Born Bad (16 page)

Afterwards he took his mug of tea outside, where he sat at the table, thoughfully watching the birds feeding from the cornball.

His mind was filled with memories of Judy – of her as a baby, then as a toddler, and now she was a child going to school, and then she was … he could hardly say it, even in the
quiet of his mind.

She was just fourteen when they discovered she had been seeing someone, having an intense relationship behind their backs.

The day she told them still seemed like only yesterday. Norma had caught her crying in her room, and suddenly the truth exploded into their ordinary little lives; that their sweet innocent child was actually carrying a child of her own!

The revelation
had rocked his world and shattered his total belief in the daughter he adored. A darling girl, full of laughter and joy in everything she saw, Judy was special from the first moment she was born, when she looked into his eyes and held him there.

After the shock came the anger, like a tide of energy sweeping all commonsense and compassion away. He could not think straight.
All he could see was
the awful truth. When he demanded to know the name of the man who had made her pregnant, Judy adamantly refused to give his name.

To this day, Don remembered every little detail.

Out here in the warm sunshine, quietly drinking his tea and thinking of the daughter he had loved and then lost, eighteen long summers ago, Don still needed answers, but first he longed to see her; to make sure she
was all right.

Even now, after all this time, that was the one question that burned in his mind; the one question that had never been answered:
who
had put her in the family way? And like the worst kind of coward, never come forward to take responsibility.

Now though, Don was ready to make his peace with Judy. ‘I need you back in my life, Judy,’ he murmured. ‘Your mother is long gone. I’m older
now, and much wiser. Who knows how long I have to put things right between us?’ While he was able, he would do all in his power to make amends.

With Lottie lying heavily at his feet, he sat for a time, thinking and planning, not sure how he might go about locating her. Where would he look? Who could he ask? Of one thing he was sure. If ever he was to bring her back into the family fold, now was
the time.

He thought of Nancy and of what she might say when she knew he’d been in search of Judy. ‘I’m sorry, Nancy,’ he murmured angrily, ‘but whether you like it or not, I can’t rest until I find your sister!’

A short time later he put on his boots, whistled to Lottie, locked up the house and set off down the lane. ‘Let’s go do some serious thinking, eh, girl?’ he chatted to the dog as he
went. ‘First of all, I can never imagine Judy straying too far from her roots, because she was that kind of homely soul.’

He churned over every possibility in his mind, then passed it all by the dog, who too often was far ahead chasing rabbits or splashing in the water.

‘Hey! Come here!’ Seeing Lottie peering through the hen-coop to where the chickens were frantically cackling, he called her
back. ‘You’ll frighten ’em off their egg-laying, staring at ’em like that with your beady red eyes!’

So the dog trotted alongside, content to go with Don, over the heathland and down to the canal, where Don sat for a time, skimming stones into the water and formulating a plan in his mind. ‘I’m sure Judy will have stayed round these parts,’ he told his trusty
companion. ‘She’ll be somewhere between
Fisher’s Hill and Bedford town, I just know it.’

He thought it through. ‘She loved the Old Bedford River, I do know that much, and she was always a curious, busy little thing, so she’ll have got work, and a place to live … maybe somewhere in the vicinity of the river.’

He felt confident, that he would find her. ‘Make no mistake, I
will
find her!’ he told Lottie, who panted in reply.

Then he
had another thought – and it was not a pleasant one. God forbid she’d tied herself to the devil who put her in the family way!

Whenever he thought of the man responsible, he wanted to strangle him with his bare hands. Then there was the child, who by now would be what … seventeen?

So many years, he thought sadly. And then: what if the father had turned his back on his baby, as Don had turned
his back on Judy? A cold fear engulfed him. Had she been left to bring the child into the world, all on her own?

When he thought of the worry and heartache his adored daughter might have endured, his guilt was tenfold.

‘Morning, Don.’ The bargee’s voice sailed across to him. ‘Forgot yer fishing rod, ’ave yer?’ The man was huge, with a round belly and round face, and a quiff of grey hair standing
up on the top of his otherwise bald head.

‘Morning, Ed.’ Don returned the greeting. ‘I’m not fishing this morning,’ he explained. ‘Got Lottie with me, see, and she’s a devil with the barking. I might come back later on, and leave her at home.’

‘Ah! So I might see you on me way back then?’

‘You might. You might not.’

‘Well, if you’re still here, you can come aboard and share a drop of ale with
me.’

‘Sounds good. Thanks, Ed.’

‘See you then.’

‘Yeah, see you, Ed.’

Don waved as the other man went out of sight. ‘He’s one of the old sort,’ he told the dog. ‘Sound as a pound!’

Chatting with Ed had lifted his spirits, and oddly enough, had made him all the more determined to find Judy.

‘Come on, old girl!’ Bringing the bitch to heel, Don turned to retrace his steps. ‘We’ve got things
to do.’

The phone was ringing as he came into the house. Don had never got used to the blessed thing. ‘Hello?’ he answered warily.

It was Nancy. ‘Hello, Dad, it’s only me. Just to let you know that Uncle Mac and Rita have gone now, and we’ve got the house to ourselves.’

‘That’s nice.’

‘Oh, and I’m sorry if I upset you … about Judy.’

‘Mmm.’ He was still riled by her harsh words. ‘So you
take back what you said then, do you?’

‘No! I can
never
take it back. I still believe she’s living in sin with that man in some filthy dump, content with her lot, and not caring a hoot about the rest of us. I’m just sorry that you and I had a falling-out about it. I could see you were upset.’

Don did not want this discussion. ‘Best forget about it, eh?’ he said gruffly.

There was a span of
silence before Nancy asked, ‘Are you all right?’

‘I’m fine. Why shouldn’t I be?’

‘So, have you really forgiven me?’

‘Nothing
to
forgive,’ he assured her. ‘Water under the bridge and all that.’

‘All the same, it’s infuriating how she can still get you and me upset, after all this time.’

Swiftly ending the conversation, Don told her, ‘Got to go now. Me and Lottie have been for a walk. She got
in the canal and now she needs cleaning up.’

Nancy laughed. ‘Little devil! All right, we’ll talk some time in the week. Okay?’

‘Yes, okay, Nancy. Say hello to Brian, and give my love to the children. Bye then.’ He quickly dropped the receiver into its cradle.

Now that his mind was made up, he didn’t want to waste a single minute. Bringing the dog inside, he locked the outer door, then went
upstairs to his room, with the dog following hard on his heels. ‘No, girl!’ He gestured to the bottom of the stairs. ‘You go down and guard the front door and leave me to my business.’

While the dog reluctantly trundled downstairs, Don made for the wardrobe, from where he collected his suitcase.

In the zip part at the back, he found half his life tucked safely away; fond letters from his wife;
a smaller version of their wedding photograph; cards he’d taken to her while she was in hospital and four cherished trinkets of her jewellery: wedding, engagement and eternity rings and a pretty blue necklace he’d bought for their twenty-fifth anniversary.

As he touched each and every one of Norma’s possessions, the
memories came alive, and he was momentarily saddened. But then he found the other
batch of photographs and he became excited. Taking them out, he looked at each one individually; there was himself and his wife at the seaside soon after they were married; then the one with their first child, Nancy.

‘Somewhere in here there should be …’ He drew out an envelope. ‘
Eureka!
’ This was what he’d been searching for: a fat brown envelope, positively bulging with mementoes.

He rummaged
through the collection, until he found what he was looking for – photos of Judy as a baby, then as a toddler, and now she was dressed in her very first school uniform. The one he had in mind was a later one, taken in the garden of this very house during a visit to see Nancy, just a month before Judy gave them her devastating news.

‘It’s got to be in here somewhere,’ he mused. ‘Thank goodness
I didn’t listen to Nancy and throw the lot out.’ His elder daughter could be cold of heart when she set her mind to it, he thought.

Ah! Here it was! Jubilant, he drew the single photo from the batch. The last one he ever took of her, it was a lovely, natural photograph of Judy, looking impossibly young and naïve. She was wearing a lemon, daisy-patterned dress. Her long fair hair was down to her
waist and she was laughing. How could she be laughing? Against his instincts, Don felt a surge of disgust. Looking as though she had not a care in the world, when she must have known she was about to shatter all their lives!

In the photograph, the sun was shining much like today. Don had acquired a new camera that very morning, together with a yearning to capture photos of his family together,
at a time when everything was so precarious as the clouds of war gathered.

For an age he stared at Judy’s image, the tears filling his eyes and the pain of her departure draining his heart. ‘You were such a pretty little thing,’ he whispered, the tips of his fingers tracing her face, as he fondly recalled that day. He wondered, with a stab of agony, what his younger daughter looked like now,
eighteen long years later.

A lifetime.

When suddenly Lottie began whining to be let out, Don slid the photograph into his pocket, replaced the suitcase and hurried downstairs. ‘What’s wrong, you bad girl? Can’t you wait a few minutes while I sort myself out?’ Tutting, he unlocked the door and threw it open. ‘Go on then! And don’t go running off, mind. I need you to guard this house while I’m
gone.’

He watched the dog disappear behind the shrubbery, and realising it might be some time before she emerged, he went to the kitchen and made himself a fresh pot of tea, which he took out to the garden, along with a packet of biscuits and a cup with a saucer. He could think better with a hot drink inside him.

‘I need to decide how to go about it,’ he muttered to himself. ‘It’s no use just
going into Bedford, and wandering about aimlessly.’

He wondered where he should start, then remembered: the river, that’s where he’d go first.

When a short time later, Lottie came lumbering up the path, he quickly shut her in the kitchen. ‘You behave yourself now!’ he said through the door. ‘I’ve no idea how long I’ll be, but you’ve no need to worry. You’ve a bowl of water in there, and a small
handful of biscuits. That’s enough to keep you going, till I get back.’

In the hallway he grabbed his coat from the hook in case the weather turned unexpectedly nasty, as it often did.

‘Good Lord!’ Glancing at the wall clock he was astonished to see it was almost 5 p.m. But there was plenty of daylight left and the evening was most pleasant. All the same, now that his mind was made up, he needed
to get there soon, or the day would be gone and he would be no further forward.

He felt good. With the sun’s warmth on his face and a flicker of hope in his heart, he dared to believe that at long last, he might be able to bring that awful chapter in their lives to a satisfactory close.

J
UDY LOVED TO
look out at the world from her sitting-room window, and this evening was no exception. It had been a beautiful day, and now, just after 6 p.m., it promised to be an equally lovely evening.

The street was busy with men already making their way home from work and children playing. Enjoying the sunshine, they had congregated into little groups; girls playing hopscotch,
others skipping, and occasionally the odd one running to meet her daddy as he turned the corner. A short distance away up the street, the boys whizzed about on their bicycles, kicked a football or loitered on the corner, to plan their next big adventure.

From the open window, Judy watched it all, and her heart was sore. Whenever she saw the children, laughing and playing, she recalled the time
when she was a child, with loving parents, and a sister she could play with. But that was before.

She thought of another child, illegitimate, a precious creation despite her beginnings. She would remember that child for as long as she lived.

But it was all gone now. Gone for ever – along with any chance she might have had for a contented, normal life.

She let the memories flood in. She thought
of her father and her family, and then she thought of that terrible night, when she was turned out of house and home. But she did not blame her mother, such a proud lady, always wary not to become the subject of gossip; her worst fears had been realised, and all because of her younger daughter.

Judy could understand why Norma had been so unforgiving. She could understand a great deal more, now
that the years had flowed past. She knew what it was like to be ashamed, and to hit out. She knew what it was like to cry when you were alone at night, or to walk miles and miles, just to get away from the awfulness of what life had become.

She continued to watch the children a while longer, her pretty face uplifted in a smile as they turned to wave at her. She waved back, but it meant nothing
really.

She did not know them, and they did not know her.

She was just a stranger at the window.

Closing the window, she turned the volume up on the Dansette record player. ‘Lucky people!’ she kept saying. ‘Lucky,
lucky
people.’

When Phil arrived home, she was still curled up on the floor, listening to her records and unaware that he had come into the room. ‘You look like a little pixie,’
he told her. ‘The prettiest, daintiest little pixie I’ve ever seen.’ Reaching down, he grabbed her by the shoulders and bounced her into his arms. ‘Well?’

Discreetly rubbing her shoulder where he had dug his fingernails into the flesh, she smiled up at him. ‘Well, what?’

‘Your hardworking hubby wants a kiss, that’s what.’ Grasping a hank of her long, untamed hair he jolted her head back and
kissed her full on the mouth; a long, rough kiss that left her feeling bruised.

When she tried to draw away, he held her there. ‘What’s the hurry?’

‘I’ve got your tea in the oven.’ She could tell he’d been drinking. ‘It’s cottage pie … the way you like it, with plenty of onions and the mashed potatoes scooped into crispy little peaks.’

He laughed out loud. ‘Forget all that,’ he leered at her.
‘I’ve got two other crispy little peaks in mind. Matter o’ fact, it’s all I’ve been thinking about.’ Stripping off her blouse, he wrapped his hands around her breasts. ‘
This
is what I mean!’ His two hands slid down to her buttocks. ‘Soft warm skin between my fingers.’

Undoing her skirt, he let it slither to the floor, then stepped back to look her over. ‘God, you’re so beautiful!’

Licking his
lips, he thrust her forward towards the bedroom. When she tried to protest, he grumbled, ‘What’s wrong with you! Had a man here already, have yer?’

‘Stop it, Phil, you know very well I haven’t.’ She was used to his jealous suspicions.

He swung her round hard. ‘I would kill you if you had – you know that, don’t you?’

She nodded.

He shook her hard. ‘HAVE YOU HAD A MAN IN HERE?’

‘
No!
’ Irritated,
she shook him off. ‘I’ve been here on my own all day, cleaning this pig-sty of a place, after the way you left it last night. I’ve asked you not to bring people in here, playing cards
and drinking till all hours.’ She took the opportunity to suggest, ‘I should be out working, earning an honest wage, instead of being stuck in here bored out of my mind.’

‘YOU’D BEST SHUT IT!’ He took hold of her.
‘The day I can’t support you, I’ll give up. Besides, I’ve told you before, whenever you’ve gone out to work, there’s always been trouble.’

‘Oh, and don’t I know it.’ She faced him full on. ‘And who starts the trouble, eh?
You!
It’s you who has this idea that I’m carrying on with every man who looks at me. You think I can’t take care of myself, but I can. I really can!’

‘I don’t want my woman
working. Folks will think we need your wages to manage, and I’m not having that. You don’t need to work, not when you’ve got me, and don’t try going behind my back because I’ll know. I’ll make sure no one will take you on ever again, not when I’ve finished with them.’

‘You’re a bully.’

He smiled at that. ‘A bully, am I? Hmm, you seem to be getting very brave all of a sudden. What’s brought this
on, eh?’ He prodded her in the chest with his finger. ‘What have you been up to?’

‘I already told you,’ she answered warily. ‘I’ve spent most of the day clearing up after your people.’

‘Them “people”, as you put it, are my friends, and I pay the rent on this flea-pit, so this is
my
gaff, and I’ll have who I want in here,
when
I want. Got that, have you?’

Seeing how he was already making a fist,
she nodded. ‘Yes, Phil. I’m sorry.’

He smiled, a slow, sinister smile that made her flesh creep. ‘That’s my girl.’ He stroked her face. ‘Now, let’s get on with the other business, shall we?’

Judy shrank inside; she knew exactly what he meant.

Phil Saunders’ idea of lovemaking was not Judy’s.

He took her without feeling. He broke her to him, in a most possessive and cruel way. Not for the first
time, Judy wondered why she stayed with him. But then she realised: hard and brutal though he might be, Phil Saunders was all she had in the whole wide world. It was a shocking and sobering thought.

Later, with his carnal needs duly satisfied, he got out the booze. ‘A toast to us!’ He filled two glasses and handed her one. ‘You and me … the best team ever.’

When she graciously refused, saying,
‘I’ll give it a miss, Phil. I’m not really in the mood for drinking …’ he gave her a warning
look that promised a beating, and so she succumbed, and hated him that little bit more.

As always, he drank to excess, then he slept and later, after wolfing down a plateful of reheated cottage pie followed by another generous measure of whisky, he told her gruffly, ‘Get your coat on, we’re off out.’

Judy protested. ‘It’s gone nine o’clock. I thought I might have a bath and an early night.’ She was mentally and emotionally exhausted. Moreover, just now she did not like him enough to want his company. ‘I’m really tired, Phil.’

‘Too bad – I need you with me. Besides, if you’re with me, I’ll know exactly what you’re up to, won’t I?’

‘When will you listen? I’m not “up to” anything!’

‘So you
say. The thing is, I’ve arranged to meet up with my pals at the pub, and I like showing you off. It makes ’em jealous.’ Laughing, he slid an arm round her waist. ‘Come on, Judy. Don’t spoil my little bit of pleasure. Look, I promise we won’t stay long. In fact, I might fancy an early night myself … if you get my meaning?’

Judy got his meaning only too well, and with a heavy heart, she made herself
ready.

Having trudged the length and breadth of the river, Don stopped off at a café. The waitress was a dainty little thing with a wild mop of wavy hair that reminded him of Sammie. ‘Tea, please,’ he said, ‘… oh, and what sandwiches have you got?’

For the umpteenth time that day she went through the list. ‘We’ve got cheese and onion, egg and cress, beef, pork, chicken and we’ve got ham with
chutney. They all come with or without lettuce on white or brown bread.’

In spite of his aching feet, Don gave a little chuckle. ‘I’m full up just listening to you.’

She gave him a bland stare.

Feeling somewhat embarrassed, he quickly moved on. ‘I like the sound of that ham with chutney.’

She duly scribbled on her notepad. ‘White or brown?’

‘Er … white, please.’

‘Toasted, or as is?’

‘I
didn’t know you could toast chutney.’

‘You can’t. If you choose toasted, you’ll get the chutney on the
side.’ She leaned on the table, gave an exaggerated sigh, and rolling her big eyes she demanded, ‘Well, d’you want it or not?’

Trying desperately to stop from laughing, Don politely replied, ‘Yes, please, I’ll have it … toasted
without
the chutney.’

To which she gave him a shrivelling glance
and swiftly departed, leaving Don pretending to stare out of the window, coughing into his hankie, when all the while he was creased up with laughter.

The toasted sandwich was, however, delicious and the tea was piping hot. ‘I really enjoyed that,’ he said at the counter, throwing a few coins into the ‘tips’ box.

‘You’re very welcome.’ The young girl was nowhere to be seen, and in her place
was a more mature woman of pleasant manner. ‘We do our best to please.’

Don had to make a mention of it. ‘Your daughter is very informative, isn’t she? I mean, she recites that menu off by heart.’

‘She does, yes, but she’s not my daughter. She’s a student at the secretarial college, working part-time to earn a few pounds.’

Leaning forward, she confided, ‘She can be a bit … sharpish. Some of
the customers have complained about her lack of respect towards them.’ She kept glancing towards the door marked PRIVATE. ‘She didn’t say or do anything that upset you, did she?’

Don chuckled aloud. ‘No, not a bit of it. In fact, I came in here feeling fed up and very weary, and the truth is, she cheered me up. I haven’t laughed like that in a while.’ He threw another coin into the ‘tips’ box.
‘She earned that,’ he grinned. ‘Oh, and may I say, your ham sandwiches are a real treat.’

Pleased to see that he had put a smile on her face, Don was about to leave, but then he remembered something. ‘I wonder if you might be able to help me?’ Digging into his breast pocket he drew out the photograph of Judy. ‘I don’t suppose you’ve seen this young woman about, have you?’

Putting on her spectacles,
she scrutinised the photograph. ‘No, I’m sorry. We don’t get many schoolgirls in here. Your granddaughter, is it?’

‘Oh no, she isn’t a schoolgirl, at least not now,’ Don explained. ‘She’s my daughter, and this is the last photograph I have of her. She’ll be in her thirties now. We lost touch. I was just hoping that someone might look at the photograph and it might jog a memory, that’s all.’

The woman looked again. ‘I’m sorry.’ She took off her spectacles. ‘She doesn’t jog my memory at all.’ A thought occurred to her. ‘What makes you think she might be in these parts?’

‘Just a feeling, that’s all. She was born and raised near here, and somehow I can’t imagine her moving too far away. Besides, she really loved the river. Every time we came into Bedford, she would persuade me to take
her down to the river and she’d have to be dragged away.’

The memory was bittersweet. ‘Truth is, if I’d let her, she would have set up home right there on the riverbank.’

‘The thing is, your daughter is bound to have changed since her schooldays. All you can do is keep asking people until you get lucky.’

Don thanked her and set off for the town. It was becoming dark now, but he was a man on
a mission, and didn’t want to give up yet.

On his way to town, he stopped as many people as he came across. ‘Does this photo remind you of a young woman you might have seen hereabouts?’ The answer was always the same. ‘Sorry, no.’

He was beginning to grow disheartened, when he saw a kindly-looking soul on the corner. ‘Excuse me, would you please take a look at this picture,’ he asked. ‘Does
the girl remind you of a young woman you might have seen?’

The woman looked hard at the picture, then she looked again. ‘She’s got beautiful hair. You don’t often see long golden hair like that … just like a film star’s, isn’t it?’ She looked at Don, then took another glance at the photo. ‘I’m not sure, but …’

Don grew excited. ‘Oh, please! Any little piece of information … anything at all?’

‘Well, I have seen a woman … early to mid-thirties, I’d say.’

‘Where?’ In his enthusiasm, Don grabbed her by the arm. ‘Where did you see her?’

Startled, the woman backed away. ‘Out and about.’ She grew wary. ‘I can’t recall where, but I’ve definitely seen her. It was the hair that drew my attention – lovely hair, down to her waist it was, and wavy! She apologised. ‘I’m sorry, but I can’t remember
exactly where it was that I saw her, although I’m always out and about town, so you might be looking in the right area.’

Truth was, she knew exactly where she had seen her, but she thought the man would be hurt if he knew the truth, and so she kept the knowledge to herself.

Don, however, could not let it go. ‘The young woman you saw – did she seem well? Was she happy, do you think? Did you hear
her laugh? Was she well-dressed, and did she have a teenager with her? Please think! How did she look, this young woman you saw?’

‘I’m not sure, but I know there was no youngster with her. I would have noticed that. Like I said, it was the mop of golden hair that drew my attention.’

In fact, she recalled seeing the woman drunk and almost coming to blows with the rough-looking man who was her
companion. But how could she relay that to this dear man? He was obviously in distress, clutching the photo of the girl as if it was the most precious thing in his life.

Loath to crush his hopes, she spoke kindly to him. ‘Look, I know it’s none of my business, but you look tired. Don’t you think you should go home and forget all about the young woman? You may never find her.’