Living a Lie Read online

  “The dark one seems to think nobody wants her, and the carrot top seems to think it will all come right in the end.” She shook her head. “All I can say is…I’m glad it’s not me who has to live with Bob Marsh!”

  The other woman agreed.

  “Poor little bugger. Lost her mother and left with a father who wants no part of her.” As Sarah and Kitty went up the street, earnestly talking, she murmured softly, “It’s a good job she’s got a friend.”

  Ron Jenkins was on edge.

  “They’ve been up there long enough,” he told his wife. “It’s time the girl went home.”

  Linda looked at the wall-clock; it was quarter to nine.

  “I suppose it is getting late.”

  “’Course it’s getting late!” Irritated, he took a great gulp of his tea then placed the mug on the table, announcing in a firm voice, “I want her out of this house. Now!”

  “Surely she won’t hurt for another few minutes? They’re listening to a pop music programme.”

  “Do you want Bob Marsh coming round here?”

  “That’s the last thing I want.”

  “Then get the girl out, that’s all I’m saying…otherwise he just might come banging on the door, demanding to know why we’re harbouring his kid.”

  “All right.” Going to the door, Linda added, “Though it’s hardly likely he’ll come looking for Kitty…not when he’s already told his sister he doesn’t want her. Our Sarah heard them going at it hammer and tongs.”

  “None of our business!”

  “That’s what too many people say.”

  Before he could answer, she was up the stairs, telling Kitty, “It’s time you went home, love. Your dad will be worried about you.”

  Kitty might have said he wouldn’t care if she never came home again.

  Instead she thanked Mrs. Jenkins, promised Sarah she would see her tomorrow, and with a heavy heart made her way up the street. Harry was just turning the corner. His face lit up when he saw her.

  “Are you coming back later?” he wanted to know.

  Kitty shook her head. “I seem to make your dad uncomfortable,” she said.

  Harry was nothing like his father. While Ron Jenkins was short and round with pale eyes, Harry was tall and dark-eyed. He was also athletic and good-natured, while his father fell into the chair minutes after he’d had his tea, woke up later with a sore head and never had a good word to say about anybody.

  Harry was also persistent.

  “Fancy a walk?”

  Kitty shook her head.

  “Better not,” she answered. “Dad’s in a foul mood.”

  He studied her for a while. It hurt him to see her so unhappy.

  “Kitty, I want you to know I’m here, if you ever want me.”

  She was more grateful than she could say.

  “I know that.”

  Bob Marsh was sprawled out, his long legs dangling over the arm of the settee and his hand still clutching the empty whisky bottle. He had drunk himself into a stupor.

  “Dad!” Kitty tried to wake him. “Dad, I’m going to bed now.”

  Though she had too often witnessed the violence in him, she had never before seen her father like this.

  She shook him, yelled at him, even put a cold wet cloth over his forehead. He stirred and murmured Lucinda’s name.

  Realising she would not wake him, and subdued by the sound of her mother’s name on his lips, Kitty locked all the doors and went upstairs. Here she had a long lazy bath. Afterwards she put on a clean nightie, brushed her long black hair and slid into bed.

  For a long time, she couldn’t sleep. The room was dark, but through the open curtains she could see the night sky; it was incredibly beautiful, a vast expanse of black velvet streaked with starlight. She wondered if her mother was up there, watching her. The idea both excited and terrified her.

  Restless now, her frantic thoughts recalled what her mother had said: “Stay close…don’t run away.” It seemed inconceivable to Kitty that her own mother had wanted to kill her.

  “Why didn’t you stay with me?” she asked the darkness. “We could have run away together…found somewhere to live, just the two of us.”

  Her words echoed in the silence. A moment passed, before she heard the sound of soft laughter; for one leaping heartbeat she thought it was her mother laughing.

  Going to the window, she saw a young couple strolling down the street arm in arm. They were meandering from side to side as he bent his head to kiss her full on the mouth. Kitty was fascinated, the sparkle in her dark eyes shaming the stars above.

  “When I grow up I want a man who will love me like that,” she murmured dreamily. She thought about what her aunt had said: ‘find a man who is gentle—stick with him through thick and thin’. The words were on her lips.

  When she went to sleep they echoed in her mind, etched there like a blueprint for the future.

  Somehow, amidst all the confusion, Kitty had found a purpose in life.

  Aunt Mildred had promised there were such men men who could be gentle, men who would love and protect her. It was small consolation for what she had lost, but it brought her comfort.

  In her dreams she was suffocating, lost in a swirl of dark fog, her lungs hot and burning. Asleep, she fought against it. She opened her eyes but couldn’t see.

  “DADDY!”

  The fog tasted sour, forcing itself into her mouth, her body. While her senses weakened, her desperate screams grew louder: “DADDY, HELP ME!”

  Suddenly he was there.

  “Don’t be afraid,” he told her softly.

  “Hold on to me.” Echoes of her mother’s voice haunted her.

  “You mustn’t run away…keep hold of my hand.” She was afraid he meant to hurt her too, but she couldn’t fight him, she couldn’t breathe, “Please don’t kill me, Daddy!” Her eyes closed and she was at his mercy.

  Kitty woke to a worse nightmare. When the cool night air revived her, she saw what her father had done. People came from everywhere to look.

  “He must have been crazy with grief,” they said.

  Linda Jenkins took Kitty in her arms and together they stood in disbelief, watching as the house burned. Flames leapt high into the air, while the awful sound of crackling and the smell of burning hung over everything and everyone. In the distance the wails of sirens splintered the night air as rescue vehicles raced to the scene.

  Spectators stepped aside to make way.

  Suddenly a cry went up.

  “For God’s sake! Marsh is still inside!”

  Kitty raised her gaze to an upstairs window. When she saw that tall familiar figure silhouetted in the firelight, she screamed out: “NO!”

  Fighting to keep him in sight, she struggled like a thing demented. He seemed to hear her tortured cries because, in those last few seconds, he blew her a kiss. His mouth moved as though he was saying something to her. Then he smiled and was gone.

  “He saved your life,” they said afterwards. “He got you out of the house.”

  Kitty wondered about that. She wondered why her father who’d always seemed to resent her, should want her to live, while her mother, who’d loved her dearly, had wanted her to die. It would be many years before Kitty could even begin to understand.

  CHAPTER THREE

  An order was given for Kitty to be placed in a home.

  “I’m sure it won’t be for long,” Linda Jenkins promised her. “Some kind family will foster you. Be patient. Everything will come out right.”

  For a while Kitty believed her. But that was at the courthouse, before the enormity of her situation had sunk in; before she was brought to the outskirts of Bedford, and her new ‘home’.

  The thin-faced woman climbed out of the car first.

  “Come along, Kitty,” she instructed in a firm crisp voice. “The sooner we get you settled in the better.”

  When Kitty paused to look at the unfamiliar red-brick building, the woman stood by, fidgeting and visibly harassed;
presently she took hold of Kitty’s hand to propel her forward.

  “I don’t want to rush you,” she apologised, “but I have to be back in court this afternoon, and I have three home visits to make before then.”

  Not for the first time she wondered whether she had chosen the right profession.

  “A social worker can never afford to waste time,” she complained. In fact she didn’t care for children very much, but in the short time she had known Kitty she had taken a liking to her.

  “You’ll be all right here,” she said in a kinder voice. “The woman in charge is a good sort.”

  In fact, ‘the woman in charge’ was a formidable figure. Miss Davis was built like a Churchill tank; six feet tall with miniature eyes, miniature spectacles, and a hairy chin.

  “Well then, my dear,” she said, ushering Kitty and the social worker into her spacious office, “I hope you’re a good girl?”

  Kitty nodded. She didn’t know what to say. The sight of this huge woman had been another shock.

  The social worker stepped forward.

  “Speak up. Kitty. It’s rude not to answer when spoken to. Are you a good girl, or not?” She smiled at Miss Davis, and the two of them looked at Kitty who wished the earth would open and swallow her up.

  “I suppose I am a good girl.” She tried hard not to stare at the dark stubble on Miss Davis’s chin, but it was difficult. At school there had been a box filled with old comics, to be read at your desk on rainy play times; in one of the comics there was a character called Desperate Dan. He had stubble on his chin just like Miss Davis; in fact, he and Miss Davis looked much alike, except he wore a cap and she had a big roll of grey hair.

  “Well, now, that’s a good thing,” Miss Davis’s smile was quite frightening, “because I don’t welcome naughty girls into my house.”

  Turning to the social worker she said pertinently, “I expect you’re in a rush to get away?”

  “Well, yes, I do have a tight schedule.”

  “You’d best get off then. Don’t worry about Kitty. We’ll take good care of her.” She turned to smile at Kitty.

  “You’re not worried about being left with me, are you, child?”

  Strangely enough, Kitty felt safe with her, “No, Miss Davis.” The younger woman placed her hand on Kitty’s shoulder and said softly, “I’ll be back tomorrow, to see how you’re settling in.” She looked down at Kitty’s upturned face and was deeply moved by the confusion in those beautiful brown eyes.

  “Don’t worry,” she murmured, “we’ll try to get you fostered out, into a real family. That’s what you want, isn’t it?”

  Kitty knew it was impossible, but in spite of the awful rows and all the fighting, there was just one thing she wanted more than anything else in the whole world.

  “I want to go home.” Suddenly it was all too much and she was sobbing uncontrollably.

  The women looked at each other and felt uncomfortably helpless.

  “It’s all right, my dear.” Miss Davis hurried to Kitty’s side. Wrapping her great arms about that small frame, she comforted her. There were tears in her own eyes as she told Kitty, “That’s it, my dear, you just cry it all out.” Glancing at the social worker she gave her a sign to leave. In another minute Kitty was alone with the big woman. It was the first time she had cried in such a way and somehow it seemed to drain some of the pain from deep inside.

  Later, when the tears had subsided. Kitty was shown round the big house. Downstairs there were six rooms: the spacious modern kitchen; a large dining room with a long sideboard, four round tables and enough chairs to accommodate the twenty children in care; a lounge with a television and a bookcase filled with all manner of literature mainly teenage reading but with a selection of comics and magazines; further down the hall was a games room with a billiard table, two computers and a splendid old juke box that was still functional though the sound output had been governed by the caretaker. There was also a tiny cloakroom, Miss Davis’s office, and then her own private sanctuary at the back of the house. Upstairs were three bathrooms, two small bedrooms allocated to the women who supervised the children, a larger room where the boys slept, and a long wide dormitory which had once been three rooms and was now the girls’ sleeping quarters, furnished with beds, lockers and bedside cabinets. It was a pleasant room with big windows and lots of cheery posters on the walls.

  “Here we are, Kitty.” Taking her to the far end of the room, Miss Davis pointed to a narrow bed and the locker and cabinet beside it.

  “This is your own little corner.” Glancing at a bed further along she revealed, “That one belongs to Georgina. You’ll like her.” She lapsed into thought before adding smartly, “In fact, I shall assign her to look after you.”

  Kitty wasn’t sure about that.

  “Is she the same age as me?” She had visions of being bossed about by someone older, someone she might not like.

  “A good two years older.” Chuckling, Miss Davis said wryly.

  “She’s fourteen going on a hundred, but she has a wise head on young shoulders. She’s been allowed home on a two-day visit, but she’ll be back later tonight.” Her expression clouded when she recalled how these ‘home visits’ always upset Georgina. She hoped this time it would be different.

  “She’s not very talkative, and it will take you a while to get used to her, but I’m in no doubt Georgina Rogers is the one to keep you out of trouble.”

  In fact ‘trouble’ came looking for Kitty that night.

  At dinner she was publicly introduced to everyone and when the introduction was over they all clapped and she felt sick with embarrassment. The two women who lived in were friendly souls. Meg Austin, a fat lady who wobbled when she walked, was a widow who said very little but smiled a lot. The younger, Dorothy Picton, was thin and nervous but with a look that could slay Goliath. She also had the kind of voice that put you at ease straightaway. Kitty liked them both. The children were an odd mixture. There were four boys ranging from a baby in nappies to a snotty-nosed sour-faced eight year old who kicked everyone under the table and was eventually sent to his room in disgrace. Of the girls two stood out in Kitty’s mind; both tall and well built, with plucked eyebrows, they wore multi-coloured Sinbad trousers. One of the girls had long blonde hair; the other had dark hair cropped almost to her scalp, and big green eyes which, throughout the entire meal, stared threateningly at Kitty.

  At eight o’clock the younger children were sent to their beds. It was nine-thirty when Kitty and the older girls made their way upstairs.

  There was a frantic rush for the bathroom, a few heated arguments, and a telling off from Meg Austin when two girls started throwing water around in the showers.

  While she waited her turn in the bathroom, Kitty checked her belongings; the writing pad and blue biro she had been given by the social worker, and the clothes, books and toiletries allocated to her by Miss Davis. She put them all away in her locker and bedside cupboard.

  All around her the girls chatted and giggled. Occasionally someone would smile at Kitty, but no one went out of their way to make friends with her. The two girls who had earlier caught her attention kept staring at her and furtively whispering before collapsing into fits of laughter. Kitty was in no doubt that they were laughing at her, and the loneliness was almost unbearable.

  Half an hour later she had bathed, cleaned her teeth, brushed her hair and fallen exhausted into bed. It had been a long unsettling day. She was woken from a deep sleep by the sound of a whisper in her ear.

  “Get up, slut!”

  Shocked and disorientated, she hitched herself up on one elbow.

  Rubbing the sleep from her eyes, she peered hard. At first she couldn’t make out the face, but then in the half-light she saw it…big green eyes, narrowed like a cat’s, staring at her, just as they had done all evening.

  Kitty sat up, her strong angry voice belying the fear inside her.

  “What do you want?” Her dark brown eyes met the other’s gaze, and the
re was a conflict of wills.

  “That’s no way to talk to your betters, is it, eh?” Prodding Kitty on the shoulder, the dark-haired girl taunted, “You’re an orphan, aren’t you?”

  “What if I am?” Kitty hated the fact that she was an orphan.

  “You know what an orphan is, don’t you?” Seeing she had touched a raw nerve, her tormentor wouldn’t let go.

  “An orphan is something nobody wants.” Sneering, she pointed along the beds.

  “They’re two a penny in here, and you’re just another.”

  “I want you to go…get away from me.”

  The girl laughed softly. Turning to her pal, she whispered scathingly, “See what I mean? Orphans are nothing but trouble and this one doesn’t seem to like us at all.”

  The girl with the blonde hair leaned forward to touch Kitty on the face. As she drew her hand away she scratched her nails along Kitty’s neck.

  “Whoops! Clumsy me.” Her face was wreathed in a wicked smile.

  “Hope I didn’t hurt you?” she asked with feigned innocence. The dark-haired one playfully pushed her, “Silly bugger!” she chided.

  “Course you hurt her. Look…she’s bleeding.” Wiping her fingers along the scratch she smeared them with blood.

  “That’s blood, isn’t it?” she asked the other slyly, “I mean…it looks like blood.” In the half-light she stared at the crimson stains on her fingers then raised them to her nostrils, and sniffed.

  “Smells like blood.” Putting them into her mouth, she sucked noisily.

  “Tastes like blood as well.”

  Kitty thought they must be mad.

  “Go away,” she snapped