Father Unknown Page 25

  It wasn’t a daunting task to decorate two rooms plus a kitchen and bathroom. The whole row of shops and the flats above them had only been built in the Thirties so structurally it was quite sound. Once she started her job at the school, she soon met people who offered her help. The caretaker knew about electrics, and she found a plumber too, to put in a new gas fire.

  She adored rooting round junk shops, and it was fun buying old things and doing them up. She loved the feeling of total independence, and making a real home of her own.

  Fortune had certainly smiled on her. She loved the school from the first day there. Physically handicapped children were a challenge, and they took some time to get used to, but she found the job far more rewarding than caring for the Sandersons’ boys.

  She soon found a social life too. The assistants and teachers at the school were friendly and warm-hearted, and right from the start she fitted in. The married ones often invited her to their homes for dinner or a party, and the single ones often came down to The Happy Landings, the pub right by her flat, for a drink after work.

  Six years on, she could look back at Catherine’s birth and the subsequent adoption without crying. She didn’t berate herself about it any more, for she knew decent flats like this, and a good job, didn’t go to single mothers.

  Instead she imagined Catherine going off to school in a little uniform, with a satchel on her back. She wondered if she had dancing lessons, or would learn to play a musical instrument. She could never have done all that for her.

  When a wave of sorrow came over her, she would think of the children at her school, and how much more help they needed than normal children. She could channel all her maternal instincts into improving life for them. That was enough for her for now.

  She picked up her scissors to cut round the edge of a magazine page. Josie was modelling a sweater on it, looking like a real country girl, holding a big Afghan hound on a lead.

  Her sister’s beauty and fame never ceased to astound Ellen. It seemed funny that they’d gone in such different directions, become such opposites, when once they had been so incredibly alike.

  Ellen smiled to herself. Each time they met, Josie was always urging her to be more fashion-conscious, to wear makeup or do something with her hair. But it wasn’t Ellen’s thing; she didn’t yearn for glamour or attention. She was happiest in jeans; she really couldn’t be bothered thinking about which shoes went with which clothes. When she did make the effort to dress up for a special occasion, do her nails and put makeup on, it was nice, but she didn’t want to do it every day.

  Men seemed to like her just the way she was anyway. Jack, a man she’d recently had a bit of a fling with, called her ‘Mother Earth’. She liked that image. Meanwhile she could always look at pictures of Josie and see what real glamour was!

  She leafed through her scrapbook of Josie and found the pictures taken in the South of France, back in ‘67. Josie looked like a princess in a cream silk ball-gown, the low bodice dripping with seed pearls, a pearl tiara in her hair. It was one of Ellen’s favourite pictures, a glimpse into a different world from the one she knew.

  People at work had often asked her if she felt jealous of her sister. She would laugh and say ‘Only for the money she earns’, but in fact even that wasn’t true. Her real feelings, and she would never divulge those to anyone, were just of sadness that Josie hadn’t found happiness along with her fame.

  The picture in the South of France was a fine example. Josie looked stunning, she’d stayed in a fabulous hotel, mingled with the super-rich. Yet something unpleasant had happened to her during that time. Ellen had never got to the bottom of what it was, Josie had emphatically denied it, but her drug-taking had accelerated shortly afterwards.

  Ellen grimaced. Josie was so hard to understand. She could be such good fun, generous and loving too, but there was a very dark side to her as well – she could be devious, nasty, totally selfish and destructive. Try as she might, Ellen couldn’t put her finger on exactly why. They’d had the same upbringing, were so close in many ways, yet why were they poles apart mentally?

  It seemed such a waste to Ellen that Josie had achieved her childhood dream, yet that still wasn’t enough to make her happy. What was it that was missing in her life that made her plunge into drink and drugs the way she did?

  Although Ellen’s personal experience of drug-taking was limited to smoking a few joints with friends at parties, she was quite clued up about the subject. Lots of her friends were into speed and acid. It was all part of the Flower Power culture, and as rife here in Bristol as it was in London. As far as she was concerned, taking something for an extra high now and again didn’t do much harm, as long as it didn’t start to control a person’s life.

  But it was controlling Josie’s.

  Ellen knew Mark had been responsible for starting her on that road. She suspected it was his way of binding Josie to him so he could siphon off all the money she earned. But their relationship had changed soon after they came back from France. He still took all the photographs of Josie, but he wasn’t her lover any more, and she was paid directly by her agency. It wasn’t as if that rift was the cause of Josie’s troubles, she claimed to be glad, as now she could do what she liked, see whom she liked. And she seemed sincere. So that left no one to blame for Josie’s unhappiness but Josie herself.

  Ellen picked up a photograph of herself and Josie taken down in Falmouth. Josie had bought the camera that day, and asked people to take pictures of them together. This one was taken down by The Chain Locker in the harbour. They were both laughing their heads off because the man who was taking the photograph kept saying Josie reminded him of someone, but he couldn’t think who. They wondered if later he would suddenly realize who Josie was, and kick himself for not knowing in the first place.

  Ellen sighed deeply. They may have spent all that day laughing, but the rest of the visit home had been awful. Perhaps Josie hadn’t really been ready for a reunion with their parents.

  Right from the time Ellen found out where Josie was in London, she had worked on their parents to forgive her sister. Albert was unable to forget the humiliation of Violet and himself being thrown out of the Mirror offices, or the lies Josie had told about her family. He had said then that he would never speak to her again. Yet he did relent and let Violet go up to London to look after her when she was ill. Ellen had thought that was a real breakthrough, but Josie blew it by throwing Violet out of her flat.

  Eventually, by constantly chipping away at them both, Ellen had managed to convince her parents that Mark Kinsale was responsible for everything. As he was off the scene by then, they finally agreed to try a reconciliation.

  Had Ellen got her way, that first meeting would have been on neutral ground, perhaps at her flat. But Josie had bought a flashy blue sports car, and suddenly she wanted to drive down to Cornwall. She didn’t seem to take on board that she would need to win her parents over, as they were still feeling hurt by her. So Ellen only went along with her as a mediator.

  If Josie had restrained herself, worn something ordinary like jeans and been prepared to help with a few chores, everything could have worked out. But she insisted on dressing up to the nines, kept complaining how cold draughty and miserable the house was, and went on and on about the smart hotels she stayed in as if her own home wasn’t good enough for her any more.

  Then there was the incident of the fridge. She just went out and bought one and got it delivered. Ellen couldn’t help but grin as she remembered Violet’s shocked expression when the deliveryman carted it in and plonked it down in the kitchen.

  Josie was right, they did need one, food and milk went off quickly during the summer. But she should have known their parents were old-fashioned country folk. They were happy enough with their larder and meat safe, and they didn’t like being forced to accept charity, which was how Josie made it seem.

  Of course Josie got nasty when they didn’t fall and kiss the hem of her dress in gratitude. In pure spite she
flung insults about the state of Violet’s clothes, her mottled legs, and Albert’s long hair.

  Ellen wished she could forget that awful visit. She had wanted to slap Josie for being so insulting, and for spoiling all the hard work she’d put in on her behalf.

  Sometimes Ellen thought her sister was a bit deranged. She just never knew when to stop or back off, or to hold her tongue. She showed off continually and had no respect for others. Was it the drugs she took that made her like that? Or was she born with this defect?

  Ellen hadn’t had any contact with her for months now. Josie hadn’t phoned or written since the last time she came down to Bristol when she’d just broken off an affair with a rock guitarist. Yet Ellen knew she’d been down to Cornwall, showing off in Falmouth, because Mrs Peters had told her.

  That was another strange thing about her sister. She claimed to hate the farm and always ended up rowing with their parents, yet she persisted in going down there. Rumour had it she’d been asked to leave a restaurant because she’d taken a bunch of people into it who were all drunk and abusive. It was also said she wasn’t too welcome in several of the pubs because of bad behaviour and the company she kept.

  Ellen could only suppose the attraction was purely because she was such a celebrity among her old school-friends. Maybe she needed that unconditional admiration to bolster up her private fears that when her looks faded she would be a nobody again.

  A familiar car engine made Ellen look out of the window, and there to her huge surprise was Josie in her blue sports car, driving on to the forecourt of the shops beneath her flat.

  As always, Ellen forgot her concerns in her delight at seeing her sister again. She leapt to her feet and rushed downstairs to the front door.

  ‘What a lovely surprise!’ she exclaimed as she opened the door. ‘Good job it’s raining or I’d have been out walking.’

  Josie was wearing sunglasses, but Ellen put that down to affectation. All she really noticed was that Josie didn’t start rabbiting on the way she usually did.

  ‘How was the drive down? How long can you stay for?’ Ellen asked as they went back up the stairs.

  ‘How long can you put up with me for?’ Josie said wearily.

  That sounded a bit ominous, and Ellen hedged round it by saying she’d make some tea. When she came back into the living-room with the mugs, Josie had taken off her long coat, beneath which she was wearing a red crushed-velvet hot-pants suit and knee-length black boots. She had also removed the sunglasses, and one eye was red and puffed up, the start of a black eye.

  ‘Don’t start preaching,’ Josie warned Ellen. ‘Okay, I had a bit of a fight with Mark. I need somewhere to crash for a few days to give him a fright.’

  ‘You know you can stay here, though I’ll be working tomorrow,’ Ellen said. ‘But what was the fight about?’

  ‘He’s got another woman,’ Josie said. ‘Another model told me yesterday. He called round early this morning to tell me about a job tomorrow, and when I asked him about her, he said it was none of my business.’

  ‘Well, it isn’t, Josie, you’ve been apart for over two years,’ Ellen said gently.

  ‘It is my business,’ Josie snapped. ‘He should have told me before everyone else found out. He’s going to marry her! They’ve been carrying on for years while she was still married to someone else. When I think what I’ve done for that bastard! How can he treat me so badly?’

  ‘Is he still getting you work and paying you?’

  Josie nodded.

  ‘Well, I can’t see that he’s treating you badly,’ Ellen said tartly. ‘He was always much too old and manipulative for you anyway. You’d have been much happier with someone who really cares about you.’

  ‘I suppose you want me to have one of those peace and love types that you like so much?’

  ‘You could do worse,’ Ellen said with a grin. ‘Most of them are great in bed because they’ve tuned into what women want.’

  ‘I don’t want sex,’ Josie snarled. ‘I want someone to look after me. No one’s ever done that.’

  Ellen believed in looking after herself, men were for entertainment only in her book. But she knew better than to say that now. Besides, Josie always did seem to draw the short straw with men. Mostly she picked the ones who just wanted her as a beautiful accessory. In the last two years she’d been out with several rock stars, two actors and a Harley Street surgeon. All of them appeared to have been cold-hearted, egotistical bastards.

  ‘Drink your tea, Josie, then maybe you could do with a little nap while I make us some lunch.’

  ‘Got any booze?’ Josie asked.

  Ellen had a feeling this visit was going to be heavy. If Josie had already had some speed this morning, she would talk and talk all day and half-way through the night. She’d stay in bed most of the following day while Ellen was at work, and that pattern would be repeated every day till she finally cleared off, leaving Ellen wrung out and exhausted.

  ‘Only the home-made wine you sneered at last time you were here,’ she said.

  ‘Why do you make that crap?’ Josie said nastily. ‘No one wants to drink it.’

  ‘Well, my friends like it.’ Ellen tried not to get annoyed. ‘I make it because I enjoy doing it. It’s also a lot cheaper than buying wine.’

  ‘You’re so…’ Josie fluttered her hand as she searched for a word, ‘together,’ she said eventually. ‘It’s really boring. Look at this place, patchwork cushions, handmade pottery, all crafty and rustic. I bet you listen to folk music too.’

  Ellen snapped. ‘Oh, stop being nasty or you can clear off right now.’

  By Thursday evening, Ellen had had enough. Her worst fears had been realized. Josie was still in bed when she left for work each day. When she got home each evening the place was like a tip, clothes and makeup strewn everywhere. All the towels in the bathroom were wet and left in a heap on the floor, records out of their sleeves. Josie never thought to prepare a meal, much less get any shopping, and she was like a stuck record, repeating all the same old stuff about Mark.

  This time she was stretched out on the couch smoking a joint. Ellen could see burn holes where some of the cannabis had fallen out.

  ‘I think you should go home in the morning,’ she said, trying not to sound harsh. ‘It’s too much having you here when I’m working. I can’t stand to come home and find things like this.’

  ‘Come and have a drag of this, then you won’t mind,’ Josie said, offering her the joint.

  ‘I’d prefer it if you got off your arse and cleared up,’ Ellen said, gritting her teeth.

  ‘You’re not so cool as you make out, are you?’ Josie said, still not moving. ‘You’re really uptight. Get down the doctor’s and get some tranks.’

  Ellen ignored that and asked her sister what would happen if she missed some assignments.

  ‘Mark will get really pissed off,’ Josie giggled. ‘I told you, that’s why I came down here.’

  Had she said she needed Ellen it might have been different. ‘Well, if you want to continue to piss him off, do it somewhere else,’ Ellen retorted angrily. ‘Go on down to the farm, you can piss your mother off at the same time.’

  Josie sat bolt upright. Today she was wearing royal blue hot-pants and a skinny rib sweater, her hair up in a pony-tail. She looked about fifteen, not twenty-one.

  ‘Look here, you bitch,’ she hissed, ‘don’t make cracks about Mum. If it wasn’t for you there wouldn’t have been any trouble between us.’

  ‘If it wasn’t for me you’d still be an outcast,’ Ellen reminded her. ‘I had to work very hard on them to make them forgive you.’

  ‘I know you work hard on them. But not for me.’ Josie’s eyes narrowed with spite. ‘It’s to make sure you get the farm when they snuff it. You don’t fool me one little bit, you know how much the land is worth and you can’t wait to get your hands on it.’

  Ellen wanted to hit her, but she resisted the temptation and turned away towards the door. ‘I’m going out now.
Be gone by the time I get back or I’ll throw you out,’ she said. ‘You’ve gone too far with your nastiness this time. Don’t come back again until you’ve changed your ways.’

  Ellen drove her car out towards the village of Pensford, just outside Bristol, and pulled up in a lay-by. She was livid with her sister, and at that moment she never wanted to see her again. Why did she say such evil things? What was wrong with her?

  She watched the sun till it sank right down behind a hill, and as it disappeared so did her anger. She had studied enough child psychology books to see that many of Josie’s problems came from her mother. Violet was such a bitter woman, and since Josie was born she had dripped poison into her daughter’s ears at every opportunity. It was she who had fed Josie the idea that Dad didn’t love her. She had probably also convinced her that her older sister would snatch her share of any inheritance too. Even Josie’s belief that a man’s role was to take care of a woman came directly from Violet.

  Ellen could agree that in most marriages that was the norm, but not in the way that Violet saw it. She didn’t think of love, Ellen doubted she even understood that concept. To her it was trading sex for the security of a home and food. She’d put that into practice with Albert.

  Now Josie was the same. Ellen couldn’t remember Josie ever raving about a man she liked. All she ever gloated over was what kind of car he drove, how rich or successful he was. She doubted too that she’d ever leapt into bed with anyone just because she fancied him like mad, only for what she hoped it would bring her.

  ‘Poor Josie,’ she murmured to herself. ‘When will you learn?’

  As she drove back on to the forecourt and saw Josie’s sports car had gone, Ellen didn’t know whether to be pleased or sad. She went upstairs wearily, wondering what she could cook for supper that would be quick, and how soon she could get to bed.

  It was no surprise to see that Josie hadn’t tidied up before she left, but at least all her clothes and cosmetics were gone. By the time Ellen had straightened everything out, she was too tired to cook anything more than a bacon sandwich.