Sins (31 page)

‘Ella said that she’d heard rumours about Mrs Russell from some of the girls at
Vogue
. She was a model before they married. Her father was a South American businessman who lost all his money and then disappeared.’

Ella had told Rose that Mrs Russell had tried to persuade
Vogue
to do an article on her but that Ella’s boss had said that
Vogue
didn’t run articles on people who attached themselves to the fringes of society in an attempt to pretend they were something they were not.

As they drank their wine and exchanged news, Rose told Josh about having to work on Christmas Eve.

‘At the Russells’?’ he demanded.

Rose nodded.

‘Well, you just be careful that Russell doesn’t try giving you a Christmas present you don’t want. But your auntie
isn’t going to be pleased if you don’t make it home for Christmas, is she?’

‘Oh, I expect she’ll be so busy with Emerald that she won’t even miss me, and anyway…’

‘Anyway what?’ Josh pressed. He always knew when something was bothering her or she was holding something back. Rose was so damned honest that she was incapable of dissembling about anything. Unlike him. He was a genius at it.

‘Well, in some ways I’m glad that I’m not going to be able to go home.’

Why on earth had she told him that? It was the last thing she had intended to do, but somehow the admission had slipped out and now it couldn’t be recalled.

‘Because of this bloke you’re always thinking about and then pretending to me you aren’t looking like a wet weekend over?’

Rose nearly jumped out of her seat, spluttering into her glass and then looking at him in dismay before protesting, ‘You can’t know about John. I’ve never—’

‘Ah, so his name’s John, is it? What is he? Some posh county type you’ve been in love with since you and he rode your first ponies together?’ Josh was just teasing her, Rose knew, but his words sliced right into the heart of her pain.

‘Something like that,’ she agreed. ‘But I’m not in love with him. Not now.’

That was true, she recognised. She wasn’t ‘in love’ with John any more, but she did still love him and she ached, if anything, even more because that love, a sister’s love, must forever be unrecognised.

‘Come off it, Rose, you can’t fool me. I can tell by your voice that you love him. Maybe you should tell him that. You never know, he might secretly—’

‘No!’ Rose burst out fiercely. ‘He doesn’t love me. He can’t. He mustn’t.’

‘You’re not going to start all that nonsense of you not being good enough again, are you? You are every bit as good as anyone else, Rose. Repeat after me: I am—’

‘No, Josh, you don’t understand. It isn’t like that. Please don’t ask me any more. I can’t tell you. I promised I wouldn’t tell anyone. It would destroy John’s life if he knew. I wish I didn’t know myself.’

New York. She was being sent to New York for, provisionally, six months in the new year to work for the features editor of American
Vogue
. Ella hugged the news to herself. She had known that it was on the cards, though she hadn’t allowed herself to hope too much, but today her boss had confirmed it. She’d miss London, and Janey and Rose, of course, but New York! A fierce thrill went through her. She’d been told that she’d be rooming with another girl from the office who happened to have a spare bedroom, and that
Vogue
would cover all her travel expenses.

She was excited but she was worried as well. Who would keep an eye on Janey when she wasn’t here? Ella didn’t trust her younger sister. For one thing, she was always getting involved with such dreadful young men, lame ducks for whom she felt sorry.

And what about her diet pills? She’d need to stock up with them before she left, or find a new diet doctor in New York.

But at least she’d be away whilst Emerald was having her baby. Ella could feel herself tensing just as she always did when she thought about babies and what had happened to her mother, what she was so afraid could happen to her if she ever ended up pregnant. But that wasn’t going to happen. Not ever. She wasn’t like Emerald. She would never get married and she would certainly never ever have sex with a man outside of marriage. Emerald’s runaway marriage and its subsequent annulment had been a
cause célèbre
for several weeks; there had been photographs of Emerald in the gossip columns and heavily veiled innuendo pieces about what had happened and her consequent ‘condition’, along with surely undeserved praise for Emerald’s ‘bravery’ in remaining staunchly C of E.

The whole thing was shocking and shameful, in Ella’s opinion, but somehow so very typical of Emerald, who had always loved being the centre of attention and getting away with things that no one else could.

She looked down at her desk. She’d been in the middle of writing some copy when she’d been sent for. She reached out for her notes, her wrist narrow and fine-boned. She was working so hard at the moment that she doubted she would have had time to stop and eat any lunch, even if she had wanted to do so.

Her family thought it was hard work that had melted away the schoolgirlish chubbiness she had been carrying to reveal the elegance of her bone structure, but of course Ella knew better. Oliver Charters had shocked and, yes, frightened her with what he had said about her diet pills and their dangers, but Ella had eventually convinced
herself that he had exaggerated the dangers, and besides, she was still taking only one pill a day now–apart from when she was so tired and in need of an energy boost that she really felt she had to take a second tablet. It was amazing how well they worked in that regard, as well as helping to suppress her appetite. Ella didn’t want to be without them–ever.

The face that looked back at her from the bathroom mirror in the morning now had cheekbones and a new oval shape that seemed to make her eyes larger and her lips fuller. She didn’t dwell on these changes, though; she had far too much to do that was more interesting. And that hadn’t been the point of her wanting to lose weight. The point had been to prove that she could. Somewhere inside her a small voice pointed out that since she had achieved her goal she could now stop, but Ella refused to listen to it. She was afraid that if she stopped taking her precious pills she would get fat again and that would mean that she had failed. Doing what she had promised herself she would do had made her feel so happy, so good about herself, so confident and in control of her life.

With her new confidence she had started studying journalism at night school, mixing with students who, like her, felt passionately about the really important things in life, like poverty, war, unfairness and bigotry.

Ella knew that
Vogue
was not going to give her a platform to write about these things, but New York could. America surely was far more open to modern thought and would give people like her a voice. It could be the start of something very exciting.

It was six o’clock on Christmas Eve and Rose had been working all day at the Russells’, helping to put up the new curtains and dress them properly. Now she was back at the shop, tired out. Ella and Janey would be at Denham by now. Their father would have met them at the station and driven them back to the house where Aunt Amber would have a huge fire burning in the drawing room with presents piled round the tree in the hall, which the twins would still be finishing decorating. The house would smell of mulled wine and mince pies and wood smoke from the fires, but it was the thought of the warmth of Amber’s arms around her as she hugged her in greeting that caused the catch in Rose’s throat and made her eyes sting. Things weren’t like that any more, she reminded herself fiercely. They never had been, not really, and it was time she stopped being so…so sentimental and faced up to the truth.

She reached for her coat. Everyone else had already left and she was only still here because Ivor’s secretary had called out to her as she had rushed past with her own coat on that Ivor Hammond wanted to see her before she left.

He was striding towards her from his office now, his forehead creased in a frown.

‘I’ve just had the Russells on the phone,’ he told her curtly. ‘There’s a problem with the curtains and you’re going to have to go back and apologise. Mrs Russell has insisted.’

‘But she said she loved them,’ Rose protested.

‘I don’t care what she said then; now she’s saying they aren’t right, so you’d better get over there and make sure that they are. Russell is threatening to take something off the bill in lieu of good service, and if he does it will have to come out of your wages.’

Despite the fact that the shop’s order book was always full, Ivor seemed to be continually anxious about money. Rose had heard a rumour that he was often pressed by suppliers for settlement of outstanding bills, and someone had told her that he was a heavy gambler playing for high stakes.

The last thing Rose felt like doing was going back to the Russells’. She’d thought they were going out for the evening, anyway, and she was supposed to be meeting up with Josh, but she knew she couldn’t argue with Ivor. Not in his present mood. What a Scrooge he was.

Since it was Christmas Eve it was impossible for her to find a taxi. The streets were busy with people hurrying home, and it took her nearly twenty minutes to reach the Russells’ apartment, hugging her tweed coat around herself in the cold frostiness of the evening.

The Russells’ mansion flat occupied the ground and first floors of their building. The doorman recognised Rose when she walked into the handsome hallway.

She rang the bell, relieved when the door was opened straight away. She just wanted to get this over with and be on her way. She couldn’t understand what it was Mrs Russell wanted her to apologise for, when less than an hour ago she had been saying how delighted she was.

As she stepped inside Rose didn’t wait for Mrs Russell to start her complaint, beginning quickly instead, ‘Mrs Russell—’

‘Sadly my dear wife isn’t here.’

The door swung closed, the lock clicking as Mr Russell turned the key in it and then looked tauntingly at Rose.

‘What a good employee you are, to be sure, or did dear Ivor have to insist that you came back? I confess I did rather put the pressure on him but then you see, my dear Rose, you have been rather putting the pressure on me, and that’s very naughty of you. I don’t like being toyed with. No man does, and you have most definitely been toying with me.’

Rose felt as though she had become paralysed with fear. She desperately wanted to move but somehow she couldn’t. She was too afraid, she recognised weakly. Arthur Russell had set a trap for her and she had fallen into it.

‘Ivor said that there is a problem with the new curtains,’ she croaked valiantly. ‘If you could just show me what the problem is…’

‘Oh, I’ll show you that, my little lovely, and plenty more besides, and soon there won’t be any problem at all because you are going to take it away. How many men have you had? Don’t be afraid to tell me; it won’t make any difference, I promise you.’

He was reaching for her, his breath gusting out from his loose-lipped wet mouth, hot and smelling of drink.

Rose panicked, jerking away from him, trying to evade him, but he simply laughed at her, catching hold of her wrists and holding them securely behind her back.

‘Oh, yes, let’s make it a bit more exciting, my dear.’ His hold on her wrist tightened, but in her fear Rose struggled to break free, twisting and turning frantically.

‘Defying me, eh? Well, you shall have to be punished for that.’

The flat of his hand came down hard against the side of her face with such speed and force that it jerked Rose’s head to one side, compounding her shock and pain as Arthur Russell pushed her head against the wall.

Rose had never in the whole of her life experienced physical violence; even Nanny, who had never liked her, had never allowed Emerald so much as to tug her hair. Amber and Jay did not believe in chastising their children with blows, and the shock of what was happening now was almost as painful mentally for her as it was physically. She could taste blood in her mouth, she felt dizzy and slightly sick, close to tears with disbelief and fear. She had guessed that Arthur Russell was the kind that wouldn’t think twice about forcing himself on a woman if he thought he could get away with it, but the physical violence that went with his sexual desire was alien to everything she had ever known. She had no defences against it, or its vileness. Arthur Russell was laughing, enjoying himself, as he watched her shudder when he drew gentle fingers down her bruised face and whispered lasciviously to her.

‘Ah, poor little girl, shall I kiss it better and teach you how to enjoy a real man’s passion?’

When Rose shuddered again his hand slid to her throat and gripped it. Whilst she struggled to breathe he leaned forward, pushing his body up against her, grinding its heaviness into her, his mouth at first loose and wet on hers until he started biting at her lips so that she could taste her blood.

Her arms, still held behind her back, were becoming numb. Arthur Russell slid his hand from her throat down to her breast. Rose stiffened in revulsion, unable to stop herself from crying out in horror when he ripped open the front of her blouse, and then began to toy with her breast, still thankfully covered by the brassiere and the liberty bodice which Nanny’s strict rules meant that Rose was dutifully still wearing so long after leaving the nursery because of the winter cold.

This was worse than her worst nightmare, worse than anything she could ever have imagined. Rose thought of her mother, and wondered how many times she had known what she was knowing now. Shame and despair filled her. Perhaps this was what she had been born for, perhaps it was all that she was worth, a piece of flesh to be used for a man’s pleasure, used and hurt, if that pleased him. Images of the mother she had never known filled her head, the most horrible kind of images in which her own face became that of the petrified young woman whose body was being abused. Panic gripped her, urging her not to fight but to give in because surely that way it would all be over much sooner and she would be free to escape from him–from him but never from what he wanted to do to her.