No Heaven, No Hell Read online

  Ginny’s handsome features broke into a grin. The grin deformed her face. Upside down it seemed as though her teeth were in her forehead. ‘That’s a spiteful thing to say,’ she chided. Mimicking Liz’s voice, she wagged a finger. ‘You’ve got a bad streak in you, my girl!’

  ‘What did he say?’ Eager for news, Lianne sat on the edge of the bed, impatiently tugging at Ginny’s blouse. ‘Go on! What did he say?’

  ‘Who?’

  ‘You know who!’

  ‘Old Tom, you mean?’

  ‘Bitch.’

  ‘Tut tut. What language.’

  ‘Please, Ginny. What did Dave say?’

  Ginny rolled over to sit up. ‘You’re a strange one. First you’re terrified he’ll frig you. Now you’re terrified he won’t.’ Lying across the bed she opened her legs provocatively. ‘Perhaps he should frig me instead.’

  ‘I’m not terrified.’ The only thing that terrified her now was the prospect of Ginny luring him away.

  ‘So you wouldn’t mind if I told him you wanted to see him again?’ Getting off the bed she went to the dresser and took out a packet of cigarettes, then a lighter. In a slow aggravating drawl she taunted, ‘Next time you’ll have to go through with it.’ She lit the cigarette and took a long deep drag. Returning to Lianne she leaned close and exhaled the smoke into her face. ‘If you let him down again, he won’t want to know you. Men are like that. They don’t like getting all wound up for nothing.’

  Irritated by the warm acrid smoke, Lianne drew away. ‘Dave’s not like that.’

  ‘All men are like that.’

  ‘Did you tell him I want to see him again?’

  ‘It’s what you want, isn’t it?’

  ‘I wanted to tell him myself.’

  ‘And pigs might fly.’

  ‘Did you tell him?’

  ‘Now, now. Temper, my dear.’ She was in no hurry to reveal what she had said to Dave Martin. In fact, she was enjoying herself too much… delighting in her sister’s discomfort.

  When Lianne turned to leave, she realised she had gone too far. ‘All right,’ she said, catching her by the hair and yanking her back. ‘He’s coming to the house on Friday night. I’ve invited him to our birthday party.’

  ‘You had no right to. I was going to ask him.’

  ‘When? Next year? The year after? Well, I’ve saved you the trouble. After the party, he can pretend to go home with the others, but we’ll sneak him upstairs where he can give you the best birthday present of all. You’ll have the bedroom all to yourselves, and no one will ever know.’ She sucked her bottom lip. ‘Except the three of us,’ she lied.

  ‘What about Mum and Dad?’

  ‘Don’t worry about them. They should sleep through it.’ Smiling devilishly, she whispered, ‘Unless you yell and scream and make a fool of yourself when he breaks the skin.’

  The thought of physical pain was too much for Lianne. ‘I’m going to bed.’

  ‘I hope you’ll like my present better than his.’

  ‘What is it?’

  ‘It would spoil the surprise if I told you.’

  ‘You’re a tease.’

  ‘All you need to know is this… I’ve got you something really different. No one else will have anything like it, and it’s cost me a great deal of work and effort.’

  ‘You shouldn’t spend your pocket money on me.’

  Ginny kissed her earnestly. ‘It’s no good you lying awake trying to figure out what it is, because you would never guess in a million years.’ She then pushed her out and locked the door.

  Admiring herself in the mirror she murmured, ‘Your present cost me sweat and trouble. But it didn’t cost me a single penny.’ She fell on the bed laughing. ‘You’ll see. It’s all a girl could ever want.’

  7

  ‘Mother! Will you please stop fussing?’ It had been a painfully long week. Friday was here at last, and all he could think of was Lianne.

  Meg Martin was a big likeable woman, with huge brown eyes and a mass of jet-black hair; her son David had inherited his mother’s colouring and his father’s quiet temperament. ‘I can’t help being nosy,’ she answered boldly. ‘What mother wouldn’t? When her favourite son rushes home from school, has a bath without being nagged at, puts on his new silk shirt… for the first time since his mother bought it for him last Christmas, and now, would you believe, he’s actually wearing shoes instead of trainers!’ She shook her head, eyes wide with astonishment.

  Dave would not be drawn, but his humour was as bright as hers. ‘I’m sorry, Mum, but I think I’ll have to leave home. It’s too hard being an only child.’

  His father lowered his newspaper. ‘Know what you mean, son,’ he said. ‘It was the same when I was at home. You’re forever under the spotlight, eh?’ He hissed through his teeth, ‘Many was the time I wished I had a brother or sister to draw the attention from me.’

  Grabbing his coat from the chair Dave slung it over his shoulder. ‘So! I’m wearing shoes for a change. What’s the big deal?’

  In a hurry to get back to his newspaper, Dave’s father felt obliged to make a comment. ‘No big deal,’ he remarked, ‘it’s just that your mother and I were beginning to think them old trainers had grown to the soles of your feet.’

  ‘Whose side are you on anyway?’ Dave demanded.

  ‘Why, yours, of course,’ came the tongue-in-cheek reply. Chuckling merrily he regarded his son with pride: the way he held himself; the thick mop of shining black hair and handsome dark eyes; the attractive manner in which he wore the brown cords and blue silk shirt. ‘You look good, son. There was a time when your dad looked as handsome.’ Truth was, he had never been as handsome. Dave had his mother’s dark colouring. It stood him out from the crowd.

  Suddenly his son had matured into a man. The realisation momentarily filled him with pride, and a little envy, because if his son was a man, he himself was an older man. The pride outshone the envy. ‘You go and enjoy yourself,’ he encouraged. ‘Take no notice of your mother.’ He gave his wife a naughty wink. ‘She always was a nosy old bugger.’

  Meg wasn’t amused. ‘Hey! Not so much of the “old”!’ she complained. At forty years of age she might be too plump, too homely, and not as bothered about her appearance as she used to be. But she didn’t feel old. She hoped she never would.

  Unperturbed, he returned to his precious newspaper. Neville Martin had three loves in his life: his wife, his son, and the news. Morning and evening, he read the newspaper word for word, and, much to the frustration of wife and son, he watched every news bulletin on the television, constantly switching channels in case he’d missed something important. ‘I knew it!’ he exclaimed from behind his paper. ‘The US are about to ban Libyan exports.’

  ‘Your father’s right,’ Meg told her son. ‘You do look good.’ She stretched up to sniff at his face. ‘Your new aftershave smells good, too,’ she commented ruefully. ‘One thing’s for certain. This girl… whoever she is… won’t be able to resist you.’

  Dave kissed her on the forehead. ‘Don’t wait up,’ he told her. ‘Like I said, it’s a mate’s party. Last one before college, I expect. Come the summer, we’ll all be going our different ways.’

  ‘I can’t believe you’re eighteen,’ she sighed. Time carries us all away, she thought.

  ‘Anyway, some of the lads might decide to stop the night.’ He thought of Lianne and the thrill ran right up his neck. If all went as planned, he might stop the night. Nobody else. Just him. With Lianne.

  Anticipating his mother’s next words, he assured her, ‘Don’t worry. If I decide to stay, I’ll ring and let you know.’

  ‘Make sure you do,’ she called as he went down the street. ‘Be good now. And if you can’t be good, be careful.’

  Embarrassed, he hurried away.

  Jack unloaded the last of the food from the van. ‘There’s enough here to feed an army,’ he muttered. A party was the last thing on his mind. He had been thinking of Cyrus and Maureen. Tormented as alw
ays.

  Liz had been thinking, too. ‘Why don’t you ring the hotel?’ she asked as they came into the kitchen. ‘Surely you want to know whether they’re still here?’

  ‘No, I do not want to know if they’re still here.’ He wanted them gone. Out of his life for all time.

  Liz was persistent. ‘If they haven’t gone back yet, you could invite them out to dinner with us.’

  ‘I could,’ he agreed, ‘if I wanted them with us. Which I don’t.’

  ‘Your decision,’ she said. ‘I just think you’re wrong, that’s all.’ She began unpacking the fairy cakes, arranging them in circles on the cakestand.

  Thinking aloud he muttered, ‘You don’t know half.’

  She paused, waiting for him to go on. When he didn’t, she suggested quietly, ‘Why don’t you tell me, then?’

  ‘Dear God!’ Slamming the tray of pork pies on to the table, he wiped his hands down his face. When he looked up, the tips of his fingers were digging into his mouth, dragging it into a grotesque shape. His voice was horribly distorted. ‘I’ve told you everything,’ he lied. ‘Anyway, I thought we’d agreed not to talk about it? I thought we were going to have a romantic candlelit dinner? That’s what you wanted, wasn’t it?’

  ‘Take your fingers out of your mouth.’ As though he was a child, she tapped him on the hand. ‘All right. I promise I won’t mention it any more.’

  There was a long awkward silence while the two of them emptied the food pallets. They filled the plates and trays, they piled the cakestands high, and soon there was a spread fit for a king. ‘Now it’s their turn,’ Liz announced. ‘Give them a shout, will you? They’re in the sitting-room, blowing up balloons.’

  As Ginny and Lianne came into the kitchen, Jack and Liz made their escape. ‘We’re off to get ready now,’ she told them. With a sideways smile at Jack she added, ‘Your dad and I want to be away before the party-goers arrive.’

  Noting how pleased Lianne and Ginny appeared to be, Jack was quick to assure them, ‘But we’re not going yet. And we could be back at any time during the evening, so mind you behave.’

  ‘Don’t we always?’ Ginny said innocently.

  ‘We won’t wreck the house or anything,’ Lianne promised, ‘so you can enjoy yourselves.’ She was delighted they had decided to go out. She had seen them kissing earlier. It was beginning to seem like old times. Except for Ginny. Except for the bad things.

  Up in the bedroom, Jack was thoughtful. ‘Penny for them,’ Liz teased, pulling off her dress.

  ‘I was just wondering,’ he confessed, ‘do you think it’s wise to leave them to their own devices?’ Slipping his shoes off he started on his socks. ‘There are still parts of this house that aren’t safe.’

  Naked now, Liz shrugged her shoulders. ‘Lianne’s sixteen today. Ginny’s eighteen. If we can’t trust them now, when can we trust them?’

  His eyes raked her slim supple form, the dark triangle between her thighs, the perfectly shaped breasts. He wanted her. ‘You’re a very sensuous woman.’ Unbuckling his belt he let his trousers fall. His swollen penis made a huge bulge in his underpants.

  A cute little smile lifted the corners of her mouth. ‘Put it away,’ she said casually. ‘No woman’s safe when you’re around.’

  ‘Have we got time?’

  ‘Nope.’ Strolling past him to the bathroom, she reached out to tickle him. ‘But we can make up for it later if you like?’

  He caught her hand and kept her there. ‘Brazen hussy.’ His mouth warm against hers, he caressed her skin. Sighing with pleasure as he felt his loins tighten. Sighing with agony as she drew away.

  It was an hour later when they walked into the sitting-room. There was no sign of anyone. ‘Now where are they?’ Jack was still not happy about leaving them.

  ‘I expect they’re in the old hall.’

  Going through the big oak door that led from the back hallway, Liz led the way along dark narrow corridors and through draughty rooms to the great hall. Like many other rooms in disrepair, the hall was not yet renovated. The old house swallowed money faster than Jack could make it.

  ‘I can’t understand why they wanted the party there,’ Jack commented. ‘It’s cold and draughty, and it wouldn’t surprise me if there were rats in the rafters.’

  ‘Suits me,’ Liz said. ‘Saves the carpet and furniture. You should be grateful their birthdays are so close that it’s only once a year instead of twice. Kills two birds with one stone.’

  ‘You’re a mercenary creature.’

  ‘And you’re a man, so you wouldn’t understand. Anyway,’ she reminded him, ‘it was Ginny’s idea to use the great hall. Lianne agreed, and I personally don’t see what’s wrong with it. You’ve made the place safe. There’s electricity.’ She laughed. ‘There’s natural ventilation where the windowframes have come away from the walls. There’s even a lavvy. They’ll come to no harm, so stop worrying.’ Aware that he would give up the evening for half a reason, she wanted him to be satisfied that for a few hours at least, his daughters were more than capable of looking after themselves, and the house.

  Lianne covered the sandwiches with cling-film. ‘That should keep the dust off until we’re ready to eat,’ she said.

  Ginny had swept the stage, and now she was checking that everything was in order. It was. ‘We should have done all this yesterday,’ she moaned. ‘Now we’ll have to rush about getting ready.’

  They were about to leave, when Liz and Jack came through the door. ‘Well, I never!’ Jack was amazed. The great hall looked as he had never seen it before. The old beams were covered in huge colourful posters, depicting rockers and pop stars, and half-naked couples. The ceiling dripped with balloons, and the makeshift tables groaned beneath the weight of a feast. The stage was already cleared for the group to set up their instruments, and the main floor was ready for dancing on. ‘You’ve worked hard,’ he told them. ‘It must have looked something like this in its heyday.’ His admiring eyes roved the rafters: huge timber beams high above his head, intricately interlaced, much like the plait of a cottage loaf. Beneath them he felt small and insignificant. ‘I’m half-tempted to take Cyrus’ money,’ he murmured. ‘This house deserves it more than he does.’

  But he never would take Cyrus’ money. He couldn’t take it. Because that would be like exonerating them. It would be like erasing the guilt. Like saying it didn’t matter. But it would matter, for as long as he lived, and even after that.

  ‘No fooling around,’ he told the girls. ‘I’m trusting you to be sensible.’ His remarks were general, but his eyes were drawn to Ginny. It was she who gave him nightmares. She who had taken his grandmother’s features, and her manners, right down to the way she smiled. It was Ginny he loved most of all. And hated. And feared.

  He could be wrong. He prayed he was. Last time was easier somehow. When the others had known. This time only he knew, and he must bear it alone.

  ‘You two look really nice.’ Lianne had always been proud of her parents. She was proud now. With Jack in his best dark suit and Liz in a red two-piece, they made a handsome couple.

  ‘Thank you.’ Liz smiled appreciatively.

  Recalling how he’d offered himself to Liz only a short time ago, Jack was self-conscious. ‘I’m sure you two will put your mother and me in the shade,’ he said lamely.

  ‘I hope so,’ Ginny interrupted. ‘After all, we’re young and you’re old.’

  Jack laughed, but he felt slighted. Turning to Liz he bent his back like an old man. ‘Now are you sure you’re up to an evening out, dear?’ he joked. ‘We can always stay in if you’re too tired. I’m sure you have a whole bagful of knitting to catch up on.’

  Liz hit him with her handbag. ‘Don’t try that on me, you artful bugger,’ she laughed. ‘You’re taking me out to dinner, whether you like it or not.’

  Protecting himself by raising his arms, he shouted, ‘Help! Don’t beat me. I’m only a poor old man.’ When she dropped her arm, he grabbed her. ‘You’re a devil whe
n you’re all fired up,’ he chuckled, kissing her soundly on the mouth.

  ‘And you’re a silly sod.’ She loved it, though. This was like the old Jack. This was the way it should be.

  Since Katherine had found him, Jack had gone through a gamut of emotions. He had been the son, the grandson. He had been a child, then a young man. He had been the silent witness all over again, reliving the young years. The child, the youth. The witness.

  Now, he was the husband again. The father.

  Turning to the girls, he warned, ‘Remember what I said. No fooling around. And no candles.’

  A romantic at heart, Lianne groaned. ‘Oh, Dad! Why can’t we have candles?’

  ‘Because these old timbers would go up like matchwood, that’s why.’ His eyes travelled the room. The thought of what could happen made him shudder. ‘So, if you intended using candles, forget it. Do you hear what I’m saying?’

  Ginny was indignant. ‘If you say so.’

  ‘I do say so. What’s more, I hope you’ve made it clear to your cronies that there will be no alcohol?’

  ‘Give us credit for some sense.’

  ‘That’s exactly what I am doing,’ Jack told her. ‘Crediting you two with some common sense, so your mother and I can have an enjoyable evening without having to worry about what’s going on back here.’

  She merely smiled at him. It was a smile that said, ‘Trust us, but not too much.’ There were times when he seemed to know exactly what she was thinking. There were other times, strange, disturbing moments when he couldn’t bear to look on his own daughter; couldn’t bear to look into those magnificent, midnight eyes. They made him think of another Virginia. They made him bleed inside.

  ‘Mind you behave,’ he said again, ‘and mind this house.’

  Liz was impatient to leave. ‘Stop nagging,’ she chided. ‘Give the girls their presents.’

  Reaching into his pocket he drew out two cheques. ‘I never know what to buy you,’ he apologised. ‘Your mother said you’d prefer money so you could buy clothes.’

  The cheques were for a hundred pounds each. ‘Thank you both,’ Lianne cried, hugging them in turn. ‘You could have used the money on the house, you know.’