Monday Girl (8 page)

‘You’re a wee bit later, tonight,’ Anne remarked.

‘The shorthand teacher was showing us some new shapes, and we’ve to practise them for next week.’ The false excuse had come to her in a flash.

‘See that you do, then.’

Renee set off eagerly to her evening class the following Monday, but couldn’t concentrate properly on the shorthand lesson for thinking about Fergus waiting for her when she went out. She wasn’t disappointed in his kisses in the park this time, and when he drew away from her at last, she tried to pull him back.

‘Please, Fergus, don’t stop yet.’

‘This is getting too much for me, Renee,’ he said thickly, dropping his arms. ‘You’re tormenting me, and making it harder.’ He laughed suddenly. ‘You’ve definitely made it hard.’

She couldn’t understand why he was laughing, because she could see nothing amusing in what he’d said, so she asked, ‘What’s hard, Fergus?’

He put his hand under her chin and kissed her lightly.

‘You’ll find out. Some day soon . . . very soon.’

She had to be content with that, and they left the park to start their walk home.

Next evening, when she was alone with Jack Thomson in the dining room for a few minutes, he said to her, ‘I saw you walking up the road with Fergus last night. Watch yourself with him, Renee. Don’t trust him, whatever he says, for he’s fooling around with other girls as well.’

‘Don’t be daft, Jack,’ she snapped, angry at having been seen, and angry with him for interfering. ‘Of course I trust him. He told me he’s only going out with them till I’m old enough for him to ask out properly.’

Jack frowned. ‘Don’t believe him. He’s a waster. I’ve heard a few stories about him, and I’m sorry I ever told him about the digs. His folk live in Aberdeen, you know, and they put him out, so I’ve been told.’

‘Jack Thomson, you’re just jealous of Fergus with all the girlfriends he’s had.’ Renee looked at him defiantly.

His responding glare softened suddenly into a long penetrating look which made her blush. ‘Aye,’ he said, quietly. ‘I am jealous, but not for all his other girls, just one.’

‘Oh.’ Renee felt uncomfortable, knowing he meant her. She liked Jack, she liked him quite a lot, but she couldn’t flirt with him like she did with some of the boys at the classes. ‘Fergus is serious about me,’ she said, at last, ‘and I’m serious about him.’

‘Don’t say I didn’t warn you, then.’ Jack strode out of the room as Anne came in.

‘What’s wrong with him? He’d a face like thunder.’

‘Why should there be anything wrong with him?’ Renee was still angry that Jack had said those awful things about Fergus.

‘Well, he looked upset about something.’

‘I don’t know what it is,’ Renee said, acidly, as she rose to clear the table. ‘What’s happened to Fergus, tonight? He’s a bit late, isn’t he?’

‘He came home early, and washed and dressed himself, and went out without his tea.’

‘Where was he going?’ Renee half expected her mother to tell her it was none of her business, but she had to ask.

‘How should I know? He doesn’t tell me what he’s doing.’ The sharpness of Anne’s voice made Renee study her. Her mother was taking more care with her appearance these days, and had been brighter than usual recently. Could there be a special reason? Surely she wasn’t . . . ? Surely Fergus hadn’t . . . ? No, no! That was ridiculous. Then she remembered that Fergus had called her mother ‘Anne’ the day they realised Uncle George wasn’t coming back, and the seed of jealousy which had been sown at that time, but had lain dormant ever since, began to germinate.

He’d only been trying to be kind at that time, she thought, hastily. Later on, though, he’d said he admired George for going away, and that wasn’t being kind to her mother. It was very puzzling, and she decided to ask Fergus about it when she met him next Monday. There was probably a perfectly reasonable explanation. There must be!

As soon as she came out of the grammar school the following week, she tackled him about the use of her mother’s Christian name.

‘Good God! What made you remember that? The day your uncle drove off into the sunset? But that’s more than a year ago.’ Fergus laughed as he tucked her arm through his.

‘Let me think. I suppose it must have been hearing George calling her Anne. I didn’t even realise I’d said it. You’re not jealous of your own mother, are you? She’s more than seventeen years older than me, for heaven’s sake.’

‘I’m sorry.’ Renee was contrite. ‘I just couldn’t help wondering about it, but it’s all right now, and I won’t be jealous any more.’

‘I bloody well hope not. I’ve enough on my plate just now without you starting. Lily’s getting too serious for my liking, and I’m trying to shake her off.’

‘Lily?’ Her newly assuaged fears were turned in another direction. ‘What about . . . Eleanor?’

‘Eleanor’s in the dim and distant past. There’s been quite a few since Eleanor, but Lily’s my Tuesday girl, the same as you’re my Monday girl. See?’

‘Fergus Cooper! You haven’t got a different girl for every night of the week, have you?’ Renee did her best to sound lighthearted, but her heart was as heavy as lead at being classed as one of his many conquests.

‘I told you – it’s only till you’re older. You know we’ve to keep this a secret just now. Your mother would go mad if she thought you were going out with an old man of twenty-one, and you not long fifteen.’ His eyes were tender and appealing.

Renee believed him. She had to believe him, otherwise her life wouldn’t be worth living. ‘I’m fifteen and eight weeks,’ she reminded him, as if the extra time made a difference.

‘Look, I’ll prove how much you mean to me.’ They had reached the park gates, so he took her in and guided her towards a clump of bushes near one of the huge trees. Taking off his coat, he spread it on the grass and pulled her down on to it.

‘You’re the only one I really love, honest,’ he whispered.

‘You know that, don’t you?’

‘Y . . . yes,’ she said, doubtfully, ‘but . . .’

‘No buts.’ His mouth came down hard on hers as he pushed her flat to the ground. ‘I’ve been dreaming about this for months, and I can’t wait any longer. I’ve been going mad wanting you.’

His demanding kisses thrilled her so much that she didn’t realise he had opened her blouse until his hands gripped her small, firm breasts, and her feeble protests were cut off by more kisses. ‘Darling,’ he crooned. ‘They’re like little apples, and now you’re wanting me as much as I’m wanting you.’

‘How do you know?’ she murmured. His fingers were fondling her nipples, sending wonderful sensations downwards, and she wished he would go on for ever.

‘I just know.’ He laughed softly as he took her hand and slid it down his body. ‘That’s what I meant was hard, last week. Feel it, it’s sitting up and begging for you to let it out.’ Now she understood, but she panicked suddenly when his hand crept under her skirt and up her thigh. ‘No, Fergus, please!’

‘Say yes, Fergus, please.’ He was under her French knickers by this time, and his breathing, like hers, was a series of short gasps. ‘Say I’m the very first for you. I must be your first, Renee.’ He heaved himself on top of her and forced her legs apart.

Her fear of the unknown made her tense, so he moved himself around a little until, with a sigh, she relaxed to receive him. He entered her slowly, and when she moaned at the pain, exquisite though it was, he kissed her fiercely.

‘It’s all right, it’s all right,’ he panted, thrusting deeper. ‘I won’t hurt you, and you really like it, don’t you?’

He climaxed very quickly and collapsed by her side, leaving her ashamed of the feelings he’d aroused in her, and which were still clamouring to be satisfied.

In a few minutes, he sat up. ‘Now you’ll always belong to me, because I know I’m the first man to have you, and you’re my Monday girl, because you’re the first girl for me.’

‘Your first time, too?’ Renee wanted to believe this, but needed his assurance that it was true.

He looked at her with a wry smile. ‘No, I can’t say that. At my age, you couldn’t expect me . . . I’ve had sex with quite a few girls, but you’re the first, the most important to me, now, and Monday’s the first day of the week, so that’s why it’s right that you’re my Monday girl.’

She smoothed down her clothing and sat up, still trembling, but he only kissed her gently before he pulled her to her feet to resume their homeward walk.

Later that night, Renee was glad she had her own single bed where she could relive the wonderful time in the park, the kisses, the words of love, the . . . She could feel Fergus there inside her, and desire for him rose again. It was a good thing her mother couldn’t sense the innermost thoughts of her fifteen-year-old daughter, otherwise there would be trouble.

During the following evening, the girl was unable to settle to anything for thinking about Fergus out with Lily, his Tuesday girl. Over and over again, she consoled herself by remembering that he’d said he was trying to shake Lily off, but she kept torturing herself by imagining him doing to the other girl what he’d done to her the previous night. Jealousy ate into her very soul, like a canker, and she was sure she’d never be able to bear this uncertainty until she was old enough to tell her mother how she felt about him.

All through the winter and spring, they made love on Mondays in the Victoria Park; mad, passionate love, until Renee could hardly keep their secret to herself. She wanted the whole world to know how much she loved Fergus, and how much he loved her, but it wasn’t possible, at her age.

Once she was sixteen, though, it would be different. After all, in Scots law, girls could marry at sixteen without parental consent, so she could make her feelings public and her mother couldn’t do a thing about it. She meant to tell Fergus what she intended to do, but their time together was so precious, so intense, that she never remembered about it when they were alone, and there was no opportunity inside the house. The light summer nights made things more difficult for them, however, because he worried that someone might see them and pass the information on to Anne.

‘I don’t care who sees us,’ Renee said, indignantly, one night, annoyed that his fears were damping his ardour.

‘It’s you I’m thinking about, darling,’ he protested, but she was stung into action when he lay back, not having attempted to do anything except kiss and caress her. She surprised herself, and Fergus, by pulling him towards her again, and kissing him wildly until she felt him responding. His hands went willingly now to where she had ached for them, and he muttered, ‘You’ve asked for it, Renee, and by God you’re going to get it.’

His frenzied penetration alarmed her into fearing that he might rip her apart, but, in a few seconds, she, too, was caught up in a great tide of passion, and she forgot everything except the blinding need for the gratification of her desires.

‘Oh, Fergus, I love you,’ she moaned, just before they peaked together.

‘And I love you,’ he panted, digging his nails into her arm.

He had just turned on to his back again, when they heard footsteps coming along the path towards them, and he averted his head as a young couple passed. ‘I don’t think it was anybody we know,’ he muttered as the sound of their feet died away, then he grinned. ‘God, that was good, Renee. We’re absolutely made for each other.’ Her irritation at his first reaction vanished. They were made for each other, that was what was so wonderful for her.

That Wednesday was the last of her classes until after summer. She had forgotten, in the torrid passion of Monday night, to tell Fergus that they wouldn’t be able to meet outside the grammar school until the evening classes resumed in October.

Over three months! She turned cold at the thought. She must find a way to keep their weekly assignations carrying on. Perhaps she could tell her mother that she was going out with a friend? That way, she could spend a few hours with her lover instead of the snatched twenty to thirty minutes they’d had until now, but she’d have to pave the way with her mother, and arrange it with Fergus. Letting him know was going to be almost impossible with the other three lodgers in the house, so the only way to do it would be to scribble a note to him, and to find an opportunity to give it to him before Monday.

On Thursday evening, when they were all seated round the dining-room table, she made her first real move into the sordid world of lies and deceit. ‘I met Phyllis Barclay when I came out of the office tonight, Mum. Remember, she was in my class at school?’

‘Oh, yes.’ Anne waited until her mouth was empty before she went on. ‘You used to speak about her quite a lot. Where’s she working these days?’

‘She’s in a solicitor’s office in Bon Accord Square, and she gets better wages than me. She went to Webster’s Day Classes for six months when she left school, so she’s a shorthand-typist.’

‘You’ll maybe have better wages than her, in the long run.’ Anne smiled. ‘You’re getting yours up every year until you’re twenty-four, so you should end up with a really good salary.’

‘I suppose so . . . Anyway, Phyllis asked if I’d go to the pictures with her on Mondays, now that my classes are finished.’ The falsehood tripped off her tongue as if by magic. She hadn’t even thought of what she would say. She saw Fergus raise his eyebrows, but she couldn’t explain to him. It was all in the little note tucked up her sleeve, and which she was intending to slip to him when no one was looking.

‘That’ll be nice for you,’ Anne remarked. ‘But, remember, I don’t want you to be too late in coming home.’

‘OK, I’ll remember. I’ll come straight home every week.’ Renee rose to go through to the scullery to refill the teapot, and, as she passed behind her mother, she looked over to Fergus and pulled the edge of the note into view, to let him know what to expect. He couldn’t give any sign that he had understood, because he was facing Anne, but she trusted that he had realised what she meant.

Later, when she saw her mother deep in conversation with Mike Donaldson, she looked enquiringly at Fergus, who gave a slight nod and puckered his lips in a make-believe kiss. She noticed then that Jack Thomson had seen the by-play and was frowning at her. She didn’t care, it was none of his business what she did or who she went out with. Fergus remained at the table after the other boys left, so Renee was able to slide her piece of paper under his plate just before her mother came back into the room. He retrieved it at once and pushed back his chair.