Father Unknown (30 page)

‘Are you stupid? You work when it comes in. Right now it’s still coming in thick and fast, but it won’t for ever. You can rest then.’

Josie’s eyes prickled with tears. There were times when she wished she’d never met him. Sometimes she even wished she’d never left Cornwall. It was exciting to see her face on big hoardings, in every magazine and newspaper, and to be recognized on the street, but it wasn’t any fun being bullied and forced to dance like a puppet on a string, day after day.

It had been like this for over two years, and what had she got to show for it? She was a seventeen-year-old star, but she was still in the same old flat with no furniture and a wardrobe stuffed with clothes that she rarely got the chance to show off. And her parents had disowned her.

If it weren’t for Ellen she’d have no one at all. Mark only said he loved her when he wanted her to do something for him.

‘Leave your hair, it will dry in the car,’ he said impatiently. ‘Put on some shoes, for God’s sake! Do I have to tell you everything?’

The shoot that day was in a mansion out in Hertfordshire. There was a time when Josie had been interested enough to ask who lived in these places, when she wanted to look around and marvel at her surroundings. But she no longer cared about any of that. It was just a job, the place a backdrop, she might as well be back at Beetle’s studio – at least she wasn’t harangued all day there: ‘Move this way. Put your head back. Arms up. Arms down. To the side. Shake your hair.’

As they drove out of London Josie stared listlessly out of the window at the steel-grey sky. She was trapped, and she didn’t know how to escape. She had read in a magazine that she was reputed to be one of the highest-paid models in the world, but precious little money came her way. Mark said she shouldn’t believe all she read, and that after deducting her rent and expenses there wasn’t much left. She didn’t believe him, but there wasn’t anyone else she could ask about it, Mark saw to that. He never left her side when there were press about, all interviews were directed by him. She didn’t go anywhere without his say-so, and even though he left her alone most nights in her flat, she couldn’t go out without him finding out. She was too well known.

He owned her, body and soul, and there was nothing she could do about it.

Her mother’s face came into her mind, and tears welled in her eyes as she remembered their last parting. Mark had been right in saying that a mother like Violet would only bring her down, but why did he force her to get rid of her in such a cruel way?

Last February Josie had had flu. She was so ill she could barely get out of bed to use the toilet. When Ellen unexpectedly telephoned from a call box and said it was half-term and she was down in Cornwall, Josie felt pangs of homesickness, and said she’d give anything to see her mother.

Josie hadn’t for one moment thought Violet would react to that message. She had after all been instructed by Albert that she was to have nothing more to do with her daughter. Josie certainly didn’t expect her to get on the next train to come and see her. Violet had only ever been to London once in her life, and that was with Dad, when they tried to get the
Mirror
to tell them where Josie was. They’d been brutally turned away from the newspaper offices then and both vowed they’d never return under any circumstances.

Yet Violet did come, despite everything, and found her way to the flat all on her own. Josie nearly died of shock when she opened the door, and she was mortified that her mother should find her in such a terrible mess. The whole flat was filthy; Josie hadn’t had time or energy to clean it for weeks. There was no clean bed linen, there were heaps of dirty clothes everywhere, and not a thing in the entire flat to eat.

Violet just took over. She rushed out to the laundrette with all the washing, bought food, and then tucked Josie into a clean bed while she cooked a meal. Josie was happy to be her little girl again, to be cared for.

Violet stayed for four days and in that time they talked to each other as they never had before. Josie apologized properly for running away and not contacting her mother. Violet said she was sorry for being so nasty sometimes, and explained that it had never really been directed at Josie, it was because things were so bad with Albert.

Mark hadn’t been round since the day Josie went down with flu, when he’d given her a box of aspirin and shot off hurriedly. He didn’t even phone. Then when he turned up five days later and found Violet there, he was livid. He sent her out on an errand, and while she was gone he told Josie to get rid of her. She had to tell her mother to clear off and never come back, or he would find a new model. He promised too that she would never find work with anyone else, he’d see to it. He wouldn’t even give her time to do it gently, it had to be done that day, on Violet’s return, and he was going to stay to check she did it.

‘You can’t have that old bag hanging around you,’ he said forcefully. ‘Just look at her, Jojo, she’s like a disease. And I know her sort, unless you are heavy with her she’ll always be turning up, spoiling everything.’

Josie knew he was right. He was only voicing things she’d thought so many times in the past. She knew too that if she hadn’t been so ill, she wouldn’t have welcomed her mother’s unexpected arrival anyway.

But knowing all that didn’t make it any easier, for the only way to get rid of Violet was to be cruel. When she returned to the flat, Josie shouted at her, called her names and told her to fuck off out of her life forever because she was an embarrassment.

It was awful. She saw her mother sag visibly with hurt and disappointment. ‘How can you be like this to me?’ she whimpered. ‘I’m your mother, I only wanted to look after you.’

Josie couldn’t look at her, if she had she might have weakened. Instead she turned her face away and flung Violet’s coat at her, saying that a mother who looked like her was far worse than no mother at all.

She was so ashamed once Violet had slunk out like a whipped dog. She knew only too well that she was her mother’s whole reason for living. She was afraid for her having to make the long journey home alone in such a distraught state. She also knew when her father got to hear of what she’d done, he would never let her back in Beacon Farm.

Even Ellen, who had never liked Violet, was deeply shocked. She heard about it from Mrs Peters and was on the phone immediately asking Josie how she could be so ungrateful and wicked. Of course Josie made out she didn’t care, she said Violet had it coming to her, but she did care really, she cried over it for days on end.

To make matters worse, Ellen felt so sorry for Violet that she began going home more often, and now it seemed they were becoming much closer. It was as though Violet had switched all the love she had once had for her real daughter to her stepdaughter.

‘Damn Ellen,’ Josie muttered.

‘What’s she done to you?’ Mark asked. He had never met Ellen on the few visits she made to London; Josie always made sure he wasn’t around. Mark made her feel so insecure that part of it was fear that he would like Ellen more than her, part was because she knew Ellen would tackle him about the money.

‘Oh, she’s just so bloody perfect,’ Josie sighed. ‘Flogging her guts out for those cripples. Keeping Mum and Dad happy, visiting the neighbours. Never puts a foot wrong.’

‘I thought you said she was a bit of a goer?’ Mark said. He was being nice again, as he always was when they had work in front of them. ‘Always in the sack with someone?’

Josie
had
said that, but only because she didn’t have a better way to describe how Ellen was with men. It was bizarre that her whiter-than-white sister loved sex. Anyone would expect that someone who’d given themselves to one man and been let down would be put off it. But not Ellen – soon after she found her little flat in South Bristol she began going out with men, and went to bed with them when she wanted to.

She talked about it quite candidly, though the subject only came up because she wanted to advise Josie to go on the pill, as she had. She said she liked men and sex, and she no longer believed in waiting for a fairy-tale romance. Josie had stayed with Ellen twice in the last year for a weekend. On both occasions she’d met the latest man in her sister’s life. While she couldn’t fancy either of them herself, she sensed something animal and earthy between them and Ellen. She even felt envious of the relaxed way Ellen was with them – she didn’t dress herself up, didn’t put on any show other than feeding them a nice dinner. There was a kind of happy glow around her, and it was obvious that both men adored her.

When Josie didn’t reply to Mark’s question, he looked sideways at her. ‘You’re jealous of her,’ he said, and laughed. ‘Why, because she’s Miss Perfect with her worthy job, or because she’s sexy and you aren’t?’

That stung Josie, for there was a time when Mark used to tell her she was the sexiest girl he’d ever known. It was of course before he conned her into love-making by telling her it would help her to relax when he was photographing her. But then he’d said he loved her too, and he didn’t act as if he did now. She wished so much that she had refused him, perhaps he’d have a bit of respect for her then. But when he crooked his finger, she obeyed him.

It happened for the first time on her sixteenth birthday. He took her for a Chinese meal, then back to her flat with a bottle of champagne. He sweet-talked her, telling her how beautiful she was, and describing the wonderful life they were going to have together.

Josie knew from other girls that the first time wasn’t usually very good, so she didn’t expect much. But suddenly he went from kissing her and telling her he loved her to brutality. He didn’t even stop to undress her, or let her get into bed properly. He just got on top of her like a wild thing. He was so rough, pushing her legs apart, thrusting his fingers inside her so hard it hurt. And all the time he was saying crude, dirty things.

She truly became his property then; he took her whenever he felt like it. There was never a warm cuddle first, or any tender kisses, just animal behaviour, as though he was the stallion and she was the mare.

Pretending to like it seemed the only option. On a few occasions when she had tried to refuse him, he just got nasty and hit her, and then it took longer because he seemed to enjoy it more. So mostly she put on Oscar-winning performances of total bliss. But perhaps he wasn’t fooled after all?

‘Who says I’m not sexy?’ she snapped. ‘That’s not what men in the street think. Don’t you remember that newspaper article that said men all over England have pictures of me stuck up in their garages and sheds?’

‘Just because you look sexy doesn’t mean you are,’ he said, and laughed. ‘I think it’s time I put you through a little test.’

‘What kind of test?’ Josie asked.

‘Wait and see,’ he said.

The test came when Josie had long forgotten that Mark had ever said he was going to set her one. In May the following year they went to the South of France for a photo shoot with six other models. Things had been very bad between her and Mark for months. She felt insecure because he was always saying he was going to drop her, and the more she tried to please him, the nastier he was.

He had gone from demanding sex practically every day to going weeks without as much as kissing her. And although this should have pleased her, she was afraid it meant he had someone else. He was always criticizing her too, saying she was stupid, lazy, that her Cornish accent irritated him, and that she did too many drugs.

It was true that they dominated her life. Sleeping pills at night, speed to wake her up in the mornings and cope with the pressure of work. She smoked pot or drank to mellow herself out, then took another sleeping pill at night to calm herself down. Yet Josie couldn’t see how he could blame her for this, he’d introduced her to drugs in the first place, and he smoked joints all day, and snorted coke too.

When Mark did seem to be really concerned about the weight she was losing, and said he’d arranged this job as it would be something of a holiday, she thought he’d begun to realize how badly he’d been treating her. They would be staying at a luxury hotel, dining out with millionaires and film stars on their yachts, and she would also have time to lie in the sun and recuperate. In a rare moment of real tenderness he said she was very precious to him, he even agreed he was overworking her. He promised the hectic pace would slow down soon, that he’d arrange for her to have driving lessons and get her a car when they returned from France.

Josie was overjoyed at that. Ellen had already learned to drive and bought a car, and from what she said about her visits back to their parents, they were more impressed by the car than anything.

Josie often wondered how she’d get by if she didn’t have Ellen. She was so utterly dependable, the only person in her life she knew she could rely on, whatever happened. She wrote every week, she would catch the train up to London whenever Josie asked her to, and Josie knew she could turn up at her flat at any time and always get a welcome. Not that she went very often, she wasn’t organized enough to catch trains. But she did phone her at least once a fortnight, wherever she was working.

Ellen could be counted on to listen to her grievances, to be impressed when Josie had met someone famous, to collect up her press cuttings and stick them in an album. She was even trying to lay the ground for their parents to accept an apology from Josie and forgive her. But that was her all over, she liked her life nice and tidy, and it couldn’t be, not when her sister wasn’t welcome at home.

As Josie set off for France with Mark she was feeling confident and optimistic. Mark seemed to value her again, and once she could drive she could go down to Cornwall and put everything right there. Her parents might not be impressed with her pictures in the papers, but tangible evidence of success, like a car, and perhaps buying them some luxuries, was bound to change their opinion of her.

Yet as soon as the photo shoot started in St-Tropez, Josie felt inadequate. The other models were older and far more sophisticated than she was, stunningly beautiful girls who’d made their names on the catwalks of Paris and Milan. They were chilly with her, perhaps resentful that she hadn’t paid her dues in gown showrooms and couture houses.