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Authors: Jeanne Whitmee

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BOOK: True Colours
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FRANCES

I felt so much better for getting some of my worries off my chest to Sophie over lunch. Now it was time to face Adam. Ostensibly my meeting with him was to make the final arrangements for my training but I also had a huge favour to ask him and the thought of it was already making me nervous.

I’d been looking forward to Harry’s half-term so much and so far it had been a disaster. Charles had driven over to collect him while I waited eagerly at home, preparing Harry’s favourite meal. But he’d seemed oddly subdued when he arrived home. All the questions I asked him were responded to with a one syllable answer. I put it down to tiredness after the journey but later after he’d gone up to have his bath I went up to collect his dirty clothes for the wash. Upstairs I put my head round the bathroom door only to be greeted by an indignant yell.


Mum
! I’m in the bath.’

I laughed. ‘I know that. I only want your clothes to put in the wash.’

‘I’m nine years old. I get bathed on my own now!’

There was something in his voice, a shrillness that was more than just embarrassment.

‘It’s all right, Harry. I am your mum,’ I reminded him. I pushed the door open and began to walk into the bathroom only to be met with a wet sponge hitting me in the face.


Go away
!’

Shocked, I withdrew quickly but not before I’d seen the bruises
on his chest and shoulders. The sight shook me but I decided to play it down for now and wait until he was in bed.

He was sitting up reading a book when I knocked on his door. ‘Is it safe to come in? I’ve brought you some cocoa.’

‘Thanks, come in.’ He blushed. ‘Sorry, Mum but I’ve sort of got used to doing stuff on my own,’ he said.

I happened to know that the boys at school took communal showers but I let it go. I put the mug down on the bedside table and sat down on the edge of his bed. ‘You haven’t said much about school,’ I said. ‘You’re happy there, aren’t you? He nodded, his eyes still on his book. ‘Made many friends?’ Again he nodded. ‘Teachers nice?’

He put the book down. ‘Mum, I’m a bit tired, so….’

‘I saw them, Harry,’ I said. ‘I couldn’t help it. How did you get them?’

‘Get what?’ he mumbled, hiding his face in the mug of cocoa.

‘You know what – the bruises.’

He shrugged, unable to meet my eyes. ‘You know how rough rugby is. Everyone’s got bruises.’

‘Not like the ones you’ve got. What happened, Harry?’


Nothing
!’

‘Did a teacher do it? Because if that’s the case….’


No
. Give it a rest, Mum!’

I waited a moment, making it clear that I wasn’t going away. He put his book aside and lay down. ‘I want to go to sleep now.’

I tucked the covers round him and bent to kiss him but he turned his head away. ‘Harry, what’s wrong?’ I asked. ‘I’m not going anywhere until I get a proper answer.’


I told you. It’s nothing
!’ As he turned to me I saw the tears welling up in his eyes. ‘Go away, Mum. Stop interrogating me!’

‘Are you being bullied?’ I asked quietly.

The tears got the better of him and he hid his head under the duvet. ‘Honestly, it’s nothing,’ he repeated. ‘Anyway, I promised Dad….’

I pulled the duvet back. ‘You promised Dad what?’

‘That I wouldn’t tell you. He says it happens to everyone their first year. I’ve got to toughen up – grin and bear it.’

Inside I was seething but I managed to sound calm as I asked,
‘Who did it, and why?’

‘Older boys. It’s what they do, because you’re a kid. They make you do stuff and if you don’t do it right they….’

‘Hit you?’

He didn’t need to answer my question. Determined not to be emotional, I tucked him up and switched off the bedside light. ‘Go to sleep now and try not to worry about it,’ I said, dropping a kiss on the top of his head. ‘Night-night. See you in the morning.’

Downstairs Charles was sitting in the conservatory reading his paper, a whisky and soda on the table beside him. I sat down opposite.

‘Did you know that Harry was being bullied at school?’

He glanced up. ‘I’d hardly call it anything so melodramatic. A bit of joshing and being ordered about is par for the course in the first year,’ he said casually.

‘I’d hardly call intense bruising of the chest and shoulders
joshing
,’ I said. ‘Have you seen the state of him? He’s black and blue!’

He looked at me over the top of the paper. ‘He’s a young boy. I expect he bruises easily. Anyway I told him not to go bleating to you about it. I knew you’d overreact just like you do over everything.

‘He didn’t
bleat
as you put it. I happened to walk into the bathroom when he was in the bath and he was very reluctant to tell me how he got the bruises. I notice that these young thugs are careful not to inflict any
visible
damage. What I’ve just seen on Harry’s body is what the police would probably see as actual bodily harm. It should be stopped, Charles.’

‘Oh, for heaven’s sake stop emoting, Fran.’ He sighed. ‘It happens to everyone, believe me. It always has and it never did me any harm. Stop stressing about it and let the boy learn to toughen up.’

I stared at him. ‘I can’t believe you’re taking this so casually. We’re not living in Victorian England.’

He threw down his paper. ‘Would you rather he took a thrashing from a gang of drugged up council estate yobs?’

I knew this was another sideways swipe at the fact that his upbringing was more upper class than mine. I chose to ignore it.
‘Does the headmaster know this goes on?’

‘Probably,’ he said with a shrug. ‘I daresay it happened to him too when he was a first year. You’ve always spoiled the boy, Fran. That’s why I wanted him to go away to school. If you had your way you’d have him grow up a namby-pamby mummy’s boy.’

‘Need I remind you that he is still only nine years old?’

‘Exactly. Nine, not five. High time for him to start growing up,’ he said. ‘And while we’re on the subject, there’ll be no visits to zoos and theme parks this half term. I’ve taken some time off and I’ve made a list of things for us to do together, as father and son.’

‘So I’m to be excluded?’

He shrugged. ‘You’re welcome to come along too if you think you’d be interested.’ He picked up his paper again, a sign that the argument was at an end.

I took a deep breath. ‘While we’re talking, Charles, there’s something I have to tell you.’ I’d rehearsed this conversation in my head over and over during the past few days and I’d decided to use the word “tell” rather than ‘ask’.

He folded his newspaper and sighed exaggeratedly. ‘What is it
now
?’

‘The job I told you about – the one with the pool company. I’ve decided to take it.’ Before he could react I ploughed on, ‘I’ve come to an arrangement with them about the holidays and half terms. I start training next week after Harry has gone back to school.’ I sat back, immensely relieved to have actually said it at last. When I looked up his face was flushed, his eyes glittering with anger.

‘You’ll do nothing of the sort,’ he said. ‘I told you – I won’t have it.’

‘And you’re going to stop me
how
? Lock me in the house, chain me to the railings? It’s a perfectly respectable job, Charles. There is absolutely no reason why I shouldn’t accept the offer and I’ve decided to take it. As I said before, we’ve moved on from the Victorian age.’ Inside my stomach was churning. I knew I would never have been brave enough to stand up to him like this if it were not for sheer necessity. I just had to find the money to pay Sheila Philips somehow.

I hardly saw anything of Harry after that. Charles took him to football matches, to the Motor Show and the IT exhibition he was
personally involved in. Each day he had arranged something totally male-orientated to take him to; and in spite of what he’d said, it was made clear to me that I wasn’t expected to tag along. Today was Thursday. Just two more days before Harry returned to school and, presumably, the torture inflicted by the older boys. I’d hardly seen him, except during our evening meal and at bed time. Today I travelled up to London with them both for my lunch date with the girls and that was the most time I’d spent with my son all week.

On the subject of my job Charles had been ominously silent. Presumably he was waiting until Harry had gone back to school to think up some way of getting back at me. I pushed it to the back of my mind. Whatever happened I was taking the job Adam had offered me. I had no choice; it was as simple as that.

After I’d said goodbye to Sophie outside the restaurant I went straight to Adam’s office where he had a contract ready for me to sign. My hand shook as I took the pen he handed me. I was burning bridges. There would be no turning back now.

He looked at me. ‘Are you all right, Frances?’

I nodded, trying to laugh off my nervousness. ‘It’s not every day I sign a contract.’

‘You are sure about the job?’

I looked up at him. ‘Yes, of course – but….’


But
! That’s an ominous word. You have reservations?’

I shook my head. ‘Not reservations.’ I glanced round. ‘A massive favour to ask actually.’

Reading my thoughts, he stood up. ‘Come on, we’ll go and have a drink, find a quiet corner where you can ask away.’ He smiled, holding out my coat for me. ‘Don’t look so worried, Frances. It can’t be that bad.’


Can’t it
?’ I said under my breath.

He took me to a club he belonged to in St James’s Place where we found a quiet corner in a large upstairs room overlooking a leafy garden. Settling me in a large leather chair by the window he ordered a pot of tea then sat down opposite me.

‘OK. Fire away.’

‘You’re going to think this is a terrible cheek.’

‘Suppose you let me be the judge of that.’

I took a deep breath. ‘I need to borrow five hundred pounds.’

To his credit, he didn’t bat an eyelid. ‘You mean you’d like an advance against your first month’s salary?’

‘Yes – I suppose so – please.’ I looked at him. ‘Adam, I know it’s an awful cheek. After all, you hardly know me. I feel I owe you an explanation.’

‘You don’t need to explain anything to me.’

‘Yes, I do.’ I raised my hand. ‘Please, let me. The money – it’s not for me.’

I stopped talking as the waiter appeared with our tea. Adam silently poured me a cup. Passing it to me, he said quietly, ‘Take your time, Frances. I can see that you have something you need to get off your chest, but remember, you really don’t need to do this. You can have the advance without question.’

I took a sip of my tea. ‘I can’t tell you how grateful I am.’ I put the cup back on its saucer. ‘I’ll be brief. It sounds bizarre and melodramatic but I’m being blackmailed over a serious mistake I made a long time ago,’ I took a deep breath and began, ‘I….’

He cut in. ‘No, Frances. You don’t have to tell me. You say you’re being blackmailed. There is only one answer to that and it’s
not
handing money over.’

‘I know, but this mistake I made – Charles doesn’t know.’

‘And this person is threatening to tell him?’ I nodded. ‘That’s despicable. You know what you should do.’

‘Ideally, yes, but I can’t lose my son. If Charles knew he’d never let me see Harry again.’

He winced. ‘Surely it can’t be that bad.’

‘He’d consider it was.’

‘So, I take it that it happened before you married him.’

‘Yes, when I was sixteen.’


Sixteen
!’ For a moment I thought he was going to laugh. ‘You made a mistake when you were sixteen! Join the club!’ When he saw that he wasn’t reassuring me he went on, ‘Frances, seriously. It can’t have been that bad.’

‘It was.’ I couldn’t look at him.

‘And this woman has kept her mouth shut about it all these years?’

‘She only found out recently. It’s complicated.’

‘So how much is she demanding from you?’

‘She wanted a thousand a month but she finally agreed on five hundred. I’ve made one payment out of what I had in the bank.’ I opened my bag and took out my personal bank statement. ‘You see – I have nothing left and the next payment is due next week.’

He glanced at the statement. ‘Your husband keeps you this short?’

‘I have to account for every penny I spend. So you see….’

‘Does this blackmailer have a reason for doing this to you or is it sheer vindictiveness?’

‘She says she’s down on her luck, on the point of being made homeless.’

‘And you believe that?’

I shrugged. ‘I don’t have much choice, do I?’

‘I’m not happy about this, Frances,’ he said. ‘I don’t mean the advance; you’re more than welcome to that. It’s the situation. You realize she won’t be satisfied with five hundred for long?’

I nodded. ‘That’s why I need this job, Adam.’


You’re going to be working to pay a blackmailer
?’

‘What else can I do?’

‘Why don’t you just tell your husband everything? After all, you were little more than a child when this thing happened.’

‘He wouldn’t see it that way. And even if I did she’d have her revenge. She’s already threatened to go to the press.’

He smiled wryly. ‘He’s hardly a celebrity, is he? Just a moderately successful businessman. I doubt if the press would be very interested.’

‘She’s talking about the trade papers and, believe me, it would have a huge impact.’

‘I still think it’s worth calling her bluff.’

‘I’d have to think carefully about that. Meanwhile she’ll be expecting more money – in five days’ time.’

He looked at me thoughtfully. ‘Frances, are you really sure you want this job? You’re not accepting my offer for the best of reasons.’

‘I know it must look as though I’m making a convenience of you,’ I said. ‘But even before this happened I wanted to accept your offer. I promise you I’ll put everything I have into it.’

‘I’m sure you mean that.’

‘I do; I promise I’m not wasting your time, Adam. I wouldn’t do that.’

‘Right then, we’ll get started on your training next week. And as for this wretched woman, let me think about it. I’ll find a way to put a stop to her devious little game.’

BOOK: True Colours
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