by Janet Woods
‘No ... I’m not your dad.’ He glanced towards the gate and a grin slowly dawned on his face when their eyes met. ‘But I’ve got a wonderful feeling I could be your granddad.’
Janey looked tall and graceful in her flared jeans and smocked cheesecloth top. The sun was behind her. Her hair absorbed its rays and shone with a silver brightness that made his eyes ache.
Jack wanted to laugh, and he wanted to cry. He wanted to leap into the air and swing from the branches of the tree, hollering like Tarzan. The first two were undignified, the second, though just as undignified, was also impossible for a man with his aching bones.
He couldn’t stop grinning though, as if his lips had been starched into position. He was grinning inside too, tingling with lightness. His veins sang with it, the blood coursing like champagne through his body.
She came towards him on brown sandaled feet, her bag swinging from her shoulder. She wasn’t much like her mother ... perhaps a touch about the mouth. But then, he didn’t often think of Margaret these days and her appearance had faded somewhat from his memory.
Up close, he saw the resemblance to himself Mary had talked about. Not that he’d ever doubted Janey was his daughter, it was just that he was seeing her through fresh eyes - a grown up woman with a child of her own. The last time he’d seen her she’d been a child. He didn’t want to remember what she’d suffered. Instead, he allowed pride to swell inside him until he thought he might burst from it.
There was a scattering of freckles across her nose, like grains of golden sand, and her eyes ... it was like looking at himself in the mirror.
‘You’ve come, then?’ They were banal words, designed to hide the emotional churning inside him.
Her eyes closed for the few seconds it took her to blurt out. ‘I’m so sorry you went to prison. It wasn’t your fault. I know that now. Can you forgive me?’
He couldn’t prevent the tears coming to his eyes. Dear God! What had it cost her to say that? Had she been blaming herself? She’d been a frightened child at the time. He didn’t hold her responsible for anything she’d said.
Reaching out, he took her hands in his. ‘It’s over, Janey love. Forget it and let’s concentrate on getting to know one another. We may never be able to establish a father and daughter relationship, but we can be friends.’ His eyes slid towards Saffy who was charging around the garden after the puppy. ‘Perhaps I can be a successful grandfather instead.’
‘Do you think,’ and her eyes were uncertain, almost shy. ‘Do you think it would be all right if I hugged you? I mean, you wouldn’t mind or anything, would you?’
Their arms came round each other, both of them careful at first, stiff, each ready to withdraw from the other’s embrace. Slowly she relaxed, her head against his shoulder. Her tears dampened his shirt as he cuddled her against him.
‘Hush, Janey,’ he comforted. ‘Everything’s over now.’
Nothing was over, Janey was thinking, and nothing would be resolved until she could prove his innocence. But she didn’t know where to start or who she could confide in.
The weekend was the beginning of a learning path for them both. By mutual consent they left the past alone, concentrating instead on establishing a relationship.
Jack did nothing to change his plans for the weekend. Some of the materials for his boat were being delivered, and both Phil and John came to help him unload them.
Phil greeted Janey with nod and a smile of approval. ‘Griff’s taking a week off at the end of September. Why don’t you come down for a holiday then.’
‘I’ll try, but I have work to finish.’ It was possible her paintings would be finished by September, that Mistral would be no more. The present series was the best she’d done, full of darkness and power. Each brush-stroke and slash of the palette knife had eradicated a little bit more of Drifter from her heart.
Her intention was to cut him out altogether and nobody, not even Griff, would be allowed to stop her.
Soon she’d be free of him, her last painting already planned in her mind. It was a woman in a boat, her hair streaming in the Mistral wind as she was ferried across the River Styx. She would keep for the right time – the right moment. A moment she was sure would come.
John gave nothing away of his thoughts when Jack referred to her as his daughter. It only confirmed what he already suspected.
Then she was laughing at him, teasing him because he hadn’t contacted her like he’d said, making him splutter apologies and give excuses.
He was flattered by her attention, but bounced back to tell her he’d bought one of her paintings. She was interested in which one, and more interested still when he said Charles had offered double what he’d paid for it.
‘My agent will be pleased. He’d tell you not to accept the first offer to buy.’
‘I have no intention of selling it. I bought it because I love it.’
‘Those lilies grow on the banks of the stream in the woods. When spring comes I’ll show you the place in the painting.’ Her eyes became far away, and John thought he’d never seen anything quite so lovely. ‘When I was small I used to think the place was my secret, but I daresay you’ve been there already.’
‘No ... no, I haven’t. I’d very much like to see it.’
‘Then you shall, in the spring.’ She moved off then, to stop Saffy devouring a snail, admonished her gently before running her lips through her silky curls in a sliding kiss.
Saffy’s father was Darius Taunt junior, otherwise known as Drifter. John felt a twinge of remorse that he’d been responsible for the child losing her father, even though he hadn’t known of her existence at the time.
Later, he went into his study and stared at a graph on the wall. He removed a question mark from Janey’s name and picking up a ruler, he drew a thin red thread from her to Jack Bellamy. There were already two other lines, connecting her to Linda Pitt, and the late Margaret Renfrew. The jigsaw was slowly taking shape.
At the centre of the graph, sitting like a malevolent spider in a web, was Edward Renfrew’s name.
Chapter Fourteen
Concentrating hard, Eddie gathered a ball of spit in his mouth.
‘Come along, Mister Renfrew, I’m sure we can do it if we try.’
Stupid Moo! Filled with loathing, he stared at the smiling face of the nurse. She treated him like a child. He couldn’t breathe, eat, or take a crap without her. He hated her, he hated his useless shell of a body and he hated Linda for never being at home when he wanted her.
‘Rest for a moment ... left foot forward like a good little soldier ... that’s right. My, we are being a good boy today.’
Does she have to say everything in that revolting singsong voice?
Upstairs, Justin started to cry. Bloody kid! He never stopped whining. Linda should be looking after him instead of gadding about all over the place. The whey-faced brat didn’t even know how to smile. He screamed blue murder whenever his nanny brought him down to visit him.
Tears slid from under his eyelids. Where was Linda? She was hardly ever home any more and it wasn’t fair, leaving him here all alone. She wasn’t much better than Pamela.
Anger burned bright in him. He’d never imagined Pamela would find the guts to leave him. When he was better he’d go after her. He’d soon teach the ungrateful bitch what was what!
‘Right foot now. Try not to drag it, Mister Renfrew ... wonderful ... oops-a-daisy!’
His face lodged between the pillows of her breasts as she caught him. He caught a whiff of body odor and pink carbolic soap. She was disgusting!
‘Naughty, naughty!’ she said archly as she pushed him upright. ‘You men are all alike.’
He rolled the ball of spit on his tongue and let it fly. It had no momentum and trickled down his chin. He let out a frustrated cry as she carried him back to his chair and applied a tissue to his chin.
‘There, there, Mister Renfrew, don’t let’s get upset, you did very well today and the doctor will be pleased. I’ll sit you on the lavator
y for a while. You can do your duty whilst I have a little break. We don’t want any accidents, do we?’
Eddie did. He hoped she’d fall down the stairs and break her neck
She didn’t even allow him any privacy by shutting the door! He was sitting there, trousers round his ankles, when a movement caught his eye.
There was a girl standing in the passage outside, just gazing out of the window at the sea with her back towards him. She was wearing some sort of uniform ... a school uniform. She reminded him of Margaret, and he paled.
‘Linda?’ It had to be Linda, playing a trick on him,
The figure turned towards him and he tasted her ashes in his mouth. Her smile was full of sorrow. He blinked and she was gone, leaving him shaken.
It was his illness. He’d imagined Margaret standing there, accusing him with her eyes.
He saw her again the next day. This time she spoke to him. ‘Repent your sin.’
His voice came out quite clearly. ‘Never ... the sins of the parents are visited on the child. You all had to be punished.’
The nurse smiled broadly as her head came between him and Margaret.
‘Well done, hardly any slurring. Now, tell me, who were you talking to? Has my naughty little man got an imaginary friend?’
Eddie wanted to cry. He hardly ever got visitors. She had no right to interrupt his conversation. Margaret needed to be shown the error of her ways, and then God would repent and take her into his fold.
He stared at her, his eyes full of cunning, then with all the venom he could muster, whispered. ‘Piss off!’
She recoiled for a second, her smile forced, her eyes mean brown marbles. ‘My, we are in a bad mood today. Perhaps a sedative might improve our disposition.’
Damn her! The sedative made him feel like shit, and she knew it. He watched her pour a colorless liquid into a glass, hating her.
He pursed his lips, and this time, his ball of spit reached its mark.
‘You dirty old sod.’
He clamped his mouth shut as she held the glass against it. Her finger and thumb took a grip on his nose, shutting off the air. After a few seconds his mouth fell open and the liquid trickled sweetly across his tongue and down his throat.
‘There,’ she said, wiping the spit from her face. ‘That should keep you quiet for a while.’ Her buttocks jerked self-righteously up and down as she marched from the room.
Someone gave a soft giggle. Margaret – he could see her from the corner of his eye. He smiled at her.
* * * *
Sarah handed Linda a diamond necklace. ‘Do this up, there’s a dear.’
Linda gasped as the stones caught the light. She’d never seen anything quite so beautiful. ‘Did Lord Conley give you this?’
‘No. It was a gift from an admirer.’ Sarah’s eyes were faintly malicious as she gazed at the girl’s avid face in the mirror. ‘Try it on if you like.’
It looked good against the younger woman’s firm skin. Renfrew’s daughter had turned out to be quite pretty. Money would furnish her with style. ‘It’s a pity you married Martin. You must hate being short of cash all the time.’
A sulky pout came to Linda’s mouth and she flushed. ‘If my father hadn’t become ill ... besides, I love Martin.’
It sounded as if Linda was trying to convince herself. Sarah wondered what she’d do when she discovered that Martin and Noel Chatterton had become lovers?
A gleam of amusement came into her eyes. It might be fun to turn this silly little daughter of Renfrew’s into a whore.
Edward had been so precious about her, she mused, and although she’d paid him back satisfactorily for his disloyalty, it still rankled. How would he feel if he received compromising photographs of his precious daughter through the post?
‘Come to the opera with us tonight dear. I’m sure Martin won’t mind me borrowing you for one evening.’
‘He’s having Noel Chatterton over to play cards,’ she said breathlessly. ‘I was going to see The Graduate, but I’d rather go out with you.’ Her face fell. ‘I haven’t anything suitable to wear to the opera.’
‘The wardrobe’s full of clothes, and we look exactly the same size.’ Strolling to the wardrobe, she selected a pale lilac evening gown she’d been photographed in several times. ‘Wear this. You may have it if you like.’
‘It’s lovely,’ Linda gushed. ‘Thank you so much.’
Sarah watched her undress. Her figure was petite and perfect, but her cotton bra and panties were sensible working class.
Her nose wrinkled in distaste. ‘I really must take you in hand. Strip everything off, then go and shower off that cheap perfume. We can’t have you ruining the line of the dress with dreadful underwear like that. A woman must dress from the skin up if she’s to feel good about herself. It gives her poise.’
Her eyes began to gleam as Linda self-consciously stepped out of her panties. ‘We ought to do something about that bush of yours. It’s so prolific. Heloise, see to Mrs. Pitt’s grooming.’
‘Oui, Madame.’
So Linda was waxed, powdered and pampered, and her hair was styled in a smooth chignon by Sarah’s new French maid. Linda loved the feel of the expensive clothes against her skin, and she adored the cool amethyst necklace Sarah lent her.
‘You know, you’re quite exquisite when you’re dressed properly. You really should have a male escort. Shall I ring a friend of mine and ask him to join us. He’s a charming companion, and very generous. It was he who gave me the diamond necklace.
Linda’s eyes widened.
Yes Linda, she did have to earn it, but it was a delightful experience as Linda had yet to find out.
Two hours later, and acting on Sarah’s instructions, Lord Conley’s Daimler drew to halt outside the Pitts’ rented apartment in Chelsea.
‘Run and tell Martin we’re going on to a party, there’s a good girl.’ Sarah drawled. ‘We don’t want him to worry about you being late home.’
How strange, Linda thought when she let herself back inside, there’s nobody in the lounge. And where’s Noel? His car’s outside.
Martin’s laugh came to her from the bedroom.
‘Martin?’ she said, pushing open the door. She gasped as two shocked faces turned towards her. Both men were in the position of what could be loosely termed as lovemaking. Her husband was dressed in a black negligee she’d never seen before. Taken aback, she muttered. ‘I’m ... sorry. I didn’t realize.’
She wasn’t as shocked as she should have been, nor as upset as she ought to have been. In fact, she felt like laughing, because Martin looked like a schoolboy who’d just been caught playing with himself by the headmaster.
Of course, she’d heard of these practices between men, and they had moved into more sophisticated circles, so she mustn’t let it throw her. That would be too passé.
‘I came to tell you I doubt if I’ll be home tonight.’
‘Yes ... Sarah phoned me earlier.’
‘She must have forgotten she had.’ How ridiculous a conversation to have with a husband in such a situation. She thought of the man waiting downstairs in the car with Sarah. He was wealthy, and quite handsome if one didn’t mind older men. His manners were charming too. ‘In fact, I’m sure I won’t be home. Have a lovely evening.’
She withdrew, leaving them frozen in position. Slightly stunned, she rejoined her hostess downstairs.
‘Is everything all right, dear,’ Sarah cooed. ‘You look pale.’
Linda eyed the diamonds glittering at Sarah’s throat, then at the man standing on the pavement, waiting to help her into the car.
She smiled at him and a bubble of excitement churned in her stomach as she took his hand. A diamond set in gold winked discreetly on his little finger as he stroked the inside of her wrist.
‘Everything’s perfect,’ she said.
* * * *
Early in September Charles Wyman negotiated the purchase of the Brown’s former home on Janey’s behalf. Not wanting another confron
tation with Devlin, she kept the purchase to herself,
She rang Hackney hospital and asked Griff if he’d witness her signature on the papers.
‘I’m just about to go into theatre,’ he said. ‘I should be through by lunchtime. I’ll meet you in the canteen, but I’m afraid I won’t be able to stay long. He gave her instructions on how to get there.’
She was there at twelve, feeling out of place amongst the chattering nurses, orderlies and office staff. Twenty minutes later, Griff came hurrying in. He looked very much the professional in his white coat, his stethoscope slung casually around his neck.
He didn’t seem to notice the glances he drew from the women as he joined the queue and piled his tray up with sandwiches, fruit and a pot of tea.
He nodded to a couple of people as his eyes scanned the room, then his glance connected with hers. Breath held, she waited for his serious Griffin face to be transformed by the smile she loved so much. She experienced a rush of pleasure when it did. He added an extra cup and a couple of doughnuts to the tray.
It seemed as though a thousand pairs of eyes turned to look at her as he headed her way.
‘You found it, then?’ Leaning over the table he kissed her on the cheek, then asked to see the papers. Swiftly, he witnessed her signature, and then folded the documents back into the envelope. ‘So ... you’re investing in property. Nice choice, I always liked that property.’
‘It’s not really an investment, it’s going to be my home?’
His eyes were dark and searching against hers. ‘Does Devlin know?’
Guilt niggled at her when she shook her head.
Griff’s hand covered hers. ‘Shouldn’t you tell him?’
‘I can’t. He’d only try and talk me out of it, and then we’d have a big argument. I’ll tell him when it’s all settled.’
His hand slid away to peel the wrap from his sandwiches. ‘I never thought you had it in you to treat him like that.’
He sounded so disappointed with her that she couldn’t help but stare at him in puzzlement. Did he think ...? He did think!
A grin spread across her face. ‘How long have you imagined Dev and I were an item?’ she teased. ‘Really, Griff, you of all people’
