I'll Be There Page 2

  ‘What exactly were these allegations, sir?’

  ‘They’re of a sensitive nature. To be quite honest, I’d rather not discuss them.’

  ‘It would be helpful if you could verify what Mister Bellamy has already told us. You can be sure of our utmost discretion.’

  Eddie closed his eyes for a moment or two, composing his face into a semblance of one remembering past grief. ‘This is very difficult for me, constable. There was a lot of publicity surrounding my wife’s death.’

  ‘Of course, sir.’ The policeman’s voice became more sympathetic. ‘Would I be right in saying the matter concerned one of your daughters?’

  Eddie sighed. ‘My daughters have been through enough without adding insult to injury. I can’t think why Bellamy is pursuing this matter with the police. If you ask me, the poor chap needs professional help. He actually offered to buy my youngest girl.

  The two policemen exchanged a glance, then one of them said. ‘Where were you last night at ten o’clock, sir?’

  Eddie stared at him, allowing an edge to creep into his voice. ‘Would you mind telling me what this is all about?’

  ‘Someone set fire to Mister Bellamy’s boat. It burned to the water line.’

  Elation leapt like a tiger into Eddie’s chest, and he was hard pushed not to laugh. ‘You surely don’t think it was me?’

  ‘You haven’t answered the question, sir.’

  He allowed himself a small smile. ‘I caught the five-thirty train from Poole to Waterloo, where I flagged a taxi. I arrived here about eight, and then took my fiancé to Lords Tavern just down the road. We left there about ten. The butler can tell you what time I arrived back from Poole. Shall I ring for him?’

  The notebook was snapped shut. ‘There’s no need sir. If the staff at Lords Tavern can vouch for your whereabouts, we won’t need to bother him.’

  Seeing them to the door, Eddie pulled a suitably concerned expression on. ‘The boat was insured, I trust?’

  The two constables exchanged a glance.

  ‘I’m sorry, that would be confidential, I suppose. May I ask if the poor chap was injured?’

  ‘No sir. He wasn’t on board.’

  A pity. Eddie closed the door behind them and headed back to his office. Lighting a cigarette he dialed the number of Sarah’s lawyer. ‘Noel,’ he said affably. ‘I need the benefit of your professional advice.’

  Chapter Two

  Janey had been at school for three weeks when they moved from the big house back into Coombe Cottage.

  Pamela was waiting there. Looking exactly the same as she had at Christmas, when she’d bought them a doll each as a present.

  A smile replaced her father’s usually stern expression. ‘This is the surprise I promised you at Christmas. Pamela is your new mother.’

  Linda sucked in an indignant breath. Her cheeks went red and her mouth fell open, though no words came out. When she remembered to shut it again her lips were pressed so tightly together they puckered – as if she’d tasted something shuddery.

  Janey looked around her, expecting Miss Hardy to appear with her disapproving face. The governess seemed to have gone. The shelves were empty of her treasures, dust coated the furniture, cobwebs hung in corners and newspapers littered the floor.

  Two suitcases and several cardboard boxes stood by the door. Pamela sighed as she plucked a feather duster from one. ‘This place needs a thorough cleaning. Linda, you can help dust, and Janey can pick the rubbish up and put it in the dustbin.’

  For once, Linda didn’t do what she was told. Crossing to her father she placed her head against his arm and whined, ‘I don’t feel well.’

  Pamela placed a hand against Linda’s forehead. ‘You haven’t got a temperature.’

  Linda jerked her head away.

  Her father turned her to face him. ‘Do as your mother tells you, Linda.’

  ‘She’s not my mother.’

  ‘She is now, Linda. Pamela and I were married three weeks ago.’

  Linda burst into tears.

  ‘Don’t you worry about her, Eddie, Pamela said. ‘It’s just a bit of green-eye and she’ll get over it.’ She handed him a list. ‘If you like you can go into town and get the shopping on the list, while I tidy up the place.’

  Although this wasn’t the surprise she’d expected, Janey thought Pamela was much prettier than Annie Sutton’s mother, who was as thin as a beanpole, sometimes limped, and had a big sneezy nose that went red on the end and sometimes dripped.

  ‘Mum’s got a lergy,’ Annie had explained when Janey asked her why her mother’s nose honked all the time. ‘And Arthur’s itis in her knees. ‘

  Janey couldn’t stop staring at Pamela. She was definitely better than Annie’s mother.

  Pamela smiled as she caught her eye. ‘I hope you’re not going to be a cry baby like your sister.’

  Janey’s glance went to the feather duster. It’s reddish brown iridescent feathers reminded her of the rooster that strutted around the hen house at the big house, and crowed at the crack of dawn. Ada, the cook up at the house, said she was going to wring its neck if it didn’t watch its manners.

  ‘Can I dust?’

  ‘I’m going to dust.’ Linda shoved her aside as the door closed behind their father and snatched at the duster.

  ‘Pamela kept a firm hand on it. ‘That’s enough Linda. Let’s get one thing straight. I’m in charge around here. If you want to do the dusting you can ask nicely.’

  ‘Please,’ Linda said, looking sulky.

  ‘That’s better. Disappointed, Janey watched the duster go to her sister.

  When their father returned the place smelled of disinfectant and polish. A fire burned cheerily in the grate. Pamela blushed when he kissed her. ‘Not in front of the children, Eddie.’

  There was stew and dumplings for dinner. The meat was chewy, the dumplings not quite cooked in the middle, the sprouts squishy.

  A frown appeared above her father’s nose. ‘You’ll have to do better than this, Pamela.’

  Pamela turned red. ‘I’m not used to the Aga yet.’

  Janey felt sorry for her new mother. ‘I like it.’

  The frown was transferred to her. ‘Children should be seen and not heard.’

  Linda stuck her tongue out at her and Janey retaliated by pulling a face. A stinging slap across her face knocked her to the floor.

  ‘Eddie!’ Pamela’s face was a shocked whisper. ‘Janey is just a little girl.’

  ‘She’s a cheeky little madam who needs to learn some manners.’ He scraped his chair back from the table and stood, glaring at Pamela. ‘Janey is my daughter and I’ll thank you not to interfere when I discipline her.’ He strode from the house, slamming the door behind him.

  Pamela gazed helplessly from one to the other, her eyes brimming with tears. ‘Your father must be tired.’

  Janey’s face stung and a lump of misery grew in her throat. She thought rebelliously. I won’t ever cry again, whatever anyone does to me. When Pamela tried to cuddle her she stiffened and pushed her away.

  Linda gave a smug little smile. ‘Janey’s a pest; she always gets into trouble.

  Dad likes me the best.’

  * * * *

  Eddie returned when the children were in bed, the smell of whisky on his breath.

  Pamela’s nerves were twitchy from handling two uncooperative children. Linda had ignored every request and Janey hadn’t spoken one word. The girl had cringed away from her when she’d dropped a plate, and then scooted into the garden and climbed a tree, her face set and rebellious. It had taken twenty minutes of coaxing to get her down. The poor kid had been shaking all over and her face wore a livid patch where Eddie had hit her.

  She frowned when Eddie threw himself in a chair and scattered ash over the table. She placed an ashtray in front of him. ‘I’ve just polished that table.’

  He deliberately scattered some more. ‘Don’t nag Pam. Come here and give me a kiss.’

  This was more lik
e the Eddie she’d married. ‘After the way you talked to me at dinner ... not likely.’

  He lunged at her, and after a short wrestling match he pinned her to the floor. He laughed when she giggled. ‘Do as you’re told, woman.’

  Her skirt rode up to her thighs and she tried to pull it down when he slid his hand between her stocking top and suspenders. He slapped her hand away.

  ‘Turn the light off Eddie.’

  ‘Why?’

  Because she hated her large hips and thighs, that’s why. As soon as she thought it, Pamela tensed up.

  Eddie’s smile slid from his face when she tried to push him away. ‘What the hell’s the matter with you?’

  ‘What if someone comes in? It doesn’t seem proper, doing it on the floor.’

  ‘Are you denying me my marital rights?’

  ‘No Eddie ... it’s just–’

  ‘Good.’ Dragging her knickers down her legs he threw the garment in a corner and began to fondle her. Then he was on top of her, grunting as he pushed into her.

  But there was no power in his thrusts and although he got nowhere he kept pushing. After a while he gazed down at her, then he slapped her face back and forth. ‘Can’t you act as though you’re enjoying it you frigid cow.’

  He hit her again and he smiled when she cried out, and hardened inside her. He began to thrust again, praying it would soon be over. Feeling humiliated she turned her face away from his whisky smelling breath, and saw Linda. The girl was peering through the crack in the door, her eyes wide.

  ‘Eddie ... stop,’ she hissed.

  A hand closed around her throat. ‘Shut up, else I’ll strangle you.’

  Linda smiled at her and pulled the door shut.

  ‘Afterwards, Eddie gazed dispassionately at her tear-stained face. ‘Try and lose a bit of weight before my next visit.’

  ‘Mortified, Pamela dragged her clothing over her legs. ‘I’ll try Eddie, I promise.’ She just wished Linda hadn’t been watching what was going on earlier. It wasn’t right – but she was too scared to tell him.

  * * * *

  Her father had gone back to London. Experiencing a sense of freedom, Janey watched his car leave early that morning, its windows all fogged up and its exhaust trailing white vapor.

  Pamela had been there to wave goodbye. Dressed in a pink robe, her hair was disheveled and her face puffy. Her fluffy pink slippers scuffed a mark in the frost as she stamped from one foot to the other, her arms wrapped tightly around her body to ward off the cold.

  Pamela glanced up at her window and smiled.

  Janey returned it. All the same, it was odd having a stranger for a mother. She wished it were Brenda from the big house as she pulled on the clothing left neatly stacked on a chair. But at least Pamela was better than Miss Harding had been.

  Pans were rattling in the kitchen, and presently the smell of frying bacon wafted up. ‘Breakfast’s nearly ready,’ Pamela sang out.

  Janey was trying to button her red tartan skirt when Linda walked in. ‘Only babies can’t do up buttons,’ she scorned.

  ‘I can do them up better’n you can.’ Hastily Janey pushed the last button through the hole.

  Linda gave an odd, scared little grin. ‘Dad beat Pamela up last night.’

  Janey stared at her.

  ‘She was on the floor and dad was jumping on her. He called her a cow and said he was going to strangle her. She was crying.’

  ‘What does strangle mean?’

  Linda’s hands came round her neck and she squeezed until Janey was fighting for breath. Her sister let her go and watched as she gasped for air. ‘If I squeezed long enough you’d die and go to hell.’

  Janey was shocked. ‘That’s wicked, our Linda. Our new mum is nicer than Miss Harding was.’

  ‘Well, I don’t like her, and if you want me to be your friend, neither can you.’

  Janey thought about it for a moment. She didn’t care whether Linda was her friend or not. She had lots of friends. Phil Tyler, the gypsy gardener. Mr. Charles Wyman and Brenda, and Annie Sutton who’d started school at the same time as her, and who lived on the farm. Sometimes she thought the gardener’s son Griffin was her friend, because he stopped the bigger ones teasing her. But sometimes he teased her himself, though he never hit or pinched her like the others did sometimes.

  Then there was Lord William up at the big house, who played toy soldiers with her on rainy days and sometimes invited her to stay for tea and hot crumpets. She liked them all better than Linda.

  ‘I don’t care.’ She pushed past her sister. ‘I’m going to have my breakfast, I don’t want to be late for school.’

  Today, school seemed extra special. Pamela had packed them a lunch in shining red boxes. There was a crisp bread roll full of grated cheese, a chocolate biscuit wrapped in shiny green paper, and an apple.

  Pamela smiled as she introduced herself to the teacher as Mrs.. Renfrew.

  Miss Robbins smiled back. She took the junior classes, and old Mr. James took the bigger kids. The classes were mixed because the school only had twenty pupils. Lessons were held in the village hall, and old stone building with a thatched roof. Its two rooms were warmed by a pot-bellied stove and surrounded by a mesh guard.

  ‘Janey’s a bright little thing,’ Miss Robbins said, patting her on the head. ‘She’s learning her letters faster than any pupil I’ve had, except for Griffin Tyler. She should do well. ‘Her glance fell on Linda. ‘Run off and play dear. I want to talk to Mrs.. Renfrew privately for a moment.’

  Linda flounced off to join Wendy Brown and her brother, Tim. Their father had his own business, selling other people’s houses. Wendy had airs and graces about it. Janey liked Tim, who was a year older than Wendy, and was going to be a pirate when he grew up.

  She and Annie watched Griffin Tyler come into the playground. He was the oldest pupil in the school and didn’t have any friends because of his gypsy blood. Everyone said gypsies couldn’t be trusted, but only behind his back. Janey trusted him. He’d saved the life of a mouse she’d almost killed.

  She hadn’t meant to make the mouse sick when she’d caught it and put it in a jam jar. She’d forgotten it until she found it lying on its side two days later. It was stiff, its little feet curled under it. Heart broken, because it had been such a sweet little creature she couldn’t stop crying and had taken it back to where she’d caught it in the hedge.

  Griffin had come across her. ‘What’s the matter with you then?’

  She held out the jar. ‘The mouse won’t wake up.’

  Taking the jar from her he tipped the mouse into his palm and gently ran his finger along its side. His dark eyes had gazed into hers. ‘Blubbering won’t help it. Janey. Come to the shed in half an hour and I’ll have made it better.’

  ‘How are you going to do that?’

  ‘I’m learning to be a doctor, so I’ll operate on it.’ He was whistling as he strode off with it.

  Half an hour later Griffin had placed a warm, living mouse in her palm. Its whiskers twitched and its heart beat rapidly against her palm. ‘Go and put it back in the hedge, and never shut a living creature in a jar again. How would you like someone to do that to you.’

  She knew she wouldn’t, and as the mouse scampered away she’d been so happy she could have burst.

  She smiled at Griffin when he came into the school grounds, but he barely flicked her a glance.

  ‘Is that your new mother?’ Annie asked her a little later when they hung over the gate to watch Pamela set off on long walk back to Coombe Cottage.

  Pamela turned and blew her a kiss.

  ‘Yes,’ she said proudly. ‘That’s my mother.’

  * * * *

  Although school absorbed Janey she missed being outside, and couldn’t wait for Saturdays to come so she could visit Phil Collins in his shed, and the ginger cat and the owl that lived in the barn. Lord William’s old horse, Wellington, had lived there too, but just before Christmas he’d grown angel wings and had flown away to
heaven.

  Wellington’s empty stall made her feel sad. There were reminders of him everywhere, his hair stuck on the wooden rails, his bridle hanging on a rail, now green with mould. For a long time she could smell his warm, musty horse smell, then it seemed to fade and one day she couldn’t remember what his smell had been like.

  She experienced contentment. Pamela kept Coombe Cottage spotless, and she made friends with Brenda who worked at the big house, who sometimes came over for tea and a chat.

  Brenda said one day, ‘Mr. Wyman said to tell you that Lady is going to have a litter of puppies in the spring. ‘When they’re old enough you can come and see them.’

  Janey couldn’t wait and badgered Pamela about it as soon as school was over for the day.

  Pamela laughed. ‘Don’t be so impatient, Janey. Nature has to take its course.’

  When their father came for his monthly visits Linda’s sullen manner improved. Janey tried to keep out of his way but never seemed to get through the weekend unscathed.

  Pamela was different when their father was around, cooking special dishes to please him and wearing makeup. She didn’t laugh so loudly though, because it earned her a frown.

  On the Sunday when he was home they attended the big church in Dorchester, where her father prayed long and hard and the service went of forever. The incense tickled her throat.

  Janey began to dread the Sundays when he was home. After church he’d sit them at the table and read passages from the bible. Then fixing her with a frown, he’d ask her to recite it back. When she couldn’t he’d smack her legs and mutter, ‘Devil’s child.’

  Tears would fill Pamela’s eyes.

  ‘Stop that Pamela,’ he’d say, and he’d send them out to play. When they were called back in, Pamela would be jolly and smiling, though her eyes would be puffy and red. Once she had a bruised eye and had told them she’d walked into a door.

  ‘I expect dad punished her,’ Linda said when they were alone. ‘He hates her as much as he hates you. It’s only me he loves.’

  Brenda offered Pamela a job at the big house.