Cry for Kit Page 6

  ‘What did happen?’

  ‘Everyone put pressure on Edward to go through with the marriage. He was threatened with being blacklisted, promised shares in the Mills, our old man said he’d commit suicide...and when none of those things brought him to heel, Amy told Edward that she was pregnant.’

  ‘Don’t be daft. Piers is eighteen today, but Johnny’s birthday fell six weeks ago, so she couldn’t have been pregnant when he made love to me.’

  ‘I didn’t say she was pregnant. I said she told him she was. Subtle distinction. Got him to marry her under false pretences, if you ask me. Who’s Johnny?’

  ‘My son by Edward. Edward didn’t even know he existed for several years, but he wants to acknowledge him now. It happened after you left for university.’

  It was a shock to him. He blinked, recovered, and demanded that I tell him everything. I did, even down to my determination to leave town so that the evil I had brought on everyone might die down.

  Jack listened without interruption, his face reflecting his concern over each facet of my story with rapid changes of expression. Unlike Edward, Jack was bad at concealing what he felt; later on that day I met someone else with the same mobility of feature, and was strongly reminded of him.

  ‘Catalyst!’ he exclaimed, when I had finished. ‘You’re not evil, and you’re off-balance to think that you are. The evil and the hatred were here before, damped down and therefore twice as vicious. You are the catalyst, that’s all. Your presence has given us all a little push, made us reassess existing situations, old relationships; like me and Marge. You aren’t responsible, because you didn’t will any of this to happen. It’s silly to blame yourself for my breaking with Marge, and as for feeling guilty about it—well, why should you? I knew you wouldn’t marry me...well, perhaps it did cross my mind that I might ask you, but I probably wouldn’t have done so. No! That’s a lie. I did mean to ask you. Marge charged me with it last night, and I told her I would marry you, if you’d have me. I’d forgotten about Edward, and that he might have a prior claim on you until I saw you both together in the Square just now. It shook me, I can tell you. There, there! Not to cry! I went and had a drink and told myself there was no harm done, and that I’d come and congratulate you, and ask you to find me someone just as nice as you so that we could have a double wedding...!’

  ‘What nonsense you talk!’ But his arm was comforting around me.

  ‘I’m glad you’ve come back. I was living in a land of dreams, comparing every woman to Liz and therefore unable to form a new relationship, even with Marge. Self-deception. I’ll tell you something else. I liked you a lot in the old days—who wouldn’t?—but I had another motive for taking you out, and that was to spite Edward. There I was, waltzing around with you, and my brilliant elder brother, who was the apple of Father’s eye, engaged to the richest girl in town, and had a golden future, was grinding his teeth in envy of me. Do you hate me for it, Kit?’

  I shook my head. I could understand how he’d felt. After all, hadn’t I gone out with him because he was the nearest thing I could get to Edward?

  ‘I’ve promised Con I won’t harm Edward, and I’ve managed to put him off me for good. Dear Jack, do try to understand!’

  ‘I understand more than you think, my girl. What, is Edward made of paper that he should fear to lose his job and that white elephant of a house? I know him better than you do. We signed a peace treaty years ago and I’d say we’ve been pretty good friends these last few years; especially since Liz died.’ He moved restlessly, releasing me, as sorrow hit him once more. ‘If Edward got the sack tomorrow he’d be offered half a dozen equivalent positions by the end of the week. You don’t seem to understand how big a name he’s become. As for Piers...’ Jack threw out his arms in defeat. ‘Edward has tried to instil some sense into the lad, and failed. He’s spoilt rotten, thinks only of money; a typical Coulster. Edward has had to fight Amy to bring the boy up straight, but...by the age of eighteen the fight is won or lost, isn’t it?’

  ‘Does Piers know about me? Could he have resented me on his mother’s behalf, and on his own...enough to do something about it?’

  ‘Like attack you? I have never heard him speak your name. Come to think of it, I’ve never heard Edward speak of you, either. It would depend on what Amy had told him, if anything. As to attacking you—yes, I think he might if he thought you represented a threat to him, but he’d have to be sure he could get away with it.’

  ‘What does he look like?’

  ‘Tall, fair-haired, handsome. Like Edward in looks but finer drawn. Like Amy in everything else. He could have attacked you. He left early, with Amy and Edward. Drove his mother back, I think. Edward took the Rolls, collected some things from the house and ended up at the Dragon. But then, lots of people left around the same time. Fred and Sheila had words and departed forthwith separately. Marge stormed out after the scene with me. I came in search of you, but you’d disappeared by that time. Let’s go and take a look at the scene of the crime, shall we?’

  I took him out into the Square. A number of people were now hanging around the wreck of my car. What ought I to do about it? They would trace it to Tinker at some point, I supposed, and although I could reimburse him for the damage, he would have to tell the police that I had rented it from him, and then they would want all sorts of details from me, which would drag all my friends into the filthy business. I explained this to Jack, who said that nevertheless it was my duty to tell what I knew.

  ‘This it?’ Jack paced the passageway. At the moment it was full of people hurrying to and fro between the Square and the shops beyond. We re-enacted the attack on me. Jack stood in for my unknown assailant, and then asked whether I could make a guess about relative heights.

  ‘About the same height as you,’ I said. ‘Which rules out Edward and Paul, who are taller. It also rules out poor Fred, who is so much larger.’

  ‘That’s a blow,’ said Jack. ‘Because it also rules out Piers, and I sometimes think I’d like to see my nephew in the dock. Take him down a peg.’

  I hoped he was joking, but feared he was not. ‘You’re not going to see anyone in the dock. I told you, I’m leaving.’

  ‘Their lucky day...night, rather!’ He pointed to the one and only light fitment in the alley, in which the bulb was broken. ‘The alley was dark, there was some piping to hand...’ He pointed to where workmen were digging a hole in the Square, fenced around with metal poles. ‘Only, if it was a spur-of-the-moment affair, why take the coat from the hotel? It’s only that fact which doesn’t fit my theory. I think maybe I will have a casual word with Piers tonight about dark alleys and bracelets; see if he looks self-conscious. Shall we go?’

  ‘Where?’

  ‘To see your son Johnny, of course. He’s also my nephew, and I’m not missing out on a relationship like that. You don’t think he’d like to be an architect, do you? I’ve got a practice all ready to hand on eventually, and enough money for two...’

  ‘But, Jack, I told you that Mary and Tom won’t even listen...’

  ‘Poor souls! I bet they’re scared stiff of you, with no legal hold on their blue-eyed boy.’

  ‘No legal...?’

  ‘You said they didn’t adopt him. Legally he’s John Jeffries. Of course, when you marry Edward he’ll be legitimised and I suppose he’ll become Edward’s heir. Piers comes into all the Coulster money as a matter of course. And don’t tell me you hadn’t thought about the legitimacy angle!’

  He opened the door of a good-looking Citroen and pushed me inside.

  ‘I am not marrying Edward,’ I said firmly.

  ‘I wouldn’t be too sure about that, if I were you. Edward has a way of getting what he wants. If he doesn’t tumble to it that Con has tried to choke you off, I’ll tell him myself. I’ll be seeing him tonight at the dance.’

  ‘I’ll be gone by then.’

  ‘Then he’ll come after you.’

  ‘No, he won’t. He’ll accept the situation. Coming after me wou
ld entail too great a break with his world. I admit that if I did stay, and made myself available, he’d be tempted...Jack, you’re going too fast! How could I have forgotten what a terrible driver you are? I want to arrive in London in one piece tonight!’

  Jack laughed, but slowed down, asking for directions to Mary’s place. I obliged, and then went back to worrying about my blown-up car, and Tinker, who was about Jack’s height and might well have...

  Nonsense. One good thing; Jack seemed to have forgotten about my making a report to the police.

  Mary and Tom lived in a quiet, tree-lined street of old-fashioned detached houses. Although Tom was a builder, his house had a neglected air. Mary was in the front garden, weeding, and a big-boned girl with long brown hair in a pigtail was mowing the lawn for her.

  ‘Jesus Christ!’ swore Jack as he parked the car. ‘Will you look at the way that woman holds herself! I’d like to dress her in a golden caftan, with her hair wound round her head.’

  He was staring at the brown-haired girl, whom I now saw was no girl, but a woman in her early thirties. It didn’t look to me as if she ever bothered with make-up, or nail varnish, or good clothes. She was a nice-looking girl, but nothing special. The sort of woman who usually detested me on sight.

  Mary saw me, and stood up. The brown-haired woman stopped mowing the lawn and stretched, with her arms high above her head. She wasn’t wearing a bra. She was taller than Jack would be, but, as he said, she was magnificently built. She half-smiled, seeing us, and lifted an eyebrow in Mary’s direction to find out whether her friend wished her to disappear now that visitors had arrived.

  ‘Don’t go, Hazel,’ said Mary, her pretty voice flattened into a monotone. Her eyes were on Jack, not me. ‘These people are not staying.’

  ‘Good afternoon, Mrs Blake,’ said Jack, offering his hand. ‘I’m Jack Straker. I’ve only just heard about Johnny, and all I can say is that I wish I’d known about him all along.’

  ‘Get out!’ Mary struck at his hand and backed away.

  ‘Don’t be silly, Mary,’ I said. I felt deathly tired, but now that we were there, I supposed we had to go through the motions. I could see that Mary was not open to argument. There was no car standing in the garage, so Tom must be out. The house looked blank. I was sure that Johnny wasn’t in.

  ‘What is it?’ Jack asked me. ‘Does she think I’m the boy’s father?’ Then to Mary, ‘I wish I were. I’m his uncle, you see. Come now—let’s be sensible. Maybe you can ensure that Kit doesn’t see the boy if she’s only here for a few days, but you can’t stop me making his acquaintance because I live here and now that I know about him, I can make contact with him any time I wish.’

  Mary’s eyes were wild. I don’t think she understood half of what Jack had said. I tried to touch her. She turned and ran into the house. The brown-haired woman hesitated, and then asked Jack if he thought she should go after Mary. It was interesting that she should turn to Jack for information. While Jack started to explain that he thought it would be best if I talked to my sister alone, I ran after Mary through the dark hall into the kitchen. She was taking some pills. Tranquillisers, I suppose. Poor Mary.

  Unasked, I sat down at the kitchen table.

  I enquired where Tom and Johnny might be. She didn’t reply. She was crying. Her hair was untidy and she wore an ancient apron over a print dress that had seen better days. She was plainer than ever, and not for the first time I wondered how our parents had come to produce two such very different children. No wonder we had never been able to talk easily to each other. I wondered what she would say if I offered to put money into Tom’s business in exchange for the right to see my son.

  I asked if I might have a cup of tea. Slowly, her hands trembling, she put the kettle on and sorted out some cups and saucers. When I thought she was calm enough to take in what I was saying, I told her that I was leaving town that evening and would not be coming back. That got through to her. She pushed her fingers through her hair and took off her apron, throwing it over the back of a chair. She liked the idea that I was leaving so much that she even glanced into a mirror that hung on the wall, and pulled at the collar of her dress. I hoped she wasn’t comparing it with my Paris rigout, but I’m afraid that she was.

  ‘That’s very sensible of you,’ she said, regaining poise with every minute that passed. I suppose the pills were beginning to work, too. ‘There’s no place for you here. You’ve got your own friends in America, and I expect Pat left you well provided for...Americans carry lots of insurance, don’t they?’

  ‘I’ve money enough and friends of a sort, though not of the kind you can rely on through hard times. Life’s not the same over there. It’s materialistic, self-centred and hasty. I liked it well enough when Pat was alive, but ours was an unusual marriage because we never knew when Pat would get ill again; because of that we tried to make everything we did perfect for the other. I never kidded myself that it would be the same without him, and it isn’t. I’m tired, Mary. I dreamed of coming back here and settling down somewhere close to you...but it’s been brought home to me today that day-dreams have no place in the modern world.’

  ‘That’s right. You don’t belong here.’ Her behaviour was almost normal, now.

  ‘About Johnny,’ I said. ‘I accept that he doesn’t want to meet me yet, and I have to trust you not to turn him against me for good. There’s his father to be considered, too. Have you told Johnny yet about his father?’

  ‘No, I’ve decided it would not be right for him to know. He’ll be going off to university in less than a month. I don’t want his mind filled with nonsense about rich relations when it ought to be on his books.’

  ‘And who is to pay? You want me to increase the allowance?’

  ‘He got a scholarship, and as for the rest, we will manage.’

  ‘But, Mary, there’s no need for you to manage. I have plenty of money and—here...’ I took out the building society book which Edward had given me, and laid it on the table. ‘This money has been laid by for Johnny by his father. Con will give you a cheque for the total in a few days’ time.’

  ‘Johnny doesn’t need the money. He’s not like you, a parasite living on other people’s earnings. We’ve brought him up to fend for himself.’ Nevertheless, she picked up the book and fingered it. No doubt she was thinking that her husband could do with the money, if Johnny didn’t need it.

  ‘Take it,’ I coaxed. ‘And of course I will continue Johnny’s allowance. Whether you like it or not, both his mother and his father have money, and he’ll be a rich man when we pass on. Suppose I asked Edward to arrange for Tom to be loaned some money, just to tide him over...?’

  She didn’t like the idea. Her hand jerked as she made the tea, spilling boiling water on the table. She mopped it up with her apron.

  ‘We don’t want your money,’ she said. ‘We’ll manage.’

  ‘Would you like to adopt Johnny?’

  ‘What do you mean? He is ours already.’

  ‘Not legally. Suppose I were to arrange it—I think Edward would agree—then Johnny would bear your name legally. All I ask is that we are allowed access, his father and I. Edward must be allowed to meet the boy when he wishes, and you must send him to see me in New York for a couple of days every year. Surely that would satisfy everyone?’

  She worked it out. If I were leaving, she had nothing to fear from me, and as for Edward, he had not contacted her before, and he might never get around to doing so.

  ‘You must think I’m a fool!’ she said, ‘Bribing me to sell Johnny. You make me laugh! To think I’ve made myself ill, worrying about what you might do! Johnny is mine, and I’m keeping him! Take your money, and take Mr Hypocrite Straker’s money, and get back where you came from!’

  I had hardly touched my tea, but I stood up and backed away, so powerful was her fury.

  ‘I shall have my solicitors write to Johnny direct,’ I warned her.

  She threw the teapot at me. It smashed against the wall. I fled, s
ucking my hand where it had been scalded. In the hall I brushed past some coats on a hat-stand which had once stood in the hall of the house where I had been born and brought up. One of the coats would be Johnny’s. So near and yet so far away.

  Jack was with the brown-haired girl in the garden next door, talking. He waved to me, and disappeared indoors with her. I collapsed into his car, wondering if there was anything I could have said to Mary to make her change her mind. Perhaps it wasn’t surprising that I had failed to get through to her; she was so much older than I, she had been married straight from school, and had never known what it was to earn her own living. She had always behaved more like a disapproving aunt than an elder sister, and when I became pregnant she had treated me as if I were a naughty little girl who could be scolded into good behaviour. Come to think of it, yesterday was the first time we had met as adults.

  My throat ached, and I wanted to cry, but felt it would not be fair to land Jack with a crying female twice in one day. I wanted Pat, badly. I’d been floating along on a make-believe dream of the future, of the day when I would return home to queen it over all those who had despised me before, and live in a Never Never Home with Edward and Johnny, Happily Ever After.