A Daughter's Ruin

by Kitty Neale

  ‘Maybe you could work from home, offer private elocution lessons or something like that. I for one would love to speak as well as you.’

  ‘It’s a thought, something to keep in mind if my father turns me away.’

  ‘Do you still see Melvin?’

  ‘Yes, if he’s in the park, but once winter draws in I doubt we’ll see much of each other.’

  ‘I’m surprised the gossips haven’t picked up on it.’

  ‘I don’t care if they do. We aren’t doing anything wrong. We just talk, that’s all.’

  ‘I know, love, but you know what they’re like round here. I wonder if Penny has had her baby.’

  ‘Melvin hasn’t said, but then again I’m not sure if Penny writes to them from that mother and baby home.’

  ‘I feel sorry for her. When I had Andrew there was no way I could’ve given him up.’

  ‘I feel the same about William.’

  Jill suddenly grinned. ‘I wonder what it’s like with a black man. Sex, I mean.’

  ‘Jill!’ Constance exclaimed, but then giggled. ‘I have no idea. I’ve only had sex once and I can’t say I thought much of it.’

  ‘With the right man, and if he’s any good, it’s amazing. Denis may give me a clout now and then, but he makes up for it in bed.’

  Jill had no qualms when it came to talking about sex, and Constance, now used to it, no longer felt embarrassed. She wondered if she would ever find the right man, and if she did, if she too would find enjoyment in the act.

  Charles enjoyed a leisurely drive to the coast, where he had found a room in a five-star hotel. He’d enjoyed a very acceptable dinner, and now on this balmy evening he was strolling along by the beach. He saw a large selection of restaurants and bars, noting that although it was close to the end of September, many were still busy.

  Conversation and laughter drifted from the tables, and he felt a twinge of loneliness. It would have been nice to share the sights and sounds he’d seen with a travelling companion, but there hadn’t been anyone he could invite. At least he’d had occasional company, sharing hotel dinners with some very interesting people, but now, God, he was worn out.

  He saw a bar with a small terrace, and decided to stop for a brandy. There was only one table free, and as he took a seat the buzz of conversation around him emphasised his loneliness. He’d once wanted to take his mistress Jessica abroad, but it had come to nothing. He felt she would have liked Malaga. Then, as the waiter came to take his order, an excruciating pain gripped him. He clutched his chest. It was agonising, crushing, but then blackness descended, his chair tipped over and he crashed to the floor.

  Chapter 34

  The letter came at the end of October, but until she opened it Constance had no idea who had sent it. She read it, and unable to believe it, read it again. It couldn’t be true. It just couldn’t. Tears came then, and an overwhelming feeling of loss. With her mother dead and now her father too, she was an orphan, and though her father had virtually disowned her, they had once been close. Constance clutched the letter from her father’s solicitor and sobbed uncontrollably. It was some time before she was calm enough to read it again.

  The solicitor wanted to see her regarding her father’s will and estate. She had no idea what to expect, but as he had felt she’d let him down badly, he might have cut off her inheritance. If he had, she hoped to have at least been given her mother’s jewellery. It wasn’t something she wanted to do, but if she sold it, it would surely give her the means to leave Albie.

  Constance decided to go to the solicitor’s at once, and hoped he would see her without an appointment. Albie was asleep after his night shift so she dressed quietly and carefully in her smartest outfit. She decided to ask Jill if she would look after William.

  ‘Hello,’ Jill said, opening her door and smiling. ‘Where are you off to all dressed up for the kill?’

  ‘I … I’ve just heard that my father has passed away and I have to see his solicitor.’

  ‘Oh, my God, me and my big mouth. I’m so sorry, love, I should have seen that you’ve been crying. What happened?’

  ‘I don’t know, but I’m hoping his solicitor can tell me. Jill, can I ask you a favour? Can you look after William for me?’

  ‘Of course I can,’ she agreed. ‘Wheel him in.’

  William was sitting up in his pram, and beamed at Jill. He was nearly six months old now, but still Albie hardly showed any interest in him. ‘You be a good boy for Auntie Jill.’

  ‘He’ll be fine,’ Jill said as she lifted him from his pram to sit him next to Andrew.

  The two of them chuckled to see each other, and, feeling happier about leaving him, Constance said her goodbyes. ‘I shouldn’t be too long.’

  ‘Take as long as you need.’

  Constance hurried along Kibble Street, hoping when she reached the main road to spot a taxi. She was in luck and was soon on her way to Chelsea, where her father’s solicitor saw her without an appointment.

  ‘Please accept my condolences,’ he said.

  ‘Thank you,’ she replied, the sympathy almost making her cry again. ‘Do … do you know how and where my father died?’

  ‘He died on September the twenty-seventh in Spain, and the cause of death was an aneurysm.’

  ‘The end of September?’ Constance exclaimed. ‘That’s a month ago. Why has it taken this long for me to find out?’

  ‘There are several reasons. Firstly, your father died in a bar, and he wasn’t carrying any identification. This meant the Spanish authorities had difficulty in identifying him. It was only when a hotel reported that a man matching your father’s description hadn’t returned to his room for over a week that they linked the two. The hotel held his passport and details, so they were then able to get in touch with the authorities here.’

  The solicitor paused to consult some papers on his desk and then continued. ‘It seems that when the local police were informed and went to your father’s house, they found it empty.’

  ‘He planned to be away for some time so he got rid of the staff and closed it up.’

  ‘Consequently, the police couldn’t find anybody to inform of his death. However, amongst other things, the Spanish authorities had returned your father’s wallet, and as my card was in it they got in touch with me. I told them that I had been appointed executor of your father’s will, so they left matters with me. The problem was I had no idea how to contact you.’

  ‘Goodness, it all sounds rather complicated.’

  ‘You were not easy to find. As your father’s will had not been amended for some time I had no record of your married name. I felt the best course to start with was to send someone to talk to your father’s neighbours in the hope that they could offer information. Fortunately, one of them could, a Mr Parkinson, who had your address.’

  ‘Yes, I left it with him.’

  ‘With the address, I was able to write to you, and here you are,’ he said. ‘Now, before I read his will, there is the question of your father’s remains.’

  Constance found herself quietly crying again. She listened to the solicitor telling her the options, deciding on a cremation in Spain, the ashes being returned to England. She couldn’t see the need for a funeral here, especially as she would be the only one in attendance. She’d think about what to do with the ashes when the time came, or at least when she felt calm again.

  ‘Right, Mrs Jones, now that has been decided on perhaps you’d like me to tell you the terms of your father’s will.’

  ‘Yes, please,’ she said, bracing herself for disappointment.

  ‘Mary, how long are you going to keep me waiting for an answer?’ Percy asked when the breakfast rush was over and they were sitting at a table, Percy with a cup of tea and Mary with a cola.

  ‘You only asked me a week ago.’

  ‘I know, but when you said you needed time to think about it, I didn’t expect it to take this long.’

  ‘It’s just a bit quick, that’s all.’

 
‘I waited until you’re past eighteen, and we’re only talking about getting engaged.’

  ‘Yeah, I know, but it’s still a big commitment.’

  ‘Is it because you don’t like the ring? I could change it for another one, and this time you can come with me to choose it.’

  ‘It’s not that. I love the ring.’

  ‘Well, what then?’

  Mary could see the hurt in his eyes, and realised she was being silly. Percy had been so good to her, taking her to many wonderful places, the theatre, art galleries and museums. They had been a revelation and she’d been so impressed by his knowledge on so many subjects. When had she fallen in love with him? She wasn’t sure. It had sort of crept up on her and now the age difference didn’t seem to matter. She smiled, and said, ‘All right then, my answer is yes.’

  ‘Mary, that’s brilliant,’ Percy piped and though there were only a few customers, he called out, ‘Listen, everyone. We’ve just got engaged. Mary is now my fiancée.’

  ‘Good on ya,’ one elderly male customer said.

  Helen came rushing over, smiling with delight. ‘It’s about time,’ she said. ‘You two are made for each other.’

  Percy grinned. ‘Thanks, Helen.’

  ‘If you ask me,’ a middle-aged woman said as she rose to leave, ‘it’s bloody cradle-snatching. You oughta be ashamed of yourself, taking advantage of a young girl!’

  ‘Yeah, well, nobody is asking you,’ Helen snapped at her.

  ‘It’s all right,’ Mary said. ‘I don’t suppose she’ll be the only one to think that.’

  ‘Sod them,’ Helen said. ‘It’s just sour grapes – miserable people who are envious of anyone who has found a bit of happiness.’

  ‘Yes, Mary, I think Helen’s right,’ said Percy.

  Mary squeezed his hand. He was so worried about how she’d be affected by comments about the gap in their ages. Percy might be called a cradle-snatcher and she a gold-digger, but she wouldn’t let it come between them. ‘I don’t give a toss what people say, Percy. If they can’t be happy for us, then, like Helen said, sod them.’

  Percy looked so relieved and her heart swelled. They’d be fine, their future rosy.

  Constance returned to Kibble Street, and though still upset about her father, she felt as if a weight had been lifted as her life was about to change. She’d been left her father’s entire estate and was now a wealthy young woman. Her only problem was Albie – as her husband, he no doubt had a right to a share of her money, but she had spoken to the solicitor about applying for an annulment. He had given her the name of a colleague to contact who specialised in family law, and she would make an appointment to see him. In the meantime she’d decided to keep the news of her father’s death and her inheritance from Albie, only telling him once the marriage had been dissolved. Until then, she would let him think she was leaving him and that her father was taking her in.

  Constance pondered. Was she being mean? No, she didn’t think so. Albie had only married her because her father had paid him to, and it was obvious he had never loved her. They’d been married for less than a year and it had been an emotional roller coaster. Albie had been awful to her at the start, and his excuses for that behaviour had been thin, blaming her for so-called criticism of him. His attitude towards her had improved, but he had turned again when he’d found out she was seeing Ethel. Nowadays he was polite but distant, and due to his job rarely at home. Yet, in retrospect, he had been out nearly every evening when he wasn’t working, and their marriage was like ships passing in the night.

  ‘How did you get on?’ Jill asked.

  Constance trusted Jill and told her about her inheritance, watching her friend’s eyes widen.

  ‘Blimey, so you’re rich now.’

  ‘Let’s say I’ll be comfortably off.’

  ‘I bet Albie sits up and takes notice of you now.’

  ‘Not of me, just my money. But I’m not going to tell him about it, at least not yet,’ Constance told her, going on to explain the ramifications of the marriage annulment.

  ‘But surely he’d have to be informed, and given the right to dispute your claim.’

  ‘Oh, goodness, yes, I hadn’t thought of that.’

  ‘Also, and I hate to burst your bubble, Connie, but how can you prove that your marriage hasn’t been consummated?’

  ‘I … I don’t know.’

  ‘He’ll deny it, and as you have a baby I think he might be believed. I hate to be the devil’s advocate, but William wasn’t an immaculate conception.’

  ‘Yes, but he was conceived before our marriage.’

  ‘Connie, think about it. Do you really think it’ll be believed that though you and Albie had consensual sex before marriage, after that it stopped?’

  ‘So you don’t believe me?’

  ‘I didn’t say that. I’m on your side and of course I do. It’s just that I’m not sure anyone else will, especially if Dora backs her son.’

  Constance was quiet. She thought about it and realised that Jill was probably right. There was no point in paying lawyers to take up her case if it couldn’t be proved.

  ‘You could apply for a divorce.’

  Constance realised it was probably her only option. ‘Yes, but I know so little about divorce laws and it’ll take a lot more time.’

  ‘Maybe it’ll be quicker if Albie doesn’t contest it.’

  ‘If I offer to pay him off, I doubt he will. He doesn’t love me and never has.’

  ‘Won’t he question where you got the money from to do that?’

  ‘I’ll say my father is providing it.’

  ‘Yes, I suppose that could work.’

  Jill made them both a drink and they sat planning and chatting for another half an hour, but with something else she wanted to do, Constance then left.

  It was three-thirty in the afternoon when Ethel opened the door to Constance. Frowning, she said, ‘For you to turn up at this time of day, there must be something wrong. Come in, love.’

  Constance sat down with William perched on her lap, and said, ‘Ethel, my father has passed away.’

  ‘What? No, I can’t believe it.’

  ‘I went to see his solicitor this morning. He died in Spain, a sudden death due to an aneurysm.’

  ‘Bloomin’ ’eck. I’m so sorry, love.’

  ‘The thing is, I’m to inherit his estate, the house, his investments and his savings.’

  ‘I’m sorry he passed away, but this means you’ll be able to move back to Clapham and into that lovely house.’

  ‘That’s what I want to talk to you about. I’d like you and Mary to move in with me. I don’t mean as staff, I mean as friends, and it’ll be rent-free.’

  ‘Oh, love, I don’t think Albie will allow that.’

  ‘He won’t be living with me and can’t do anything about it. I’m not sure how you’ll feel about this, but to start with I’m not going to tell Albie that my father has died. I’m just going to say that I’m leaving him and moving back to Clapham. I can’t prove that our marriage hasn’t been consummated, but I can apply for a divorce. I’m hoping he doesn’t find out about my father’s death until the divorce is finalised and it’s too late for him to make a claim on my assets.’

  ‘I don’t think it’s going to be as easy as that, love. I may be wrong, but I think you have to be married for more than a year before you can get a divorce. And what about William?’

  ‘I’ll agree to Albie seeing him, Dora too, but I can’t live with Albie any longer, Ethel, I just can’t.’

  ‘It’s such a shame your marriage has to end like this, but despite him being my grandson, I blame Albie. If he’d treated you right and been a proper husband, it could have been different.’

  ‘Ethel, will you talk to Mary about moving in with me? Without rent to pay you’ll be financially better off, and you can have your pick of the rooms.’

  ‘I dunno, love. We like it here, and Mary loves her job. I’ll ask her, but don’t bank on it,’ Ethel gently
said. She hated to see Constance so disappointed, then suddenly realised that when Mary married Percy, she needn’t be alone as she’d feared. When that time came, she’d be able to move in with Constance.

  When Albie got up at four o’clock he was annoyed to see that Connie wasn’t in. Where the hell was she? Connie was supposed to cook their dinner and his mother would be looking for hers when she came home from work. His routine was to eat then leave, giving him time to spend with his lover before he started his shift in the bar. He enjoyed his job, and the delights it brought his way, thanks to a lack of jealousy. Just last week they’d experimented with three in a bed and it had been amazing.

  However, there was a fly in the ointment. There were times when he was pushed to leave Connie and move in permanently, then sulks when he said he couldn’t. He’d tried to explain that one day he stood to inherit a lot of money, and that it would be daft to throw it all away. It hadn’t gone down well, with sulks again, and now Albie was wondering if he should forget Burton Blake’s money in favour of a life with someone he really loved.

  After pondering on it, Albie’s lust for money and his fear of upsetting his mother won. He would stay in Kibble Street for now, thankful that at least he didn’t have to perform for Connie. She’d never excite him and, though it had happened once, it was never going to happen again.

  ‘Where the hell have you been?’ Albie shouted when Connie walked in at five-thirty.

  ‘To see your gran.’

  ‘I ain’t standing for this. I agreed that you could visit her, but not until this time of day. My mum is worn out after being at work all day and I don’t want her lumbered with cooking our dinner.’

  ‘I prepared everything before I left, the potatoes and the vegetables. They’ve only got to have the gas lit under them, just leaving the sausages to fry.’