No Heaven, No Hell Page 8

  In the gloom she narrowed her eyes. The noises continued. ‘Ginny, stop it.’ Her voice was trembling. Now she saw: her sister lying stiff and open on the ground and on top of her was Stuart Dickens, thrusting into her, his hands pawing at her breasts. Ginny was still making that weird noise, her whole body drawing him in, eating him up. They were both too far gone to know, or care, whether anyone was watching.

  In a rage it was over, and Ginny turned her head. Her face was flushed. ‘Did you see?’ she asked the shocked Lianne. ‘Now do you want it?’

  Stuart turned, but Lianne was already gone, running through the spinney and away from that place. ‘I hate you!’ she called. But it wasn’t hate she was feeling. It was envy, and a certain, wonderful need that was growing stronger all the time. Stronger than her. Stronger than anything she had ever known.

  Amy Burton was a loner. She often took long walks through the spinney. In that great peace and quiet she could think, and after the untimely demise of Miss Warren she had plenty to think about. Now, though, she was astounded to see Lianne running from the Nissen hut. Curious, she hid behind an old store-house. It was only a matter of minutes before Stuart Dickens emerged from the hut, along with Ginny. They were holding hands, he smiling down at her and she looking up with a kind of possessive adoration. It was obvious what had taken place in that hut, in the dark.

  Amy shuffled out of sight. As they passed, so close she could feel their footsteps trembling against the earth, she heard Ginny suggest, ‘Do you want to do it again tomorrow?’

  ‘If you like,’ he answered casually.

  Ginny laughed, shifting her glance sideways. When her eagle eyes spotted Amy hiding near the shed, she could hardly contain her joy.

  First she allowed Stuart his moment of feigned indifference, before she drew him to a halt, jolting him with the question, ‘Have you ever done it with Amy Burton?’

  ‘That’s not fair.’ A young man of his calibre could have any girl he wanted. He wanted only Ginny, but he dared not let her know that. It would give her a terrible power over him.

  ‘Have you?’ she insisted.

  ‘No.’

  ‘Do you want to?’

  ‘No.’

  ‘Why not? Don’t you find her attractive?’

  He grinned. ‘Like I find a dormouse attractive.’

  ‘That’s cruel.’ She sniggered. ‘It’s a good job she can’t hear you.’

  He laughed. ‘I daresay someone finds her attractive.’

  ‘But not you?’

  ‘Don’t be silly.’

  Snuggling up to him, she asked slyly, ‘How would you compare her to me?’

  Just for a moment he forgot his vow never to let her know how strongly he was attracted to her. He gazed at her rich burnished hair and those compelling dark eyes, and the need rose in him again. ‘Beauty and the beast,’ he said. ‘That’s you and Amy.’ Although at times he was never quite sure which one was the beast.

  ‘Walk me to the end of the path,’ Ginny suggested, urging him on. ‘I’ll make my own way home from there.’ As they walked on, she dropped her gaze to the ground, secretly smiling, quietly satisfied the other girl had heard every word.

  Flattened against the tree, Amy clenched her fists and waited for them to pass her by. Afterwards she slid to the ground and cried like a baby.

  Liz was at the window. For almost an hour now she had been watching out for Jack to come home. When she saw his tall familiar figure turn in at the gate she gave a little smile. ‘You’re still the handsome bloke I married,’ she sighed. Even though they had their ups and downs she could never live without him. She watched him now, playfully kicking up the snow with the tips of his shoes. ‘You’re like all men,’ she laughed. ‘Just a little boy at heart.’

  As he came nearer she saw his brows were furrowed in a frown. She noticed how he kept glancing back over his shoulder, just as he had done many times before, as though expecting someone, or something, to be lurking behind him. ‘What is it, Jack?’ she whispered. ‘What are you frightened of?’

  Instinctively she moved out of sight, though she remained close to the window, still watching and wondering.

  Before stepping into the porch he paused and looked around, staring at the gate for a while, his green eyes hostile and wary. Seeming satisfied, he skipped up the steps, took his key from a trouser pocket, and let himself into the house.

  ‘I’m home, sweetheart!’ His voice echoed down the hallway. ‘Liz! I’m home!’

  The aroma of freshly brewed coffee wafted from the kitchen. Not realising how thirsty he was until then, he quickly threw off his shoes. Hanging up his scarf and coat he almost ran down the hallway. When he came into the kitchen he was amused to see Liz seated at the table, grandly sipping her hot drink.

  ‘I don’t suppose there’s one for me?’ he asked impishly.

  Liz didn’t reply. Instead she glanced up and swivelled her gaze to the opposite end of the table. Jack followed her look, his face breaking into a grin when he saw the second mug of hot coffee placed in front of the chair opposite to Liz.

  ‘Just what the doctor ordered,’ he remarked. Coming round the table he kissed Liz on the forehead. ‘Sorry I was so long,’ he apologised, ‘only I got talking to the old fella. I sent the poor old sod home… worn out, he was.’

  ‘I know how he feels.’ She took another sip of her coffee. ‘Are you sitting down or what?’

  Puzzled at her strange mood, he went around the table to the other side. ‘What’s got you?’ he wanted to know. When she didn’t immediately answer he sat astride the chair and took the mug of hot liquid into the palms of his hands. It was wonderfully steaming, the delicious vapour floating up to his nostrils and making him feel cosy. He sipped slowly, eyes closed, savouring every mouthful.

  ‘Nothing’s got me,’ she answered. Her voice said one thing. Her attitude said another.

  He opened his eyes and quietly studied her. She looked angry. No, not angry. Something else. ‘What did you mean just now?’

  ‘When?’

  ‘When I told you the old fella was worn out, you said you knew how he felt.’

  ‘I do.’

  ‘Are you saying you’re worn out?’ He regarded her with concern. She looked pale, he thought. That worried him. ‘Are you concerned about the girls? I mean this business with Miss Warren. Are you afraid it might play on their minds?’

  ‘Are you?’

  ‘It’s rude to answer a question with a question.’ What was she playing at? What the devil was wrong with her?

  ‘It’s Lianne I’m concerned about.’

  He scowled at that. ‘Not Ginny, then? You’re not concerned about how Ginny might be taking all this?’

  ‘Virginia can deal with it.’

  He dropped his gaze to the table, his strong fingers playing on the mug. ‘What’s she done this time?’

  ‘I don’t know what you mean.’

  ‘Yes you do!’ Frustrated, he stamped his fist on the table. ‘You said “Virginia”. You always call her by her full name when she’s done something to anger you. She’s done something bad, hasn’t she? You might as well tell me.’ He was keyed up inside, wound up like a clock spring, ready to fly off in all directions.

  Liz cursed herself. Why did she keep allowing Ginny to come between her and Jack? But she didn’t allow it, did she? It just happened. And kept on happening. ‘Sorry, sweetheart,’ she answered. Leaning back in the chair, she stretched the palms of her hands over her face and rubbed her eyes. ‘She hasn’t done anything bad.’ No, that wasn’t exactly true. Ginny was always up to something, and none of it good. ‘Well, nothing that I know of,’ she hastily assured him.

  ‘Come here.’ He stretched out his arms and she went to him. ‘Don’t let’s argue.’ Gently, he pulled her on to his knee. ‘I know she isn’t the best daughter in the world, but, well, she’s not the worst.’

  ‘I know, and I’m sorry.’ Still, there was something about their eldest daughter. Liz couldn’t descr
ibe it, but it was a deep-seated fear, a premonition she’d felt right from that first moment when she held Ginny in her arms. Evil! No! No! Don’t say that.

  ‘Did you get your marmalade?’

  ‘What?’ His soft voice penetrated her anxious thoughts, visibly startling her.

  He frowned. ‘Are you all right, sweetheart?’

  ‘Sorry. I was thinking, that’s all.’ She could never tell him what she was thinking. Never. ‘Yes, I got the marmalade.’ She pointed to the dresser where it stood.

  He chuckled. ‘I saw you get waylaid by that awful woman.’

  Playfully she punched him on the chest. ‘I know you did, and I saw you laughing, you heartless devil.’

  He was silent for a moment, content just to be close to another human being. Liz was warm and soft in his arms, and he needed that right now.

  ‘I watched you come up the drive, kicking at the snow, you were.’ She stroked his face. ‘Just like a little boy.’

  ‘Spying on me, were you?’ It panicked him to know she had been watching. ‘It was the snow,’ he said softly. ‘The snow always reminds me of… when I was a child.’ Without him realising, his voice had dropped to a whisper. ‘I suppose that’s what you saw when I was kicking the snow just now… the child in me.’ He was shivering again. The memory washed over him, raged through him, and drowned everything he had created to keep it out.

  Astonished, Liz sat up. Turning her face to his, she remarked in awe, ‘Do you realise what you’re doing?’ When he didn’t answer she tugged at his shirtsleeve. ‘You’re talking about yourself. In all the years I’ve known you, you’ve never talked about yourself.’

  He gulped hard, desperately composing himself. ‘Did you pay the electricity bill?’

  ‘God almighty, Jack, you’re trembling!’ Even as she looked at him, the sweat stood out on his forehead like swollen pearl drops.

  Easing her away, he stood up. ‘I must have a chill coming on,’ he lied. ‘That man… Tom, isn’t it? The caretaker at the school? He was coughing and sneezing all through the meeting. No consideration for others, that’s the trouble.’

  Without ceremony Liz went to the kettle, switched it on and while it was boiling emptied a flu powder into a cup. When the boiling water was poured over the powder she gave it to him. ‘Drink this,’ she ordered.

  Between sips he glanced at the clock over the mantelpiece. ‘It’s nearly three o’clock, time the girls were home.’

  ‘They’ll be gossiping I expect. Don’t worry.’ She returned to her lukewarm coffee, toying with it a while before asking in a changed voice, ‘Why don’t you ever talk about yourself, Jack?’

  This was what he’d been dreading. Just now, when he said about the snow taking him back… he knew he must have awakened old curiosity. ‘You know why,’ he reminded her. ‘Nothing to tell.’

  ‘What about the snow?’

  ‘What about it?’ Jesus Christ! Why couldn’t he stop trembling?

  The hazel eyes appraised him. ‘You said it brought back memories of you as a child.’

  ‘I don’t remember saying that.’

  Suddenly it was there, like an old movie flicking through his mind. He was a boy again, just a boy… kicking the snow as he went up the path to that beautiful old house. The snow… deep pools of crimson… spidery trails making a pattern beneath his feet… the horror when he opened the door. He could see her now, staring at him through wild dark eyes. It was so real, so vivid. Dear God! He raised his eyes and looked on his wife’s face. She was still waiting. Waiting for the answer he could never give.

  ‘There’s nothing to tell!’ he yelled. In his terror he leaped from the chair and fell like a dead weight against the table. When he looked up again, Liz was watching him, a puzzled expression on her face. All the anger ebbed away. It wasn’t her fault. ‘I’m sorry,’ he murmured.

  She forced a smile. ‘There you go again, saying you’re sorry.’ She came to him, comforting. ‘It’s me that should be sorry. When I first asked you about your family and you told me how you’d been orphaned after a car accident, I promised never to raise the subject again. It was what you said just now, about being a child. For one precious minute I felt so close…’

  Taking a deep breath he straightened up and slowly flexed his shoulders. For some reason he hurt all over. ‘The past is gone,’ he told her. ‘All we need be concerned about is the future… Ginny’s future.’

  Bristling she reminded him, ‘You have two daughters, Jack.’

  ‘I’m well aware of that, sweetheart.’ Though it was only Ginny he was concerned with. Ginny who gave him the worst nightmares.

  He glanced towards the window. ‘These past few days,’ he remarked, changing the subject, ‘have you seen anyone new hanging about? A stranger?’

  ‘What? Round here, you mean?’

  He nodded, his eyes raking the window. ‘Round the house… in the street outside?’

  ‘No, I don’t think so.’

  ‘What about the girls? Have they seen anyone?’

  ‘If they have, they haven’t mentioned it to me.’ She regarded him with curiosity. ‘Why do you ask?’

  He needed to allay her suspicions. ‘Oh, it’s just something the old fella said,’ he lied. ‘Apparently somebody raided his chicken shed last night… made off with a prime rooster.’

  She rolled her eyes to the ceiling. ‘If you mean old Bandy Clegg, he’s so forgetful he’s probably sold it or cooked it for his own Sunday lunch.’

  ‘All the same, if you see a stranger near this house, I want to know.’

  ‘You worry too much.’

  ‘Give us a kiss.’ He grabbed her to him. ‘Did I tell you you looked gorgeous today?’

  ‘Tell me now.’ Raising her face she parted her lips, melting when he bent to kiss her.

  Ginny’s voice sailed across the room. ‘I should have thought you were past all that,’ she said cuttingly.

  Breaking apart, they seemed embarrassed. ‘Hello, you.’ Jack came towards her. ‘Where the devil have you been?’ He noticed with some trepidation that she was not only dishevelled, but that her shoes were caked with mud. He was about to question her when Liz stepped forward.

  Irritated by Ginny’s untimely intervention, she demanded, ‘What have you been up to?’

  Ginny’s dark eyes enveloped her. ‘Honestly, Mother, why do you always think I’ve been up to something?’ Her sly, challenging attitude only served to infuriate her mother, but that was what she intended.

  Like always, Liz was goaded. ‘Just look at yourself. Anyone would think you’d been in some bloody pigsty.’

  ‘Leave it, Liz,’ Jack pleaded. He had seen how these two could rile each other, and it was never a pleasant encounter. ‘I’ll deal with this.’ Turning to Ginny with a stern face, he told her, ‘Get your shoes off and go upstairs. Take a bath. Afterwards you can explain why you’ve come home in such a state.’

  As she walked away, head high and defiant, Liz called out, ‘Where’s your sister?’

  Without turning, Ginny coolly answered, ‘How should I know? I’m not her keeper.’

  It was half an hour later when Lianne arrived home. Having taken the time to calm down and clean the debris off her shoes, she breezed in with a smile. ‘Hello, everyone. Sorry I’m late, but I got talking to Amy Burton.’

  Liz was relieved, but angry. ‘You might have let us know you were going off after the meeting.’

  ‘Didn’t mean to,’ came the reply. Crossing the room she came to the table. Liz was stirring a cake mix. Lianne watched for a moment before asking in a more subdued voice, ‘Is Ginny home?’

  Liz stirred the mix with more urgency. ‘She came in looking like she’d been in a fight, and there was mud all over her shoes. Your dad sent her up to get a bath.’

  ‘Where did she say she’d been?’ With more calm than she felt, Lianne reached out and dipped a finger in the cake mix. All she got for her trouble was one quick lick and a rap over the knuckles with the wooden spoon.
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br />   ‘She didn’t. You know Ginny, close lipped and secretive. Your dad means to talk with her when she comes down.’

  ‘Where’s Dad now?’

  ‘In the other room, reading his paper, I expect.’ Pausing in her stirring, she gathered a mess of mix on to the spoon and dropped it into the bowl to test its consistency. Regarding Lianne with suspicion, she asked, ‘I don’t suppose you know where she’s been?’

  ‘Nope.’ Taking advantage of the moment she scraped her fingers round the bowl rim. ‘One minute she was there and then she wasn’t.’

  Liz shook her head. ‘That girl will be the death of me.’

  ‘Don’t be so dramatic.’

  ‘And don’t you follow her example. The truth is, Ginny’s grown very hard. She doesn’t seem to care about anything these days.’

  Lianne leaped to her sister’s defence. ‘You and Dad are partly to blame.’

  Liz dropped the spoon into the bowl. ‘You’d better explain that, my girl.’

  Straddling the chair, Lianne seemed reluctant to talk about it, but seeing how her mother would not be satisfied until she replied, she told the truth as she saw it. ‘You shouldn’t keep nagging her.’

  ‘I don’t know what you’re saying. We don’t nag her.’

  ‘If you just leave her alone she’ll sort herself out.’

  ‘I doubt it.’ Going to the cupboard Liz took out a deep cake tin. She dropped the mixture into it and began spreading it to the corners. ‘Never mind your sister. Have you any thoughts about what you want to do? I mean, you’re fifteen. You ought to be thinking along career lines.’

  ‘I don’t want a career.’

  ‘Oh?’ She went to the oven and slid the cake tin inside. Closing the door she set the timer and returned to the conversation. ‘If you don’t want a career, what do you want?’

  ‘I want to work in the supermarket for a while. Then I want to get married to the boss and have a dozen kids.’

  Laughing out loud, Liz rounded the table to hug her. ‘If only life was that simple,’ she said. What she thought was, Why can’t Ginny and I talk like this? Why does she never make me laugh? And, as always, she vowed to be more understanding of her eldest child.