Sins of the Father (28 page)

Emma frowned. Mr Derivale had turned his nose up, obviously taking Doris for what she was. She took her friend’s arm, dragging her into the drawing room. ‘Oh, take no notice of him. Now tell me, how are you feeling?’

‘To be honest, I’m still a bit rough, but money’s a bit tight so I’ve gone back to work.’

‘I hate to think of you out on the streets again.’

‘Don’t worry, I’ll be fine.’

Emma indicated a chair, praying Doris was right, unable to forget how she had looked when she found her that day. ‘I bet your mother was pleased to see you.’

‘Yes, she was, but she ain’t too good and, to be honest, I didn’t want to leave her. Mrs Knox is keeping an eye on her and that eases my mind.’ Doris’s smile seemed forced then as she added, ‘Now enough about me. I want to hear all about Mr Derivale, even if he is a stuck-up git. And how’s Tinker?’

‘She’s walking now, and into everything.’

‘Is she? Blimey! Still, things must be looking up now you’ve got a lodger.’

‘Yes, but one isn’t enough.’

‘You’ll get more, and hopefully they’ll be a darn sight friendlier than him.’

‘He’s all right, Doris. He’s very polite. He works for an insurance company, but I know little else about the man.’

‘He ain’t bad-looking, I’ll say that, but is it enough to melt the ice queen? Oh, don’t look at me like that, love. I’m sorry, it’s just that with your looks I can’t believe the bloke hasn’t tried it on.’

‘Well, he hasn’t and he’d better not. Now if you don’t mind, can we change the subject?’

‘Yeah, all right, but I can’t stay long. I didn’t want to hang about near your house, so I’ve moved on from this area. I’m working Clapham Junction now and it’s a bit of a walk from here. Never mind, I’ll pop round to see you again, or if you fancy coming to my place, you’d be welcome.’

‘I’d like that,’ Emma said, and after chatting for another five minutes she showed her friend out. Poor Doris, what an awful way to earn money. She couldn’t help worrying about the dangers her friend faced. At least, Emma thought, she had this house, and as time passed she was growing less and less concerned about Horace and his threat of selling it. After all, she was still his wife and must have some rights.

Mr Derivale didn’t come downstairs again and at eleven o’clock Emma tidied up before going
to bed. Tinker was sleeping soundly, a pudgy fist tucked under her chin, and for a moment Emma stood gazing down at her daughter. She seemed to be growing daily, and clothes were a problem, but unless she filled all of the rooms with lodgers, shopping for new ones was impossible. Oh, she had wanted to give her daughter so much, to dress her like a princess, but instead it was a daily struggle just to pay the bills and feed them.

Sighing heavily, Emma undressed and climbed into bed, turning off her bedside lamp. It was hot, humid, and an hour later, finding the heat oppressive, she was still awake. It was then that her bedroom door was flung open, and she saw a man silhouetted in the doorway. Hastily clutching the sheet to her chest she cried out, ‘Who…who’s there?’

As the figure advanced into the room, Emma’s hand fumbled for the light in terror. At last she was able to switch it on, illuminating the man at the foot of her bed.

‘Mr Derivale! What are you doing in my room?’

‘I should think it’s obvious.’

Emma tensed, her voice high. ‘Not to me it isn’t. You have no right to come in here. Please…go away.’

‘Come on,’ he drawled, ‘I’ve got you pegged so you can drop the innocent act.’

‘Act! What act? I don’t know what you’re talking about.’

‘Oh, you know all right. You might think you can take me for a mug, but seeing your so-called
friend
earlier, the puzzle fell into place. I couldn’t work out how you manage to maintain this huge place, especially as I’m the only lodger. What am I? A front? A token lodger to cover up what’s
really
going on?’

‘Going on? There’s nothing going on!’

He moved swiftly to the side of the bed, and heart thumping with fear, Emma scrambled out the other side as he spat, ‘You fooled me for a while with your ladylike ways, but you’re no lady, are you, Mrs Bell? You’re a madam!’

‘A…a what?’

‘I said, drop the act. This is a brothel and a very clever one too. I never heard a thing and that means you must have a separate entrance, another part of this house for your girls and their punters.’

‘You’re mad!’ Emma cried, eyes wild as she stared at the man across the width of the bed.

Maurice Derivale smirked and before she could react he lunged across the bed, grabbing her, his grip tight on her arms.

‘Let me go!’ Emma shouted.

‘Oh, I don’t think so.’

There was a tiny cry, and her eyes flew to the cot. Tinker was beginning to stir and Emma’s voice
was a hiss. ‘Please, my daughter is waking up. Listen, you’re wrong, totally wrong. Doris is just a friend, that’s all, and I’m certainly not running a brothel.’

‘I said don’t take me for a mug,’ the man repeated, pulling her down until she was prone on the bed, his fingers digging into her flesh.

Emma was unable to help a yelp of pain and terror, but hearing another whimper her eyes again flew to the cot and she fought to get away, her hands tearing at the edge of the mattress. ‘Please…please…my daughter.’

‘Stop struggling or I’ll make
sure
she wakes up,’ Maurice Derivale threatened, his voice a low growl.

Emma went limp then, her thoughts only for her child as the fight went out of her. He turned her over, forced her legs apart, and as the assault began, Emma’s cries were inside her head.
Oh God, help me, please, make him stop!
He entered her and she stifled another yelp of pain, lying broken and unmoving beneath him as he thrust into her again and again. She felt helpless, her eyes squeezed shut, and inside her tortured mind Emma begged for only one thing.
Oh, please, let it be over!

At last, with a loud cry of triumph, Maurice Derivale came to a frenzied climax and Emma’s eyes flew open as Tinker stirred. The child struggled to sit up, her cries animating Emma as she
frantically shoved the man away. She scrambled from the bed, snatching Tinker from her cot, holding her daughter protectively to her chest.

With Tinker in her arms, sobbing now, Emma’s eyes burned with hate as she faced Mr Derivale. ‘You
raped
me and I’ll see that the police hunt you down.’

‘Who are you kidding? You won’t tell the police anything. After all, you’ve got too much to hide.’

‘I’ve
nothing
to hide. My house is
not
a brothel!’

At last she saw fear in his eyes, and without a word he hurried from the room, whilst Emma remained rooted to the spot until at last she heard his footsteps running downstairs. As the street door slammed behind him, the rigidity left her body and, knees collapsing, she sank onto the side of the bed.

She had thought the man charming, polite, but instead she had housed a monster. Clutching Tinker to her, Emma rocked back and forth, tears blinding her eyes and sobs racking her body. He could have killed her or worse, hurt Tinker! How could she have been so blind?

Maurice Derivale hurried along the road. Christ, had he got it wrong? No, of course he hadn’t. As soon as he’d seen that tart it had all clicked into place, but just in case Emma Bell carried out her threat to call the police, he needed to get out of the area. And fast.

He headed for the train station, calm by the time he arrived. It had been a cushy little job, the money good, and now he smiled. There had been a nice little perk at the end, but he wouldn’t include that in his report. In fact, without proof, it might be better to leave his suspicions out too. He’d say that he’d checked up on the woman, that she was taking in lodgers, and leave it at that. His hand unconsciously rubbed his crotch. She was a beautiful woman, a right tasty piece, and he’d easily fooled her with his act. Insurance agent. Huh, what a laugh.

Maurice had no idea why the client had paid him to check up on Emma Bell, but now wondered who the man was, and what he wanted. He had never set eyes on him, the deal made by telephone and the money paid straight into his account as agreed. Now all he had to do was to return to his office, wait for the phone call, give his report and that was another job done. He smiled again. It had been more enjoyable than most, and as his train drew in he climbed into a carriage, preparing to face the long journey home.

Emma had no idea how long she remained on the side of her bed, but at last her tears subsided as she took deep juddering breaths. Amazingly, Tinker had fallen asleep in her arms, and now Emma laid her gently in the cot. She crept from
the room then, wanting only to scrub her body until all traces of Maurice Derivale had been removed.

She felt dirty, degraded, but something fundamental had shifted within her. All traces of innocence had been stripped away as hardness and hatred filled her heart. Never again would a man touch her. She was determined to make Mr Derivale pay for what he had done–to make
all
men pay. As Emma continued to scrub her body, a plan was forming, one for which the seed had been planted not long ago, but that she would never have considered until now.

Emma wasted no time, still icy and determined the next morning as she placed Tinker in her pram, setting out for Doris’s house. It was a long walk and by the time she arrived, Tinker, soothed by the movement of the pram, had fallen asleep.

When she knocked on the door, Mrs Knox opened it, whey-faced as she beckoned Emma inside.

Doris was slumped at the kitchen table, her eyes red and wild when she looked up at Emma. ‘I shouldn’t have left her, Em. I should have been here.’

‘What is it? What’s happened?’

Doris shook her head, unable to answer, and it was Mrs Knox who said with a sob, ‘It’s Gertie. She passed away last night.’

‘Oh no! Oh, Doris, I’m so sorry.’

‘I…I didn’t even get a chance to say goodbye. Oh…oh, Mum…’ Doris wailed.

‘I didn’t know how to get hold of you, Doris,’ Mrs Knox cried. ‘I flew next door and asked young Eric to go to the pub you said you worked in, but the landlord said he’d never heard of you.’

‘I…I changed jobs. Oh, what does it matter now? Mum’s gone and it’s all my fault. I knew she was rough, but I didn’t realise she was that bad.’

‘You heard the doctor–he said it was her heart. It just gave out, and even if you’d been here, you couldn’t have done anything.’

‘I could have been with her!’ Doris cried.

Emma didn’t know what to do, how to find words to comfort Doris, all thoughts of her own troubles pushed to one side as she stood ineffectually patting her friend’s shoulder. She heard Tinker waking up and went to lift her daughter from the pram. For a moment Emma floundered, wondering what to do. She didn’t want to leave Doris in such a state, but wasn’t sure how Tinker would react to the sorrow inside. Hoping that Tinker would be all right, she tentatively walked back into the kitchen, and seeing the child, Doris’s arms lifted.

Tinker went to Doris without protest, snuggling to her chest, seemingly unfazed as the woman’s tears fell. For a moment they were all silent, but then, drawing in a huge breath, Doris fought to pull herself together. She looked drained, her face wan, free of the heavy make-up she usually wore.

‘I’m so tired, I can’t seem to think straight. There’s so much to do and I don’t know where to start.’

‘You’ve been up all night so it’s hardly surprising,’ Mrs Knox commented. ‘I know you’ve got arrangements to make, but there’s no panic. You should get some sleep first.’

‘Is there anything I can do?’ Emma asked.

Doris shook her head, her eyes desolate as they met Emma’s. ‘No, but thanks for the offer. Oh God, I can’t believe she’s gone…oh…’ and once again tears began to fall.

This time, Tinker reacted, looking frightened as she stared up at Doris, and seeing that her daughter was about to cry too, Emma took her, holding her close.

‘I…I think Mrs Knox is right, Doris. Why don’t you try to get some sleep, and if it’s all right with you, I’ll come back later, or maybe tomorrow?’

Doris nodded, rising tiredly to her feet. ‘Yes, all right, I…I’d like that.’

Impulsively, Emma kissed Doris on the cheek and, still feeling helpless, she whispered goodbye, her heart heavy as she made her way home.

Emma did all she could to support Doris, but every time she went to her house, she was appalled by the woman’s living conditions. The house
hadn’t been up to much to start with, but now Doris had let the place go, uninterested in housework, her grief inconsolable.

The funeral was a sad affair, with only a few in attendance. Afterwards, when Mrs Knox had gone home, Emma and Doris sat in the small kitchen, Tinker asleep in her pram. Doris looked a shadow of her former self.

‘She was all I had, Em, and I couldn’t even give her the send-off she deserved,’ Doris said.

Emma reached out to take her hand, murmuring softly, ‘I only met your mother once but found her a lovely lady. She’d understand, love.’

‘I…I’m sort of lost, Em. I don’t know what to do with myself now.’

Emma wondered if this was the time to broach her plans to Doris. It might be just what she needed, something else to think about, but was it too soon? Her voice was hesitant when she spoke. ‘Are you going back on the…the game?’

Doris shook her head emphatically. ‘No. I’m finished with that. I’ll get a job of some sort but it’ll have to pay enough to keep this roof over my head.’ She managed a parody of a smile, adding, ‘Not that this place is up to much, but the landlord said I can take over the tenancy.’

Emma wanted to put her plan forward, but without Doris’s help she felt it would be impossible. Could she persuade her to change her mind?

‘Now if I had a place like yours,’ Doris continued, ‘I could get a lodger, but nobody would want to live in a dump like this.’ Her hand flew to her mouth. ‘Blimey, Em, I’ve been so wrapped up in myself I haven’t even asked you how you’re getting on. Have you rented any more rooms out?’

Emma returned to her chair and, taking a deep breath, she told Doris what had happened, hesitantly at first, but then her voice gained in strength. ‘He…he raped me, Doris. My lodger raped me.’