Homecoming (14 page)

‘How soon is shortly?' he probed transparently, hanging her coat next to his on the back of the door.

‘Before we get married, but that doesn't mean you can more or less move in with me.' She sat at the table and pulled a box of shortbread biscuits towards her.

‘No,' he grinned, ‘but it does mean that we won't have an audience when I call in on you now and again.'

‘Between the salons and organising the wedding, there won't be too many “now and agains”,' she cautioned.

‘But there is one now.' Taking the biscuit tin from her, he set it aside and pulled her from her seat.

‘It's only half past eight,' she protested. ‘Mike –'

‘Is having tea with some girl he met last week and going straight to the station from her house, which means …' He opened the door that led to the passage, bathroom and bedrooms, and flung open his bedroom door. A warm tide of air greeted her and she saw that he'd left the electric fire burning. He'd also turned back the bed.

‘You don't give a girl time to get her breath,' she complained, as he led her into the room and closed the door.

‘Not this girl, not after last night.' He unbuttoned her cardigan. ‘Come on, Judy,' he coaxed.

‘Just give me a moment,' she pleaded, wishing she'd never offered to call on him and wondering if this was what their life together was going to be like from now on – sex without preliminaries every time they met.

‘Judy …'

‘If you undress in the bathroom, I'll be in bed by the time you get back.'

‘You're being ridiculous.'

‘Just five minutes,' she begged.

‘You're behaving as if we've just met,' he grumbled, but to her relief he left the room.

She stared at the back of the door when he closed it behind him. She had never been so tempted to run out of a house in her life and couldn't understand why. She loved Sam, and as Lily and Helen said, they had been engaged forever. Did every woman feel like this at the beginning of married life, or was there something seriously wrong with her?

‘I was engaged to Ems for over a year.' Robin abandoned all pretence at playing billiards and confronted his father.

‘And you caught her in bed with one of your friends.' His father eyed him sternly, daring him to say otherwise. ‘Didn't you?' he challenged.

‘Yes, but –'

‘I will not tolerate any excuses,' his father raged. ‘And neither should you. A decent girl would have handed you back the ring. You – or rather I – paid over seven hundred and fifty pounds for it. Damn it, Robin, can't you see it's not the money? If you don't retrieve it, there is no saying what use the girl will make of it.'

‘I told her she could sell it. A gentleman doesn't go back on his word.'

‘And a gentleman's fiancée doesn't service his friends,' his father remonstrated crudely. ‘The thing that infuriates me most about this mess is that if it hadn't been for your sister, you probably would never have caught Emily out. You would have allowed her to go on duping you right up to the altar and beyond. And now you have the gall to stand there and tell me that you want to give the girl a seven hundred and fifty pound ring!'

‘She'll need money to keep herself until the baby's born.' Unable to meet his father's eye, Robin chalked the tip of the billiard cue he was holding.

‘Let's get one thing straight.' His father lowered his voice but his anger was just as apparent. ‘It's as you said,
the
baby, not your baby,
the
baby. And from what Angela told your mother, the child could have been fathered by anyone of a dozen boys in your set.'

‘Including me,' Robin broke in. ‘I was the one who was engaged to her for over a year.'

‘You were the one who was used, abused and fooled by her more like.' His father filled a glass with whisky and drank half of it straight off. ‘Damn it, Robin, I blame myself as much as you. I should have insisted you break off with the girl when I discovered what her father was. It's clear now that the whole family have the morality of guttersnipes. Now, go down to Mumbles, confront her and get that ring back.'

‘I told her last night that I don't want to see her again.'

‘Then get one of your friends.'

‘No.' Taking a glass from the tray, Robin followed his father's example and poured himself a whisky. ‘I'll write her a note and tell her to post it back to me.'

‘And if it doesn't reach here and she says it was lost in the post?'

‘She works in town. I could ask her to leave it at our solicitors.'

‘As long as she does.' His father capitulated before emptying his glass. ‘Just do it, boy. The sooner this engagement is over and all the loose ends tied up, the better.'

‘But if the baby is mine …'

‘And if it's another man's bastard?' his father interrupted brusquely. ‘One day you'll discover, Robin, that it's hard enough bringing up children you can be one hundred per cent certain you've fathered, without taking on another man's leavings.'

Robin pictured Emily and Thompson together the night before. Who was to say how long it had been going on? Or even if Thompson was the only one? Lost for words, he turned to the window.

‘You'll write that note and take it to Mumbles tonight. Put it in her letterbox so Emily can't say she never received it.'

‘Yes.'

‘Once the ring is back, the subject will be closed. I never want to hear the name Murton Davies mentioned in this house again. Is that clear?'

‘Perfectly, Pops.'

‘Time you found yourself a decent girl, preferably one who won't sleep with anyone before she's married. Not even you.' His father went to the door. ‘One last thing,' he turned back to Robin, ‘don't bother putting announcements in
The Times
and
Evening Post
cancelling the engagement. I'll get my receptionist to do it first thing in the morning. “By mutual agreement” is the phrase that springs to mind. Is that all right with you?'

‘Yes, Pops,' Robin said meekly.

‘Not that it will fool anyone for a minute after what went on here on Saturday night, but,' he shrugged his shoulders, ‘the only things you can be accused of are being too loyal, blinkered, generous and soft-hearted. Not an entirely bad reputation for a young man to have – apart from the blinkered.'

‘You seem tense. Is anything the matter?' Sam rolled off Judy into his half of the bed.

‘Besides all this being new to me, no.'

‘You'll get used to it,' he assured her confidently. ‘You won't forget what I said about going to the doctor and getting a cap?'

‘I'd rather do it after we are married,' she demurred.

‘This is the nineteen-fifties, Judy. Engaged couples are allowed some leeway.'

‘I wouldn't call what we've just done leeway and I've known my doctor all my life. I'd be embarrassed to ask him about birth control before we're married.' Holding the sheet over her breasts, she reached for her slip.

‘You're not dressing?'

‘I'd better get an early night if I'm picking you up at nine.'

‘Ten more minutes.' He tugged the sheet from her hands and pulled her back into the bed, running his hands down her arms. ‘You're shivering. If you're cold, I could turn up the fire.'

‘I'm not cold.' She covered herself with the sheet again and he yanked it away.

‘What's the matter with you? I've seen you naked from the waist up dozens of times.'

‘There's a difference between that kind of seeing and the kind of seeing that leads to what we've just done.'

‘You don't like making love?' he questioned sharply.

‘I need time to get used to it, Sam,' she explained, in response to the hurt expression in his eyes.

‘I thought last night was fantastic. Are you saying it wasn't for you?'

‘It's probably guilt. All my life I've had it drummed into me that decent girls only make love after they are married.'

He lay back on the pillows and stared up at the ceiling. ‘We've been engaged for over eighteen months, we'll be married in three.'

‘I know, Sam. All I'm asking is that you be patient with me.'

‘And stop making love to you?'

‘No,' she whispered, not wanting to hurt him any more than she already had.

‘What we need is more practice.'

She tried to return his smile and braced herself to meet his caresses without flinching. While he kissed and fondled her, she wondered how other women coped. Her mother, Katie, Helen, Lily – perhaps they could tell her how long it took to become accustomed to this intimate, painful and grossly humiliating side of marriage.

It was after midnight when Robin parked his car on the Mumbles Road. He removed an envelope from his pocket and turned it over. The words,
Miss Emily Murton Davies,
scrawled in his handwriting, glared back at him.

Despite everything his father had said, he couldn't still a nagging doubt that something wasn't quite right. Why had Emily claimed that Angela had arranged for her to be found in bed with Thompson when she must have known that no one would believe her? It was obvious Angela couldn't have arranged anything of the kind if she hadn't known that Emily had been sleeping around all along. The only wonder was that he hadn't realised what Ems was up to. After all, they had been together a long time …

He turned the envelope over. Inside was a cheque for fifty pounds, the entire contents of his deposit account, which he'd have to transfer to his current account in his lunch break tomorrow. If Ems was careful, fifty pounds should go some way towards keeping her until the baby was born and, once she'd had it adopted, she wouldn't have any more expenses. Besides, fifty pounds was a lot to pay out when there was hardly any likelihood of the baby being his.

What had his father called him? Loyal, blinkered, generous and soft-hearted. His father was right, he was being generous giving Emily fifty pounds considering the position he had seen her in the night before. Wasn't he?

Taking a pen from his pocket he tore a blank page from the back of his address book and scribbled a note.

My people don't want me to see you again. Please send back the ring. You can drop it off it at my solicitors, Thomas and Butler in Christina Street.

He paused for a moment, then scrawled.

Thanks for the memories, Robin.

Trite but final. There was no mistaking the message. He pushed the page into the envelope, giving himself no time for second thoughts. Leaving his car, he walked around the corner to the flat and thrust the envelope through the letterbox. He resisted the temptation to look up at the window before retracing his steps. He was free. He'd behaved impeccably and seen to it that Ems had enough money to last her until the baby was born. But he knew he'd feel a whole lot better if he could blot the image of Emily as he had last seen her, wretched and tearful, from his mind.

‘I'd be delighted to advance you a bank loan for two thousand pounds, Mr Clay.' Mr Hopkin Jones beamed magnanimously at Martin and sat back in the substantial leather chair behind his desk. ‘Just one note of prudence. Are you certain that two thousand pounds will be sufficient for your needs?' He pulled a file towards him and flicked through it. ‘Given your assets, I would be happy to arrange a two thousand five hundred pound loan or a two thousand five hundred pound overdraft facility, to be repaid over ten years, whichever you think will best suit your needs.'

‘What assets?' Martin queried suspiciously.

‘Your house, investments …'

‘The house is my wife's and she was left the investments by her aunt.'

‘She put them in your joint names, Mr Clay. You signed the papers.' The manager checked the date next to the signatures at the bottom of a page. ‘Two years ago.'

Martin vaguely recalled Lily bringing a pile of papers home from the bank for him to sign shortly after they were married. She had told him they were related to their bank accounts and the wills they had made, each favouring the other. Trusting her implicitly, he hadn't even given the papers a cursory glance before scribbling his signature alongside hers.

‘I want the loan, Mr Hopkin Jones, not my wife.'

‘The bank would never consider advancing an unsecured loan or overdraft of that magnitude, Mr Clay.'

‘You have my word …'

‘Forgive me for saying so, but your word would be worth very little should the garage that is offering you a partnership become bankrupt.'

Martin fell silent.

‘Your wife has worked for us for over three years, Mr Clay. I don't think I am speaking out of turn when I say I feel that I know her. She would have never put her property in your joint names if she hadn't full confidence in your abilities and judgement.'

‘I'll not mortgage Lily's house or touch her investments, Mr Hopkin Jones.' Martin rose to his feet.

‘You could miss a golden opportunity if you don't, Mr Clay. The location of the garage is excellent and coupled with the Powell and Ronconi name and the prospective figures in this,' he tapped the file Brian had given Martin the day before, ‘make this as sound a business venture as any I've seen in years.'

‘But not sound enough to advance me the money I require?'

Mr Hopkin Jones gave Martin a tight smile. ‘Not without security, Mr Clay.'

‘Thank you for your time.' Martin picked up the file from the bank manager's desk.

Mr Hopkin Jones removed his pocket watch from his waistcoat and opened it as he walked Martin to the door. ‘It is twelve-thirty, Mr Clay. Why don't you take your wife to lunch and discuss this with her?'

‘There is nothing to discuss, Mr Hopkin Jones, and I have to be back at work in ten minutes.' Martin held out his hand. ‘Thank you and goodbye.'