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Authors: Josephine Cox

The Beachcomber (28 page)

BOOK: The Beachcomber
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Maggie smiled seductively. “They’ve all gone home, my love,” she teased, “we’re on our own now.” Sidling up to the desk, she leaned over, her rather ample breasts almost touching his face as she purred invitingly, “I thought we might say our goodbyes properly. After all, we have been very
close
, haven’t we?”

Realizing what she meant, he gulped so hard that his Adam’s apple bobbed up, getting stuck for a minute, before it bobbed down again. “Oooh, whatever will I do with you?”

It was all she could do not to laugh out loud. “Whatever takes your fancy,” she said and, grabbing him by the collar, drew him forward, planting the longest, wettest kiss of his entire life on his open mouth; by which time he was putty in her hands.

A few minutes later, with Maggie in his arms, the door opened and in walked his wife. It was what Maggie had been waiting for. “NO! Get off me!” Putting on the best show of her life, Maggie pretended to fight him off. As soon as he realized what she was up to, he began shouting about how it was all Maggie’s fault. “She’s a witch! She enticed me …”

Falling all over the place as he tried desperately to do up his trousers, the poor man was assailed from both sides, with Maggie thrashing him with her shoe, and his wife tugging at his arm until he was sure it had come off at the socket. “You’re a beast!” she cried. “You’ve
always
been a beast. This is the third time I’ve caught you at it, but it won’t happen again because I’m off.”

She landed such a slap on his face that it echoed around the room, and even Maggie took a step back. “I won’t forgive you this time!” she cried. “By the time you get home, I’ll have packed my bags and be long gone!”

Ducking and diving between the two, Maggie grabbed her wages and, buttoning up her jacket, she headed for the door. “I don’t blame you,” she cried. “The man’s off his head. He just went for me. He pinned me down and tore my clothes off. I’m going to the police. I’ll make him pay for this! He’s a maniac. He should be locked up!” Turning on the tears, she looked bereft.

“No, please.” Being a respectable woman, his wife didn’t want to become the target of such gossip. “Don’t do that.” Taking some notes from her handbag, she thrust them into Maggie’s hands. “Here, take this.” A horrid thought occurred to her. “My God! He didn’t …” She glared at her husband. “You didn’t …?”

Seeming demure, Maggie looked down. “No, he didn’t. But he would have if you hadn’t come in.” Clutching the money in one hand, she dabbed at her eyes with the other and pretended to cry. “You don’t know how glad I was to see you.” Out of the corner of her eye she saw the accused cowering by the door, muttering to himself and glaring at her with such malice she had to catch her breath. “I was so frightened.”

“All right, dear.” The woman helped fasten her blouse. “Look, you go away and don’t say anything. I’ll deal with
him!

With several weeks’ wages in her pocket, the notes in her hands and a smile on her face, Maggie took her leave.

Outside she could hear the shouting and arguing, and laughed out loud. “That’ll teach you to sack me, you old bugger!”

She flagged down a taxi. “Take me to Sooty’s club,” she told the driver, “I’m celebrating.” And why not? she thought. She had more money than she’d had for ages, and plenty of time on her hands. What’s more, she had
cause
to celebrate.

The taxi-driver laughed. “Come into money, ’ave yer?”

Maggie trusted nobody. “No, not really,” she answered cagily, “I’ve just finished work.”

“I can see that.” He had picked her up outside the picture-house and seen her uniform. “That’s an usherette’s uniform you’re wearing, ain’t it?”

“Yes.”

“Like your job, do yer?”

“It’s all right,” Maggie chuckled, “but I should have been an actress.”

As they drove on, she thought of Kathy. “Watch out, gal!” she muttered. “I’m on my way.”

Samantha was hopping mad. “Don’t you understand? I’ve got nothing! My house has gone and I’ve no job.”

“I’m sorry, Mrs. Martin, but, as I see it, you have no call on your sister’s house. According to the will, and what you’ve already told me, the house was bought in her name and passes to your sister without condition. On your mother’s marriage to Mr. Lennox,
you
were given the family home, also without condition. This house was debt-free and, as you yourself said, in excellent condition. The fact that you lost it does not in the eyes of the law give you the right to a share of your sister’s property.”

“What kind of solicitor are you?” Samantha was vitriolic in defeat. “It was my
mother
who gave me the house. My
father
left me nothing. I’m destitute. I’m having to live in rented property again. I have debts that need paying, and there are no decent jobs to be had. My mother’s got herself in a situation where she can’t help, and the only way out is for me to take back from Kathy what should have been mine in the first place. After all, I
am
the eldest.
I
should have been left the house, not her.”

“Not necessarily. Being the eldest does not automatically make you the heir. In any case, your father bought the house in your sister’s name. I’m afraid I can see no way around it.”

“You must be able to do
something!
Bring her to court. Make her sell the house and give me half the proceeds. Christ Almighty, I would have thought it was simple enough!” Springing out of her chair, she banged her fist on the desk. “If you won’t do it, I’ll find someone who will.”

Getting slowly out of his seat, the solicitor stood up, his face twitching with anger as he told her calmly, “That’s entirely up to you. But, as far as I’m concerned, you have no case.” He thought she was the most selfish, spiteful and bone-idle creature that ever crossed his threshold. “But you do have choices …
three
, in fact.”

Samantha’s eyes lit up. “Well, now we’re talking. And what are they, might I ask?”

“Well, you could get another job and work your way out of trouble. You might think about getting married … to someone who can satisfy your taste for expensive things.” Her exquisitely tailored clothes and the diamond ring on her right hand had not gone unnoticed. “Or, you could go to your sister and beg her to help … if, of course, she is in a position to do so, and
if
she has a mind to help someone who is so obviously out to ruin her.”

While the unpalatable “choices” were spelled out for her, Samantha’s hands clenched and unclenched. Now, as she spoke, her voice shook with rage. “How dare you? I could report you for speaking to me like that.”

Quite unconcerned, he smiled. “I don’t think so,” he said. “I am merely expressing the choices you have, as I see them.”

Straightening up, she took a long, noisy breath through her nostrils. Staring at him with murder in her eyes, she threatened, “My stepfather is a powerful, influential man. I shall tell him how you treated me, and you may be sure he will be in touch! Moreover, I shall make certain my friends are warned about you.”

Unmoved, he returned the copy of her father’s will. “I’m sorry I wasn’t able to help,” he said, then showed her the door. Head high, she marched out, threatening hell and damnation as she went.

Shaking his head, he closed the door and returned to his work.

He’d had them all in this office at some time or another: the evil and the gullible, and those who were really in need of help. But this one was unique. A woman who was able enough to work but chose not to, who had squandered her own inheritance and who, without compunction, was prepared to rob her sister of her home, had to be amongst the worst.

Going to the window, he flung it open, as though needing to rid the room of her presence.

In Bridport, Kathy made straight for the café and Mabel.

Seeing the older woman at the far end of the room, Kathy gave a quick wave and, smiling, Mabel hurried down to be with her. “It’s good to see you,” she said. “I’ll be finished in a minute or two, then you can walk me home and stay for a cup of tea. We’ve not been so busy today, and I’ve had very little company.”

Patting Kathy’s arm affectionately, she added, “Besides, we hardly ever get time to talk properly, do we, dear?” Kathy had to agree.

A short time later, arm in arm, the two of them strolled down the street, Mabel setting the pace, and Kathy content to chat as they walked. “Will your husband be in?” She had visions of that ugly lout waiting for them as they entered the house.

Mabel shook her head. “He’s off down the pub with his cronies,” she answered. “Come Friday, he can’t wait to pack up and get away.”

Sensing the sadness underlying Mabel’s words, Kathy merely nodded. And no more was said on the matter.

The cottage was spotless; every nook and cranny scrubbed and shining, and each ornament polished until you could see your face in it. “This is such a pretty place, Mabel!” Kathy thought it enchanting.

Peeking out the back window, she observed the same loving care and attention to detail: the tin bath hanging neatly on its hook, the flagstones washed clean, and the pegs on the line all lined up like little wooden soldiers. Even the brick walls were washed white.

Mabel was flattered. “I like to potter about,” she answered. “If I had more spare time, I’d have it looking even nicer.” Going into the scullery, she put the kettle on to boil. “And how are you, my dear?” she called out. “Settling in all right now, are you?”

“I’m doing fine,” Kathy answered, but did not sound very convincing.

Returning with the tray, Mabel set it down on the table. “What’s wrong?” Pouring them each a cup of tea, she handed Kathy hers and sat opposite on the big armchair. “Family, is it?” she asked. In her experience it was always family that caused the worries.

“I just can’t understand,” Kathy began, knowing she could confide in this dear soul. “My sister Samantha is beautiful, spoiled, selfish, and greedy. She has little compassion for those around her, she treats Mother like dirt, and yet, in Mother’s eyes, she can do no wrong.”

“I see.” Mabel had heard it all before. “And why do you think that is?”

“I’m not sure, but I imagine it’s to do with Mother’s personal disappointments.” Kathy had often thought about it and this was the only answer she had come up with. “I reckon Mother only wanted one child, a beautiful creature much like herself … someone people would pause in the streets to look at, and gasp with admiration.”

“I see. And that was Samantha, was it?”

Kathy nodded. “Then I came along … an accident, no doubt; plain and noisy with chubby legs and unruly hair. I spoiled all her ideas of being special, and having that one very cherished, magnificent child.”

Mabel was having none of it. “You’re certainly not ‘plain,’ or ‘noisy.’ You’re a very pretty young woman with a beautiful nature.”

Kathy smiled naughtily. “And chubby legs.”

Mabel returned her smile. “We can’t all be perfect, but there are worse things than a sturdy pair of legs, my dear!”

Kathy satisfied Mabel’s curiosity about Samantha, and in the telling, Kathy began to feel less disillusioned about the situation between herself, her mother and Samantha, though she knew things would never change. “It’s too late for all that,” she told Mabel. “Mother gets worse as she gets older. She’s one of those people who are never satisfied with what life gives them. She yearns for glamour and excitement … all the things she never quite seemed to acquire. You see, she married my father, a quiet, hard-working man who worked long hours to provide her with a lovely house and expensive clothes and other luxuries she may never have enjoyed. When Father was lost to us, she seemed to grow more arrogant and domineering. There was no living with her.”

Mabel could see the regret in Kathy’s troubled eyes. “You loved your father very much, didn’t you, my dear?”

Kathy nodded. “He was a very special man … he loved me for what I am, not for what I might have been. As for Mother, I can’t remember a time when she put her arms around me with affection, or told me she loved me, or held my hand as we crossed the road.” Her voice broke. “Do you know, Mabel, there were times when I thought she’d be happier if I’d never been born.”

“Oh, I’m sure that’s not true, my dear. No mother could ever wish that.”

It did Kathy’s heart good to talk with this sweet, kind old dear, who was more of a mother to her than her own had ever been.

When it was time to leave, she wrapped her arms around Mabel and held on to her for what seemed an age. “You’re a lovely lady, Mabel,” she told her, and Mabel’s heart went out to her.

“I’m here whenever you want me,” she reminded Kathy. “Don’t ever forget that, my dear.”

On the bus home, Kathy recalled the old woman’s words. She was more content now than she had been in a long time. After all the niggling doubts, she was really happy with her new life.

“I’m sorry, my dear, but you know how things are.” Irene had her own troubles. “I’d like to help you, but it’s not possible.” Pouring herself another drink, she poured one for Samantha, too. “He puts only the tiniest amount into my account; just enough for basic necessities. I have to ask him for every little thing, and even then he wants receipts.” Gulping down her drink, she was close to tears. “He’s moved into the spare room … though I don’t mind that, but he treats me like a stranger. It’s just awful!

“I haven’t finished yet, though.” She grinned – a wonky, half-drunken gesture that distorted her face. “I’ve been thinking. If you were to help me, I could be rid of him.” Her secretive expression told it all.

BOOK: The Beachcomber
6.05Mb size Format: txt, pdf, ePub
ads

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