by Susan Lewis
‘You’ll have to put it in for me,’ he muttered.
‘I can’t breathe,’ Corrie cried.
‘What? Oh, sorry,’ he said, lifting himself up on his arms.
With more fumbling, twisting of hips and plenty of swearing, Corrie eventually managed to guide him into her. ‘Phaaaw! In he goes,’ he virtually sang, as he reached full penetration. Then he started lunging in and out of her. ‘Oh this is good! This is gooood!’
Corrie looked up at him, then turned away quickly as he gave a particularly vigorous thrust and bashed his head against the window. But, after a while, they managed to get a rhythm going, and with Kevin huffing and puffing away on top of her, despite the fact that she was freezing, Corrie started to throw herself into it, making all the noises she had heard Angelique Warne make in the film.
‘Baby, you’re something else,’ Kevin cried, holding himself up on one hand while with the other he lifted up his shirt and jumper. ‘I gotta feel your tits up against me,’ he said, lowering himself onto her. Then, ‘Oh, yeah, yeah, yeah!’ And he started to pump away again, grunting and groaning and rubbing his chest over hers. Then to Corrie’s alarm he started to squeal and writhe so madly that she thought some animal had come out of the night and was attacking his bum.
‘I’m gonna come! I’m gonna come!’ he wheezed, then swearing viciously through his teeth, he gave a series of rapid jerks and fell panting on top of her.
It was a good five minutes before he managed to regain his breath, during which Corrie all but suffocated. At last he rolled off her and sat awkwardly across her legs. Then followed the nasty business of disposing of the condom, which, pinned to the seat as she was, Corrie was compelled to watch.
They drove home in virtual silence. Corrie wasn’t at all sure how she felt. Stunned, that was for sure, and probably appalled. However, she could hardly wait to tell Paula. Paula would just roar with laughter, which Corrie felt apt to do herself right now. But in truth, for a while there, when the rhythm was good, it hadn’t been so bad. And in a bed it would surely be better. Perhaps they should give it a go.
When they arrived back at the village Kevin pulled up outside the cottage, but didn’t, Corrie noticed immediately, turn off the engine. ‘It was a great night,’ he said, turning to look at her. ‘We’ll have to do it again some time.’
‘Would you like to come in for a coffee?’ Corrie offered.
‘No. Better not. Not with your mum being ill, like.’
‘It’s not catching.’
He made a noise that sounded vaguely like a laugh. ‘Well, give us a ring if you fancy a repeat performance,’ he said. ‘Next time I’ll bring the van. A joke,’ he added when he saw Corrie’s face.
For some reason his tongue felt revoltingly dry when he put it in her mouth this time, and Corrie pulled away.
‘I don’t suppose you’d let us have another feel of those tits before you go in, would you?’ he said, making a grab for them.
‘I don’t think so,’ Corrie said, pulling her coat together and opening the door.
‘Suit yourself,’ he shrugged as she got out. Then he called after her. ‘Don’t forget, just give me a ring if you fancy doing it again. Any time.’
The door slammed on his last word, and before Corrie even reached the gate he was reversing back up to the square.
Heaving a deep sigh she took out her key and inserted it in the lock. But instead of turning it, she let her head fall forward against the door. ‘What a fool,’ she murmured to herself. ‘What a bloody fool I am.’
‘Yes, I think I would agree with that,’ her mother said, some ten minutes later when Corrie told her what had happened. Edwina had already retired for the night, and Corrie was sitting on the bed, hugging her knees to her chest. ‘What in heaven’s name got into you?’ Edwina went on. ‘It’ll be all over the village by tomorrow night. I didn’t bring you up to behave like that, my girl, and … No, you come back here, I haven’t finished with you yet. Corrie! Come back here now!’
Corrie turned around and looked at her mother.
‘I hope you took precautions,’ Edwina snapped.
Corrie winced at the image of Kevin grinning as he draped his used condom over a bush. ‘Yes, we took precautions,’ she sighed. Then, ‘Oh Mum, I only told you because I thought it would make you laugh. Now you’re having a go at me. But you won’t make me feel any worse than I already do I can promise you that.’ She shuddered. ‘God, he’s so gross. “In he goes,”’ she mimicked.
A light flickered deep in Edwina’s eyes, and Corrie started to grin.
‘I’m not laughing,’ Edwina said, the bubble in her voice belying her words.
‘Yes you are.’
Edwina was biting her lips. ‘I’m really very angry with you, young lady.’
‘Love you, Mum.’
‘Don’t try getting around me that way.’ She slapped her hand against the bed. ‘Kevin Foreman! Of all the uncouth … He’s not the boy for you, and you know it. So what on earth were you trying to prove?’
Corrie simply looked at her.
‘Yes, well I guess I know the answer to that,’ Edwina sighed. ‘Oh Corrie! What about your self-respect? How could you have demeaned yourself like that?’
‘You already said, you know the answer to that,’ Corrie said tightly.
‘Don’t take that attitude with me,’ Edwina said. ‘You behaved like a common little slut …’
‘All right, I did. But what am I supposed to do, stay here in this Godforsaken place all on my own, never having anyone to love or to love me …’
‘Doing what you did is no answer,’ Edwina interrupted. ‘And self-pity I won’t tolerate. I’ve told you a hundred times to get out there and find a life of your own. Do what you want to do …’
‘And leave you here to die on your own. How can I do that? And don’t you dare to call me a slut again, because it’s your fault. It’s all your fault. I’d have a life of my own if it weren’t for you. But I’m trapped. I’m stuck here with the likes of Kevin Foreman, and I was trying to make something of it. Trying to make a go of what little I do have. I wanted you to see me happy and settled. I thought it would make you happy. And now you’ve got the bloody nerve to call me a slut. Well perhaps I am, but it’s you who’s made me one. How do you think I felt, sacrificing myself to a pig like that?’
Edwina was out of bed, reaching for her daughter.
‘No! Don’t touch me!’ Corrie cried. ‘I don’t want you near me. I just want you to die. I want you to get this over with because I can’t stand any more.’
She ran sobbing from the room and Edwina, her face ashen-white and her whole body trembling, stood in the middle of her room trying to decide what she should do. In the end, though she ached to go to Corrie, to hold her and try to soothe her pain, she decided to leave her. Smothering her now was not the answer.
Late the following morning Ted Braithwaite, the solicitor who lived in one of the larger houses in the village, strode quickly through the rain, past Edwina’s dress shop, around the war memorial at the centre of the square and down the little side street to Edwina’s cottage. Edwina was waiting at the door, her face showing all the anguish he had heard on the phone, but when she saw him relief softened her expression, and as she smiled, for a fleeting moment, he was reminded of the young girl she had once been.
‘OK, Eddie,’ he said, using his own special name for her, ‘what’s all this about?’
‘Come inside,’ she said, taking his coat and giving him a big hug. ‘The kettle’s just boiled and I’ve got some of your favourite almond cake. Corrie’s at the shop so we won’t be disturbed.’
In fact Corrie had gone off early that morning, before Edwina was up. Edwina knew that she’d be feeling terrible about all she’d said the night before, that it was only pride, and the fear she would break down again that was making her avoid her mother now, but Edwina would go over to the shop later to deal with that. First she needed to speak to Ted.
Ted w
as nearing seventy. He was a portly man with sparse grey hair and the kindest blue eyes Edwina had ever seen. It was his eyes that had first drawn her to him, all those years ago, when she’d first come to Amberside; that had given her the courage to take him into her confidence – though of course he’d known most of it already.
He still had his practice in Ipswich, though he rarely went in more than three times a week now, leaving the bulk of his work to his younger partners. ‘Time to take life easy,’ he would often be heard to say as he pottered about his garden, or, as often as he could, fussed over Edwina and Corrie. He and his wife Hattie looked upon Edwina as the daughter they had never had, and knowing that she was going to die so young was almost as hard on them as it was on Corrie. However, Ted rarely showed his emotions where Edwina’s illness was concerned, at least not to Edwina, she had enough to cope with trying to ease the burden for herself and Corrie.
Now, as he sat back in the comfy chair and sipped his tea, he listened in silence to what Edwina had to say. Outside the rain grew harder and thunder rumbled through the heavens. The room was dark, and the fire crackled lazily in the hearth. Once in a while, as Edwina paused, he became aware of the grandfather clock, ticking loudly in the corner. The cake Edwina had placed in front of him went untouched, a constricting knot of grief was tightening his throat.
It was past midday by the time Edwina had finished, and as she looked up she seemed surprised at the tears in Ted’s eyes. She smiled.
‘Well,’ he said, clearing his throat as he leaned forward to replace his cup on the coffee table, ‘I can’t say I’m surprised. Hattie and I have always thought you might ask me to do this one day. But I have to tell you Eddie, that I had hoped that …’
‘I know,’ Edwina interrupted. ‘I know what you’re going to say, but I can’t do it, Ted. I can’t tell her. Which is why I’m asking you. But only after, you understand that, don’t you?’
‘I don’t know that I do,’ he said, removing his wire spectacles and rubbing his eyes. ‘I’m not saying I won’t do it, but I do think you should tell her yourself.’
‘No!’ Edwina snapped.
It had been some time since Ted had seen her spirit, that same spirit that lived so recklessly in Corrie, but there it was now, and despite what she was asking him to do, it cheered him to see it.
‘I know it’s selfish of me,’ she went on, ‘but there it is. Corrie will understand.’
‘I’m not so sure,’ Ted said, picking up the fire guard and rattling more coal onto the fire. ‘You’ve never had any secrets from one another, apart from this, I mean. You should tell her yourself. You should have told her a long time ago.’
‘Perhaps you’re right,’ Edwina said. The defiance was still there in her eyes as she stood up. ‘But what if I had? Tell me that! What if I’d told her the truth when she was a child, what then? I’ll tell you what. I would have lost her. She’s all I have Ted. She’s all I have, and that’s why she will understand.’
Ted looked across the room to the sideboard where there were any number of pictures of Corrie in silver frames. There were some of Edwina too, and of Paula. There was even one there of him and Hattie. Her only wedding photograph, he knew, was upstairs beside the bed.
‘I know you think I’ve ruined her life,’ Edwina said savagely. ‘I know what …’
‘I don’t think anything of the sort,’ Ted barked. ‘You’ve been …’
‘I’ve been selfish. I came here to Amberside when I should have stayed in London. She’d have had a life in London. That’s what she’s always wanted, what she still wants. I should have stayed there. After Phillip … I should have stayed. But I didn’t, and you know why I didn’t. You can sit in judgement on me all you like, Ted, but for God’s sake promise me you’ll help her. When I’m gone. Be there for her.’
‘Edwina,’ he said deliberately. ‘You don’t have to ask that, we’ll always be there for her. I’d give my life for that girl, and you know it. I’d give my life for you. God, that I could give my life for you.’
Edwina lowered her head at the note of defeat in his voice. ‘I’m sorry,’ she whispered. ‘I never wanted to take advantage of the way you and Hattie feel about Corrie and me, and if you feel you can’t do it, that you don’t want to tell her … Well, I’ve written her a letter. It’s all there … It’s just that, coming from you, with you there to …’
‘Come here,’ Ted said, holding out his hand. Edwina went to him and taking her hand he held it between his own. ‘I’ll do as you ask,’ he said softly. ‘But just tell me why I can’t tell her before you die.’
‘Because I’m a coward. And …’ She looked sadly into his face, ‘because I have my dreams too. Just like Corrie. I want to keep them, Ted. Corrie will understand that.’
‘I daresay she will,’ he sighed. ‘But you’re not making this easy on her.’
Suddenly Edwina was angry again, but with herself, Ted knew that. ‘None of this is easy for any of us,’ she cried. ‘I’ve devoted my life to her, Ted. What more could I have done?’
‘No more.’
For a moment or two she looked into his eyes, her own glittering a challenge, waiting for his accusations. He merely looked back, his gentle blue eyes crinkled at the corners in a fatherly smile. Finally, laughing at herself, Edwina lifted his hand to her face and kissed it. ‘Would you like some more tea?’ she said.
‘Yes, why not?’
She picked up the tray and carried it into the kitchen.
‘I’d like to discuss this with Hattie,’ he said, following her out.
Edwina nodded. ‘Of course.’
‘When would you like me to tell Corrie? I mean, how soon after?’
Edwina turned on the tap and waited for the pilot light to ignite the boiler so she could rinse out the tea cups. ‘When you tell her about the money,’ she said. ‘You’ll have to tell her then.’
Ted walked over to the back door and leaned against it so he could see Edwina’s face. ‘Is there something you’re not telling me?’ he asked carefully.
She looked at him in surprise.
‘Has the doctor told you? Has he said when?’
Edwina shook her head.
Ted sighed. ‘I thought maybe that was why you had called me over now.’
‘Oh, I see,’ Edwina said with a dry laugh. ‘No. It’s not that. Though God knows I wish it were. It would be so much easier if I could die now. It would set Corrie free. At last she …’
‘No! Don’t ever say that! Never! Do you hear me?’
Both Edwina and Ted spun round to find Corrie standing at the door.
‘Corrie!’ Edwina gasped.
‘Don’t ever let me hear you talk like that again,’ Corrie raged. ‘I didn’t mean what I said last night, you know I didn’t. I love you more than anyone else in the world. And you’re not going to die. You’re not! I’m not going to let you.’
She hugged her mother fiercely and Ted looked on. Then a cold feeling rose from the pit of his stomach as he caught Edwina’s eye. It was too late. Edwina would die soon, it was there in her eyes.
‘No, she won’t kill herself,’ he said later to Hattie. ‘At least not in the way you’re thinking. But she’s willing herself to die, my love, and it won’t be long now. It won’t be long at all.’
– 3 –
WITHIN A MONTH the weather had changed completely. It was still early March, yet the sun was strong enough to make it feel like early summer. When Corrie had crossed the square that morning she had listened to the birds singing, and had felt, as she always did at the outset of spring, a combined sadness and happiness at the passing of time. The church bells had been ringing then, though no one, when she asked, knew why, since there was no wedding that day. She’d noticed that only the old ladies were wearing their coats, and Paul Smith, the local builder’s son, had the roof down on his second-hand Golf. Now, much later in the morning, the Salvation Army band was playing beside the war memorial, and Fred Pinker had put two tables and chair
s outside his café-cum-grocery. Paula was in the shop with Corrie. They were sipping the coffee Paula had brought over from Fred’s and reading the newspaper lying on the counter between them. At that moment they were engrossed in the story of the prostitute murders taking place in London. The killer had now claimed his fourth victim, and though there were no actual details of what he did to them their imaginations had no trouble filling in the gaps.
‘And you want to live in London?’ Paula shivered.
‘That’s not all that happens in London,’ Corrie retorted. ‘And desperate as I am to become a high-flying career woman, being a prostitute wasn’t quite what I had in mind.’
‘The trouble is you don’t know what you do have in mind,’ Paula told her.
‘I know,’ Corrie said, and turned over the page to carry on reading as Paula picked up the baby and put her to the breast.
‘I wouldn’t mind working in films,’ Corrie said after a while.
Paula was amazed. ‘You mean as an actress?’
‘What, and end up like her?’ Corrie shuddered. ‘No thanks.’
‘Like who?’
‘Angelique Warne.’
‘Is there more about her then?’ Paula asked, leaning towards the paper. The story of Angelique Warne’s suicide was now a couple of weeks old, but was still gripping the public, both sides of the Atlantic since it was almost as rife with rumour and speculation as the death of Monroe. There were pictures of the senators she had ‘known’ in that morning’s paper, and above the picture of Cristos Bennati was the headline, ‘Did she jump, or was she pushed?’
‘I’d freeze my bum off in the back seat of a car for him any day,’ Corrie sighed, wistfully.
‘Just so long as he doesn’t push you out of the window after,’ Paula remarked.
