Living a Lie (48 page)

“And no, I still haven’t heard from Mac.”

Kitty was surprised.

“I thought you had. I mean, you’ve got that look about you… like a woman happy with her man.”

“Naw.” Georgie made one of her faces.

“There ain’t no man in my life, gal.” She patted her stomach.

“Only this little fella, and he’s brought his own sunshine.”

“How do you know it’s a fella?”

“I just know, that’s all.”

Kitty reached out to the small drawer in the coffee table. Taking out a blue velvet box she handed it to Georgie.

“Just now you said you wouldn’t take any more gifts from me, but I want you to have this.

It’s your present for being maid of honour. “

Georgie was thrilled.

“It’s lovely, gal,” she said, gently fingering the blue rabbit.

“I’ll pin it in pride of place on my fancy dress.”

She gave Kitty a peck on the cheek.

“Talking about fancy dress, when do I get to see it?”

“Tomorrow. When we go shopping.” She couldn’t be certain whether Georgie was deliberately using the term ‘fancy dress’, implying that Kitty’s marriage to Jack was little more than a fa? ade, or whether she was just being Georgie. Kitty decided it didn’t really matter anyway.

“I’ve lined up three shops that speciali se in wedding wear and fast alterations, in case they’re needed. I hope we can get what we want quickly, because I don’t want you doing too much and wearing yourself out.” She cast a glance over Georgie’s figure.

“I shouldn’t think we’ll have any trouble fitting you out, though.”

“I don’t want frills and bows,” Georgie declared.

“I like straight-fitting frocks. As a matter of fact, though I’m over four months gone, my bump ain’t that big.” She rubbed the small mound with the flat of her hand.

“Little sod knows how to kick though.”

When Georgie gave a long-drawn-out yawn, Kitty glanced at the mantelpiece clock and was horrified to see it was already close to midnight.

“Good God! Look at the time. We’d best get you off to your bed, my girl.”

“You sound like Miss Davis.”

“Less of your cheek.” Collecting the empty crockery, Kitty took it into the kitchen, where she placed it on the draining board.

“That can wait until the morning.”

“A gal after me own heart.” Georgie stood at the bedroom door.

“Goodnight, sleep tight,” she told Kitty.

“We’re up early in the morning, so mind you get a good night’s sleep,” Kitty warned. There was so much to do, and time was racing away.

Content to know Georgie was only a short distance away. Kitty soon fell into a deep restful sleep, the like of which she had not enjoyed since she was a small child.

Georgie waited her time. When she was certain Kitty must be sleeping, she crept out of her room and made her way to the hall.

“It ain’t right,” she muttered as she cautiously switched on the light.

“It just ain’t right.”

First of all, she checked Kitty’s personal telephone book, a small leather bound volume lying on top of the main directories. She couldn’t find what she wanted. Disappointed, she replaced it, took up the receiver and dialled the enquiries operator.

While it was ringing she glanced towards the sitting room. Good, there was no sound, no sign that Kitty was awake.

“Hello? I’d like a number for Blackburn, Lancashire.” A pause, then, “Jenkins … Harry Jenkins.

It might be listed under Jenkins Haulage. “

Another pause.

“No, I’m sorry. I don’t know the address.” Georgie crossed her fingers. She had to talk to Harry. She just had to!

Suddenly the operator was talking again. Georgie picked up the pen lying by the phone and jotted down the number, “Thank you so much.” Exhilarated, she replaced the receiver, and studied the number.

“Midnight. What if she answers?”

She toyed with the idea of waiting until morning, “I might not get a chance,” she muttered.

“And there isn’t much time.”

Nervously, she dialled the number. It seemed to ring for ages. Just as she was about to put the phone down, a woman answered.

“Who the hell is this?”

It was on the tip of Georgie’s tongue to make some excuse for ringing at that time of night, to say she worked for some company or another, and that they were in urgent need of a truck and driver, when the woman’s voice yelled: “WHO ARE YOU? WHAT DO YOU THINK YOU’RE PLAYING

AT, RINGING AT THIS HOUR?

ANSWER, DAMMIT!

“

Georgie’s nerve went and she dropped the phone as if it was burning her fingers.

“You bloody coward!” she chided herself. Then she chuckled.

“That’s unnerved the little cow! She’ll not sleep a wink tonight.”

Keeping the paper on which she’d written the number, she returned to her room.

“Somehow or other, I’ll find a way to ring him early in the morning,” she decided.

“If that other bugger answers, I won’t be so quick to drop the phone again.”

It was six o’clock the following morning when Georgie tried again.

Kitty was still sleeping.

“He’s bound to get up early for work,” she reasoned.

She was out of luck because the woman’s voice answered again, yelling at her in the same abusive manner.

Georgie was bitterly disappointed.

“Get back to sleep, you miserable bugger!” she yelled back, and when there was a stunned silence at the other end, slammed the receiver down. As she turned she was astonished to see Kitty standing there, bleary-eyed and tousled.

“Who was that?” Kitty asked, stifling a yawn.

“God knows!” Georgie exclaimed.

“Some drunk, I expect. I’ll wring his bloody neck if I ever lay hands on him… getting me out of bed at this unearthly hour.”

“You go back to bed,” Kitty told her.

“I’m wide awake now so I might as well stay up. I’ll call you in about an hour, after I’ve cooked us a bit of breakfast.”

Georgie groaned as she plodded back to her room.

“How on earth am I gonna reach Harry Jenkins?” Convinced that he was the answer, she was determined not to give up.

It was Thursday evening. Harry waited for the men to return from their various journeys. It had been a strange day, unlike any other because today he had let it be known to those who might be interested that his business was on the market.

The men knew the score, and bore him no grudge. When they came back, there would be no despatch notes for them to scrutinise, no schedules for them to keep the next day. Like Harry they had seen it coming, and now had reluctantly accepted the inevitable.

As they came in he handed them their last wages.

“I’m sorry,” he told them, ‘you’re good men. If I could keep you on, you know I would, but you’ve seen for yourself how things have gone from bad to worse. Now I’m back where I started, with only enough work for one man and his truck. “

John McCabe was a strapping Scotsman with arms like cabers and a look that would frighten even the fiercest dog. But he had a soft heart and generous manner that earned him many friends. He had great respect for Harry and loathed the idea of him going under.

“At least you’re shrewd enough to get out while you’re still a working concern,” he commented.

“I know you’ve been trying to get to the bottom of why the work’s been drying up, but you know as well as I do, there ain’t that much to go round at the minute. It seems to be a case of first come, first served.”

Harry agreed up to a point.

“What I can’t understand is how the other hauliers have managed to undercut me. It’s as if they must know my going rates, or how could they do it time and again?” It was a real puzzle, and so far there were no answers.

This time it was the other man who spoke, a little fellow wearing a cloth cap and sporting a jagged scar from ear to temple.

“Whether you sell up or keep going, I wish you the best of luck, but I’m certain you’ll make a success of whatever you decide to do. If you’re ever looking to take on again, count us in. You’re the best boss we’ve ever had.”

Harry thanked them.

“I’ll remember that.” Handing them each an envelope he said, “You might need these references. You’ve certainly earned them.”

When the men were gone, he looked round the office.

“You’re right to get out while you can, Jenkins,” he decided. All the contracts are gone, with the exception of just one. “

He thought a moment, his face darkly serious.

“And I’ll have to end that one myself. After all, I can’t be dependent on the man Kitty chose over me.” The idea was repugnant to him.

He locked the filing cabinet, bolted the door, and took the telephone off the hook. Then he plucked his overcoat from the back of the door and settled down on the couch. It seemed right that he should stay here, with his work, with his thoughts. Tomorrow he might have a clearer mind.

The night was bitterly cold. He couldn’t sleep. He just lay there, wondering what the future might hold.

Three times he glanced at his watch; midnight, then two o’clock, and now it was almost three in the morning. He knew then he could not delay what he had to do. At three-fifteen on Friday morning, he made his way home.

After spending too many hours on the couch at the office. Harry was not in the best of moods. As he came up the drive to the house he saw the lights on. When he came through the front door she called out, “If that’s you, Harry, you can piss off back where you’ve come from.”

He knew it would not be easy.

“We have to talk,” he said as he went to the door of the breakfast room. Surprised to find her still up, and by the look of it, drowning her sorrows in a bottle of wine, he made no attempt to go in. Instead he stood at the door, his dark eyes regarding her with a look of sorrow.

“Where the hell have you been?” She was on her feet now, ranting and raving, accusing him of neglecting her.

“I’ve been out of my mind with worry. I tried the office number and couldn’t get through. Some maniac’s been ringing here. I couldn’t sleep, and now you just turn up as if nothing’s happened.” She looked at him and saw a man at the end of his tether. She knew he had never wanted her, but she didn’t care. She wanted him. That was all that mattered.

“I want us to talk,” she told him.

“I want to sort out this little problem between us, because I don’t want our marriage to break up. I love you. Harry.” She had tried one lack, now it was time to try another.

“You don’t love me,” he answered soberly.

“You love this house, the wardrobes stuffed with clothes, and the life of luxury you’ve enjoyed since the business took off. That’s what you love. If I should walk out of this door right now and never come back, you’d manage well enough. Besides, you have every right to what’s left of the business, and this house. At the end of the day you’d have a fairly healthy bank balance. Losing me wouldn’t be the end of the world.”

She suddenly realised what he was saying. He actually meant to end it.

She stared at him in disbelief; at his tall strong figure and the easy way he leaned against the doorjamb. She took in the fact that nowhere would she find such a man as Harry Jenkins. It wasn’t just that he was the most handsome man she had ever met, with his dark sensuous eyes and wonderful lop-sided smile; it wasn’t even the way he made her feel when he held her in his arms, making love with such passion that it took her breath away. There was something else about Harry a unique strength of character, a caring tender side that she had not seen in other men. From the very first moment she had met him on the railway station, she had felt he was the one for her. For whatever reason, she still felt that.

“Please, Harry. I want our marriage to work.”

He looked at her for a while and his heart was heavy. He had never meant it to end like this, but he had come to a point where he had to wipe the slate clean, to give himself a chance, to give her a chance.

“It’s over, Susan. You know it and I know it.”

“Don’t do this to me, Harry.” She had awful visions of having to start again, of having to exercise her charm and ensnare another man who might provide her with all the things she had grown used to. Suddenly it seemed like too much effort, too much of a gamble, and she wasn’t getting any younger. Her looks were not as fresh and blooming as they once were. It took longer in the morning to put on a face and present herself to the world as a bright young thing, full of adventure and bubbling with life.

Harry knew her too well. He had learned to see through her little charades.

“You’re fooling yourself if you believe we can go on the way we have. Look, Susan, I’ve had plenty of time to think, and I’ve come to some very important decisions. I’m selling the business before it buckles under me. This house can be sold, or you can stay in it.

That’s up to you. When everything’s settled, I’m going away. I need to find fresh pastures, new challenges. “

He had been foolish enough to believe Susan could be a substitute for Kitty, and he wouldn’t forgive himself for that. Now he had to let her go, so that she too could make an honest life away from him. It was the fairest thing he could offer her.

“You’re not going anywhere without me. I won’t let you!”

“I’ll leave you well provided for, don’t worry.”

All pretence over, she was screaming at him, the way she always did:

“You bastard! Why did you marry me in the first place?”

He looked at her and wondered whether she really could take the truth.

“Let’s just leave it the way it is,” he warned.

“There’s been enough bad feeling, Susan. Let it be. There’s no point in crucifying ourselves.”

Flinging herself at him, she demanded, “It’s her, isn’t it? Kitty Marsh! I’ve been right all along. Tell me the truth, or I swear you’ll be sorry.” Her fists pounded his stomach as she spoke.

Filled with a terrible rage, he took hold of her. Propelling her across the room, he sat her down. Leaning over her, he said, “You’re right. It is Kitty Marsh. It always will be. You want to know why I married you? Well, seeing as you seem hell bent on knowing, I’ll tell you. I married you because you were there, and because I believed it would work. I wanted a family, a reason for living, someone to come home to at the end of the day, someone who would share not only the good things but the bad. Someone like Kitty, who knows how to laugh and love, and give as well as take. I married you because she wasn’t there for me, because I was foolish enough to think you could help me forget her. And because, God help me, I believed I could be everything you wanted me to be.”