Living a Lie (19 page)

Kitty turned this way and that as the nightmare gathered pace. Scenes flickered through her dreams like an old film. her mother jumping to oblivion. her father. the burning house. Miss Davis was leaving now. Kitty was all alone. But then Harry was there, his arms open to comfort her, his dark eyes brimming with love.

“Come on, sweetheart,” he was saying, his voice soft and coaxing.

“I won’t let anything hurt you.”

Kitty woke then, rivers of sweat running down her back,

scalding tears running down her face. It took a while to realise it had only been a dream. But, no, it wasn’t. It was true. all true.

And she wondered how long the past would haunt her before she found a measure of peace.

The following morning Kitty made an extra special effort to look her best. When she came downstairs her dark hair shone like freshly made chocolate, her face was fresh and glowing, and apart from the faintest dark shadows under her eyes, showed no sign of the previous night’s traumas;

she had on her prettiest dress, a swinging calf-length style in vivid blue. The wide belt accentuated her wasp waist and the V-neckline was perfect for showing off the string of amber beads.

“You look like you’re off somewhere special?” Dorothy Picton was enjoying a cup of tea before the early morning rush.

“I’m seeing Mildred today,” Kitty replied, her brown eyes shining.

Miss Davis wished her well.

“Mind what I said, though,” she warned.

“If your aunt wants you to sign anything, it might be wise to speak with someone first.”

Kitty assured her she would sign nothing: “Without speaking to you first.”

“Cheerio then, and give my regards to your aunt.”

Since handing in her notice, she felt as though she had been given a new lease of life. There was no doubt she would miss this place and everyone in it, but if she didn’t go now, she was convinced she would die across her desk, or running up the stairs when one of the children

screamed out in a nightmare . the way Kitty used to, she thought sadly. She had lost count of the times Kitty had cried out in her sleep when she first came here. Thank God that was a thing of the past. Or was it? Miss Davis looked at her, and wondered. Were the nightmares still plaguing her? In her lonely heart was she still crying? She prayed not.

The bus was packed with early-morning shoppers all going into Bedford market.

“Is this anybody’s?” Without waiting for an answer, a tall fair-haired lad threw himself into the seat beside Kitty. Shabbily dressed in faded leather jacket and torn jeans, he emitted a smell that put Kitty in mind of the time she and Harry used to clean out her pet rabbit’s hutch; other passengers wrinkled their noses as the odour wafted towards them.

For most of the half-hour journey, he kept slyly glancing at her, occasionally winking when she was compelled to lift her gaze and look him in the eye. When he pressed his leg against hers it was the last straw.

“Excuse me!” she said, springing out of her seat and pushing by him.

“Where d’you think you’re going?” He gawped up at her.

“There’s no stop here, and there ain’t no other seats left neither.” He grinned, and her temper rose. Locating his toes, she ground the ball of her foot down hard.

“JESUS!”

Grimacing in pain, he hopped along the seat. ;

“You’ve got bloody big flippers for a little ‘un!” he groaned, | rolling his eyes and clutching his foot. ] “Oh, I am sorry,” Kitty apologised. But she wasn’t. She was only sorry she hadn’t done it ten minutes ago.

A little old lady beckoned her over.

“There’s room next to me,” she croaked, shifting along the bench seat and ;

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squashing everyone. When Kitty squeezed in beside her, she chuckled wickedly.

“I’ve been watching that mucky young fella,” she remarked, gesturing with a nod of the head towards the fair-haired man, ‘and I reckon you did right. ” Her gnarled hand patted Kitty’s knee.

“I reckon he got what he deserved.”

Kitty hadn’t realised she’d been under surveillance.

“I didn’t know anyone was looking.” Her face blushed a gentle pink.

“Oh, I see everything. That’s why I ride on the bus, to watch the goings-on.” Leaning forward she spoke in a whisper.

“Last week I saw two grown men kissing each other!” she exclaimed excitedly.

“And yesterday I nearly got caught up in a fight when the conductor threw a drunken woman off the bus.” She hugged herself with delight.

“If you want to see the world, buy a ticket for a bus-ride,” she suggested.

“It’s better than sitting at home.”

Kitty laughed heartily.

“I see what you mean.”

When the fair-haired young man turned round to stare at them, the old woman glared back.

“You should be ashamed!” she called out. As he ducked down in his seat, she addressed Kitty indignantly.

“The randy bugger!” she said.

“He stinks an’ all. Shouldn’t think he’s had a wash in weeks.” Folding her arms over her podgy stomach, she went on, in a voice that was loud and clear and which made Kitty want to hide under her seat, “No woman’s safe any more, not even on a bus-ride. It did my old heart good to see the way you trod on his foot like that.” She grinned wide enough to show pink gums as she addressed the other passengers who were revelling in the uproar.

“Serves him right for making advances where they’re not wanted!

Did you see the look on his face, though? By! He’ll be hobbling for a month if not more! “

Now the centre of attention, the young man got out of his seat and scurried down the aisle, scowling at the old biddy as he passed by. As he stood on the platform waiting for an opportune moment to escape, she ranted on mercilessly.

Wishing he’d never got out of bed that morning, the young man waited for the bus to reach the next corner, then, as it slowed to negotiate the turn, jumped to the pavement. When it went past he grimaced at the old woman and made a very improper gesture with his fingers.

“No respect!” she grumbled, shaking her head at Kitty.

“No respect at all!”

Plucking a tangle of knitting out of her bag the old dear settled down to finish a pair of lemon bootees.

“Got a grandchild on the way,” she told Kitty proudly.

“Congratulations. Is it your first?”

“No. Got three, I have. One girl, two boys. The boys are my elder daughter’s… lovely husband she’s got, and a nice house with a big garden.” An expression of disgust crossed her features.

“It’s my younger daughter who’s got the little girl.,. two years old she is, with the other due in a fortnight. She weren’t so fortunate in her choice of husband, I’m sorry to say.” Flicking a thumb over her shoulder in the direction where the young man had jumped off the bus, she added with a snort, “You’ve just met the father, so you’ll know what I mean. It isn’t the first time he’s tried to pick up other girls, though I must say you’re the youngest as far as I know.” Her tongue clicked, and her needles clicked faster as she warned grimly, “Just wait till I tell our Doreen what he’s been up to! He’ll get the length of her tongue and no mistake!” She chatted on and on.

Kitty was speechless.

From the station, Kitty walked the half mile through the shopping arcade and along Midland Road; she crossed by the statue of John Bunyan, through the flower gardens and straight across, on to Park Road where her Aunt Mildred lived. In contrast to the noisy bus-ride, the quiet leisurely walk gave her time to think. She was suddenly nervous. It had been years since she had seen her aunt, and now she wasn’t sure how to talk with her any more.

The sun was shining and there was a cooling breeze as she walked up the pleasant, tree-lined road. The houses on Park Road were solid and grand, relics of Victorian times when families were large and a horse and carriage might stand on the drive. Mildred had inherited the house from her parents, while her brother, Kitty’s father, had been left the business.

Like the business, the house had been in need of modernisation.

Mildred and her husband had worked hard on it in the early years, spending a small fortune and every spare minute renovating, and soon their smart abode became the blueprint for every other house in Park Road.

Kitty stood outside for what seemed an age; far enough away not to be seen, but near enough to smell the roses in the garden. Above her the birds trilled out a merry song, and down the road there was an argument in progress, voices raised in anger and children crying.

Disturbing sounds, carrying her back.

After a while, she plucked up enough courage to venture closer. She had come this far, so she might as well get it over with, she thought.

As she approached the main door, the curtains moved and suddenly her name was being called out.

“Kitty!”

It was Mildred. She had seen Kitty through the window and was running down the path to greet her.

“Oh, I’m so glad you came. I didn’t think you would.” Laughing and crying at the same time, she threw her arms round Kitty and held her close.

Kitty was shocked. Mildred had always been a smart tidy woman, with short neat hair and an air of self-confidence. This woman was nothing like that; she was nervous and untidy, with straggly unwashed hair.

There was an unkempt, neglected look about her that shook Kitty to the core.

“Are you ill?” It was the first thought that came to mind. Now, when Mildred held herself away, Kitty was amazed to see the tears swimming in her eyes.

Her aunt glanced about nervously.

“You’d best come inside,” she urged.

“We don’t want the neighbours talking.”

As Mildred propelled her indoors, Kitty couldn’t help but smile to herself. Worried what the neighbours might say? That was more like it.

Perhaps she hadn’t changed so much after all.

Kitty was wrong. The inside of the house told a sad tale of neglect.

In the sitting room, the curtains were half closed, shutting out the bright daylight and throwing the room into gloom; the carpet was littered with cups and plates and overflowing ash trays. Every chair was littered with clothes, haphazardly flung over arms and backs, some folded, some not, but all in need of a good wash as was Mildred herself. Beside the settee a number of wine bottles lay scattered.

Most of them were empty, others spilled their contents over the carpet, creating long meandering stains.

“I haven’t had time to tidy the place,” her aunt excused herself.

“It’s all right,” Kitty assured her.

“I can help.”

She caught a small glimpse of the old Mildred as her aunt set her face and argued, “You^l do no such thing! I’ve never in my life asked a guest to tidy up.” Rushing round, she did her best to make the place look respectable, but it was too long neglected and she gave up in despair, falling on to the settee.

“I’m no use,” she groaned.

“No use at all!” She was sobbing now, head in hands, shaking like a soul in torment.

Kitty sat beside her.

“Let me help,” she pleaded.

“I want to help.”

All of a sudden it didn’t matter that Mildred had turned her back on her when she was in need. What mattered was that her aunt was in trouble. She seemed ill. desperate. And Kitty didn’t know what to do for the best.

Mildred startled her by laughing out loud.

“You want to help me?” She stared at Kitty in disbelief.

“The years in that place must have softened your brain! Have you forgotten what I did to you? Have you forgotten how I left you to the wolves? Don’t you know what I’ve been doing all this time? Pretending I was ill and couldn’t come to visit.

Scheming and lying. anything so I didn’t have to take responsibility for you. Have you forgotten all that, Kitty Marsh?

HAVE YOU?

” There was rage in her voice, but somehow Kitty knew it was not directed at her.

“All that’s in the past now,” she said firmly.

“You sent for me, I’m here now, so what is it you want?” There was anger in her own voice.

Mildred couldn’t be more wrong. Kitty had not forgotten. She never would.

“Have you been desperately unhappy, Kitty?”

“I’ve learned to survive.”

“What about Harry?”

“What about him?” Even the mention of his name brought a pang of loneliness.

“You and he were always together as children. His mother cared for you too. I expect they visit you often?”

“Mrs. Jenkins was kind to me, yes.” At first, she thought, only at first.

“Harry’s gone away to study. He means to make something of his life.” She had given him that much at least.

“I expect you get lots of letters from him?”

“He has more important things to do than write letters to me.” She had ignored the letters he had written, destroying his hopes and her own as well.

“I don’t suppose I’ll ever see him again.”

“You astonish me. I always imagined you two would …”

“Well, you were wrong.” Kitty couldn’t let her finish that sentence.

It would be too painful.

“I did a dreadful, unforgivable thing when I let them put you in an institution.”

Kitty found herself thinking of Miss Davis and instantly defended her.

“It’s a good job there are places like that, and people willing to take on the responsibility.” Then the thoughts she was trying so desperately to suppress spilled out in a harsh accusation.

“Especially when there’s no one else.”

Mildred peered at her through misty eyes.

“You hate me, don’t you?” She shivered visibly, as though someone had walked over her grave.

It took a moment for Kitty to answer. When she did it was in a soft, firm voice.

“No, Aunt. I don’t hate you.” She had suffered feelings of bitterness at first. But over the years her emotions had changed, and now seeing Mildred like this seemed to settle the score between them.

“Why did you send for me?” She had her suspicions, but wanted her aunt to speak out.

Mildred too, had been surprised on seeing Kitty. She had half expected to meet the same young girl who had been taken into care. Now though she was faced with a young woman, a beautiful creature with a mind of her own. Discreetly she studied her niece: the slender graceful figure, the shapely legs and mature presence, the big nutmeg brown eyes, small straight nose and full sensuous mouth, the way her thick dark hair framed that lovely face, and above all else, the quiet strength that radiated from her. Her maturity was a shock to Mildred, and for a moment she was distracted.