was too kind and wise to torment him now. As she joined them together, she sensed he was going to scream in ecstasy and she put a hand over his mouth. He let himself go with the delights she was giving him, and he used his hands to enchant her. He never closed
his eyes when making love with her – she had so much for his eyes to feast on. She was good to him and he could do nothing but go with the exquisite rise and rise and flow and spread of the sensations he thought he’d never experience again.
He had no idea how much time had passed before she lay, hot and perspiring beside him and curled herself around him. He floated on the wonderful aftermath for some time. The daze he was in was not of the kind when his mind involuntarily shut itself off. He was sated. He had gloriously been given a ‘good seeing to’, an experience, fierce and erotic, emotional and fantastically selfish for him, that he and his fellow officers had dreamed about as they’d languished in capture. Malnutrition had quickly stolen their libido, but they’d taken comfort in fantasy. Many of the men had admitted their wives viewed sex as a duty, a cause for trepidation. How fortunate he was Justine was not like that. Gaining his breath, he kissed her hair. ‘Sorry I couldn’t do much, darling. Next time…’
She stayed quiet for a while. Holding him. Caring for him. ‘Will there be a next time, Mark?’
‘Mmm, yes please.’
‘I enjoy making love to you so much, darling, but…’
Her hair was splayed on his chest and he twisted a lock of it around his finger, as if he was trying to hold on to her, but he knew that wasn’t possible. It was a reality he didn’t want to face right now, but he was going to have to be brave about it. ‘You’re trying to work out where we should go from here. I’ve thought a lot about us since you joined me. We can romp the life out of each other, and we admire and even love each other, yet we’re more like the greatest of friends than husband and wife. You don’t want to be settled down, do you, Justine? And I, well, I’d only really wanted the Army, to stay in it until old age or death saw me out of it, and now I’ve been denied that, I don’t know… I need time to work it out. But us staying married isn’t going to work, is it?’
She threaded her fingers through his hand. ‘You’re so much wiser than I am. Braver too. I feel a bitch to be deserting you, although if you ever need me I’ll always come to you, I swear. We probably wouldn’t have married if our parents hadn’t pushed us in that direction. I’ve never wanted a partnership and babies, and all that sort of thing. We’ve never talked about children. Do you want them, Mark?’
