by June Francis
For a while, as she watched the film, Jeanette forgot about Cedric, but as soon as it ended she looked towards where she had seen him. Her vision was obstructed by other cinema-goers standing up and making their way towards the exits, so she followed the crowd outside but there was no sign of him.
Jeanette parted from Peggy in Lime Street because she saw her bus coming and made a run for it, so it was only half past nine by the time she arrived home. Hester was there and so was Ethel. They were sitting in what at first felt like a companionable silence, one sewing whilst the other was reading the newspaper.
‘Cocoa anyone?’ asked Jeanette, squeezing between the two armchairs and holding her hands out to the fire.
Hester looked up from the sock she was darning. ‘So where is he?’ she murmured. ‘Cold feet?’
Jeanette shook her head. ‘No. He’s stuck in the Isle of Man, so I went to the flicks with Peggy instead.’
‘Shame! Good film?’ asked Hester.
‘It was OK.’ She hesitated. ‘I saw Cedric there, not that I spoke to him. He was talking to a woman in the next seat to him.’
All that Hester felt was relief at such news. ‘It didn’t take him long to find someone else.’
Before either of them could comment further, Ethel interrupted them.
‘Have you seen this in the Echo, Jeanette?’ She slapped the open page with the back of her hand.
Distracted, Jeanette said, ‘No, Aunt Ethel, I’ve only just got in. Is it something exciting?’
‘You should know. It’s got your name on it.’ Ethel’s eyes shone. ‘You are making an effort to find Grace after all.’
Jeanette sat on the arm of the chair and looked at the piece in the newspaper. ‘I wonder why they’ve put it in again.’
‘I can tell you why,’ said Hester. ‘It’s opposite an article about missing persons. With Christmas coming up it’s an emotive subject.’
‘I see what you mean,’ said Jeanette slowly. ‘It’s when families get together and think of those far and near.’
‘Well, Grace has never been in touch,’ said Ethel, ‘but maybe this time, so near Christmas, it will bring her out of the woodwork.’ She folded the newspaper and shoved it down the side of the cushion.
Jeanette exchanged looks with Hester and rolled her eyes before asking again did anyone want cocoa. As she went into the kitchen, Sam and her father came in. They were discussing a couple of cases of arson and a spate of burglaries. Hester joined in their conversation and so Jeanette went to bed.
It was not until Friday that Jeanette heard from David. She arrived at work to find an envelope on her desk. There was no stamp on it but she had a feeling she knew who it was from and slit it open immediately. As she had suspected it was from David and he had popped it into the letterbox in the Cunard Building as soon as the Mona’s Isle had docked. He explained what she already knew about the weather delaying the
ferryboat sailing and asked if she could meet him that evening at the same time and place.
Smiling, she replaced the letter in its envelope and, getting up from her desk, went and gazed out of the window towards the river. The snow had melted and the wind had dropped and all was right with her world. She thought of Hester who had left before dawn that morning to catch the coach that would take her to the conference. It was a shame that she had left so early because a letter had come for her by first post. Jeanette had placed it in a drawer in Hester’s bedroom out of harm’s way, convinced it was the one she had been waiting for from Ally because it was postmarked Germany. She just hoped Hester enjoyed her weekend away. At least she would be delighted to find the letter on her return.
Twenty-One
Hester settled herself happily by the window and considered herself fortunate to have found an inside seat unoccupied. Most seats on the coach were now taken and it was due to leave in ten minutes. She reached for the book in her bag and had just flicked over the pages to where she had placed her bookmark when a familiar voice said, ‘Well, well, well, look who’s here!’
Her heart sank and she did not immediately look up. It had occurred to her that Cedric might attend the conference, but she had hoped he wouldn’t.
‘Aren’t we speaking?’ he continued. ‘I’ve no hard feelings, Hester.’
Was that true? Slowly she lifted her head and looked up at him. He was smiling down at her as if she was the best thing he had seen in a long time. She found it hard to believe that he could be so forgiving of the embarrassment she had caused him in the cinema by walking out on him the way she did.
‘I wasn’t sure you’d be attending the conference,’ she said, far more calmly than she felt.
‘I thought you weren’t going either. Work commitments, wasn’t it?’ His smile did not quite reach his eyes this time.
‘I decided that you were right and the conference was an event I just had to attend, so I put in extra hours beforehand and stated my case to my inspector.’
‘Now that’s what I call sensible,’ said Cedric, reaching up and placing his overnight bag in the luggage rack overhead. ‘You don’t mind if I have the seat next to you, do you? Most are taken.’
She had seen that question coming and sensed that it was a rhetorical one. Already he was lowering himself into the seat beside her and removing his trilby. She noticed a book in the pocket of his mackintosh. It looked like he had intended reading. Good. Without another word, she dropped her gaze to the open pages before her. Hopefully she was giving him the impression that she didn’t care what he did and that her novel was far more interesting.
‘I’m not squashing you, am I?’
She did not look up. ‘As long as I can move my elbows to turn the pages.’
‘Doesn’t reading on a coach make you sick? A girl I once knew always felt nauseous if she tried to read while travelling.’
‘No, not at all!’ she said firmly. ‘Truthfully, I get bored if I don’t have a book with me when I travel. I don’t get enough time for light reading with the job.’
‘I don’t suppose you’d like to talk.’
‘You suppose right.’
There was the sound of the coach engine starting up and she breathed a sigh of relief, glad to be on the way. She had been looking forward to the journey, but now she felt that the sooner it was over the better.
Shortly after they left the coach station she felt Cedric’s elbow dig into her arm and her stomach muscles clenched. One more dig like that and she would have something to say to him. Fortunately he shifted slightly away from her and a few moments later she heard the rustle of pages being turned over. She waited several minutes before glancing at the cover of his book.
It was a dog-eared copy of No Orchids for Miss Blandish and caused her to raise her eyebrows. She had found the book disturbing. It was about ruthless gangsters in America during Prohibition with no heart when it came to dealing with people. She hadn’t finished it because some of the descriptions were so unpleasant and she hadn’t read any more books by that author. She gave her attention to her own library book that was much more pleasant.
‘So what do you think of the programme?’ asked Cedric.
‘I know exactly which talks and discussions I want to be in on,’ said Hester absently, without looking up.
‘I wish I did.’
She was surprised into glancing at him. Having read two of the main speaker’s books, she was eager to hear what he had to say. She would have thought Cedric would have felt the same.
He smiled at her. ‘That got your attention.’
She took a deep breath and counted silently to ten, then lowered her gaze to her book again.
‘I see you’re reading Helen MacInnes,’ he said.
‘Hmmm.’
‘So what’s she like?’
Hester decided she did not mind talking about books with him. ‘This one’s more of a love story, but I have read her wartime spy stories and there’s a thriller element in this, too,’ she said.
‘I saw the film of Ab
ove Suspicion with Joan Crawford, but I’ve never read anything of hers,’ said Cedric.
‘She’s good. Different from the author we’ll be listening to this weekend, but well worth a read.’
‘I’ll get my skates on when I get home and borrow one of hers from the library. Mind you, I’m going to be busy when I get back. Won’t have time for reading.’
She guessed he wanted her to ask what he would be doing. Maybe it would be useful to know. ‘What will you be doing?’
He grinned. ‘Have you heard about that new system for fingerprinting?’
She nodded. ‘My brother mentioned it. The Nynhydrin treatment.’
‘Smart girl!’
Irritated by his patronizing tone, Hester decided not to rise to it but continued, ‘It can be used when prints can’t be seen by normal photography or the naked eye.’
‘Criminals beware!’ he said, smirking. ‘When you think it’s sixty years since fingerprints were first used in bringing criminals to justice, yet there’s still those who don’t have the sense not to leave any.’
‘I wonder what the next big thing will be?’
‘I wonder.’ He stifled a yawn. ‘I hope there’s a decent bar in this place.’
‘It says in the leaflet that there is one,’ said Hester, opening her book again.
They both fell silent. A short while later when she glanced his way, he appeared to be asleep. Relieved, she smiled to herself and was taken by surprise when he said, ‘What are you thinking?’
She did not immediately answer, wondering how he would react if she told him the truth. Instead she said, ‘It shouldn’t take us much longer to get there.’
‘How do you know? Have you been up this way before?’
‘I was evacuated not far from where we’re staying.’
‘No! You never said anything.’
‘Why should I? I’m planning on visiting the woman I stayed with.’
He frowned. ‘When?’
‘Sunday afternoon.’
‘So you won’t be coming back on the same coach?’
‘No.’ She fell silent, thinking of Myra and then of Emma and their conversation outside the milk bar when they were alone for a few moments. They had discussed their half-sisters and Hester had told Emma about Jeanette’s narrow escape from Billy. Emma knew a little about him as a description of him had been reported to Dougie Marshall when he had responded to a cry for help in Bootle. A woman in one of the houses Billy had burgled had surprised him in the act and his fingerprints were found using the new system they’d just discussed. He had knocked the woman out and made his escape. Billy had still not returned home, so the question was, where was he hiding?
She sighed.
‘What’s the sigh for?’ asked Cedric.
‘I was just thinking of that young man who stabbed the Stadium doorman. You must have heard about it.’
His eyes flickered over her face. ‘Sure I did. He attacked your sister, didn’t he?’
‘Yes. I want him caught,’ she said in a hard voice.
‘I can understand that. Pretty girl, your sister,’ said Cedric, closing his eyes.
She stared at him and then reached for her book, resisting the temptation to hit him with it. She would be glad when they reached their destination.
Hester slumped against the pillow and yawned. Her head was buzzing, despite having drunk only one glass of wine. She was glad that she had come, despite Cedric. She liked her bedroom and had a lovely view from her window over part of the garden and beyond that Lancashire farmland. The first talk had held her attention and the conversation afterwards had been stimulating. She had met people whose company she had so enjoyed that she was looking forward to talking to them again. A fair number had no connection to the police force. Thankfully, she had seen little of Cedric. Once the talk was over he had made for the bar and had still been there when she had passed by. He had waved to her to come over but she had shook her head. He had scowled and then ordered another drink, from what she could see.
She washed her face and cleaned her teeth in the washbasin in her room and then put on pyjamas and housecoat to go to the lavatory just up the passage. When she returned, the door was slightly ajar and that puzzled her because she could have sworn she had closed it. Once inside the room she was about to lock the door when an arm slid around her waist and a hand covered her mouth. She started with fright and if she had not been so shocked, her reactions would have been swifter. As it was she only had a few moments in which to catch a glimpse of Cedric’s profile before he had her face down on the bed and was astride her.
‘Cedric, what are you playing at?’ she said angrily, lifting her head from the pillow.
‘I’m just testing the author’s theory that surprise is everything,’ he said.
An icy chill crept down her spine and she attempted to throw him off. ‘You’ve proved your point. Now get off me!’ she gasped.
He pushed her head down and stretched out on top of her. ‘Like hell I will. Even someone who’s been trained in ju-jitsu like you will have trouble getting out of this position.’
Her fear intensified when she heard a jangling noise and out of the corner of her eye saw that the noise came from a pair of handcuffs. Again she tried to buck him off but he was too heavy.
‘Th-this isn’t f-funny,’ she stammered. ‘Will you please get off me!’
‘No, I told you, I’m trying to prove a theory.’ He held her wrists in a vice-like grip and raised himself slightly. She struggled but it was no use and he managed to fasten the handcuffs about one of her wrists and then to the bedpost.
Oh dear God, she thought, panicking as she struggled to rid herself of his weight. She could hardly breathe. ‘I know what this is about,’ she gasped.
‘I should think you do. No one makes a show of me the way you did in the pictures. Who’s the bloke you prefer to me?’ he snarled. ‘I bet he doesn’t exist. It’s just that you don’t want a real man.’
She was tempted to tell him the truth but knew that would be a mistake in her position. She had to try and appease him. ‘I’m sorry. You’re right. Now please, let me go.’
‘No, I’m enjoying myself,’ he said against her cheek. The smell of alcohol was so strong that she almost passed out.
‘You’re drunk,’ she panted.
‘No, not drunk, just less inhibited than usual. Pity you’re not much of a drinker. You’d relax more and enjoy this.’
Never in a million years! ‘Please, Cedric, let me go and we’ll forget this ever happened. What would your mother think if she was here today?’
‘My mother? The old bitch is dead! Never left me in peace morning, noon or night, always on at me to do something or other.’
She felt him slide his hand down her pyjama bottoms and clasp her bare buttock and her fear began to spiral out of control. ‘Please don’t do that,’ she squeaked.
‘I like your pyjamas. I thought you might have been wearing a frilly nightie, but not you. You’re a tease. Still, the bottoms will come off easy enough.’
She felt as if a whole block of ice slithered down her spine as he began to drag them down. ‘D-Don’t be a fool!’
‘A fool! Is that what you call me? You’ve proved a big disappointment to me, Hester.’
‘I’m sorry. Please let me go!’
‘Say pretty please.’ He bit her neck and she screamed. ‘Naughty-naughty,’ he said.
Then he stopped talking and she was helpless to prevent what happened next. Into her head came the words: Don’t provoke an assailant into taking that step too far. Keep calm. But how could she remain calm when he was behaving like an animal on heat? She wanted to scream and go on screaming, but instead she felt as if she was suffocating in a wave of horror and pain. Then, as suddenly as the nightmare had begun, he removed himself. She could breathe again, but strangely she could not move her limbs. She could hear him gasping as he staggered about the room, then the door opened and closed.
She lay there, bruised
, humiliated and utterly terrified that he’d return. Tears trickled down her cheeks, for not only had he raped her, but he had left her handcuffed to the bedpost.
Her teeth started to chatter. Nervous reaction, she told herself, gazing about and praying he had left the key behind. Then she saw it on the bedside table. She managed to pick it up and unlock the cuffs before collapsing on the bed.
Then it was as if a light came on in her head. She had to wash herself! She must have a bath. Had to get rid of all trace of him, otherwise she just might get pregnant.
She forced herself upright, not bothering with her pyjama bottoms, and donned her housecoat before grabbing a towel, soap and flannel. She prayed that she would not meet anyone on the way to the bathroom. She intended locking the door to her room this time, but dropped the key twice before she managed to get it into the lock and turn it on the outside. She hoped no one had heard her. How could she face her new friends feeling as she did right now?
The water ran lukewarm but she did not care what the temperature was because she only needed a few inches to sit in. She felt better once in the water and with the door firmly locked. As she sat there, a longing for her mother came over her. The feeling was so intense that she felt her heart would break. She stuffed the flannel in her mouth to stop herself from howling.
Finally, she managed to pull herself together and rubbed herself vigorously with the towel. At least he had admitted that his mother was dead – he had hated her by the sound of it. She forced herself to walk sedately back to her room and, once inside, locked the door and climbed into bed still wearing her housecoat. She was shivering and would have liked a hot-water bottle, but that was out of the question.
Yet she could not lie still, knowing it was here that he had defiled her. She slid out of bed, dragged off the quilt and coverlet and took a blanket and wrapped it round her. Going over to the window, she drew back the curtains and stared out. There was a full moon shining over peaceful fields. She sat down in a chair and for the rest of the night remained there, trying not to think about what had taken place in this room a short while ago.
