Survivor Read online

  ‘I don’t think you should be gadding about on a Sunday afternoon,’ Mog said. ‘I was never allowed to, when I was a girl.’

  Mariette laughed. ‘Oh, Moggy! That’s so quaint and Victorian. What’s wrong with going for a walk on a lovely day? I bet Jesus didn’t sit about on Sunday with his nose in a book.’

  ‘They didn’t have books then,’ Mog retorted ‘Besides, I thought you were going to help me. I’ve almost finished this veil, but there are hundreds more pearls to sew on the dress.’

  ‘I’ll help you with that when I come back. I just want a bit of exercise and some fresh air.’

  ‘But you told your parents the reason you didn’t want to go over to Paihia with them today was because you were going to help me.’ Mog looked at Mariette suspiciously. ‘Are you planning to meet a young man?’

  ‘No! Why do you and Mum always think I’m meeting boys?’

  Mog noted Mariette’s flushed cheeks, and the false indignation in her voice, and knew her suspicions were correct. ‘There isn’t much your mother and I don’t know about young girls,’ she said tartly.

  She adored Mariette but she wasn’t blind to her faults. The girl was self-centred, devious and manipulative, with, seemingly, none of Belle’s compassion – or her father’s capacity for hard work.

  They could all be proud that she was so bright, and her lovely face would melt a heart of stone, but Mog was very afraid that she would get herself into serious trouble one day.

  She had helped Dr Crowley deliver Mariette, and from the moment she held her in her arms and looked down at that angry little red face, she’d felt an enormous surge of love for her. She had loved Belle just as much, as a baby, when she’d had sole charge of her. But Mog had been just the maid then, and because she knew that Belle’s mother, Annie, could have thrown her out on her ear at any time, she’d learned to stifle her feelings and to keep her mouth shut until Annie asked for her opinion.

  But both Belle and Etienne thought of Mog as their baby’s grandmother and, as such, she had no need to hold anything back – not her help, her opinion or her devotion to their little girl. But loving a child so much was a double-edged sword. Mog might have the joy of knowing she was as important to Mariette as her parents, yet with that came the fear of something bad happening to her.

  Belle had been abducted by evil men when she was only fifteen, and there had been times in the two years she was gone when Mog felt she would lose her mind with the agony of not knowing her precious girl’s fate. While it was unlikely such a thing could happen to Mariette, there were many other dangers for a young girl to walk into. Mog felt it was her duty to keep her safe, and if she failed because she hadn’t taken a firm enough line with her, then she’d never be able to forgive herself.

  Once, that had meant merely making sure Mariette didn’t play in dangerous places, ate the right food to keep healthy, and knew how to tell right from wrong. But then – and it seemed to have happened overnight – she turned into a young woman, and suddenly Mog saw new dangers. She couldn’t keep an eighteen-year-old locked away, conceal those womanly curves or make her smile less dazzling.

  Neither could she warn her what some men were capable of – not without telling her how she knew. Belle believed that Mariette was entirely safe in Russell, that no man would dare take liberties with her daughter out of fear of Etienne. Maybe she was right, but Mog knew Mariette was a little madam and she could very well be the one that did the leading on.

  ‘Well, if you must go out, be back by four,’ Mog said reluctantly. ‘We need daylight to sew the pearls on the dress but, with just an hour at it together, we could finish it.’

  Mariette agreed and hugged Mog. Then, before she got any further lectures, she snatched up a cardigan and raced out of the door.

  Mariette was meeting someone. As she walked towards Flag Staff Hill to join him, she was afraid. Her fear was not because she’d lied to Mog – she’d told Mog and her parents so many lies in the past couple of months that she was beyond guilt – but because she had to end it today with Sam, and she expected him to turn nasty.

  She’d first met him a year ago, when the cargo ship he worked on anchored out in the bay for some minor repairs. All the crew came into Russell and created quite a stir by getting very drunk and rowdy. Sam stood out because he was young, tall, blond and very handsome; the rest of the crew were short, tough-looking men with bad teeth and mainly well over thirty.

  Mariette only spoke to him once. He asked her what there was to do in Paihia, and if it was worth getting the ferry over there. She told him it wasn’t as pretty as Russell, and he laughed and said he was only interested in pretty girls, not scenery.

  After the ship had left the bay, she heard her parents talking about the crew’s bad behaviour. Not only had there been a fight in the Duke of Marlborough with chairs and windows smashed but several women and girls had been accosted, and the whole town was indignant.

  Her father appeared to have some sympathy with the men. He said they’d probably heard that Russell was once known as the ‘Hellhole of the Pacific’, and they were disappointed to find it had turned into such a sober place, with no loose women and not even a dance hall.

  The image of that handsome sailor, whose name she didn’t even know then, stayed with her. She kept remembering the way he’d looked at her, like he was seeing right through her clothes, and how it had made her feel all fizzy inside.

  For the remainder of last summer, she’d found herself thinking a great deal about boys. She had no shortage of admirers – she was, after all, said to be the prettiest girl in Russell – but they were just boys she’d grown up with, and not one of them made her feel the way the tall, blond stranger had. She practised on a few of them, led them on enough to kiss her, but it didn’t set her on fire the way she’d read about kissing in books.

  Mariette read every book she could get her hands on and, because of what she’d read about big cities and other countries, she considered Russell very dull. In her opinion it had nothing to offer other than its beauty. Apart from the odd dance now and then, the occasional film show or picnic, there was nothing to do. If she could go out fishing and sailing with her father every day, then she’d be happy. But he couldn’t take her with him very often, and the owners of yachts that frequently needed a crew would never think a mere girl was capable.

  As for old friends from school, she felt she’d outgrown them. They were content to help their mothers with the chores, to sit about giggling and gossiping; not one of them had dreams of travelling the world or doing something dangerous and thrilling, as she did.

  She’d heard the sailor was an Australian, and so she never expected to see him again. Yet, to her surprise and delight, two months ago, he’d come back to Russell. He was no longer a sailor but was working as a truck driver for a timber company, collecting loads of timber from various forests in the North Island, which were then shipped further afield.

  Mariette ran into him at the post office, and his broad smile told her he both remembered her and liked what he saw. They had a brief chat, and she flirted with him, but she knew her parents would never agree to her walking out with a grown man of twenty-five who was just passing through, so she didn’t dare agree to meet up with him that evening.

  She held out for three days, stopping to chat and flirt with him, but it was only when she heard he was moving on elsewhere the next day that she knew it was now or never.

  Men always hung around the Duke of Marlborough, waiting for it to open at six, so she made sure she walked that way, wearing her prettiest dress. His eyes lit up when he saw her and the fizzy feeling she’d felt when she first met him all those months ago came back stronger than ever. In their brief chats she had been a little disappointed that he was somewhat coarse, using swear words and making crude remarks about her figure and legs. His worn checked shirt and moleskin trousers were a bit grubby too, but he had beautiful blue eyes and long dark lashes, and she couldn’t resist the whiff of danger that
seeped out of his sunburned skin.

  That day she’d already taken the precaution of telling her parents she was going to a friend’s house, and readily agreed to go for a walk with him. She was convinced he was already smitten with her because he didn’t appear to care that he’d miss the six o’clock swill in the pub, and few men would pass that up.

  Once they were away from the town and any prying eyes, he kissed her, and it was all Mariette had hoped for and more. She lost all track of time in his arms; he made her heart race, her knees go weak, and there was a strange yet wonderful tugging sensation in her belly that made her lose all sense of caution.

  Yet he pulled back. ‘I can’t do this with you,’ he said. ‘You’re too young, and I have to go away. It isn’t fair on you.’

  He left Russell early the next morning, and he hadn’t even said if he would be back. But those last few words had convinced her he was a gentleman at heart, and his coarseness was just because he wasn’t used to being in women’s company.

  A fortnight went by before he returned, and for all of those fourteen days she’d thought of nothing but him and his kisses. She’d had to hide it away, not even daring to tell one of her friends in case they passed it on.

  When he did return, he told her that she’d been on his mind the whole time he’d been away, and that he had fallen in love with her. What girl wouldn’t believe that claim? And how could she not let him make love to her, when she believed she was in love with him too?

  That first time was up on Flag Staff Hill, behind some bushes, and she knew as he pushed her down without any thought for her comfort that she’d made a mistake. She had wanted something romantic and beautiful, but all she got was prickles in her bottom, bruised thighs and disappointment. Then, when he said he had to get back to the pub to meet a friend, she’d felt cheated and humiliated.

  But, like a fool, she thought it would get better. She’d read several books where the heroine felt like she did the first time, and it always came right in the end. Once, when he’d left Russell, not telling her when – or if – he’d be back, she even managed to convince herself he’d behaved that way with her because he was afraid of loving her.

  Without having anyone to confide in, and also terrified her parents would find out, she was in a state of perpetual anxiety. Sometimes she even hoped Sam wouldn’t come back to Russell, and then she could forget him. Yet, a week later, when she spotted him from her bedroom window, leaning against the tree at the shore end of Robertson Street and looking up at her house, she felt she had to rush out to meet him again.

  Stupidly, she thought she could change him by trying to make him just talk to her, kiss and cuddle her, without anything else.

  ‘I’m not too happy with the way you’ve been with me,’ she said. ‘I want to talk to you, get to know all about you. So can we just go for a walk and do that, without the …’ She hesitated, not really knowing what to call it. ‘You know, the thing?’

  He stroked her cheek in what she thought was a really tender way. ‘Look, sweetheart, you’ve been on my mind ever since the last time,’ he said earnestly. ‘I want you so badly. Don’t do this to me?’

  Looking back now, it was obvious that he didn’t care about her at all, that all he wanted was sex. But she didn’t see that then; all she saw were his pleading eyes, and so she went along with what he wanted.

  By the fourth time, he was becoming even rougher with her, tossing her down on the ground and forcing himself upon her. After he was done, he degraded her still further by telling her to run along home as he had to see someone about some business.

  Mog had an expression she used when she suddenly realized the truth about someone or something: ‘The scales fell from her eyes.’ Mariette had often laughed at it, saying only fish had scales. But she finally understood what the expression meant ten days ago, the last time Sam had been in Russell.

  He had been really vile to her. He’d pushed her down on to her knees in some bushes and entered her from behind like a dog. There hadn’t been even one kiss. As he buttoned up his trousers afterwards, he told her to meet him there again a week on Sunday – and she wasn’t to be late.

  It was like having a bucket of cold water thrown over her, but it did finally bring her to her senses.

  Since then, she hadn’t stopped smarting with shame for allowing him to treat her in such a callous manner. She fervently hoped that he wouldn’t come back to Russell ever again, and that could be the end of it.

  But that wasn’t to be. Yesterday, as she was walking along the Strand, there he was, waiting for the Duke of Marlborough to open.

  He was very dirty, he smelled of stale sweat, and it wasn’t a smile he gave her but a leer, which said everything he felt about her.

  ‘Don’t forget our arrangement tomorrow,’ he said, and rubbed his crotch in a suggestive manner. She had walked on quickly without stopping.

  As she saw it, she had two choices. One was just to not turn up, but there was always the danger he might come to the house and alert her parents to what had been going on. The only other choice was to meet him and show him what she was made of. The latter appealed to her much more, and she knew it would make her feel better about herself.

  But now, as she spotted him up ahead sitting on the grass smoking a cigarette, her stomach lurched with fear. He looked round as she got nearer, but he didn’t even smile or stand up to greet her.

  ‘I’m not stopping,’ she said as she got within earshot. ‘I just came to tell you I don’t want to see you any more.’

  ‘Is that so?’ he replied with a lazy sneer. ‘You could’ve said that yesterday and saved me the effort of walking up here, but I guess this is the usual Sheila’s trick to get me to say something soppy. No chance of that, love, you’ve picked the wrong man.’

  She went right up to him and looked down at him. ‘I certainly did pick the wrong man,’ she retorted. ‘You’ve treated me shamefully, and I never want to see you again.’

  He jumped up then. ‘I gave you what you wanted, didn’t I?’

  ‘Do you really think any girl just wants that?’ She was incredulous at his arrogance.

  ‘You were desperate for it,’ he said. ‘All that fluttering your eyelashes at me and the come-on looks. Sheilas like you are ten a penny. They lure you into screwing them, and then they want you to marry them.’

  ‘Marry you!’ she said indignantly. ‘You fancy yourself, don’t you? I wouldn’t marry you if I was paid a million pounds to do it. You’re uncouth, arrogant and plain nasty. I can’t imagine what made me think there was anything to like about you. But I’ve said my piece, and I’m going home now.’

  ‘Not so fast,’ he said, grabbing her arm. ‘No two-bit whore insults me and gets away with it.’

  ‘You didn’t mind insulting me with your animal behaviour,’ she shot back, and tried to get out of his grip.

  He dug his fingers harder into her arm so it hurt. ‘You think you are so high and mighty,’ he snarled at her, putting his face right up to hers. ‘What’ve you got to be so snooty about? They say your old man is a war hero, but he’s a bloody Frog, and they give the French medals just for wiping their own arse. As for your ma, well, from what I’ve heard, she jumped on the first single man who turned up here and was up the spout at her wedding.’

  Suddenly Mariette realized she’d been very stupid to come up here where there was no one to run to for help if Sam turned really nasty.

  ‘Let me go,’ she pleaded.

  ‘I’ll let you go alright,’ he said. ‘But only after you’ve sucked me off.’

  Mariette didn’t know what he meant by that until he began to unbutton his fly, pulled out his penis and started pushing her down towards it.

  ‘On your knees,’ he commanded her. ‘And do it good.’

  Just the thought of such a thing made her gag, and she had no intention of doing anything so utterly disgusting. But she was aware that he was a great deal stronger than her, and she knew the only way she could get the b
etter of him was through guile.

  Taking a deep breath, she forced herself to grin up at him. ‘I suppose I could … for old times’ sake,’ she said as she reached out to grasp his penis. It was still flaccid, and it felt sweaty and nasty, but the moment her hand went around it and she bent her knees as if to kneel down, thankfully, he let go of her arm.

  Under her grasp his penis rose up as thick as a baby’s arm. She looked up and saw he had his head back and his eyes closed. It was the moment.

  In one swift movement she brought her knee up and thumped him right in his testicles, then turned and fled as fast as she could.

  She glanced back to see him doubled up with pain. He sank to his knees on the grass, holding himself and making a bellowing sound.

  It was shock that made her cry. Her mother and Mog had always warned her not to trust strangers or allow people to take liberties with her. But such warnings had never meant much before because, until she met Sam, everyone she met had been good and decent.

  Yet she did remember a few years back, when times were really hard because of the Depression, how anxious her mother had been when gaunt-looking men with ragged clothes came to the door asking for food.

  ‘Don’t open the door to anyone when I’m not here,’ her mother had warned her. ‘Hard times make people desperate.’

  Mariette had found it odd that, after warning her against such men, both her mother and Mog would give the men food and drink, and often bathed and treated the blisters on their feet.

  ‘They can’t help the way they look, they are hungry and exhausted,’ Mog explained to her. ‘There are men like them all over the world now, travelling about in the hope of finding work. You’ve been sheltered from the harsh reality of what the Depression means for most people. Luckily, we’ve managed with the vegetables we grow, the cow and chickens, and your father catching fish for us. Otherwise, we might be starving too.’