Folly's Child

by Janet Tanner

  ‘I thought we’d go for a drive and put her through her paces,’ he suggested.

  Sally agreed readily. To go for a drive in a boyfriend’s car seemed the height of sophistication. She only wished there was someone who knew her to see her climbing in.

  The car had a bench seat in the front and smelled of warm leather and old cigarette smoke. Edward took her on a tour of Bath – perhaps he was also hoping to be seen by someone who knew him! – and then headed out into the country. It was a fine warm autumn evening and although the fight was already dying out of the sky the trees still looked magnificent, shades of gold and red blending with some still-green foliage. As they bowled along the country roads Sally sat erect on the bench-seat feeling like a queen.

  After about an hour’s driving Edward pulled onto the forecourt of a country pub.

  ‘This is supposed to be a nice place,’ he said. ‘All the best pubs are out of town.’

  The pub was picturesque and cosy with beams laden with gleaming horse-brasses, farm implements on the walls and a huge inglenook fireplace. They found a wooden bench seat in a corner and squeezed into it with their drinks – Edward had a pint of bitter and Sally a Babycham in a pretty glass decorated with a dancing fawn in a blue neck-bow.

  Edward put his arm around Sally and little prickles of excitement started deep inside her. She sat quite still enjoying them. Why didn’t they last when Edward tried to go further, she wondered? When she thought about the things he did they became even sharper, so that it felt as if an electric shock was passing right through the centre of her body. But the reality was different. All the lovely prickles and twists stopped and she was left with nothing but a feeling of panic, able to think of nothing but how could she stop him without making him angry. And afterwards there was just a feeling of let-down, of wanting him to hold her and kiss her and pet her like a little girl. No – pet was the wrong word. Petting meant doing that so no, she certainly did not want to be petted and much less to pet Edward. Perhaps there was something wrong with her, Sally thought glumly.

  ‘This is the life?’ Edward said, squeezing her gently. ‘What a day!’

  ‘We had some excitement at home yesterday,’ Sally offered. ‘My sister is going to model in a charity show. I told you she was taking classes, didn’t I?’

  ‘Yes, you said.’ Naturally Sally talked about Paula. For one thing she was very proud of her, for another when she talked about her lovely sister and her exciting life she felt as if some of the glamour rubbed off onto her. But Edward had never met Paula.

  ‘Sounds as if she’s doing well,’ Edward said.

  ‘I know. She’s only done half the course, and already she has been picked out for this job. I think she’s going to go a long way – which she deserves to.’ Sally speared the cherry which was floating in her Babycham and popped it into her mouth.

  ‘Where is the show?’ Edward asked.

  ‘Bristol. Why?’

  ‘Don’t you think we ought to go along and support her?’

  Sally was so surprised she almost choked on her cherry. She did not think men were interested in fashion.

  ‘Now that I’ve got the car we can do things like that,’ Edward went on. ‘We could take your sister home afterwards – if she wants a lift, that is.’

  ‘So we could,’ Sally said, pleased. The thought that she was the one with a boyfriend with a car made her feel very important – one up on Paula for a change!

  They finished their drinks and left. It was completely dark by now, a black velvety night sprinkled with stars. Sally sat close to Edward on the bench seat and he drove with one arm around her, somehow managing to change gear with his right hand.

  When they were almost home Edward pulled into a farm gateway and turned off the engine. He pulled Sally close, kissing her, and she wound her arms round his neck, enjoying the first little prickles of yearning. All too soon however his hands began their usual wandering, slipping inside her blouse to unclip her bra hooks, pushing her skin well up her thighs and trying to slip her panties off. Sally sat down hard on them, forcing her legs together, but as usual in the end he won and she retrieved the panties from the floor, pushing them behind her on the seat before they were trampled underfoot.

  ‘Let’s get in the back. It would be much more comfortable,’ Edward suggested.

  ‘No!’ Sally said, realising the dangers of the back seat. ‘ We ought to be getting home. Mum will be expecting me to be on the bus, remember.’

  Edward ignored her protest, somehow contorting himself so that he could kiss her breasts, bare now, since her bra was around her waist, and still keep his hand between her legs beneath the rucked-up skirt.

  Something about the feel of his lips tugging at her nipples began to excite Sally and though she still felt nothing but discomfort from his probing finger she relaxed a little, leaning her head back into the corner provided by the bench seat and the window. It really was a rather pleasant sensation. Edward contorted again, biting first at her throat and then kissing her full on the mouth, forcing her lips apart with his tongue. Sally could taste the cigarettes and beer and found that that too was exciting. Then somehow she was spreadeagled along the seat and he was half-kneeling, half-lying on top of her and suddenly she did not think that what was between her legs was his finger. It was less sharp, bigger, hotter and instead of scratching painfully it felt good. Carefully Sally moved against it and felt a sort of yearning begin in the sensitised area between her thighs. She moved again experimentally. It was nice – oooh, really nice. Edward was still kissing her, his tongue circling inside her mouth, but all she could think about was this new sensation between her legs, a little like the way she felt when they danced, but even better.

  ‘Oh, Sally!’ he whispered, his breath ragged. Then suddenly he lunged and the pleasant sensation was gone, replaced not by pain but by a strange, full feeling and Sally began to feel frightened again. She wanted him to stop yet at the same time wanted him to go on in the hope that the lovely sensations would begin again. She was also dimly aware that they had passed the point of no return – now she had allowed him inside her it seemed wrong to yell at him to stop or begin fighting him

  After a few thrusting minutes Edward gave a strangled cry that seemed to come from deep in his throat and jerked out of her. He sprawled back behind the steering wheel, eyes closed, breathing heavily and clutching a handkerchief to himself. Sally lay without moving, looking at him in the light of the moon. She felt stunned, as if what he had done to her had somehow paralysed not only her limbs but her senses too, leaving her tense. There was no satisfaction, no pleasure, just a kind of aching emptiness. Then suddenly she became aware of how inelegant she must look, sprawled there with her skirt up around her hips and her bra dangling out of her open blouse. She sat up, straightening her clothes just as Edward opened the steamed-up window of the car and dumped the handkerchief out into the hedge.

  ‘You won’t have any hankies left as this rate,’ she said, then giggled with embarrassment. What a stupid thing to have said!

  ‘Who cares?’ Edward asked grandly.

  He reached for her to kiss her again and Sally clung to him hoping that somehow the contact would make everything come right. But after a minute he put her away and started the engine.

  ‘I’d better get you home,’ he said.

  Sally felt like crying again. There must be something wrong with her. They’d gone all the way and still she didn’t feel any of the things one was supposed to feel – elated, contented, together. Now that it was over Edward seemed to have gone a very long way away from her, as if she was no more than a stranger to whom he was giving a lift.

  For the remainder of the journey she fiddled with her clothes, trying to make sure she would look respectable when she arrived home and arranging the neck of her blouse to cover her throat where she was sure she must have another love bite.

  ‘See you on Saturday – same place?’ Edward said as he stopped the car outside her house.

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nbsp; Sally nodded, the feeling of let-down growing. She had hoped he might arrange to come and collect her now that he had the car – and now that things were, well, serious between them. But she didn’t like to suggest it.

  As she slammed the car door she saw curtains at lighted windows twitching up and down the road. Well, at least he’d brought her home. At least the neighbours would know she had a boyfriend with a car.

  Walking up the path to the front door on legs that felt slightly wobbly Sally realised she would have to be satisfied with that.

  Sally and Edward sat in the very front row of the audience at the Fashion Show on canvas hospital-style chairs. Two feet in front of them was the catwalk, a bare narrow wooden platform angling away from a curtained entrance. Sally stared at the curtains wondering what was going on behind them. Chaos, probably. Paula had told her there were twelve models in the show and each of them had to wear at least ten outfits. One hundred and twenty outfits, not to mention all the shoes and hats and gloves. How on earth did they keep track of them all? When she was dressing to go out Sally was invariably unable to find the belt she wanted, one shoe had gone missing or one stocking developed a ladder. But one hundred and twenty outfits – what a nightmare!

  She glanced around at the audience who were appearing in twos and threes. Mostly they were very smart women in suits and soft draped dresses. Sally had agonised over what to wear – she was so afraid of letting Paula down – but eventually she had settled on a neat shirt-waister blouse and pencil skirt and Paula had loaned her a poplin duster coat in duck-egg blue with a thick soft grey Lucca Lamb collar. Sally felt good in it – the fur was gorgeously soft when she buried her chin in it and she thought that at least she could hold her own in the midst of all this elegance.

  The background music stopped and was replaced by an expectant hum, then that too ceased as the curtains parted and a man in a dinner jacket and black bow tie stepped out onto the catwalk.

  ‘Ladies and gentlemen – welcome!’ he boomed. His microphone whistled a little and Sally winced in embarrassment.

  The first model appeared on the catwalk, looking so glamorous, so unbelievably chic, that Sally could scarcely believe that her very own sister could be a part of this glittering performance. But a few moments later there she was – tall and beautiful in a little green boucle dress with matching jacket.

  ‘It’s her – it’s Paula!’ Sally hissed, almost falling off her chair in excitement.

  ‘That is?’ Edward whispered back, stunned.

  ‘Yes, doesn’t she look marvellous?’

  Someone behind them coughed pointedly and they went quiet but Sally was wishing she could shout to the whole room: ‘That’s my sister!’ She was so proud she thought she would burst. And so happy and excited that it did not occur to her to worry about the devastating effect Paula was having on Edward.

  Behind the scenes Paula slipped out of one outfit, letting it fall to the floor, and reached for the next, hanging in the correct order on her clothes rail. The girl who was dressing her pulled up the zipper while Paula kicked off a pair of black suede shoes and eased her feet into crocodile ones. A quick flick of a comb through her hair – there was no hat to accessorise this dress – she reached for the crocodile clutch bag and moved towards the doorway for Arlene to give her a quick check before she stepped out onto the catwalk again.

  She felt alive as never before, and her eyes were glittering with excitement. Her initial nerves had all gone now although it still felt strange to be on a catwalk rather than the carpeted floor of the room at the Grand Hotel. Arlene gave her a small push to indicate it was time and she moved out. She couldn’t wait to be back under the lights again with all eyes on her.

  As she sashayed down the catwalk she caught sight of Sally and Edward. The first time out she had seen nothing but a sea of faces, so hard had she been concentrating on what she was doing. Now she let her eyes dwell on them for a moment – Sally glowing with pride, Edward with a slightly dazed expression on his handsome face.

  Not bad! Paula thought. Not bad at all. You have quite a catch there, little sister.

  She did not dare look at them for too long for fear of missing her footing or forgetting a move but the look on Edward’s face added another notch to her enjoyment. She twirled slowly, feeling his eyes on her so that it was as though she was receiving an injection of adrenalin, Oh how she was enjoying herself! She wanted it to go on for ever and ever! She was back at the curtains again. Time to turn, hold one last pose, then move out. But there were still eight outfits to go. Paula intended to make the most of every one of them.

  ‘Well, did you enjoy it?’

  ‘Oh yes! Paula, you were wonderful!’

  The show was over, the audience had drifted away to a reception room where they would be further wooed with a glass of champagne and a selection of canapes and nibbles and Paula, dressed now in one of her own suits, smart black barathea, had emerged from the dressing rooms to meet the waiting Sally and Edward. She was still on a ‘high’, the potent adrenalin pumping through her veins, eyes sparkling, cheeks glowing with a becoming flush that owed nothing to the skilfully applied make-up.

  ‘Did you see anything you’d like to buy?’

  ‘Oh yes – everything! But you know very well I can’t. And anyway, it was you we came to see.’

  ‘You weren’t supposed to be looking at me. You were supposed to be looking at the clothes,’ Paula said artlessly. She was watching Edward out of the corner of her eye. Yes, he was every bit as good looking as she had thought he was when she had glimpsed him from the catwalk. And he owned a car! Not bad at all. He was only an office worker, of course, a clerk of sorts, Sally had said, not quite in the class that Paula intended to aim at, but very presentable for all that. And to think he was going out with Sally! The fact was somehow offensive to Paula’s ego. In that moment she made up her mind. She didn’t really want him, of course but she simply had to prove to herself that he would prefer her to Sally, given the choice.

  She smiled at him and felt his quickening interest. It was so easy, so incredibly easy. What was the expression? ‘Taking candy from a baby.’ It summed up the situation perfectly.

  ‘Did Sally say you might be able to squeeze me into your car?’she asked, fluttering her eyelashes.

  ‘Hardly squeeze,’ Sally began, embarrassed, then broke off. Edward was not listening. Neither of them were. Edward was staring at Paula and Sally did not like the expression on his face. She felt the pit of her stomach fall away. ‘It’s a big car,’ she finished lamely.

  ‘Are you sure I’m not making a nuisance of myself?’ Paula gushed.

  ‘Of course not. I have to drive Sally home anyway.’ The way he said it made Sally feel like a parcel for delivery.

  ‘I won’t be long. I’ll just get my things …’ Paula disappeared through the swing doors. Edward gazed after her. There was a glow about him that all men had when they were around Paula. Sally felt sick.

  ‘What are we going to do on Saturday?’ she asked, catching at his arm, desperate for reassurance.

  ‘Hmm? Oh … I don’t know. Where does your sister go? Perhaps we could make up a party. That would be fun.’

  For you, maybe, not for me! Sally thought.

  Paula reappeared, carrying the little modelling case she had had to buy and equip with cosmetics, shoes and spare tights.

  ‘I was just saying to Sally, why don’t you come out with us on Saturday?’ Edward suggested. ‘We could go as a crowd.’

  ‘Oh what a shame! I’ve already made arrangements for this week.’ But her eyes were flashing – nice try, Edward. Ask again sometime. Who knows?

  ‘Are you ready?’ Sally asked. All the shine had gone out of the evening. Suddenly all she wanted to do was get home and bury her head under her pillow.

  On Saturday Edward was late. Sally was frantic. He had never let her down before. Suppose something had happened to him?

  She waited and waited, the feeling of living a nightmare that
had been with her ever since Thursday intensifying. At last just as she was contemplating getting the next bus home he arrived. She ran to meet him, weak with relief, but he was very vague as to why he was late and there was a remoteness about him that she could not penetrate. Something was wrong she knew though she could not have said what it was and she was not in the least surprised when he made some excuse about being a bit busy next week and unable to see her. When he stopped the car on the way home Sally threw herself at him. Tonight she would have been quite willing to let him do anything he wanted just as long as things would go back to being the way they had been. But Edward just didn’t seem interested.

  ‘When will I see you again?’ she asked desperately.

  ‘I’ll be in touch,’ he said vaguely and though it was a long time before she would admit it to herself Sally knew it was all over.

  That night she cried herself to sleep wondering where she had gone wrong and thinking she could not bear it if she never saw Edward again. It was probably because she was always so reluctant to let him make love to her, she decided. Everyone knew it was what boys wanted. If only she had been a bit more accommodating, a bit more enthusiastic. As it was he had obviously grown tired of the regular struggles and gone off to find someone who gave in more readily. But in spite of what had happened at the fashion show she did not think Paula had any hand in it until next day at breakfast. Paula, nibbling an Energen roll spread with reduced-calorie marmalade, said airily: ‘Oh, who do you think came into the store yesterday? Your friend Edward! And I think you should know he wanted me to go out with him.’

  Sally began to tremble. ‘What did you say?’ she asked.

  ‘That I couldn’t possibly two-time you, of course,’ Paula said, watching Sally slyly. ‘I told him that whilst he was dating my own sister it was quite out of the question. He argued, of course – said that there was nothing serious between the two of you and you knew that. But I was adamant all the same.’ Her eyes narrowed. ‘You are still going out with him, aren’t you?’