Bonnie’s chin lifted. ‘Not really,’ she said in the same cool tone the older woman had used. ‘I am perfectly able to look after myself, Mrs Parker.’
It wasn’t lost on any of those present that Bonnie hadn’t called Selina’s mother by her Christian name, and after a brief but pregnant pause it was Selina’s father who again stepped into the breach and eased the moment by asking her which songs she preferred to sing. From there they got on to the different types of music that had emerged since the Great War, with Llewellyn – surprisingly – confessing a weakness for what he called symphonic jazz. ‘I went to see Paul Whiteman and his orchestra a few years ago,’ he said, pouring himself another sherry from the decanter on a small side table. ‘He’d got Bix Beiderbecke, the trumpeter, you know?’ – Bonnie didn’t but she nodded her head as though she did – ‘and trombonists Jack Teagarden and Tommy Dorsey, and a vocal group, the Rhythm Boys, who’d got that singer Bing Crosby among them. I was in New York visiting my brother and his family who emigrated to America twenty years ago. Wonderful night, it was. Quite wonderful.’
‘Did you enjoy it too?’ Bonnie said to Selina’s mother, feeling a little awkward that she had bitten back earlier and that it was she and Selina’s father who seemed to be doing all the talking.
‘Oh, Felicity didn’t accompany me that night, did you, dear?’ Llewellyn smiled. ‘The opera is more her cup of tea, or the ballet. No, I went with my two nieces, modern young things.’
Selina stood up abruptly, so abruptly she spilt some of her sherry which she’d barely sipped. ‘Would you like to freshen up before lunch?’ she asked Bonnie. ‘Mrs Eden will be calling us through to the dining room in a minute, everything runs like clockwork here.’
‘Uh yes, all right. Thank you, yes.’ Flustered herself now, Bonnie followed Selina out of the room feeling somewhat awkward. Walking down the hall, Selina opened a door on the opposite side to the drawing room. ‘Mother likes to call this the downstairs cloakroom,’ she said, a touch of acid in her voice. ‘And since coming back from that trip to America that my father spoke of, she’s had a bathroom installed in each of the six bedrooms here. It’s the American way, apparently. My uncle lives in a kind of a mansion in New York – it quite spoilt Mother’s holiday.’
The cloakroom was as beautifully decorated as the drawing room, a pile of neatly folded hand towels next to the wash basin along with an enormous vase of flowers. There were two cubicles inside, but as neither girl wanted to use them they merely washed their hands and tidied their hair.
Out of the blue, Selina said, ‘You like my father, don’t you?’ She stared at Bonnie, her face closed and tight.
Bonnie blinked. It had been a statement rather than a question, but she answered as though it was the latter. ‘Aye, yes, I do. He seems nice. Friendly.’ Unlike her mother.
‘Yes, he does, doesn’t he? Everyone likes him. I think most people expect bank managers to be dour and stand-offish, and of course he isn’t like that.’
‘No.’ Bonnie had the feeling she was treading on eggshells without the slightest inkling of why. And then to her amazement – and relief – a gong sounded in the hall outside.
‘The ceremonial call.’ Selina grimaced. ‘Even when it’s just the two of them Mother insists on Mrs Eden using the gong. “Standards, Selina.”’ She gave a good imitation of her mother’s well-bred voice. ‘Oh, how I hate that gong. It personifies everything that’s wrong in this house – immaculate and clean and shining on the outside but rotten inside.’
Bonnie stared at her friend, her eyes wide, but she had no chance to comment before Selina grabbed her arm and opened the door into the hall.
The dining-room table was a picture of snowy white tablecloth and napkins, glittering crystal glasses and silver crockery, with another bowl of fresh flowers in red and white in the centre. The first course was a thin soup which was nothing like Bonnie was used to and which she didn’t particularly like, followed by a fish course that the fair folk would have described as a fancy bit of nothing, but when the main course was served by Mrs Eden, Bonnie was relieved to see it wasn’t turkey. Two turkey dinners in two days was quite enough. And the beef joint was beautifully cooked, as were the accompanying vegetables.
Selina’s father had poured each of them a glass of wine once they had sat down at the table, but Bonnie hadn’t touched hers. She wasn’t used to alcohol and the glass of sherry had gone to her head as it was. Selina, she noticed, had drunk two glasses of wine by the time pudding was served, however; a definite flush to her friend’s cheeks and a brightness to her eyes indicating that she might be a little tiddly.
The pudding, a lemon soufflé, was as light as air, and Bonnie accepted a second helping, although Selina appeared to have eaten next to nothing.
Llewellyn had kept up an easy, non-demanding and amusing conversation throughout lunch, and although Selina and her mother had said little, Bonnie thought she would have enjoyed herself if it wasn’t for her concern for her friend, especially after her last comment in the cloakroom. There had been real bitterness in what Selina had said, but along with that had been something Bonnie recognized as pain and anguish.
She would have to talk to Selina on the way home, she decided, and risk being told it was none of her business. Bonnie glanced speculatively at Selina under her eyelashes. She knew her friend had been relieved when she had said she would come with her today, which in itself was odd. Admittedly her mother was cold and uppity, but her father was lovely and he made up for her mother, surely? What she would give for her own da to be alive and wanting her to visit him at Christmas.
After lunch was finished, and at her mother’s suggestion, Selina showed Bonnie round the house. The bedrooms were coldly beautiful, each one decorated in a different colour, but Selina only paused outside her father’s room saying, ‘That’s Father’s. He and Mother sleep separately,’ but without opening the door.
It was as they were preparing to leave that it happened. Selina had excused herself to go and have a word with Mrs Eden before they departed and thank her for the lovely meal. A moment or two after she’d left the room, Llewellyn got up, muttering something about fetching a fresh bottle of brandy from the cellar. Bonnie saw Felicity glance at him sharply; no doubt Selina’s mother thought her husband was merry enough. He had been drinking steadily all afternoon although to be fair it hadn’t really seemed to affect him, beyond a slight slurring to some of his words.
Bonnie felt uncomfortable about being left with Selina’s mother, and after trying to make conversation which was met with little encouragement, she gave up. A minute or two ticked by with excrutiating slowness, before she stood to her feet. ‘I’ll just pop to the cloakroom before I leave, Mrs Parker.’ There was no way on earth she could call this woman Felicity. She had to be the coldest fish Bonnie had ever met.
She was about to enter the cloakroom when she was sure she heard Selina’s voice coming from the dining room at the end of the hall. The kitchen was situated at the back of the house via a corridor and you had to pass the dining room to enter it.
Bonnie paused, listening hard, and distinctly heard Selina say, ‘You were waiting for me, weren’t you, for when I left Mrs Eden? Let go of me. I don’t want to talk to you.’
She heard the mumble of Llewellyn’s voice but couldn’t make out what he said, and then Selina’s voice came again, more frantic. ‘No, I mean it. Get off me or I’ll scream.’
Bonnie didn’t think about her next action. She fairly flew to the dining room, flinging open the door which was slightly ajar to find Selina pressed against the wall by her father, who had one hand under her buttocks and the other at the back of her head, holding her hair as he attempted to kiss her. Without pausing, Bonnie grabbed the nearest thing to hand, which happened to be one of the ornate brass candlesticks entwined with holly that stood at either end of the table, and brought it down with all her might, aiming for the back of Llewellyn’s head.
But for the fact that he had begun to tur
n she might well have crushed his skull; as it was, the candlestick hit his shoulder and the shriek he gave as he collapsed to the floor could have woken the dead. As Mrs Eden, closely followed by Selina’s mother, came rushing into the room, Bonnie took her friend in her arms and turned to face them.
‘What on earth . . .’ Felicity Parker stared at her husband grovelling and moaning on the floor. ‘What’s happened here?’
‘I hit him.’ Bonnie’s voice was shaking but clear. ‘With the candlestick.’
‘You hit Llewellyn?’ Her gaze moved from her husband to the two girls and then back to her husband. ‘Are you mad, girl?’ Mrs Eden had knelt beside her employer, helping him to sit up and then supporting him as he leaned against her, holding his shoulder, his face ashen and his eyes closed.
‘He was trying to – to kiss Selina.’
‘A father tries to kiss his daughter and you attack him with a candlestick? I repeat, are you mad, girl?’
‘Don’t, Mother.’ Selina spoke for the first time, straightening up as Bonnie released her. ‘Just don’t, not today.’
‘Don’t what?’ Mrs Parker said imperiously.
‘Don’t pretend, not any more. This is the last time I shall come to this house or set eyes on the pair of you, so let’s have it out in the open.’
‘You’re as mad as your friend.’ Mrs Parker’s mouth was a tight line and her eyes were blazing. ‘I have no idea what you are talking about, but I’ll have the police on this girl here. She needs locking away, she’s not safe, and I’ll tell them so.’
‘Do. You do that. But you won’t, will you? No, you won’t, because you can’t risk them believing me over him, not now Bonnie will say what she saw. It’s suited you to close your eyes to what was happening in this house for years, from when I was a child, in fact. A child, Mother. I tried to tell you but you made me feel . . . wicked. And so I believed it was my fault, because why else would a father think he could do that to his own flesh and blood? But you knew, you knew, Mother, and because you didn’t want him in your bed you let him come to mine.’
Mrs Eden gasped, but her next words made Bonnie’s hands clench into fists. ‘Oh, Miss Selina, how can you suggest . . . To say such a thing about your father. You must be ill, unhinged. Your father is a wonderful man.’
Llewellyn whimpered, tears of pain coursing down his contorted face. ‘Get me a doctor, Mrs Eden.’
Bonnie was feeling sick, hardly able to take in what she was hearing. Selina’s father had done that to her? He was her father, her father. But she didn’t doubt it was true. She had heard what was in Selina’s voice when her father had got hold of her, and it had curdled her stomach.
Aware that her friend was trembling from head to foot, Bonnie took hold of her arm. ‘You need to sit down.’
‘No, I need to leave this house.’
‘Come on then.’
Selina’s mother made no attempt to detain them as they left the room but Bonnie noticed that she didn’t kneel down by her husband as Mrs Eden had, or offer him any words of sympathy.
Once in the hall, Bonnie rushed around collecting their handbags and coats and hats while Selina leaned against the wall, looking as though she was going to faint. Bonnie virtually dressed her friend, putting Selina’s arms through the sleeves of her coat and then doing up the buttons before setting her hat on her head. Once they were both ready, Bonnie led Selina to the front door, opening it and then helping her down the steps into the street. It was snowing again, fat, feathery flakes that were settling fast, and as they began to walk Bonnie kept tight hold of Selina.
They had reached the end of the street before Selina broke the silence. ‘It started when I was eight years old.’
‘Selina, you don’t have to say anything –’
‘No, I want to tell you. To tell someone. I can’t go on any longer if I don’t. Someone – someone who will believe me.’
Bonnie pressed Selina’s arm through hers. ‘Of course I believe you. Even if I hadn’t seen what I saw today I would have believed you, and it’s your mother and father who are wicked. Not you. You know that, don’t you?’
Selina began to cry, loud, guttural, painful sobs that seemed to be torn out of her, and they stood in the gathering winter twilight, the snow falling more and more thickly as Bonnie held her close. The streets were deserted in this select part of London, only the occasional motor car passing them, and as Bonnie murmured words of comfort, much as a mother might to soothe a heartbroken child, she felt engulfed in sorrow and grief for her friend. She had thought the worst thing on earth had happened when Franco raped her, but now she knew it was nothing compared to what Selina must have gone through. And her father had appeared so lovely, so funny and warm and charming. She had liked him, she had actually liked him.
And then, as though Selina had read her mind, her friend choked out, ‘How would anyone have believed me when he appears so nice? And he is like that, Bonnie, that’s the thing. It really isn’t an act. Before he – before I was eight years old I truly thought he was the most marvellous person in the world. I utterly adored him, worshipped him. Mother – well, you’ve seen how she is, but Father was always there for me, drying my tears when I hurt myself, spending time taking me to the park and visiting places, reading me stories and playing with me. He was my world. And then, when I was eight, things began to change. When he came to my room to read my bedtime story he would sit me on his knee and – and fondle and touch me in a way that worried me, but always saying how much he loved me and that I was his precious darling, his princess.’
They had begun to walk again, arm in arm, but Selina kept her gaze looking ahead and Bonnie did the same.
‘I was eleven when – when it happened. Mother was out at the opera with some friends and it was Mrs Eden’s day off and she was visiting her sister. He had insisted he sit with me while I had my bath and then he began to dry me . . . I tried to stop him, I said he was hurting me and I pushed him and cried and –’ She took a hard breath. ‘And afterwards he said it was because he loved me so much and that I loved him and it was our special secret. I mustn’t tell anyone because if I did they would say I was bad and making it up and they would lock me away for ever.’
‘Oh, Selina.’ Tears were running down Bonnie’s face but she made no attempt to brush them away.
‘The next day Mrs Eden must have told Mother about the blood on the bath towels because she came and sat me down and told me about monthlies, you know. I didn’t have a clue what she was talking about, I knew nothing about the way a woman’s body works. When she mentioned the bath towels I tried to tell her what had happened the night before. I was so sore, so in pain. She – she slapped me. Right across the face. She said if I ever made up anything like that again she would see to it I was put in a place where other mad, wicked people were sent. And so I learned to put up with it. He didn’t come to my room every night, not even every week. Sometimes it was two weeks or more before he would visit me, but every single night from when I was eleven I lived in terror that the door would open and there he would be, tiptoeing across the room. I knew that Mother knew. And she knew that I knew.’
Selina stopped, and now her voice took on a bewildered tone as she stared at Bonnie with tears spurting from her eyes. ‘But in the day, when he was my father rather than the person at night, I – I loved him, Bonnie. He was always buying me presents and beautiful clothes and taking me to nice places that he thought I might like. It was as though I imagined the other times, like they were nightmares I thought were real. And I wanted them to be just nightmares so much, so very much.’
Selina took a deep breath. ‘One night when I was fifteen I wedged a chair against the handle of my bedroom door. I don’t know why I hadn’t thought of it before – probably because his power was absolute as far as I was concerned. It was a few days later before he came. He tried the door for a while, and I lay with my heart beating so furiously it filled my ears, and then he went away. He came back again of course, again and a
gain, but the chair was always there. And do you know, when Mother came one morning before I was up and the chair was still there, she didn’t ask me about it.’
Selina lifted up her head to the snowflakes as she repeated, ‘She didn’t ask. He still tried to waylay me now and again if the house was empty, always at night, never in the day. In the day he was Father. Just once I wasn’t quick enough to evade him but I fought back that night. I scratched and kicked and bit, and afterwards he sat and cried because I said I hated him. It wasn’t long after that I got my teaching qualification and could leave once I got a job.’
‘But you still visit occasionally.’
‘They’re my parents,’ said Selina simply. ‘But I’ve only ever been back to see them in the day. And till today he hasn’t – He’s been Father. But he drank a lot, didn’t he, perhaps that was why . . .’
They began walking again as Selina said, ‘I always knew one day it would be the finish, that I would never see them again, and this will sound strange . . .’ She paused. ‘It is strange, I know, in view of all I’ve told you about what’s happened, but I feel . . . lost.’
‘Selina.’ Bonnie took both her arms and turned her friend to face her. ‘His control over you was broken today and that’s a good thing. Whatever you felt about the daytime father, the night one was a monster. You would never have been free to really live your life while he was part of it. You do see that, don’t you? The break had to come sooner or later.’
‘I feel so ashamed, so . . . unclean.’ Selina fell against her, sobbing again. ‘I let him do those things.’
‘No, it was him. You told me he was your world and he betrayed that simple innocent trust in the worst way possible. You have been sinned against, you’re not the sinner, Selina. You were a child and you loved your da, your father.’ She hugged her hard. ‘Now it’s time to make your own life and you will, I know you will. You’re a strong woman.’
‘I wish that was true.’ Selina’s voice was full of despair.
A Winter Love Song Page 13
