by Anna King
She had been sitting on a bench in Regent’s Park, looking a picture of dejection, when the well-dressed man had passed by. Moments later he had returned to enquire if she was in need of assistance. Heather had swiftly noted the man’s expensive attire and within seconds her fertile imagination had sprung into action.
Never one to let the grass grow under her feet, Heather had taken immediate advantage of the situation. Her hands had been hidden inside a cheap fur-lined muff, a Christmas present from Jimmy, which had made it easy for her to remove the thin brass wedding ring she had always hated. With a deception that came easily to her, Heather had sorrowfully spun a tale of being turned out of her home by an unscrupulous landlord, and was now helpless and alone and at her wits’ end as to what to do next. She had portrayed the image of a helpless, frightened young woman to perfection, her performance rivalling that of the great Sarah Bernhardt.
An hour later she had found herself in the restaurant of the Savoy Hotel in the company of a smitten Sean Finnegan. He had offered to pay for a room for her in the hotel, clumsily adding that his offer was purely platonic and that he expected nothing in return. But Heather had seen the look in his eyes. She had always been aware of the effect she had on men and had known in that instant that she had made another conquest. Still playing the part of a breathless, innocent girl, full of gratitude for the kind gesture being offered her, Heather had made the pretence of returning to her lodgings to collect her belongings. Knowing Bessie’s routine, she had returned to the house, secure in the knowledge that her hated adversary would be out down the market. Within half an hour she had packed everything she owned, stopping only to write a short note to Jimmy telling him she had met someone else and wouldn’t be coming back. She’d had no compunction about leaving Jimmy, she was too shallow to have the capacity for true love and commitment.
Less than two weeks later she was sharing Sean’s bed, and when the besotted man asked her to go back with him to his home in Ireland she had readily accepted. Sean Finnegan’s home was a country estate in Cork, and for the next eight years Heather had enjoyed the life she had always dreamt of.
But her life of luxury had come to an abrupt end when Sean had suffered a massive heart attack. Heather had imagined she would stay on in the stately mansion to the end of her days, but she hadn’t reckoned on Sean’s relations. The close-knit Irish family had lost no time in ousting the woman whom they had seen as a unscrupulous gold digger. Now she was back where she had started, determined to rekindle her past association with Jimmy Jackson, especially now he had come up in the world; but it seemed it wasn’t going to be as easy as she’d first imagined.
It had been quite a shock to see Jimmy in the restaurant, even though she had been planning such a meeting for the past six months. During that time she had made discreet enquiries about the man she had left so hurriedly over eight years earlier. What she had discovered had been a source of delight to her. She had always known Jimmy had the drive and determination to make something of himself, and she hadn’t been wrong in her earlier judgment. What she hadn’t bargained on was the effect Jimmy Jackson still had on her, though it would seem he hadn’t been wasting his time pining over her.
Her lips tightened as she brought to mind the young girl Jimmy had escorted to the restaurant. How old was she? Eighteen, nineteen at the most! The same age she herself had been when she’d first met Jimmy. Heather felt a reluctant stab of admiration towards the girl, admitting to herself that her attempts to intimidate the younger woman had failed miserably. Twirling a strand of thick hair around her finger, Heather idly wondered if the girl had passed on her message. If she had, then no doubt, at this very minute, Jimmy would be huddled in conference with that old witch Bessie, both of them deciding what to do about her. Heather uttered a mirthless laugh. Let them do their worst, she held all the cards. Her gaze flickered towards a door leading off the main room, her lips curving into a cruel smile of satisfaction.
The coldness of the room finally stirred Heather into life, and with a long, sinuous stretch of her arms and legs, she rose languidly and strolled over to the door. Opening it, she peered into the gloom, barely able to make out the small outline huddled under a thin blanket on top of a pallet bed. Carefully closing the door so as not to disturb the occupant, Heather walked slowly back to the bed.
The man heard her coming and smiled smugly. Throwing back the covers he eagerly waited for the voluptuous woman to join him under the blankets. By the bedside lamp, Heather saw the man’s spindly legs and pigeon chest and felt her skin crawl. Hugging the flimsy nightgown around her body she said harshly, ‘Get out. Go on, get out. I’ve had enough of your company for one night.’
The man jerked in the bed, his surprise quickly turning to anger. ‘Now hang on, Heather. Don’t you come all high and mighty with me. I’ve spent good money on you these past few months, I’m entitled to stay here as long as I like, especially as I’m paying the rent.’
Heather’s lips curled in open disgust. ‘You’ve been well paid. In fact looking back at what I’ve had to do for the privilege of your company, I’d say you owed me a rebate. You won’t be getting your slimy hands on me again, Bert Underwood, so sling your hook before I start screaming.’
The man’s face was almost comic in his disbelief at the sudden change in the woman he had imagined was enamoured of him. Then his features contorted into ugly lines of rage. ‘Why you common little whore. I’ve supported you and your brat for months, so don’t think you can get rid of me as if I was some common labourer. I’m a man of standing in the community, and I could make life very difficult for you if I wanted. Now, get your arse back into bed before I really lose my temper.’
Heather threw back her head and said sneeringly. ‘Oh, please. You’re really frightening me – don’t make me laugh!’ Walking slowly towards the man now clutching the bedcovers to his thin chest, Heather growled viciously, ‘You pathetic little bastard. Do you really think you can frighten me into letting you slobber all over me? And as for all that talk about you being a man of standing, you seem to forget you’re also a married man. What do you think your dear wife would say if she knew where you’d been spending your nights, when you’re supposed to be away on business?’
The man’s eyes widened in horror as Heather’s words sank in.
She saw the alarm on the man’s ashen face and moved in for the kill. ‘You’re not the only one who can make threats, Bert. Now get your skinny carcass out of my bed and out of my life… Move!’
As the man scrambled into his clothes, Heather watched with veiled amusement. When he was at the door she halted him in his hurried tracks.
‘Just a minute, Bert. Before you go, I’ll take whatever you have left in your wallet. Let’s say it’s for services rendered – and for keeping my mouth shut and your wife blissfully ignorant of her dear husband’s activities.’
His slight body almost bursting with rage at being bested, the man drew out his wallet. Extracting three five-pound notes, he threw them contemptuously at Heather’s feet. ‘Here, take it, you fucking slag. But don’t think you’ve got the better of me. I’ll see you pay for this, don’t—’
‘Oh, piss off, you miserable apology for a man.’ Heather had already turned away, and with one last murderous glance in her direction, the man hurriedly left.
When the front door slammed, Heather climbed into bed, careful to avoid the side Bert had previously vacated. Pulling the covers up around her neck, she closed her eyes, feeling suddenly weary. There would be no more men like Bert Underwood. After seeing Jimmy, no other man would do for her now. It would take time and a lot of planning, but she was determined to get Jimmy back. And if he wouldn’t take her, then she would produce her trump card. Not many men would be capable of disowning their son, and Jimmy Jackson was no exception. He may have come up in the world, but people don’t change. Jimmy had always been a man of principle, despite his profession. He might not be able to forgive her for what she had done to him, but he woul
d never let his child suffer for her actions; and any money coming to his son would also benefit the child’s mother. Content in that knowledge, Heather slept.
Chapter Thirteen
It was three weeks to Christmas and Rebecca was sitting at the dining table writing out a list of preparations for the coming festive event. In the past she had enjoyed the weeks leading up to Christmas, seeing it as a welcome break in her boring, drudge-filled life. This year, however, she was finding no joy in the previously diverting task.
It had been five weeks since she had last seen Jimmy, and his absence had left a painful void in her life. Amy was still going out with Charlie, but she rarely spoke to Rebecca about her growing attachment to the affable young man. Rebecca was aware that Amy’s reticence at confiding in her was solely to spare her feelings, yet Amy’s kind thoughtfulness only added to Rebecca’s misery. It wasn’t fair that Amy should have to curtail her happiness for fear of upsetting her elder sister. Laying down her pen, Rebecca ran a tired hand over her face. Poor Amy.
It must be killing the young girl trying to keep her natural outgoing exuberance damped down. Phil too was careful not to divulge too much about his new position working for Jimmy, for the same reason Amy was keeping quiet; and it couldn’t go on.
The episode with Jimmy had been a revelation to Rebecca, and for a brief, wonderful time she had been lifted from her mundane life, but now that time was over. Jimmy wasn’t coming back. The knowledge was painful but she had to accept it and put the past behind her. Yet Jimmy had shown her another side of life, and because of that short, exciting moment, Rebecca would never feel the same again.
She was about to resume her list when the front door opened to emit a red-faced Richard.
‘Brr, it’s bloody freezing out. I wouldn’t mind a hot cup of tea, Rebecca, love.’
Without looking up, Rebecca replied shortly, ‘Help yourself, you know where the kitchen is, and the rent’s on the table by the door.’
Stamping his feet on the doormat, Richard glowered at the bent head. By God, but that little madam had a shock coming to her. Striding past his young cousin, who was studiously ignoring his presence, Richard went into the kitchen and put the kettle on to boil. Taking off his thick overcoat and gloves he busied himself making the tea, inwardly seething at Rebecca’s high-handedness. If he’d had any qualms regarding what he was about to do, then that surly piece had quickly soothed his conscience.
The tea made, Richard sat in the kitchen, marking time until he would be forced to go upstairs and visit his sister. Gradually his temper abated, to be replaced by one of nervous excitement. His earlier plans of waiting until Amy’s birthday to break the news of his forthcoming marriage had been thwarted by Ivy. She had made it quite clear that after all these years she wasn’t prepared to wait any longer. Reminiscent of twenty years earlier, she had given Richard an ultimatum. Either they got married straight away or the engagement was off. This time, however, Richard had no intention of letting anything, or anyone, stand in his way. He would make his announcement on Christmas Eve, and the following week he and Ivy would be married. It was all arranged. All he had to do now was set the scene, and he had it all worked out as to how he would drop his bombshell. Rather than have to inform each member of the household of his intentions, Richard wanted them all gathered in one room, and what better excuse than to throw a party? There was only one fly in the ointment. Ivy wasn’t that keen on leaving her comfortable house to move into Richard’s former home. But he had assured her the move would be temporary. As soon as he was rid of the Bradfords and his detested sister, Richard planned to sell the house and move to a more salubrious location. This new idea had been enforced by the knowledge of Ivy’s considerable nest egg. Of course he would never have considered marrying her if she had been penniless.
Rubbing his hands together in barely suppressed glee, Richard took a last swallow of his tea and returned to where Rebecca was still perusing the list of items she needed to buy in time for Christmas.
Adopting a cheerful manner he said heartily, ‘Well, Christmas is nearly on us again. It seems to come around quicker every year. I suppose that’s a sign of getting older.’
Rebecca glanced idly up at him then turned her attention back to her list. Normally this slight would have incensed Richard, but, knowing what was to come, he remained cheerful. Rocking back on his heels, he continued jovially. ‘I was thinking we could have a small party on Christmas Eve. Just for the family and a few friends.’ When Rebecca made no sign of answering, a cruel glint came into Richard’s beady eyes. Maude had kept him informed of the goings-on at the house, and he now used that knowledge to his advantage. ‘Maybe you could invite Mr Jackson. I’m sure he’d be delighted to attend, seeing as you’ve become so close.’
The malicious jibe wasn’t wasted on Rebecca. Richard felt a moment’s satisfaction as he saw Rebecca’s face redden and her hand suddenly tremble. Blinking furiously, Rebecca took a deep breath. The cruel remark had hit home with a jarring force, but not for the world would she let Richard see how much he had hurt her. Keeping her eyes firmly on the piece of paper in front of her Rebecca replied airily, ‘It’s still your home, Dick. You can do whatever you wish, and I’ll certainly ask Jimmy if he’d like to come, but he’s a busy man, so I wouldn’t hold your breath at the chance of renewing your brief acquaintance with him.
Though from what he told me, you didn’t exactly hit it off at your first and only meeting. You’re not the type of man Jimmy normally associates himself with. You’re a bit ineffectual for his tastes.’
Now it was Richard’s turn to feel uncomfortable. He still squirmed when he recalled his disastrous meeting with Jimmy Jackson, and the subsequent snub he had suffered at the restaurant, humiliating him in Ivy’s eyes; and this little bitch knew it. But not content with reminding him of Jimmy’s feelings towards him, she had added insult to injury by calling him by that hated name. The very sound of the word conjured up connotations that were both crude and offensive, and Richard had no doubt that was exactly what Rebecca had intended. Trying to assume a commanding figure, Richard clasped his hands tightly behind his back, stretched his neck from side to side and opened his mouth to make a suitable retort, but found none forthcoming. From years of experience Richard knew he was no match for Rebecca when it came to verbal sparring. To save face he made what he hoped was a dignified exit and went to see Maude. And for once the impending visit offered him a welcome diversion.
When Richard had disappeared upstairs, Rebecca laid down the pen and swallowed loudly. The spiteful bugger. Oh, how she hated him, and never more so than at this minute. A determined look came over her face. One thing was for certain. If Amy’s relationship with Charlie resulted in marriage, then she, Rebecca, would be out of this house the day after the wedding. Not that she wanted her little sister to get married at such a young age, but Amy would be sixteen in a couple of months. Give her another year and she would be ready for marriage. Amy was the type of woman who was born to be a wife and mother. That being the case, Rebecca couldn’t think of anyone more suitable as a husband for Amy than Charlie.
Glancing round at the clock on the mantelpiece, Rebecca saw that it was nearly eleven, and tutted impatiently. Amy had gone out early this morning to meet Charlie and had promised faithfully to be back at eleven in order to do the Saturday morning shopping with Rebecca. No sooner had the thought crossed Rebecca’s mind than the door burst open and a smiling, rosy-faced Amy came running into the house.
‘Sorry, Becky. Am I late? Oh good, it’s not eleven yet, I was worried I’d be late back.’
Ashamed at her uncharitable thoughts, Rebecca smiled warmly. ‘Don’t rush, love, we’ve plenty of time yet. In fact the longer we leave it the better chance we have of picking up some bargains.’ Picking up her list, Rebecca added, ‘I promise myself every year that I’ll leave the shopping to the last minute, it’s what most women do. Ada always goes down the market late on Christmas Eve when the stall holders are desperate
to get rid of their stock. She managed to get a turkey last year for sixpence. Granted it looked like it had died of old age and had just enough meat on it to feed her and Billy, but still, there’s plenty of bargains to be had if you’re prepared to take a chance. Then again, you could come back empty-handed and have to have sausages and mash for Christmas dinner, and I’m not brave enough to take that chance.’ Rebecca knew she was babbling, but after that unpleasant encounter with Richard she couldn’t help herself. Also she was cursing herself for saying she would invite Jimmy to the house for Christmas Eve when she had no intention of making herself look like a besotted fool to a man who obviously had forgotten all about her.
Amy stared worriedly at her sister. Something had happened in her short absence, that much was obvious. It was the only explanation she could think of to explain Rebecca’s highly charged state of mind.
‘Is anything wrong, Becky? You look upset.’
Rebecca gave a watery smile. ‘Richard’s here.’
‘Oh!’ There was no need for further explanation. Amy knew how much her sister disliked Richard. It was something Amy had never been able to understand. She herself had always been fond of her uncle Richard, seeing only the outward, kindly benevolent persona he portrayed in her company. Knowing it was no good to try and extol Richard’s virtues, Amy said brightly, ‘Shall we go then? I want to be back by three, Charlie’s taking me out shopping for my Christmas present… Oh, sorry, Becky, I didn’t mean to…’
Rebecca turned away impatiently. ‘For goodness’ sake, Amy. There’s no need to keep tiptoeing around my feelings. I’m glad you’re getting on so well with Charlie, he’s a nice young man. Just because things didn’t work out for me and Jimmy there’s no call for you to keep apologising for you being happy.’
An awkward feeling settled over the sisters until Rebecca, her good humour returning, cried, ‘Oh, heavens. Let’s get out of here before Richard comes down and starts fawning all over you. I know you don’t mind his attentions, but it turns my stomach and I don’t want to be put off my lunch. I thought we could eat out for a change, sort of an early Christmas treat. What do you think? And don’t worry, we’ll be back in plenty of time for you to go out with Charlie – again!’
