‘You’ve got mice,’ Rita blurted out.
Dinah looked horrified. ‘Mice! Emilio, do something.’
Bob appeared in the doorway with a long-handled broom.
Jeremy got in on the act as well. ‘You need to set a trap, or better still, do you have a cat?’
‘Next door does, said Rita, ‘and so does Elsie Dawson over the road.’
With Emilio and Jeremy’s help, she borrowed the cat from next door but after an initial show of vague interest he sauntered off. However, Elsie’s cat was a lot leaner and before long she was chasing a mouse out of the back door. Jeremy put his arms around Emilio’s and Rita’s shoulders and laughed. ‘Give pussy a medal, darling.’
By the end of the afternoon, Dinah had three piles in the middle of the sitting room floor, one for a jumble sale, one to keep and one to throw away. The house itself had been virtually gutted.
‘All we need now are the decorators,’ said Dinah.
‘I could do a bit for you,’ said Bob. ‘I don’t have to go back until next week.’
‘Oh Bob, could you?’ Dinah gushed. ‘How much should I give you?’
‘No charge,’ said Bob firmly and Dinah kissed his cheek.
‘When are you moving in?’ Rita asked.
‘I’m not,’ said Dinah. ‘I told you, I’m off to RADA next month. Jeremy is going to rent it.’
Rita looked at Jeremy and he did a deep bow.
It seemed a little odd that someone like Jeremy, obviously well educated and talented, should want to live in what was a working-class area. Rita supposed it must be because it was near the station and one of the girls had told her he had a job in London. All the same, why not get a larger house more in keeping with his position in life?
‘We’re all going back to Emilio’s place,’ Dinah announced. ‘Thank you for your help and I’m buying all of you a meal.’ She linked arms with Bob and walked ahead of them.
As Rita walked back up the road with Emilio on one arm and Jeremy on the other, she couldn’t have been happier. After all the dark days since her sister vanished, things were finally on the up.
Grace had had a terrible week. Saying goodbye to Archie had been the worst thing she’d ever had to do. She’d tried to keep her crying private but Rita had noticed.
‘Is everything all right between you and Mr Warren, Mum?’
Grace had the ironing board out and was ironing the sheets. Rita was getting ready to go out. ‘There’s no Mr Warren and me,’ said Grace firmly.
‘I’m sorry,’ said Rita. ‘I liked him.’
‘I’ve got a new job,’ said Grace.
‘You’re giving up your job at the factory?’
‘No, of course not,’ said Grace impatiently. ‘This is to earn a little bit of extra money. Mr Finley wants me to do some cleaning.’ Grace kept her head down and hoped that Rita would put her flushed cheeks down to the heat of the iron.
‘So are you going back to the factory to clean it?’ asked Rita anxiously. ‘Oh Mum, if you have to walk out and about in the winter, will you be safe? I mean, you know what happened last time.’
‘He wants me to clean one of his houses,’ said Grace. ‘I’m going there on Thursday night.’
‘One of his houses? How many has he got?’
‘No idea,’ Grace shrugged. ‘He rents them out. Anyway, where are you off to tonight?’
‘Dinah has invited me to the WMCS auditions.’
‘I thought they’d only just finished their show,’ Grace frowned.
‘They do two shows a year,’ said Rita patiently. ‘This is for the October show. They’re doing Mr Cinders.’
‘Very nice,’ said Grace.
‘I wish you didn’t have to work for that Mr Finley, Mum. He’s horrible.’
‘What makes you say that?’
‘He came into the shop the other day and he was really nasty to Miss Bridewell.’
‘Oh?’ said Grace, suddenly interested. ‘What on earth was he doing in Hubbard’s dress department?’
‘Buying a dress for his fancy woman,’ said Rita. ‘He chose this lovely midnight blue dress and when Miss Bridewell asked him if he’d like it delivered to his home address, he told her, in front of everybody, to mind her own bloody business and to wrap it up for him to take now.’
Grace stared at her daughter in disbelief.
‘And while she was doing that,’ said Rita carrying on regardless, ‘he told her that if she mentioned the dress to anyone, and I mean anyone,’ Rita was beginning to mimic Norris Finley’s voice, ‘“I shall see to it that none of you can get work anywhere between here and Portsmouth.”’
Rita pushed her feet into her shoes. ‘I mean, I don’t like Miss Bridewell very much but there’s no need to be nasty, is there? All the girls are talking about it.’
There was a knock at the door. Rita opened it and Elsie Dawson was on the doorstep. ‘Is your mother in?’
Grace looked up from her ironing. ‘Come in, Else,’ she said. ‘I’ve had enough of ironing and you’re just the excuse I need to put the kettle on.’
Grace began putting the ironing board back and Rita put her coat on. ‘Don’t wait up, Mum. We may be late.’
‘Don’t I get a kiss now?’ Grace complained good-naturedly.
Rita blew her one from the doorway.
‘I suppose you’ve heard?’ said Elsie when she’d gone.
‘Heard what?’ said Grace.
‘They’re burying poor George Matthews tomorrow. Nobody’s come forward to claim the body so the council is having to do it.’
Thursday came all too soon. Grace was on time and let herself in with the key. The house was bigger than hers, white fronted with a small front garden protected from the road by a flint wall. It had three floors and back in her mother’s day in the thirties, it had been called Montpelier Terrace. Grace remembered old Mrs Pratt who lived there but now it was empty. The house smelled musty and damp.
Grace felt sick with apprehension. She hated the fact that she was even in this position. She should tell Norris to go to hell, but she daren’t. What if he did go to the police? Bonnie might be dragged back to town. Even if it were proven in the end that she’d done nothing wrong, Grace knew that the mud would stick. What if she
had
done something to that boy? Grace shuddered. No, not Bonnie. The other puzzle was why she had taken the letter from John’s grandfather. Could she be hoping to find him?
A key turned in the lock and Grace jumped as the door opened. It was Norris. Grace tasted the bile in her mouth. She was trembling and her heart had started banging in her chest.
He smiled and took off his coat. ‘Hello, Grace,’ he purred. ‘Make yourself at home. Take off your coat.’
She closed her eyes. The full horror of what was about to happen made her sway. She took off her coat and let it fall to the couch.
‘Let’s go upstairs,’ he said. ‘Come on.’
‘Norris,’ she whispered, ‘please don’t make me do this.’
‘I told you, nobody’s making you do anything,’ he said again. He took her arm roughly and pushed her towards the hallway and the stairs. She felt like she was being frogmarched. They reached the bedroom door.
‘It’s nothing you haven’t done before, now is it?’ he said silkily.
‘But I …’ She turned towards him and his mouth was over hers. She felt his arm tighten around her waist drawing her towards him while his right hand kneaded her breast. Her heart was pounding, not with desire, but with a plethora of other feelings. Betrayal … she was falling or perhaps had already fallen in love with Archie. She had wanted to give herself to him but here she was with this creep. Disgust … how could she make love, no it would never be like that with Norris, have intercourse with a man she didn’t even like? She was nothing more than a tart. Fear … what if he got her pregnant? She and Michael always joked that he only had to hang his trousers on the bedpost and she’d be pregnant. She wasn’t old. She was 41 and would be 42 in June. There was still plenty of time for babies. What if she had yet another Finley out of wedlock?
By now he had her blouse off, her petticoat pulled down and her bra off and was kissing her breasts. She wanted to throw up. He pulled back and looked at her. ‘Enjoy it, Grace,’ he said. ‘You know you want it. It’s been a long time since Michael.’
‘I’m only here because you’ve forced me into it,’ she said curling her lip. ‘I’ll never enjoy it with you.’
Norris glared at her with such a terrible expression she honestly thought he was going to hit her. ‘I’ve always wanted you, Grace,’ he said in a measured tone. ‘And one way or another, I shall have you. You can be nice to me. It won’t make any difference what you do but it might be a lot nicer for you if you co-operate.’
She felt her skirt slide to the floor and as he pressed his mouth over hers once again, he was already fully aroused. He pushed her to the bed, spread her legs roughly and mounted her. He was so heavy she could hardly breathe. ‘Relax,’ he said hoarsely. ‘If you think the past was good, you’re in for a treat. Now you’re in the hands of a real man.’
When it was finally over Grace waited until he fell asleep. It didn’t take long. She slipped out of bed and reached for her things. Fully dressed she stared down at him. Where was the locket? His trousers lay in a heap on the floor. She picked them up and felt the pockets. Some loose change made a clinking sound and she froze. She didn’t see him open his eyes because as she slowly turned, he snapped them shut. To her way of thinking, he hadn’t moved. She laid the trousers on the chair at the end of the bed and picked up his jacket. It had three pockets, two on the outside and an inside breast pocket. One of the outside pockets had a soiled handkerchief but the other was empty. The inside pocket contained his wallet, a style which only took notes. She put it back and hung the coat neatly around the back of the chair and put her hand to her mouth. What an idiot she’d been. He had no intention of giving her the locket, had he? She stared at him, hatred and loathing welling up in her chest like a fiery rod and then he opened his eyes.
‘Going somewhere, Grace?’
She couldn’t speak. Her heart was racing and her voice died in her throat. She wanted to hit him. He smiled but it was more than a smile. It was a look of triumph, a look of superiority. She’d seen that look before. The first time was when they were kids. She and a whole crowd of other children played with him during the long summer holidays when he’d bullied Eric Millam to climb a tree over by Northbrook Farm. It was far too big of course, and Eric fell. He’d broken his leg and walked with a pronounced limp ever since. The second time was the day his brother died and he’d come all the way over to Mum’s house to tell her.
She raised her hand at him but he caught her by the wrist and pulled her down towards him.
‘Where is it?’ she hissed.
He pulled her hand onto his member. ‘Here.’
She tried to snatch her hand away, refusing to touch him. ‘You know what I mean,’ she said coldly. ‘The locket.’
‘Oh, the locket,’ he mocked. ‘Sorry, I forgot to bring it.’
‘Then we’re finished here, Norris,’ she said, tugging at her arm.
‘Were you going to hit me, Grace?’ He tightened his grip and she couldn’t break free. ‘You could get into serious trouble if you hit your boss, you know. It might even cost you your job.’
She stared at him in horror. Still keeping hold of her wrist, he began to unbutton her blouse again. She tried to jerk away but he was too strong for her. ‘And if you upset your landlord as well …’
Their eyes met and they both knew she was defeated. She closed her eyes and threw her head back with an anguished moan.
He carried on undoing her blouse, and then slipped his hand into her bra. ‘But let’s not waste time talking about all that, Grace. It’s far too early to go home just yet. You still have some more cleaning to do.’
He let her go at around 9.30pm. She slunk out of the house, terrified that someone, a neighbour or a passing policeman, might see her. She had never before felt such utter shame. It scalded her whole body. She wanted to die but even that wasn’t an option. There was still Rita to consider. She shuddered. Dear Lord, what if Rita found out? She was crying silent tears when she reached the house. Wiping her eyes with the heel of her hand, she braced herself and unlocked the door.
For a second she thought the house was in darkness but then she saw the light coming from the open stair door. ‘Is that you, Mum?’
‘Yes, love.’
‘I didn’t expect you to be this late,’ Rita called. ‘You must be shattered. Want me to come down and make you a cup of tea?’
‘No!’ Grace spoke far too quickly but she knew she couldn’t look her daughter in the eye, not tonight. She pulled herself together and spoke in a more conciliatory tone. ‘I’m fine, love. Really. I just need a wash and then I’ll be up.’
‘OK,’ said Rita. ‘Night, Mum.’
‘Goodnight, love.’
Wearily, Grace boiled the kettle and went into the scullery. She washed herself all over, paying special attention to ‘down below’, but no matter how many times she soaped the flannel, she still didn’t feel clean. What upset her most was that her body was still ready for him. That was the real betrayal. She wanted to shut down and be so small he could never get inside her again. He filled her thoughts as well. As she relived some of the moments she would feel her body responding. She hated this. She was trapped and helpless. He had threatened her job and her home. If he wanted her to do it again, she would have to go. What terrified her the most was the thought that in the end she wouldn’t mind. Perish the thought … perish the thought!
Washed and clean on the outside, she sat at the kitchen table with a cup of tea. He had given her a brown paper bag as she’d headed for the door. ‘Don’t forget your wages,’ he’d said. She’dsnatched it from him, anxious to get away. He’d laughed softly. ‘I’ve bought you a pinny to wear next time you come.’
She’d thrown it into Michael’s chair as she made her way to the scullery. It lay there, accusing and mysterious.
She opened the bag and pulled out a dress, perhaps the most beautiful dress she’d ever seen. She could tell without even holding it up to look at it that it was very expensive. Grace gagged involuntarily. She stood up quickly and, stuffing it back into the bag, she looked around desperately for somewhere to hide it. But where? It would have to be in her bedroom. Rita respected her privacy as she did hers but she couldn’t bear to have this … thing in the same room while she slept. It would be like being with him again. Not here. Not in her own bedroom.