All manner of climbing shrubs festooned the front of the house. There was a long meandering drive up to it, and a pair of wrought-iron gates ten feet high, fronting the pavement. To keep out the ghosts, he thought as he opened them now. The rain had brought a kind of warmth to the night, but still he trembled, like a frightened child.
‘Stay away, you bastards!’ He swung round, his voice rising above the pattering rain, above the night and beyond the stars, into the darkness that went on for ever. ‘You stay away from me!’ The rain ran down his face and mingled with his tears. The tears ran into his mouth and he could feel himself choking. ‘Bastards!’ He went up the drive muttering beneath his breath.
Suddenly he was running, crashing through the porch and into the house, as though the devil were on his heels. Once inside, with the great door closed behind him, he fell against the wall, gasping for breath, the rain dripping from his nose and the clothes on his back sticking to him like clingfilm.
One minute he was frantic, the next he was laughing out loud. ‘You’re a bloody coward!’ he cried. ‘Still afraid of the dark.’ He glanced out of the window. The wind was howling. The rain was lashing the door, making a fascinating melody as it split itself into a billion particles and sprayed them at the house, his house. ‘But you’re not after the house, are you?’ he whispered harshly, pressing his nose close to the pane. ‘It’s me you want, isn’t it?’ With a boldness he didn’t really feel, he made a sign with his two fingers. ‘Well, you won’t get the satisfaction, so piss off!’
‘Who’s chasing you?’
The voice made him swing round. ‘Liz!’
She came forward, her soft voice soothing the turmoil inside him. ‘Don’t tell me Lenny’s chasing you for the price of a pint?’ she teased.
Grabbing her to him, he held on tight: she was his anchor in the storm. ‘I’m sorry I’m late,’ he apologised, ‘only Sal had to go out and Lenny was on his own. He couldn’t cope, so I offered to help behind the bar.’
Pushing her hands into his chest she raised her head and glared at him. ‘Did you do that on purpose?’
‘What?’ He was puzzled.
A little smile played round the corners of his mouth. ‘Look at me!’ She drew away. Her clothes were dark with damp. ‘I’m soaked through!’
He rolled his eyes to the ceiling, then he looked at her and grinned, the same way he had grinned when he sent her sprawling on that platform, a shy helpless grin that showed his embarrassment. ‘Sorry,’ he said. And he was.
His eyes coveted her. She was so lovely, slim and small like a doll, with round hazel eyes and a mop of brown hair that never looked tidy; she was pretty and fun and, besides Ginny, she was everything in the world to him. Oh, and Lianne! He cursed himself. Mustn’t forget Lianne.
‘Well?’
‘Well what?’
She sighed, but didn’t pull away. ‘I said you’ve soaked me through, you sod.’
He kissed her, then in a whisper reminded her, ‘When we stood in front of that altar, didn’t we vow always to share everything?’
She nodded cautiously. ‘Hmm.’
‘I’m soaked to the skin, so why shouldn’t you be soaked to the skin?’ He winked and kissed her again. He could feel himself hardening. ‘We could take a shower together?’
‘Maybe.’ She was deliberately hedging.
‘Oh? Turning me down, are you?’ Easing her away he held her at arm’s length. ‘I thought we just agreed to share everything?’
She smiled wryly. ‘There are some things I refuse to share.’
‘Oh? And what are they?’
‘My favourite perfume, chocolate Digestives and…’ She hesitated, wrinkling her nose.
‘Go on! And?’
Her gaze dropped to his feet. ‘Whatever it is that’s stuck to your shoe and stinks to high heaven.’
He burst out laughing. ‘Dog shit.’
She glared at him. ‘Get them off before you take one more step into this house.’
His eyes shone with mischief. ‘Get them off, eh?’ He began undoing the belt on his trousers. ‘Can’t wait to ravish me, is that it?’
She was already on her way across the hallway. ‘Throw them into the front porch!’ she ordered. ‘With a bit of luck some old tramp will cart them away.’ There was a chuckle as she disappeared into the drawing-room. It wasn’t the first time he’d brought home an obnoxious smell. A few weeks ago Lenny gave him a pair of dead pheasants. They’d been hanging in his shed, ‘maturing’ he called it. Jack had come home like a puppy with two tails. Unfortunately the pheasants were past rotten and stank the house out for a week.
‘Am I forgiven?’ It was only a minute before Jack stood at the kitchen door, looking like a drowned rat.
‘I’ll think about it,’ she said. ‘You’d best get a shower, but be quiet. The girls are asleep.’ She switched the kettle on and gave him a dry glance. ‘I thought I asked you to come home before they went to bed?’ Leaning with her back against the sink she continued to look at him, secretly admiring him, wanting him as always.
‘Sorry, sweetheart.’
‘You’re always saying you’re sorry.’
‘That’s because I’m always messing up your plans.’
‘I know.’
He gazed at her, noting how the top of her blouse was open, showing the gentle rise of her breasts. ‘I want you,’ he murmured.
‘I know that too.’
‘Want to shower with me?’
‘I’ve just put the kettle on.’
‘Switch it off.’
‘Persuade me.’
Slowly he took off his wet coat, then his trousers. His dark blue socks were hopelessly wrinkled and the tail of his shirt hung low over his thighs. She softly laughed, putting him through every agony. ‘I hope the girls don’t come down. They’ll be having nightmares for weeks.’
‘Are you persuaded?’
‘Maybe… maybe not.’
His smile was devastating. ‘I can see you’re weakening.’ Next came his shirt. His broad, bare chest was glistening wet, the long dark hairs clinging to his skin like black meandering rivulets. The rain had driven right through to his underpants. Wet and flimsy they clung to his body. The shape of his thick hard penis was clearly visible, poking out, raising his briefs into a grotesque shape. He stripped off his socks and held out his arms, his eyes heavy with desire. ‘Well?’
Unable to refuse him, or herself, she walked across the room and slipped her hands into his. Without a word he gathered her into his arms and carried her upstairs. In the bathroom he couldn’t bear to let her go. Stepping out of his briefs he gently stripped her naked, his mouth on hers, his hands caressing her breasts, the warm sticky triangle between her legs. He kissed her, and held her, and she clung to him with a passion that only fired him the more. Together they moved into the shower, forced into each other by the confines of the walls. Skin and moisture deliciously merged as the warm water sprayed over them. He played with her for a while, teasing and tormenting while she leaned against the cool tiles, legs thrust open, arms wide, wanting him, aching for him.
He was on his knees now, his tongue tickling the crevices of her navel, licking at her skin like a dog might lick at a bone, lovingly. Possessively.
Half-blinded by the tumbling water, he looked up from beneath dripping lashes. She was so beautiful. Her smile enveloped him. Her small hands reached down and drew him up. His thighs tightened, he grew so hard he thought he would burst. She was wonderfully open to him. The water showered down, exhilarating.
Wrapping his arms round the small of her back he felt her small tight buttocks. Pressing them towards him he slowly entered her. The water entered too, silky smooth and luxuriously warm. She made a soft, guttural cry. Filled with delicious agony, he pushed deeper, deeper still, into her very soul. Frantic now, all foreplay done with, the rhythm quickened. Unbearable pleasure, heightening with every stroke. Like a storm it exploded inside them. Their cries merged one with the other as togeth
er they slithered to the floor.
Even when it was over, it was not. Tangled in a heap of skin and limbs, the pleasure lingered, slowly ebbing. ‘Want some more?’ he teased. Because of the girls their laughter was subdued.
‘Get your fat arse off me!’ she moaned, pushing at him. But even while the words left her mouth she secretly coveted his neat tight buttocks. On that first day when he had bumped into her, he was wearing jeans. She saw then how his round tight buttocks fitted into them like a hand in a glove. She smiled at the memory. His long legs and the strong lithe shape of his body were still a powerful turn-on.
‘Fat arse, eh?’ Suitably offended he chided her. ‘Just like any hussy,’ he said, ‘you only want me for what I’ve got.’
All the same he let her scrub his back. Then he scrubbed hers, and when they were dressed in their terry-towelling robes, she enticed him downstairs, where she made two cups of cocoa.
Sitting opposite him at the round pine table, she told him worriedly, ‘We have to talk. It’s the third time in as many weeks that the school has been in touch about Ginny.’
He glanced anxiously at the half-open door. Getting up he went to the door and softly closed it. ‘Have you ever thought it could be the school’s fault, and not Ginny’s?’ He knew he was clutching at straws, but he couldn’t, wouldn’t believe she was beyond the saving.
She groaned, reminding him impatiently, ‘We’ve gone through all that, and no, I don’t think it’s the school’s fault. Lianne attends the same school and she stays out of trouble. Why can’t Ginny?’
‘Maybe it suits one of our daughters and not the other.’
‘And maybe you look at Ginny through rose-coloured spectacles.’ She sat up straight and stared at him, anger in her voice. ‘It’s no good, Jack. You’re going to have to face the fact that we have a problem on our hands.’
He sighed and covered his head with the palms of his hands, but there was no shutting out the truth. ‘All right. What’s she done this time?’ Raising his head, he looked at her through tired green eyes. ‘Something shocking, was it? Did she molest the maths teacher?’ He shook his head. ‘No, of course not. He’s old as Father Time, and wrinkled like a prune. A daughter of mine would have better taste.’ He chuckled. ‘Maybe she was caught in the bike shed with the caretaker. Is that it? Are she and Old Tom having an affair?’
Liz got up from the table, went to the sink and poured the entire contents of her cup down the drain. ‘If that’s all you have to say, I might as well go to bed.’ She was boiling with rage. For what seemed an age she remained at the sink, her back to him, her shoulders hunched, and her knuckles white where she was gripping the draining board. ‘Bastard!’ she muttered. ‘What’s the point?’
He came up behind her. Slowly his fingers covered hers. ‘I’m sorry, sweetheart. You’re right, I am a bastard.’ He rubbed his head against her shoulders and kissed her neck.
‘There you go again,’ she said in a calmer voice, ‘saying sorry.’
‘That’s because I am.’
She turned to look at him. He was so damned handsome, such a good man, and she loved him fiercely. If it weren’t for Ginny, always coming between them, always souring their relationship, life would be so much easier. ‘Will you talk to her?’
‘First thing in the morning.’
‘And don’t let her twist you round her little finger.’
‘You mean like you do?’
His grin was a tonic to her. Ever since that phone call from the school, she had been on edge. Ginny had a way of doing that to her. ‘This time I want you to punish her.’
‘What did she do?’
‘I’d rather she told you.’
‘Okay. Now, do you want me to get you another cup of cocoa?’ He stared down the drain with a woeful expression. ‘What kind of woman throws away a perfectly good cup of cocoa?’ he asked mischievously.
‘A woman at her wits’ end.’
The tone of her voice pulled him up sharp. He knew then that whatever Ginny was supposed to have done, it must be bad… worse than before. His heart sank inside him. ‘I’ll talk to her.’
‘She’s getting impossible. Can you handle it?’
‘Of course I can handle it. She’s not a monster after all.’
‘If you say so.’
He smiled at her, but Liz wasn’t smiling.
As they passed the girls’ rooms on their way to bed, she whispered, ‘I love her as much as you do, Jack, but she won’t talk to me about the things that worry her. What makes her do these shocking things?’
‘Are they so shocking?’
She considered it for a while, recalling the story she had been told by the headmistress. In a softer voice she gave Jack his answer. ‘She worries me, Jack. I can’t help feeling there’s something very wrong.’
He turned to look at her. God almighty! She was echoing his own fears. ‘I think you’d better tell me what you mean.’
For no reason that she could think of, a well of anger rose up in her. ‘I don’t know what I mean!’ she snapped. But she knew all right, only she dared not say it. There were times when she believed Ginny was insane. There were also times when she was actually afraid of her own daughter. ‘I’m sorry,’ she said deceptively. ‘You’re probably right. Ginny’s at a difficult age, neither woman nor child. I expect it’s just high spirits and mischief.’
Before he closed his eyes to sleep, he reassured her, ‘Don’t worry, sweetheart.’ He recalled what Lenny had said and he repeated it now. ‘It really will be something and nothing. Trust me. I promise I’ll get to the bottom of it.’
Liz was quiet for a moment, then in a hushed voice she told him, ‘I hope so, Jack, because your daughter is far more devious than you give her credit for.’
‘Oh, so now she’s my daughter.’ He leaned up on one elbow and kissed her full on the mouth, asking with a little grin, ‘Do you want me to ravish you again?’
She kissed him back. ‘I’m too tired.’
‘Okay. I’ll go along with that.’ In fact he was bone-weary. The bakery was thriving, thank God, and orders from shops and supermarkets were pouring in. But there was a price to pay for running your own business. The long punishing hours and the never-ending struggle to rise above the competition somehow drained a man.
Liz turned away. ‘Goodnight then.’
‘Goodnight, sweetheart.’ He lay on his back and drew the quilt up to his chin. The radiator wasn’t too far away and he could feel the heat on his face, but he was dreadfully cold, shivering as though he had just stepped into a bath of freezing water. It was a strange kind of chill though, because there were no goosebumps on his skin, and it didn’t feel cold to the touch. It was almost as though the chill was radiating from inside out. A rush of terror coursed through him. The shudder rippled from his head to his toes and left him clasping the blanket, his fingers gripping it so tight he didn’t even realise the material was tearing apart.
Liz stirred. ‘Are you all right?’
‘I’m fine,’ he answered. ‘A bit cold, that’s all.’
‘Snuggle up then.’ Her arm reached out and cradled him, but she didn’t turn round. He was a man easily aroused and she was on the verge of slipping into a warm and cosy twilight.
Jack didn’t sleep well. When he did fall into a fitful slumber he found himself immersed in a terrible nightmare. He was in a big house, much like his own home. There were bodies all around. The walls were splattered with blood: bright crimson stains from floor to ceiling. Furniture was tossed about like a child’s playthings; the remains of blue velvet curtains hung from the windows, shredded into strips as though many cats had torn into them with long, jagged claws. Every picture was ripped from the walls; every mirror shattered into a million fragments. And the stench! Dear God! Look around! The carnage. As though a savage beast had been let loose.
In his nightmare, he could sense someone behind him. He turned and what he saw was too horrible, too real. He could hear himself screaming.
But it wasn’t all right. It never would be. Desperate to protect his family, he had never spoken of the dread that followed him. Above all else, he must keep his family intact, safe from all harm. Lately he felt he was losing control.
That was what frightened him. The fact that Ginny and Lianne were growing up, growing away from him. Because of what had happened all those years before, the thought of his family being split up again was more than he could bear. He couldn’t think about it without coming out in a cold sweat. In spite of having distanced himself from the horror. In spite of praying it could never touch him again, he still couldn’t believe he was free. After all these years, it still haunted him.
‘Why does he keep having these awful nightmares?’ Unnerved by her father’s screaming, Lianne followed her big sister into her bedroom.
Ginny gave her a scathing glance. ‘How should I know?’
‘Is it all right if I stay in here with you tonight?’ She flung herself forward, on top of the double bed. ‘I don’t want to sleep on my own.’
‘Aren’t you worried what people will say?’ Virginia went to the mirror, where she began brushing her hair. Short and thick, and burnished with autumn hues, it shone like gold in the overhead light.
Lianne lay on her stomach, her chin resting between the cups of her hands as she stared up with astonishment. ‘I don’t know what you mean,’ she said simply. ‘Why should people say anything?’
Ginny continued to brush her hair. She brushed it up and down with great tenderness, then she began stroking the brush from top to bottom. The mass of hair bounced and glowed, framing her face with fire. Ignoring Lianne’s question, she asked one of her own: ‘Do you think I’m beautiful?’
Lianne sighed, her gaze growing with wonder as she spoke. ‘I think you’re the most beautiful person I’ve ever seen.’
No Heaven, No Hell Page 4
