Family Betrayal Page 10

  Still Pet hesitated, but Dan urged, ‘Come on, eat up, and then get your glad rags on.’

  With a nod, Pet ate a little of her dinner. She then pushed her plate to one side before heading for her bedroom whilst Dan turned his attention back to Linda. With her face pale, hands shaking as she half-heartedly forked up a bit of mashed potato, she looked not much older than Pet. His son had a lot to answer for, and if he lost Linda it would be no more than he deserved. Her frailty so touched him that Dan wanted nothing more than to wring George's neck.

  Only moments later the door was flung open. Linda gasped in fear, but it was Chris who walked in.

  ‘Where the hell have you been?’ Dan snapped.

  #x2018;I went to Oxford Street to have a look around the shops, and then I had a drink with a mate.’

  ‘You were needed here!’

  ‘Why? What's going on?’ ‘George needs sorting out,’ Dan said, and went on to tell Chris all that had happened.

  ‘Bloody hell,’ Chris gasped as his eyes flew to Linda. ‘Are you all right?’

  ‘No she bloody well isn't,’ Dan growled.

  Chris took a seat, picking up his cutlery as his mother laid a plate of food in front of him. ‘Where's George now?’

  ‘I dunno, but I'm taking Linda to her mother's. I'll be dropping Pet off at the youth club too.’ Dan lowered his voice. ‘I want you there when she comes out at around ten, but keep out of sight. I've told her that she can walk home on her own, so just trail her to make sure she's all right.’

  ‘I can't. I've got a date tonight.’

  ‘You'll do as I say.’

  ‘Shit, Dad, can't you ask one of the others to meet Pet?’

  ‘Oi, watch your language. There's ladies present.’

  ‘Sorry, Mum – sorry, Linda.’

  ‘Your father's one to talk. He hasn't stopped swearing since he walked in the door.’

  Annoyed at the comment, Dan shot Joan a look, but she ignored him, turning on her heels to walk back into the kitchen. He frowned, wondering what had come over his wife, but then Chris spoke again.

  ‘Dad, this is a first date – I'll look a right mug if I insist on dropping her home before ten.’

  Dan pursed his lips, then after a small pause he said, ‘Yeah, all right. I'll get Maurice or Bob to meet Pet, but stay in until I get back. George might turn up and I don't want your mother facing him on her own.’

  Chris nodded, biting into a sausage with relish. ‘I've arranged to meet Julie at eight. You're sure to be back before that.’

  ‘Yeah, I will, and God help your brother when he decides to show his face.’

  Chapter Ten

  Pet stepped into her bedroom and closed the door. She felt that she was seeing her family for the first time, that a veil had been lifted from her eyes. Her brother George had terrified her, but she'd seen the madness in her father's eyes too. He had shoved her mother and she'd gone careering into the table, but he hadn't even noticed. If he'd been like that with her mother, she dreaded her father's reaction when George turned up. George deserved a telling-off – and more – but just how far would her father go?

  What neither of her parents realised was that Linda had no intention of ever going back to George. Linda had confided in her before falling asleep on her bed, saying that she was now so frightened of George that she not only feared for herself, she feared for her unborn baby. Pet chewed her lower lip and wondered what to do. If she told her parents it would cause more friction, so maybe for the time being she should keep it to herself.

  Pet moved to her wardrobe and took out a flared skirt and white blouse. The skirt looked all right, but the blouse, with its Peter Pan collar, looked prissy to her. At first she'd been surprised when her father suggested the dance, and even more so when he said she could walk home alone, but had soon realised why. He wanted her out of the way – making her even more frightened of what he'd do to George.

  In any other circumstances she'd have been thrilled that for the first time she wasn't being escorted home like a kid, but her mood was low and she didn't feel a bit like dancing. Still, she decided, it would be better to go to the youth club than to be around when George faced the music.

  Pet dressed, then studied her face in the mirror. She knew there wasn't a chance in hell that she'd be able to get out of the house wearing make-up, so she took a handbag that Sue had passed on to her and stuffed the lipstick inside, adding a block of mascara and blue eye shadow, which she had bought with her pocket money but never used. Until now, she thought, hoping she'd be able to apply the mascara without sticking the brush in her eye this time. Shoes were a problem. She only had pumps, whereas her friends would be wearing heels and she'd look childish beside them. With a sigh Pet brushed her hair, wishing she could style it like Sue's, but once again, her father would have a fit.

  ‘You look nice,’ Chris said approvingly as Pet went back downstairs.

  ‘Yeah, you're as pretty as a picture,’ Dan agreed.

  Pet could see the tension in her father's face and wasn't fooled. He was hiding his anger – putting on a front – not just for her, but for Linda too. But it had worked. Linda was now calm and her face dry of tears.

  ‘I'm ready, Dad,’ she said as though wanting to be away before George appeared. She rose to her feet and, after saying a swift goodbye, they left the house, Linda looking fearfully behind her as they headed for the lockup.

  ‘There's no need to be nervous,’ Dan said, taking hold of her arm. ‘George won't touch you again.’

  Linda didn't reply and was visibly relieved when she had climbed into the back of the car. Pet sat next to her father, wondering if Linda would tell him that she wasn't coming back, but the girl said nothing during the journey.

  They were soon at the youth club. Pet turned in her seat to look at Linda. ‘Bye, and take care,’ she said, feeling that her words were inadequate.

  ‘Bye, Pet, and thanks,’ Linda replied.

  ‘Have a good time, but don't forget I want you home by ten fifteen.’

  ‘Yes, Dad, I know.’

  Pet climbed out of the car and shut the door behind her, waving to Linda as her father drove off. She then went into the youth club with her head down and made straight for the cloakroom, relieved to get there before anyone saw her without makeup. The room was empty and, standing at the mirror, Pet applied eye shadow and mascara, pleased that she managed it without a problem. She finished with lipstick, and then, with a final pat to her hair, approached the hall.

  Music was playing and quite a few girls dancing, but no boys. Some were standing watching the girls, whilst others were around the pool table at the far end of the room. Pet stood on the threshold of the dance floor, but then Wendy Baker spotted her and hurried to her side.

  ‘Pet, I didn't expect you to come. You look nice – it's unusual to see you wearing make-up. Crumbs, your eyes look fabulous.’

  ‘Thanks. You look nice too,’ she replied, eyeing with envy Wendy's blue, full-skirted dress and the matching short bolero. Her mood began to lift, but as someone put on a recording of ‘Moon River’ by Andy Williams, Wendy frowned.

  ‘Blimey, we can't dance to that. I can't see any of the boys asking us for a smooch.’

  Wendy was wrong, Pet thought, as a tall, good-looking bloke ambled towards them. She didn't recognise him from school, and if anything he looked a bit too old for the club. His eyes were grey, his hair blond, and he was dressed in the motorcycle fashion of jeans with a black T-shirt. Wendy began to preen and simper, obviously certain that the young man was going to ask her to dance, but then both girls' eyes widened when he touched Pet's arm.

  ‘Fancy a dance?’ he asked.

  Pet shot a glance at Wendy before she answered and saw that she looked annoyed. ‘Er, no … no thanks.’

  ‘Come on, I don't bite,’ he urged.

  Wendy spoke then, her words clipped. ‘Go on, Pet, dance with him. I'm going back to join my friends.’

  Pet was about to protest, but Wen
dy had marched off, whilst the young man put his arm around Pet's waist, drawing her into his arms. She went rigid, but then, as he began to move slowly, swaying to the music, she found herself responding.

  ‘I heard your friend call you Pet. What's that short for?’

  ‘It's just Pet,’ she lied, unwilling to admit that she had the daft name of Petula. She glanced around the floor, embarrassed to see that they were the only ones dancing.

  ‘My name's Tony. I haven't seen you before. Do you live around here?’

  ‘I live about fifteen minutes' walk away.’

  ‘That's not too bad,’ he murmured, drawing her closer whilst crooning the words of the song softly in her ear.

  This was the first time Pet had been held in a boy's arms and as he pulled her body imperceptibly closer to his, strange feelings assailed her. Embarrassed, she pulled back.

  ‘I told you, I don't bite,’ Tony said, but allowed the distance between them. ‘I see you're a friend of Wendy's. Are you still at school too?’

  ‘Yes, but I'll be leaving shortly.’

  ‘You're just a kid.’

  ‘I most certainly am not,’ Pet protested.

  ‘I love the way you speak,’ he murmured, as he pulled her closer again.

  They continued to dance, Tony saying no more until the record came to an end, when he released her. ‘See you later,’ he said abruptly, before walking off to join three other young men who were propping up the wall.

  For a moment Pet stood in the middle of the dance floor, floundering and unsure of what to do, but then hurried to Wendy's side.

  Wendy didn't speak, but Jane did. ‘I see you've met our local heartthrob. But you want to be careful: Tony Thorn has got a bit of a reputation.’

  ‘I only danced with him,’ Pet said and, hoping to placate Wendy, she added, ‘Anyway, he's not my type.’

  ‘Huh, who do you think you're kidding?’ Wendy snapped, and then turning to Jane she added, ‘And as for reputations, his is nothing compared to Pet's family.’

  ‘I've told you before, my family run a legitimate business now,’ Pet protested.

  ‘So you say, but it's not what we've heard.’

  ‘Now then, Wendy,’ said Jane, ‘don't be nasty. Just because Tony danced with Pet, there's no need for sour grapes. We know he usually dances with you, but you know what he's like and I expect he saw Pet as fresh meat.’

  Pet frowned, not sure that she liked being referred to as meat, but she couldn't resist a peek at Tony over her shoulder. He was lounging against the wall, but as their eyes met, he winked. The beat of music filled the hall and Pet flushed as Tony began to cross the floor in their direction. She quickly looked away, tense, but it was Wendy he spoke to.

  ‘Come on, Wendy,’ he invited.

  With a triumphant grin, Wendy hit the dance floor, skirt swirling as she jived with Tony. For a moment they were the only two dancing, but then another couple joined them. Pet recognised the girl as one from her school, but not the boy, and though he looked a bit strange, he was a brilliant dancer.

  ‘Who's that boy dancing with Josephine?’ Pet shouted above the noise of the music.

  ‘That's Ian, Tony's younger brother,’ Susan answered.

  ‘Younger brother? How old is Tony then?’

  ‘He's eighteen.’

  ‘Eighteen! Isn't he a bit old for the club?’

  ‘Yes, but Ian's slow, retarded. He loves music and dance, so Tony always brings him.’

  ‘That's nice.’

  ‘Don't let that fool you,’ Jane said. ‘If you want my advice, you'll keep away from Tony Thorn.’

  ‘Why?’

  ‘He's just bad news, that's all.’

  Jane's answer left Pet confused, but then she urged both Pet and Susan onto the dance floor. The girls were skilled dancers and Pet did her best to copy their moves, yet despite this she couldn't resist the occasional glance towards Tony and Wendy. Would he ask her to dance again? God, he was gorgeous and she hoped so.

  Linda had hardly spoken during the journey, and when Dan dropped her off at her parents' house she had flown inside as though in fear of her life. Maybe he should have stopped to have a word with the girl's father, but instead, ashamed of his son and unable to defend him, he had driven off.

  After parking his car, Dan went straight to Bob's house. ‘Any sign of George?’ he asked.

  ‘No, he ain't shown his face,’ Bob said as he stepped outside, pulling the door partially closed behind him.

  ‘He'd better turn up soon, while Pet's out of the way. I want you there when she comes out of the club, but keep out of sight. Just trail her to make sure she arrives home safely.’

  ‘Blimey, Dad, do I have to? Can't you ask Chris to do it?’

  ‘He's busy.’

  ‘What about Maurice?’

  Dan's temper was close to the surface, and it didn't take much to set him off. ‘I'm telling you to meet her, so just do it!’

  Paling, Bob nodded in agreement, both then turning at the sound of footsteps. George had entered the alley, obviously unaware of his father's mood as he ambled towards them.

  ‘Leave this to me,’ Dan growled, hardly aware of Bob shooting inside and firmly closing his door.

  ‘All right, Dad?’ George asked.

  ‘All right! Of course I'm not all right!’

  ‘Why? What's up?’

  Dan surged forward. He grabbed George, and despite his son's bulk, almost frogmarched him to number five.

  ‘Here, what's going on?’

  ‘Get inside,’ Dan ordered.

  George fumbled for his keys, and as he unlocked the door, Dan shoved him violently from behind, into the house.

  ‘Bloody hell, Dad. Leave it out,’ George cried as he staggered inside, only just able to remain on his feet.

  Dan ignored his son's protests. He slammed the door behind them and glared at his son. ‘You fucking worthless piece of shit.’

  ‘Why? What have I done?’

  Dan grew hot as he felt the blood pumping through his veins, barely able to control himself now as he screamed, ‘Done! You've got the nerve to ask me what you've done! For one, you scared the life out of your sister and your mother, but worse, you fucking scumbag, you laid into your pregnant wife!’

  ‘I didn't touch her,’ George protested. ‘I wrecked the pram, that's all.’

  ‘Sod the pram … Linda told your mother that you've been hitting her.’

  George shrugged. ‘Yeah, well, I might give her a slap or two now and then, but it's nothing to make a fuss about, and no more than she deserves.’

  At this, Dan's anger unleashed. His fists connected with his son's face again and again, putting all the force he could muster behind each blow. Dan heard George's grunts of pain but, intent on giving his son the lesson he deserved, he ignored them.

  Dan didn't know when George began to return the punches, only aware as he staggered backwards that blood was pouring from his nose. ‘You bastard!’ he yelled, surging forward again, enraged that his son had dared to hit him.

  As George continued to fight back, Dan began to tire, painfully aware that his son's strength was greater than his. The next few blows that George landed had Dan grunting in pain and each punch he tried to return became weaker than the last. For a moment he paused, gasping as he bent over, but then George's fist connected with his chin in a ferocious uppercut. Dan reeled backwards, hitting the floor with a thump that knocked the last of the breath out of his body.

  Dazed, Dan looked up, trying to focus on his son as he lifted one arm, panting, ‘Enough!’

  It didn't stop George. Madness blazed in his eyes as he lifted a foot, the boot aimed at his father's kidneys. Pain tore through Dan's body, excruciating pain, but then he felt another kick, the sickening crunch as George's boot connected with his skull. Dan grunted, but then knew no more as he sank into a pit of darkness.

  Chapter Eleven

  Trancelike, George looked down on his father, but as a red mist cleared his eyes, h
e vigorously shook his head. Like a dog shaking off water, sweat sprayed around him, his mind foggy. What had happened? ‘Dad! Dad!’ he cried, dropping to his knees by his father's side.

  There was nothing – not even a groan. George frantically tried to find a pulse, without success, and jumped to his feet in horror. No! No! His father couldn't be dead!

  George became aware of blood dripping from his nose and raised his hand to wipe it away, his thoughts clearing. Yes, that was it. He had come home to find his father waiting for him, the old man furious because he'd hit Linda, so furious that he'd laid into him like a madman. He could remember his father's attack, the pain as each blow landed, then pressure mounting again in his head until he felt that his brain was going to explode. After that there was nothing – a black void.

  Had he done this? Had he killed his own father? ‘Dad!’ he cried, once again dropping to his knees to shake his father's shoulder. ‘Wake up! Come on – wake up!’

  There was no response and George heard an unholy wail, hardly aware that it was issuing from his own mouth. ‘It wasn't my fault, Dad! You shouldn't have gone for me like that! I only gave Linda a slap or two – that's all!’ He leaned forward, his ear to his father's mouth. On hearing nothing, terror gripped his stomach like a vice.

  George didn't know when his mind suddenly shifted but as though unable to face the horror of what he'd done, he now found himself calm as he reached out for someone else to blame. Linda! Linda and her big mouth! He jumped to his feet, running from the house, leaving the door wide open behind him as his boots pounded the pavement.

  It was nearly ten o'clock and Pet's hopes were dashed. Tony hadn't asked her to dance again. He'd taken Wendy to the floor several times, but hadn't even glanced her way. It was her clothes, Pet was sure of it. Beside Wendy she looked prissy and plain, like a kid, whereas Wendy looked older than her years and very self-assured. None of the other boys had asked her to dance either, all of them avoiding not just her but, by association, her friends too.