Authors: Janet Woods
His smile was conciliatory. ‘Yes, it was . . . I stepped over the line. I’m sorry if I offended you. I just don’t like the idea of you associating with that pair. Neither does your father.’
‘Oh, neither of you need to worry, I doubt if they’ll
want
to associate with me after this debacle, do you?’
He looked genuinely distressed. ‘I really am sorry. I’m used to taking charge of situations . . . not that it’s any excuse. How can I make it up to you?’
‘I’m afraid you can’t.’ She would be the laughing stock, and probably dropped by all her friends once the gossip got going. Still, that wasn’t his fault, it was her own for getting herself into the situation in the first place. Intuition told her that Latham had been deliberately cruel to Irene, but how and why escaped her. She remembered her manners and sighed. ‘You’ve been very kind to me, Latham, and I’m not ungrateful, but I’d like to go home, please.’
He nodded. ‘I was going back in the morning, but if you can’t stand my company any longer I’ll have Robert bring the car round. I’ll ask Mrs Finnigan to pack your things.’
‘No . . . don’t put her to any trouble . . . tomorrow will be fine.’
For the rest of the time they spent together, Latham went out of his way to keep her amused, and she enjoyed his companionship.
The next morning Latham conveyed her to London. When they drew up outside her home, he opened the car door for her. Gently he kissed her on the forehead, obviously having no intention of going up to see her father. ‘Thank you for your company; I enjoyed the time we spent together. Give my regards to your father.’
Her lovely green eyes were suddenly anxious. ‘I don’t want him to worry. You won’t tell him what happened, will you?’
‘No, my dear, off you go now; it’s coming on to rain.’
Latham watched the doorman open the door for her, thinking that he wouldn’t have to tell Benjamin Howard anything, because sooner or later her little escapade was bound to reach his ears.
I
t was raining when Latham made his way through the dismal London streets. He stopped at a door set into a recess, and let himself into a small pied-à-terre tucked into a side street not far from Portman Square.
The wireless was playing and his nose twitched as he smelled the stale remnants of reefer smoke.
‘Irene?’
‘It’s a foul night and you’re late,’ she said sulkily from the bedroom.
She was lying on the bed dressed in silk pyjamas. The ashtray was overflowing. Wrinkling his nose he moved it to the dressing table, along with half a bottle of wine that stood next to it.
‘Do you have to be so fastidious?’
‘Do you have to be so slovenly?’ he countered.
‘It’s only ash. Must we argue, when we’re here for a different purpose altogether?’
She was right. ‘Sorry, my dear. I was held up.’
‘By darling Julia, I suppose.’
‘You suppose wrong. In actual fact I dined at my club with Alec Mailer from the ministry. We had business to discuss.’
He began to undress, folding his dinner suit carefully over the back of a chair.
She left the bed, turned the wireless up and began to shimmy to some jazz music. Her hips were a blur and her pyjama bottoms gradually slid down her legs to her ankles. Moving out of them she unfastened the buttons on her top, then lifting her arms she began to prance around the floor, the bare cheeks of her bum quivering. The front opening revealed a dark tuft of hair cheekily trimmed into a heart shape.
Dropping his trousers and underwear to the floor he reached out for her.
She gave a little squeal as his hands closed around her waist, wriggling away from him. ‘Your hands are freezing.’
‘I’m going to warm them on you.’ Grabbing her up he tossed her on to the bed and joined her, spreading her wide. Her pupils were enlarged and dreamy, and there was a sweet smell lingering in her hair. ‘Have you been smoking opium as well?’
‘Just a little, Latham. I was upset after last weekend. Rupert gave me some. I only smoked a little. It calms me.’
He sighed. ‘I don’t like to see you doped up, like this. You know opium is highly addictive.’
‘Oh, it’s just a craze . . . everyone smokes it . . . or pretends that they, do.’
‘Where’s the pipe? I’m taking it with me.’
‘Latham, don’t be such a crosspatch. I won’t touch it again, I promise. Kiss me.’ She closed her eyes when he leaned forward and when he kissed her tiny breasts he reared against her stomach.
She laughed, bringing her legs up around him and making sensuous little movements while they wrestled into position. ‘You’re the only man I know who prefers small breasts.’
‘Shameless hussy, you’ve known too many men,’ he said, and drove into her.
With no make-up on she looked older than she actually was, and there were faint traces of a white powder around her nostrils. Fast living would probably kill her, and he had a twinge of remorse as he began to explore what was on offer. Irene definitely knew how to use her body to advantage them both.
When they had satisfied the first urgent frenzy, she sat astride his stomach, pulled the quilt around her shoulders and gazed down at him. She traced a finger over his chest. ‘You’re not serious about marrying Julia, are you?’
‘Of course I am . . . I want children.’
‘Then marry me. I could give you a child.’
His eyes narrowed. ‘You’re not the marrying kind, Irene, and you’re too irresponsible to be a mother.’
‘How do you know? I love you, you know. Besides, look how good in bed we are together.’
He pushed her aside, sat on the edge of her bed and began to pull on his socks. ‘I need a wife who will run my house, and who I can introduce to my friends without having to wonder how many of them she’s fucked. I want any children I have to be able to look up to their mother as a shining example. Is that a description of you, Irene? I think not.’
‘I can change.’
He shrugged. ‘You can’t change the past. Let’s not argue. You are what you are, and you’ll never change that.’
‘Oh, fidelity is all in the mind. Julia was quite happy to be initiated by Charles, and was looking forward to it. You spoiled it for her, and didn’t even give her one that night to make up for it. What if she turns you down?’
He turned to gaze flatly at her. ‘She won’t, because I’ll find the right opportunity . . . failing that, I’ll create one. I love and respect Julia, and I won’t have you talking about her like this. We’re through if you do. If that’s what you want, just say so.’
She stretched like a cat. ‘You know, Latham, you’re right about me making a lousy mother, but I’d still be willing to give you a child. Who knows, I might even grow to love it. After all, my mother loves my youngest brother, though Nicholas has always been a nauseating little creep. We could always hire a nanny to teach our offspring some manners. Come back to bed; I’ll do something nice for you.’
‘What?’
‘Come here and I’ll whisper it in your ear.’
He laughed when she did, flipped her over his knee and smacked her bare bottom.
Martin tried to settle into his new job, but unfortunately Benjamin seemed unable to tear himself away completely, for he dropped in every day to chat to his employees and linger over a mug of tea.
The visits were a nuisance, since they tended to undermine Martin’s need to assert his own authority. He had the feeling that Benjamin was looking over his shoulder. It wasn’t until the end of January that he found the courage to point this out to his employer.
‘They need to accept me as the manager, and so do you, Ben. We both know that changes have to take place. At the moment I’m clearing out the storage areas and doing a stocktake. I intend to send out a catalogue detailing goods that are reduced in price. I’ve also appointed Gregson as my assistant manager, so we work more closely together and I’m kept aware of the financial situation.’
‘Gregson is good at his job . . . Did you give him a raise?’
‘No, just an increase in responsibility.’
‘I’d like to see him rewarded.’
‘He will be, when Howard’s Toys is in a better position to do so. We need to get the overdraft down. Two of the employees have handed in their notice, and I’m not going to replace them.’
‘Oh, who are they?’
‘Young Dobbs is one. His brother is going to open a garage, and Dobbs is going to take up a mechanical engineering apprenticeship with him.’
‘He’s good with his hands, so should make a fine mechanic.’
‘Mrs Brewster is the other one.’
‘Mrs Brewster? But she has a family to support.’
‘And is expecting another. She and the children are going back to live in her parents’ home. Besides, the other workers resent her. In line with general sentiment, they think she’s keeping a man out of work.’
‘She would be if her man was employable. What will happen to her husband? Did she say?’
‘She was forced to take two days off work last week after he took a stick to her. The neighbours called the police and they kept him in the lockup until he’d calmed down. They should have called a doctor to give him a sedative. He’ll end up in prison, or even an asylum if he continues to be violent.’
‘You said Eileen is expecting a baby. Oh, my goodness, I thought . . . her husband was gassed, you see. I didn’t think—’
‘That doesn’t mean the urges are dampened. Violence is often a release for frustration, and sometimes the two go together.’
‘Quite . . . but she could work a little longer, surely.’
‘She doesn’t want to. She’s had enough.’
Benjamin looked genuinely distressed. ‘She used to come to work with bruises, and once she had a black eye. She said she’d walked into a door. I didn’t believe her, but didn’t probe any deeper . . . none of my business really. I’ll talk to her on the way out. Are you settled into your flat?’
‘Oh, I’ve finished it. You should come over for dinner . . . Sunday perhaps, unless you’re busy.’
‘I usually spend a quiet day with Julia.’
‘She’s welcome to come too. Believe it or not I can cook. I’m not as good as your daughter, but can manage a roast beef with Yorkshire pudding, vegetables, and probably a trifle.’
‘A trifle.’ Benjamin’s face brightened. ‘I haven’t had a trifle since . . . well, for a while, anyway. Thank you, I’m sure Julia would like that. Come to think of it, things have been quiet for her on the social scene since New Year. Latham Miller has taken her out to dinner, or escorted her to the theatre a couple of times.’ Benjamin held out his hand and smiled. ‘Dinner on Sunday it is then. I’ll try not to be such a nuisance to you from now on, and I’ll cut my visits down to one a week to give you some breathing space. Rest assured, I do trust you. It’s just that it’s so damned hard to let go.’
Benjamin stopped outside the office and took out his wallet. He extracted ten pounds and folded his fingers over it. No need to ask him who the intended recipient was, Martin thought, as Ben ambled towards the packing bench where Eileen Brewster worked. His employer was generous to a fault.
The two had a short conversation, then Benjamin slid the money into her hand. Patting her on the shoulder he walked away. Mrs Brewster watched him go then took a handkerchief from her pocket and dabbed her eyes. Telling Gregson to make her pay up, he called her into the office.
‘We’re sorry to lose you, Mrs Brewster. You needn’t work your notice out, since there’s not enough work to keep you occupied. It won’t affect your final wage.’
‘That’s right kind of you,’ she said wearily. ‘I know you would have had to get rid of me sooner or later, so me leaving now saves you from going to the trouble.’ She took the money from her pocket and laid it on the desk. ‘I reckon I should give Mr Howard this back. I don’t want you to think I took advantage of his generosity.’
Martin pushed it back towards her. ‘This is nothing to do with the factory. It was a personal gift from Mr Howard, so put it back into your pocket.’
‘My Jack . . . he was all right before the war, you know.’
‘Yes, I imagine he was.’
‘Aye, I reckon you do, at that. I can see it in your eyes sometimes, the despair . . . only Jack can’t put it behind him. He has to lash out.’ She shrugged. ‘It’s the children, you see . . . they shouldn’t be made to suffer.’ Her hands went to her stomach. ‘Jack’s been strange of late . . . I’ve got to put the children first, especially this new life. He wants me to get rid of it, but babies are precious.’
‘And the procedure is not only illegal, but dangerous to the mother.’
Which was all right for him to say, when he would never be in her position, Martin thought, and he wanted to hug this careworn woman. He was seeing one of the aftermaths of the war – a different victim. Fate had not been kind to her. The war had sucked her man into its maw, voraciously ground him down and spat him out damaged beyond repair. He couldn’t get involved, only fob her off with a little extra in her pay packet, an extended hand and his words as sincere as he could make them. ‘Good luck, Mrs Brewster. I do hope all goes well.’
On Sunday they went to the morning service. Afterwards, Julia drove her father’s car carefully through the streets to Martin’s flat in Finsbury Park.
Martin came up the stairs from the basement to greet them. He had a grin on his face, and was wearing a striped apron of the type butchers usually wore. ‘Was that you I saw behind the wheel, Julia? I didn’t know you could drive.’
‘Oh, I’m just learning.’
‘Latham Miller’s chauffeur is teaching her. Latham said it would keep his man occupied while he’s abroad. Robert is making a good job of it . . . except she managed to mow down Nelson’s column on the way over.’
Julia giggled. ‘I did not. Robert says I have aptitude, but he always grins when he says it, so I don’t know if I can believe him or not. I must say I like driving, and it’s quite easy when you know how.’ She shooed him towards the door. ‘Go indoors and take Daddy with you. I’ll be there in a minute; I’ve got a house-warming gift for you and need to get it from the back seat. I hope you like it.’
‘I’m sure I shall.’
Julia wasn’t at all sure, but she could only try as five minutes later she handed over her offering, a pair of tabby kittens in a wicker basket, to which she’d tied a red bow. ‘A boy was trying to sell them in the market, and he was so hungry-looking that I felt sorry for all of them. You will take them, won’t you, Lee-Trafford? Once they’re house trained they’ll be company for you in the evening, and company for each other during the day when you’re not here. I’ve brought you some mince to feed them on.’