A Family Affair

by Nancy Carson

  Now he had lost her. He had lost her and he was not going to win her back easily. He had lost her because of his own spurious suspicions and his failure to confess that session of photography with Ramona. But how could he have confessed? Just being with Ramona without a chaperone while she was naked was tantamount to outrageous infidelity. Nobody on earth would perceive it any differently. And just because Clover believed he’d seduced her while she was evidently so vulnerable, he might as well have done exactly that. He might as well have played the part she cast him in; he might as well have been hanged for a sheep as for a lamb. Well, it was done now and, though regrettable that he’d been found out, he could not alter what had already come to pass.

  He put the photo down. It could go back on the wall. Let it be a reminder of how fortunate he almost was, how he very nearly attained perfect happiness. Let it be a reminder that it always paid to be open and honest in affairs of the heart. If only he’d been open and honest with Clover, even asked her blessing before he’d agreed to do Ramona’s photos, she might have understood. Indeed, she could have chaperoned Ramona. If only…They might still be together now.

  There were other photos he wanted to replace. He thumbed through his box looking for suitable newer ones; a beautiful portrait of a child, a young woman with her hair elegantly piled up in curls, a handsome young man in his early twenties with a watch-chain looping across his waistcoat. Yes, it was time these other photos were given an airing. There was a recent photo of the Vicar of Dudley in all his regalia, one of the Town Clerk in his grey wig – good to have some notables in the collection to enhance your standing with the rest of your customers…

  A picture of Ramona…and another. He knew copies were in there. He scrutinised them each in turn…Lovely skin…A nice-looking girl. It was a toss-up who was the better-looking, her or Clover…Their natures were so different, as different as developer and hypo. Clover was a lady, demure, relatively conventional but warm, affectionate and immensely enjoyable in bed. Exactly his type. Ramona on the other hand was extreme, impish, flighty and blasé. Funny how two girls so radically different could both be totally desirable. His eyes lingered a second or two longer on the controversial photos of Ramona before he slid them to the bottom of the pile; he could hardly display those, unless he wanted to be invaded by all the guardians of public decency the town harboured.

  He had not stashed them away more than half a minute when the front door opened.

  ‘Ramona! I was just thinking about you.’

  ‘Oh, that’s nice, Tom. I er…I came to pay you for my pictures.’

  ‘I hope you weren’t disappointed with them.’

  ‘Disappointed? Lord, no. I think they’re good. I shall treasure them, even if I have to keep them under lock and key forever.’

  He smiled, masking the pity he felt that she hadn’t kept them under lock and key from the moment he had given them to her.

  ‘How much do I owe you, Tom?’ She took out her purse.

  ‘Does five bob sound fair?’

  ‘Oh, it sounds very fair to me. Hang on, I think I’ve got a crown…’ She searched her purse. ‘Here you are…’

  ‘Thanks. Come through into the studio. Have you got time for a cup of tea?’

  ‘That’d be nice, Tom. Thank you.’ She followed him through.

  Tom went into his darkroom and put the kettle on to boil.

  When he came out, Ramona said, ‘I take it you and Clover have finished altogether now, since I haven’t seen you.’

  ‘Yes.’ He attempted not to show any emotion. ‘I think it’s fair to say it’s all over between us.’

  ‘Pity you’d got as far as getting engaged, eh? But they say as nothing lasts forever. Matter of fact, she was out with Ned Brisco last night. He called for her in that motor car of his. They didn’t get back till late.’

  ‘Oh?’ He felt a bitter pang of hurt and resentment. ‘Did she say where they’d been?’

  Ramona shook her head. ‘No, not Clover. I don’t know what I’ve done to upset her, Tom, but she don’t speak to me now. I must have upset her somehow but, honest to God, I don’t know how.’

  ‘Some imagined grievance?’ Tom suggested sardonically. ‘I’ll go and put some tea in the pot.’

  He was gone a few minutes, silent, venturing no conversation while Ramona sat on the chaise-longue, consumed with her own thoughts. Eventually, he returned carrying two mugs of tea which he set down on his work table.

  ‘I’d like you to take some more photos of me, Tom.’

  ‘Really?’ he said, incredulous. ‘Some more?’

  ‘Yes…I liked those others so much…Is there any chance you could do it now? I’m all ready.’

  ‘All ready?’ he queried.

  ‘Remember last time?’ She lowered her eyes feigning coyness. ‘You said it’s better not to wear underwear and tight things before you have such photos done. Then you don’t get marks in your skin…’

  ‘That’s right.’

  ‘Well, look…’ She lifted the hem of her skirt.

  ‘You’re not wearing stockings. That’s good. No garter marks…’

  Then she raised her skirt higher to reveal her thigh, then her naked hip.

  ‘I’ve got no drawers on either, look.’ She grinned saucily then, teasingly, let the hem of her skirt fall back to cover her ankles. ‘Only this loose-fitting dress. That’s all I’m wearing.’ She giggled girlishly. ‘If my father knew he’d go mad.’

  Tom was dumbfounded. In the ordinary way of things, to get a peep at an ankle was a thrill.

  ‘Do you want to lock the door, Tom?’

  Do you want to lock the door, Tom? The way she said it! Suddenly, he felt all hot.

  ‘I think it would be best…’ As he reeled to the front door he was not sure what to make of this situation, but his heart was thumping profoundly. He had never expected a repeat performance and right up to this moment he wasn’t really sure he wanted one…but…Perhaps Ramona had called today with something else on her mind. She was not backward in coming forward. This time she seemed even less inhibited; brazen even, provocatively giving him a peep-show of her bare legs, her thighs.

  ‘You’ve got a fine pair of legs, Ramona,’ he commented empirically, hoping it might prompt her to show them again. ‘Altogether a lovely figure.’

  ‘Do you really think so?’ She smiled with pleasure at his compliment.

  ‘I suspect that few people know it as well as I do…’

  She smiled again, but coyly, looking at him from under veiled eyelids. ‘Just one other man…’

  ‘Oh?’

  ‘Sammy…Do you remember Sammy?’

  ‘I remember you mentioning him. Isn’t he the one that became a professional soldier?’

  She nodded, avoiding his eyes now, looking into her lap demurely. ‘Yes, months ago…You know, Tom, it’s hard for a girl to confess such a thing to another man but…But we used to…you know…’ Her eyes met his calculatingly now. ‘Well, we loved each other, Tom. I see nothing wrong in going all the way. Especially if you love each other. Do you?’

  ‘Oh, I’m all for it. And to hell with the gossips.’

  ‘Like minds, you and me, ain’t we, Tom? I think I could tell you anythink. I’ve always felt I could be close to you.’

  ‘I’m flattered.’

  ‘Some men are right hypocrites, you know. They want to have all the women they can and still marry virgins. Well, they’ll be disappointed in me, I can tell you. I never intended staying a virgin long and I ain’t ashamed to say it.’

  ‘Good for you, Ramona, if that’s what you want.’

  ‘I knew you’d understand, Tom. I knew you wouldn’t be such a prude. Shall I get undressed behind the screen again?’

  ‘Oh…Yes. I’ll open it up for you.’

  She stood up. ‘But why bother? Who needs a screen? You’ve already seen me in the altogether.’ She laughed aloud at the absurdity of what she perceived. ‘What’s the point in hiding behind a screen when you
already know what I’ve got?’

  There was a logic in her remark that he could not gainsay. He smiled foolishly that he had not considered it himself and watched while she took off her clothes. Her skin was creamy-white and unblemished.

  Naked again, she twirled around shamelessly. ‘Look, Tom. There’s no marks from a liberty bodice, no shift, no garters…’ She inspected her breasts. ‘Oh, is this one, here?’ She pointed to a mark on her left breast that was from a crease. ‘What do you think?’

  ‘I don’t know…it must be caused—’

  ‘Feel it…Go on, I don’t mind you feeling me there…’ She looked challengingly into his eyes, almost as if she would be hurt if he refused.

  He must not refuse. He put his hand on her breast.

  Ramona gently placed her hand over his. ‘Oh, Tom, you’ve got a lovely gentle touch,’ she breathed. ‘No, don’t stop…’

  He felt a potent stirring within him, and gulped. ‘You have such lovely skin.’

  ‘Thank you.’ She moved in closer to him, her naked body touching the coarse cloth of his trousers. ‘See if you think my skin’s as smooth everywhere.’ She put her hands to his waist and looked into his eyes with an expression of such appealing helplessness that he found it impossible to resist.

  He knew from that moment he was lost. He knew then that he did not have the will, or indeed the reason any more, to fight such temptation. Nothing could stop them from travelling down this road. His hands went to her waist and to the small of her naked back. He drew her to him. He looked into her eyes and she looked up at him expectantly, her mouth open, waiting to receive his kisses. As their lips met, he allowed his hands to wander over her small bottom and she pressed herself against him, leaving him in no doubt where this was leading. No word of his could prevent this happening. Her next words confirmed it.

  ‘I want you, Tom.’

  ‘Oh, God! I want you, Ramona.’

  ‘Shall we lie on the bearskin rug?’

  ‘Yes,’ he said, half choking with astonishment at the speed with which this was happening, and his urgent desire for her.

  She took his hand and led him to the other side of the studio, to the bearskin rug. He grabbed two cushions to use as pillows and placed one under her head. Looking into his eyes so appealingly, she lay down and he lay beside her.

  ‘Don’t you want to take your clothes off?’ she cooed. ‘It’d be nice to feel your skin next to me, not your scratchy clothes.’

  ‘Sorry.’

  He stood up again and undressed himself, hardly able to believe that all this was really happening. It must be a dream…Well, enjoy it …before you wake up. Within a few seconds he lay beside her again, as naked as she, and held her tight. The warmth from her body, the softness of her skin lit him up like a gas mantle.

  ‘I’ve always fancied you, Tom,’ she whispered. ‘Ever since the first day we met at me dad’s wedding. Do you remember?’

  ‘Yes.’ He swallowed hard and ran his hand down her inner thigh, relishing the feel of her warm, enticing flesh.

  ‘I knew if I waited long enough…Ooh, God! That’s nice, Tom…Ooh, kiss me again…’

  They kissed. Long and lingering. Hot and passionate. They were writhing and wriggling, sighing and moaning at these sensations that, with somebody new, seemed so different. Neither wanted to defer the golden moment any longer than they needed, so at last he eased himself onto her. And she let out a long sigh of pleasure, perversely enhanced by the thought that she was feeling the man whom Clover still loved dearly, sliding delectably inside her.

  They both enjoyed this lovemaking. Both were practised in the finer points and they brought each other some welcome relief from their recent anxieties. This new intimacy was an emollient to their love-tortured souls and seemed to enhance their rapport. Surely, it was worth nurturing.

  They lay for nearly an hour on his bearskin, talking desultorily, laughing, strangely happy at experiencing each other in this surprising new role, in this new-found familiarity. Eventually, reluctantly, they both got dressed and Ramona was ready to go home.

  ‘I have to work most nights, Tom,’ she said apologetically, her hand on his arm proprietorily as she stood with him at his counter in the lobby.

  ‘I know and I don’t particularly want to bump into Clover at the Jolly Collier. I think it’s best if we meet here for the time being. At least we’d have the place to ourselves.’

  ‘I can come tomorrow, if you like.’

  ‘I’d like that.’

  ‘In the afternoon again?’

  ‘That’d be best.’

  ‘What’s the best time?’

  ‘Oh, just after four. My last customer will be gone by then.’

  She smiled. ‘Perfect.’

  Chapter 19

  On the evening of the third Sunday in July, Tom Doubleday took Ramona to the Empire Theatre to see a variety show. It was after eleven when the show finished and, in pouring rain, he walked her home to the Jolly Collier. The weather had been unseasonably poor for July. Not only was it wet, but it was cold and, as the couple turned the corner into Cross Guns Street, the gust of wind that met them turned Ramona’s brolly inside out.

  ‘Me gamp!’ she exclaimed. ‘It’ll be good for nothing.’

  Tom took it off her impatiently. ‘You’re supposed to hold it into the wind, not let the wind get under it,’ he chided while Ramona held on to her hat. ‘Give’s it here, for God’s sake.’ He thrust it into the wind, pulled on one of the spars and it flipped back into place with a dull thwack, dowsing his face with an extra shower of water.

  Ramona laughed. ‘Serves you right,’ she said. She took his arm again and huddled to him beneath the umbrella as they walked on. ‘Anyway, why are you in such a mood?’

  ‘I’m not in a mood.’

  ‘Yes you are. You’ve been like it more than a week now. What am I supposed to think?’

  ‘Think what you like.’

  ‘Are you fed up of me already?’

  ‘Have I given you cause to think that?’

  ‘Could be…I reckon you’re pining for Clover Beckitt.’

  ‘’Course I’m not pining for Clover Beckitt,’ he protested.

  Ramona thought he was unconvincing but let it go. She was aware, despite her best efforts to allure and his best efforts to bluff, that Tom was still not over her stepsister.

  ‘I know what you need,’ she said saucily and gave him a nudge.

  ‘Do you now?’ His demeanour softened and he looked at her with a smile, noting how the street lamps made tiny catchlights in her wide eyes.

  Ramona’s sexual favours continued to be the hook that ensured he remained caught. Clover was lost to him, gone forever, but she was always in his thoughts. Ramona could never replace her, pretty as she was. He was not at peace with Ramona. The very thing he believed Clover had been guilty of – infidelity – Ramona could descend into on a whim. He knew that. He was under no illusions. But, while there was nobody else, and while she continued to allow regular and easy access to her more arcane charms, he was prepared to go along with it; because he was flattered and because it suited him. He was not in love with Ramona. She was not somebody he would consider marrying. She was a salve, somebody who was there right now and, by being there, helped soothe his heartache. Nor did he really believe she was in love with him, though she seemed to be trying hard to make him fall for her.

  He had not seen Clover since that night when she had come screaming after him accusing him of infidelity with Ramona. He guessed, rightly, that she was taking a different route to work nowadays to avoid him. Several people had told him she was seeing more and more of Ned Brisco. He couldn’t really believe she had finally fallen in love with that damned fool. He tried to convince himself that she was meeting him for companionship and nothing else, but anything could happen when you were on the rebound from a love affair. Maybe she even saw him for no other reason than that he had his own motor car, paid for out of the money loaned him, for all he knew.r />
  Cross Guns Street split into two at the Cross Guns Inn, forming a triangle, of which part of St John’s Street constituted the third side. Here, they took the right-hand fork, Ramona picking her way carefully to avoid stepping into the black puddles that lay like pools of ink on the cobbled surface.

  ‘What if we run into Clover?’ Ramona ventured.

  ‘If we do, we do,’ he said resignedly. ‘I think maybe you should confess to her that we’ve been seeing each other, you and me. Bring it out into the open. I used to enjoy having a pint in the Jolly Collier. Now I daren’t even show my face for fear I see her.’

  ‘Or her mother.’

  ‘Yes, or her mother.’

  ‘I can’t tell Clover, Tom. I haven’t got the nerve.’

  ‘She’s probably already put two and two together. She’s not stupid.’

  Cross Guns Street was narrow but widened out where it met George Street. They crossed St John’s Street and darted up the passage at the side of the Jolly Collier before any customers who might be leaving spotted them.

  ‘Let’s go into the brewhouse,’ Ramona whispered. ‘I haven’t had so much as a kiss off you all night.’

  When they reached the back yard, Tom held her back. ‘Somebody’s just come out of the urinal. Hang on…’

  The two shire horses that hauled the dray, locked in the stable for the night, clomped about on their straw fretfully and blew their lips at the sound of footsteps. When all was clear, Tom and Ramona tiptoed across the yard to the brewhouse. Tom closed the umbrella quickly before they went in and shut the door. Ramona leaned against the mangle and drew Tom to her. She offered him her mouth. He put his hands to her waist and her arms slid compliantly round his neck. His firm body felt pleasant and warm when he opened up her coat and pressed himself against her.