by Janet Woods
Janey felt sorry for him, but then, she’d feel sorry for anyone who married Linda, even though she was her sister.
After the service they headed back to the house, where people gathered in the marquee, talking and being polite. The women looked like bunches of flowers
In their pastel chiffons and silks, their lips pursed to sip champagne from shallow glasses.
Her father made a speech. Linda and Tim turned red when he told a joke about the patter of tiny feet, and everyone laughed.
The pink crimplene dress Pamela wore collected a brown stain on the bodice. Nobody noticed until Mrs.. Brown thought to loudly point it out.
During the course of the afternoon the hats wilted, the men became glassy-eyed and loud, and the women began to neigh like horses.
Dragged on to the dance floor by the best man, Janey nearly tripped over a chair. Embarrassed, she muttered her excuses and retreated.
Linda changed into a powder blue dress with matching coat. A pill box hat adorned her head.
‘So chic, she looks just like Jackie Kennedy,’ someone gushed.
‘Poor dear,’ someone else said and they all fell silent, remembering the shocking assassination of the American President two years previously.
Then the shout went up. ‘Where’s the bridegroom?’
Amid much laughter Tim was pulled out from under a table by a couple of friends. White-faced and staggering he was sick into the flowerbed.
When the taxi came to take the bridal couple to the railway station for the start of a honeymoon in Cornwall, Linda was tight-lipped. They were arguing as the cab sped away.
Soon the marquee was empty of people, but full of dirty glasses and plates. Janey lifted the arm from the middle of a record and set it back on its rest, and then carried the remains of the wedding cake inside. A sleepy Susie was tucked up in bed with her raggedy doll.
Together, she and Pamela began to tidy up.
Her father came out of the house just as they’d finished lining the filled garbage bags up against the wall. Without looking at either of them he got in the car and drove away.
They exchanged a glance, smiled, and went into the kitchen to put the kettle on.
* * * *
A couple of weeks later, when Janey had taken Susie to the beach and Pamela was alone in the house, the doorbell rang.
The last person she expected to see on her doorstep was Mary Yates. ‘I’m sorry I didn’t ring you first, but I thought you wouldn’t see me if I did,’ she said.
She was probably right. Pamela stood aside, allowing her entry. ‘You can’t stay long, Eddie will be home from work soon.’
‘I’ve come about Janey. Douglas and I have had a talk and we’d like to see her now and again if you’ll let us.’
‘After what your brother did to her?’
‘Jack didn’t do anything. He’d die rather than hurt a hair on her head. Why didn’t your husband allow her to give evidence?’
‘Because she couldn’t remember anything and Eddie didn’t want to put her through it. Janey thinks she was hit by a car and it’s better to let sleeping dogs lie, if you ask me.’
‘Did anyone ask you?’
Pamela lowered her eyes from Mary’s shrewd glance. ‘Janey’s not my daughter, she’s Eddie’s. I haven’t got much say in what goes on.’
‘Janey is Jack’s daughter, and I’m her aunt.’ Mary took a photograph and thrust it into her hand. ‘That’s Jack at eighteen. Deny it if you like, but she looks just like him.’
Pamela couldn’t deny that Janey was the spitting image of the man in the photograph. He’d been nice looking before he’d been scarred. Sadly, she handed it back. ‘I believe you Mrs.. Yates, but I can’t help you ... I daren’t. Somebody attacked Janey and everything pointed to your brother.’
‘I think it was more a crime of revenge. Jack was in love with Margaret Renfrew.’ Mary shrugged. ‘I didn’t really approve of the relationship. Margaret seemed to be too young to be married, let alone have children. I didn’t know the circumstances then.’
Curious now, Pamela asked, ‘What circumstances?’
Mary hesitated. ‘I’m sorry, it’s not really my business. I keep forgetting you’re Eddie Renfrew’s wife.’
Pamela drew in a deep breath. ‘Don’t let that stop you. To be honest, I sometimes wish I weren’t.’ She glanced nervously at the clock. ‘Look, we could meet somewhere and talk. Janey could walk in any moment.’
‘I thought she’d be at school ... is she unwell?’
‘Eddie insisted she leave school when she turned fifteen. She helps me in the boarding house.’
Mary looked shocked.
Pamela had missed having someone to talk to since she’d left the village, and she’d liked Mary Yates despite what had happened to Janey. Her voice thickened. ‘Eddie never did treat Janey right. Sometimes I wish I had the guts to leave him, but then I think of Janey here all alone with him, working in the boarding house for no pay, and I think of my daughter, Susie.’ Fishing around in her pocket she brought out a handkerchief and blew her nose. ‘He threatened to take Susie with him if I left him. Beside, where could I go without money?’
Mary slid an arm around her shoulder in a sympathetic hug. ‘Look, I didn’t come here to cause you trouble. Why don’t you visit me, I don’t live far from here.’ Mary took a card from her bag and placing it in Pamela’s pocket, she urged,
‘Come tomorrow if you can get away, Pamela, we can chat then.’
‘I will.’ Pamela managed a tremulous smile. ‘Janey will be coming up the cliff path from the beach soon. ‘Please don’t mention what happened to her in Winterbrook. She has enough problems to cope with.’
A kiss landed on her cheek. ‘Thank you Pamela, I promise I won’t even speak to her, unless she sees me ... not until we’ve worked things out between us.’
Mary found a seat under a pine tree, just a little way from where the path emerged. It was amongst several chattering women well into middle age. Ten minutes later she was rewarded when a tall, slender girl appeared clutching the hand of a child.
Janey looked shabby in a faded pink blouse, a pair of patched pedal pushers and brown sandals. An elastic band secured one long, pale braid.
Her face has matured into fragile beauty, Mary thought, but her eyes had a haunted look. The child with her was poorly dressed, but was gazing up with Janey with adoration in her eyes. Mary caught her breath when Janey walked past her without a glance. She’d never seen anyone look quite so vulnerable. Yet when she inclined her head to smile at something the child said, her face was illuminated by love. Dear God! Mary thought, shaken by the flood of feeling that ripped through her. She smiles just like Jack.
At least she could tell her brother that she’d seen her when she next visited him. It might cheer him up to get some news, and if she could get Pamela on side, Janey might be allowed to visit their home.
She felt guilt nibble at her for encouraging Pamela to deceive her husband. The woman seemed on the verge of a nervous breakdown as it was. But she had to put Jack first. His mental and physical health was slowly deteriorating in that place. She knew he was innocent, and was determined to clear his name.
There had been a spate of attacks on young girls the district round about the time Janey had been attacked. A man had lured girls into a car on some pretence, and had drugged them before driving them into the country and interfering with them. But the police hadn’t bothered taking that into account.
If she could win the girl over she might be able to encourage her to remember what happened, and clear Jack’s name.
She sniffed disapprovingly at the thought of her niece being used as an unpaid servant in Eddie Renfrew’s boarding house. If Janey lived with her she’d still be in school.
* * * *
Pamela was soon informed of her predecessor’s story. Mary showed her newspaper cuttings from the time. They described Margaret as a loose woman, and depicted Eddie as a martyred saint. There was very little s
ympathy for her from the public, even in death ... a woman who visited a back-street midwife deserved all they got.
‘Linda looks like her mother.’ Pamela said.
‘Margaret wasn’t what they made her out to be. She was a nice girl who’d been treated badly. Half the time she was frightened of her own shadow, that’s why she took to Jack. He’s gentle, dependable and kind, definitely not the type to hurt anyone, let alone his own daughter.’
Pamela remembered the photographs she’d buried in the garden of Coombe Cottage. If only they knew, she thought, feeling a sense of rapport with the late Margaret Renfrew.
Between them she and Mary came to an arrangement. They’d wait until Janey turned eighteen before telling her the truth. In the meantime an accidental meeting in Bournemouth gardens was arranged.
Janey was delighted to see Mary again and they chatted while Pamela took Susie to the cafe across the square for an ice cream.
It was only natural that Mary would ask her to visit, and whilst she was there, use Jack’s painting equipment.
Janey couldn’t resist the lure. Every Wednesday she joined the Yates for lunch and spent a couple of hours painting. At the moment she was working on a still life, a bowl of blue hyacinths on Mary’s windowsill. Both of them were careful not to mention the man Janey had known as John Gregory, though when his old Labrador greeted her with unashamed delight, tears pricked the girl’s eyes, and Mary couldn’t help wondering what the girl was thinking as she knelt to hug the dog.
Aware of her father’s temper, Janey didn’t need reminding to keep the visits a secret. For a few short months her life took on a new meaning, until a casual remark from Tim Brown gave the game away.
* * * *
Janey’s sixteen birthday coincided with her visit with Mary. A cold wind was blowing as she left the house. She shivered as she dodged the traffic across the square and pulled up the collar of her thin raincoat.
Mary and Douglas lived in Westborne. Resisting the urge to take a bus she walked through the gardens. It was pretty along the stream, the grass crunched under her feet where it was layered in frost. Bare willow canes dipped gracefully towards the stream, the dormant brown nubs along their length waiting for spring to wake them.
This would be her last visit for a while. Douglas had recently retired and he and Mary were leaving for a four week holiday in Australia, where Douglas had a brother he hadn’t seen for several years.
Goldie was going to a boarding kennel in the country. Janey wished she was able to look after her, but she’d never be able to have a dog in the house, even if she asked.
She finished off her painting, cleaned the brushes and went into the kitchen, where the table was set for lunch. There was an iced cake with sixteen candles on it. Next to it was a small, gift-wrapped parcel.
Douglas smiled. ‘This is for you, I hope you like it.’
They watched her open it, uncover a gold chain with a heart hanging from it. The inscription on it read, To Janey with love. She had never seen anything so lovely and she gazed from one to the other, overwhelmed. ‘It’s beautiful ... thank you. You’re so kind.’
‘Let’s see what it looks like on then.’ About to clasp it around her neck Mary fumbles with the leather thong she found there. ‘We’d better take this old thing off first.’
‘No!’ Janey’s hand closed her hand around it. ‘It was a gift from Griff Tyler.’
‘Isn’t that the gypsy lad who found ... ‘ Mary lifted the wooden disc to examine it. ‘Didn’t he live in the village?’
‘Griff’s only part gypsy.’
‘He’s good at carving. I suppose he sells these from door to door.’
‘He’s at university, and is going to be a doctor,’ Janet said quietly.
Feeling as though she’d patronized Janey and come off second best, Mary grimaced at her husband.
Douglas winked. ‘I expect there’s room for two necklaces.’
Impulsively Janey hugged Mary when she fastened the clasp. She felt choked up, as if her mind couldn’t decide whether to cry or laugh.
Mary didn’t know whether to laugh or cry either. She wished she could tell her that it was a gift from her father, but Jack had expressly forbidden it.
‘Let sleeping dogs lie,’ he’d said. ‘Janey’s suffered enough.’
Afterwards Janey blew the candles out and ate some of the cake. Mary and Douglas sang happy birthday, and put some cake in a bag to take home to Susie and Pamela.
‘There’s something else,’ Douglas said as she prepared to leave. ‘We’ve bought you a warm coat.’
Janey vaguely remembered a new coat she’d had as a child. Her father had given it to Linda. The smile left her face.
‘It’s all right love. Pamela will say she bought it in a jumble sale if anyone asks.
The calf length duffel coat in warm blue wool had a checked lining and a fur-edged hood. She’d never owned anything so nice in her life, and was wearing it when she left, her old raincoat stuffed in her bag.
* * * *
Tim Brown had just finished valuing a house for a prospective client in the street when he glanced up and saw Janey walk by.’
He felt sorry for her. She and Pamela were little more than slaves in the Renfrew household. He hated living there, hated the tension that was always present. His dislike of Eddie Renfrew had turned to loathing. The man was a hypocrite. Smooth and urbane to outsiders, he attended church on Sundays without fail. Yet he treated his wife and his two younger daughters like dirt.
He’d been an idiot to allow himself to be trapped into marriage. Linda was a self-centered shrew who constantly complained about the coming baby. She’d once been fun, but Tim wouldn’t have married her if she hadn’t become pregnant.
At nineteen, control of his life had been taken over by others. Knowing it was his fault didn’t help matters. He’d only just left school and had already been obliged to abandon his plans to make a career in the navy. The pregnancy had forced him to do what his father had always wanted – join him in the real estate business.
Briefly, Tim had wondered what Janey had been doing in this part of town before he turned his attention back to his client.
It was a few days before he had the chance to ask her. Sunday lunch was over and Janey was clearing the dishes away.
He gave her a smile as she picked up his dirty plate. ‘I was in Westbourne Crescent the other day on Wednesday and saw you walk by. Do you know someone who lives there?’
The plate slipped from her hand as she gazed at him, eyes horrified.
Realizing he’d made a blunder Tim tried to cover it up as she picked the broken pieced up from the floor. ‘Come to think of it, it couldn’t have been you. The girl I saw was wearing a blue duffel coat.’
Audible in the sudden silence was Pamela’s intake of breath.
Eddie saw deception in his wife’s eyes when he flicked her a glance. She’d liked when she’d told him he’s bought the coat at a jumble sale. Placing his napkin on the table he fixed Janey with a stare.
She gazed back at him, seemingly indifferent.
Linda gave a nervous titter. ‘I’m going to our room.’
‘Stay there,’ he snarled, his scowl daring Tim to interfere. Tim shuffled in his chair and Linda rolled her eyes and gave an exaggerated sigh.
‘Well Janey ... answer the question. What were you doing in Westbourne Crescent last Wednesday?’
‘She was running an errand for me,’ Pamela said.
Eddie thumped his fist on the table and everyone jumped. ‘Answer me, Janey?’
‘Visiting friends.’
‘Friends ... what friends?’
She didn’t answer. Her father could beat her black and blue if he wanted. Nothing would make her tell him. She experienced a certain inevitability, as if something momentous was about to happen. The only happiness she had was when she was with Mary and Douglas Yayes. She wouldn’t let him spoil it. She wouldn’t.
‘Am I to take it you’re refusin
g to tell me?’
‘That’s right.’ She was sick of being the object of her father’s anger, and sick of being a slave in the boarding house. Mary and Douglas treated her with respect and made her feel as though she was worth something.
Her father’s face turned a mottle shade of purple. ‘You’ll do as I tell you?’
Something strange happened. Janey’s mind seemed to detach from her body and she took a long hard look at herself. She saw someone who was brow-beaten and frightened of her own shadow – someone she didn’t admire. Her fingers touched the Griffin hidden under her blouse. It would give her strength, Phil Tyler had said.
Her chin lifted. ‘All my life you’ve treated me like dirt, and I’m not taking it any more.’
Dishes and cutlery scattered as Eddie shot to his feet. His mean little eyes swept round the table and came to rest on Pamela. ‘See what you’ve done by taking her side.’
Pamela gazed down at her hands and Susie began to whimper.’
‘Shut up,’ Eddie shouted.
Scrambling from her chair, Susie buried her head in Pamela’s lap.
‘Leave her alone. It’s me you’re in a temper with father.’
How dare she speak to him like that in his own home? Her Bellamy eyes were full of contempt. Eddie’s control slipped, he needed to hurt her, bring her back into line. ‘Father,’ he snarled. ‘I’m not your bloody father.’
Pamela gasped, and Linda gave a tiny whimpering cry as he moved towards Janey and gazed into her mutinous face. ‘Your mother was an adulterous
whore – a sinner, who right at this moment is burning in hell. Oh no ... I’m definitely not your father.’
‘Thank God,’ Janey spat back at him, her shock tempered by a strange sense of relief, ‘because I hate you ... I’ve always hated you.’
Eddie’s face blazed. When he back-handed her across the face she staggered backwards and fell. Mouth dripping blood she cried out when he reached for the carving knife with one hand and for her hair with the other. ‘Didn’t you learn your lesson the last time I cut off your hair. This time I’ll scar your face so no man will ever look at you.’
‘No, you bloody well won’t.’ White faced, Tim shot to his feet an pinioned Eddie’s arms to his side before he could slash at her. He twisted the knife from Eddie’s hand, managing to nick his own at the same time. Blood sprayed as he threw the weapon on the table, staining the white cloth with startling red drops. ‘That’s enough, Mr. Renfrew. If you don’t calm down I’ll ring for the police.’ Pushing Eddie on to a chair Tim stood threateningly over him.
