The Forgotten Girl (26 page)

George kissed me.

‘I do need to go for a while, though,' he said. ‘Frank's already out there and I need to help him set up his studio and tell him to his face that I'm not going. He's been really good to me over the years.'

‘When?'

‘Tomorrow,' George said, making a face. ‘Sorry.'

‘It's fine,' I said. ‘I'll stay with Suze anyway. Oh, what will happen to this studio?'

George grinned.

‘I'm hoping Frank will let me keep it on,' he said. ‘I'll find an assistant and start up on my own.'

‘You've got it all planned,' I said, feeling a glimmer of excitement. ‘You go to Paris and tie up your loose ends, Suze and I will go to our Mode interviews…'

My stomach plummeted to the floor.

‘Oh.'

‘What's the matter?'

I filled George in on what Dad had done to our dummy mag.

‘When's the interview? Tuesday?'

I nodded.

‘You've still got time.'

‘Not much.' George looked stern.

‘Nancy Harrison,' he said. ‘You've survived your mum dying, your dad's violence, and living a double life for months and months. Suze has escaped from a mum who couldn't care less, plus some very unsavoury characters in London and she's come out of it all with their flat and her head held high.'

‘Riiight,' I said.

‘You're not going to tell me you're going to let a tiny thing like your dad being an idiot stop you now, are you?'

‘You think we can still do it?' I said.

‘Of course you can.' He kissed my knuckles. ‘You can do anything.'

‘I should go and tell Suze,' I said, looking at my watch. ‘She'll just be helping Bruno close up.'

‘Stay here,' George said. ‘Have some sleep, go to work in the morning and see Suze later. There's no rush.'

‘There is a lot of rush,' I pointed out. But George kissed my neck and I decided he was probably right. I could stay a while longer…

The next morning I felt a bit like we were playing house as George made me a cup of tea in bed, helped me make sure all my bruises were hidden as best as they could be with make-up, and later kissed me goodbye when I left for work. I hoped one day we could make a home together, though right now I was more interested in moving in with Suze. I didn't want to split up with Billy just to tie myself down to someone else – much as I loved spending time with George I wasn't in a hurry to start washing his underwear or cooking his dinner.

That made me think of Dad. I thought he'd probably only notice I'd gone when he didn't have a meal on the table at teatime. I shuddered at the idea of how angry he'd be, then dismissed the thought. It wasn't my problem any more.

Except it was.

Chapter 41

I was finishing filing some back issues later that afternoon and thinking about going to see Suze after work when the phone on my desk rang.

‘Home & Hearth,' I said into the receiver. ‘Nancy Harrison speaking.'

‘Nancy, thank god,' said a voice. My stomach lurched.

‘Billy?' I said, alarmed. ‘What? What do you want? Why are you phoning me at work?'

‘It took me ages to find your number,' Billy said, his words tumbling over each other. ‘I went to that other newsagents in the high street to find a copy of your magazine because I reckoned it would have the address in it, but I couldn't remember what it was called, just that it had Home in the title, so I had to search through a few different ones.'

I didn't care.

‘What do you want?' I said again.

‘I wanted to warn you,' Billy said. ‘I think your dad's on the warpath.'

I'd been standing up when I answered the phone. Now I sat down heavily and leaned on my desk. Without thinking, I gently touched my swollen lip.

‘It's too late, Billy,' I spat. ‘I know you told him everything. And he made it quite clear how he felt when he belted me.'

‘Today?' Billy said.

‘No, not today, yesterday. Why are you phoning me, Billy?' I had no interest in talking to him. Not now. Not ever.

‘He's coming now,' Billy said. His voice trembled a little bit. ‘I think he's coming to find you.'

I let out a bark of laughter. Dad wouldn't get on a train and go into town. He hardly ever left Beckenham.

‘I'm glad to hear you're so worried about me,' I said sarcastically. ‘But I'm fine – now – no thanks to you. I'm at work and Dad's at the shop and I've got away.'

Billy let out a frustrated breath.

‘Nancy,' he almost shouted. ‘Would you bloody well listen to me.'

Startled, I shut up.

‘I walked past the shop at lunch and it was closed,' he said. ‘And I wondered why. So I went round to yours to see if everything was okay. And your neighbour – that nosy old bat – said she'd seen your dad waiting outside the Tuns for it to open earlier on. So I went down there and Mick behind the bar said he'd thrown your dad out for being rude – it was only just after lunch so he'd obviously had a skinful already…'

‘Get to the point, Bill,' I said, my heart beating faster.

‘And Mick said your dad had asked someone what time the next train to Charing Cross was. So I ran to the station, thinking I might catch him, but the train was pulling out when I got there.'

I sighed heavily.

‘Dad doesn't even know where I work, Billy,' I said. ‘He won't come here.'

Billy paused for a minute.

‘He does know,' he said. ‘He knows the name of the magazine at any rate. I told him. And it's not like he's got to look hard to find your magazine and the address that's written inside.'

‘Billy,' I said, bewildered by all this information he was giving me. ‘Why did you tell him, Billy?'

‘I'm so sorry,' he wailed. ‘I was hurt and I just wanted to put you in your place, I suppose.'

I looked at my watch. It was almost five o'clock.

‘This happened at lunchtime?' I said.

‘Just after,' agreed Billy. ‘I reckon it was about two o'clock when I saw the train leaving.'

So Dad would have been in town for well over two hours and he'd not shown up at my office. I breathed out slowly.

‘He's not here,' I said. ‘If he was going to come here, he'd be here by now.'

‘You've not seen him?'

‘No,' I said. ‘Are you sure he was on that train?'

‘Well, I didn't see him on it,' Billy said. ‘I suppose he might have gone somewhere else.'

‘Railway Tavern, probably,' I said, thinking of the pub that overlooked the station.

‘Oh bloody hell,' said Billy. ‘I bet he's in the pub right now, and I've just gone and got you all worried for nothing.'

‘He's probably passed out in a corner,' I said.

‘I'm really sorry Nance,' Billy said. ‘Sorry for telling him and sorry that he hit you.'

‘I'm sorry too,' I said. ‘Sorry for lying.'

‘I'm glad you're all right,' Billy said. ‘Look after yourself.'

He hung up.

Shaking my head, I breathed a sigh of relief both that he'd been wrong and that we'd reached a sort of understanding. I'd probably never see him again, I thought. I wasn't even the tiniest bit sad about that.

I finished my filing, did a few other jobs, then I gathered everything I needed to have a go at rescuing our preparation for the Mode interview, and left work for the day.

As I reached the bottom of Berwick Street, approaching Suze's squat, I saw Dad. He was staggering along Peter Street, in the opposite direction from the squat. Instinctively I slunk behind the fruit stall at the end of the road, so he couldn't see me. He was dishevelled and wearing the same clothes as he'd worn yesterday. His face was ruddy and his knuckles bloody – I wondered if it was my blood. He looked like a tramp. As I watched him wind his way towards Wardour Street, I realised I felt nothing for him at all. Nothing but disdain and disgust. What a horrible, pathetic man he was. I wasn't scared of him any more. He wasn't dangerous and he could wander round Soho all he wanted, he wouldn't find me at Suze's – not with her big padlock and thick wooden panel on the door. But then I glanced over to the squat and gasped in surprise. The door was open.

Checking to make sure Dad was far enough away not to spot me, I ducked out from the safety of the fruit stall and ran for the squat, shutting and locking the door firmly behind me.

‘Suze?' I called as I went up the stairs. ‘Suze?'

I heard her footsteps above.

‘Nancy,' she said, her voice quivery. ‘Nancy? Did you lock the door?'

‘Yes,' I said. ‘Are you all right?'

I went into the living room. Suze was sitting on the couch, with her knees hunched up.

Her right eye was swollen shut and turning a livid purple. Her fingers on both hands were bruised and she had a large welt on her arm.

‘What happened?' I said, horrified at the very sight of her.

She looked at me.

‘Your dad happened.'

Sick with fear and guilt I dropped my bags and went to her.

‘What did he do?' I said. ‘What happened?'

‘Have you got anything to drink?' Suze said.

I dug in the side pocket of my bag and found a small bottle of gin I'd swiped from Dad's drinks cabinet before I left. I waved it at Suze.

‘That's it,' she said, her teeth chattering – I wasn't sure if it was from fear or cold. ‘Pour me some and I'll tell you the whole sorry story.'

Chapter 42

We drank our gin out of mugs because that's all we had. Suze cried. I cried. It was quite a messy business.

‘He was in Broadwick Street when I left Bruno's after my lunchtime shift,' Suze explained. ‘Obviously I had no idea who he was but I noticed him because he was kind of lurching about. When I walked past him, he started following me. Shouting stuff.'

‘What sort of stuff?'

‘Calling me Lady Bloody Muck, and asking why I was ignoring him when he was my father. I just thought he was crazy.'

‘Sounds like my dad,' I said. I brushed back Suze's hair carefully and looked at her bashed face. ‘Shall I put some ice on that?'

Suze shook her head, then winced.

‘Don't have any,' she said.

‘I'll go and get some from Bruno.'

She grabbed my hand.

‘Don't,' she said. ‘Don't go.'

She drained her gin and held out the mug for more.

‘So he followed you?' I said, topping her up.

‘He followed me down Berwick Street, but I just ignored him,' said Suze.

‘Then as soon as I'd unlocked the door, he appeared.'

‘You let him in?' I said, surprised.

Suze looked straight at me.

‘He called me Nancy,' she said. ‘He thought I was you.'

‘Oh no,' I breathed.

‘I'd just opened the door, and he said your name, and I turned round to look at him, thinking I could tell him I wasn't you,' Suze said. ‘And he shoved me inside and followed me up the stairs. I couldn't get away.'

She started to cry again.

‘He was shouting, and holding my shoulders and shaking me,' she said. ‘I was so scared, Nance.'

‘It's okay,' I said, feeling guilt weighing me down. ‘It's not your fault.'

‘And then, out of the corner of my eye, I saw our typewriters,' Suze carried on. ‘And I thought about us getting jobs on Mode and finding a flat and I suddenly felt like I was stronger than I'd ever been before.'

A sudden memory of Dad ripping up our magazine floated into my head and I shuddered. How was I going to tell Suze all our plans were in tatters – literally.

‘What did you do?'

‘I kicked him,' Suze said, a small smile on her lips. ‘I kicked him really hard in the shin.'

‘And he stopped shouting?'

‘Well,' Suze said. ‘No.'

‘He hit you?'

She nodded.

‘He hit me. But I fought back. He didn't like it. He punched me, over and over, but I fought back and he gave up.'

Very gently I stroked her bruised fingers.

‘You're so brave, Suze,' I said.

She smiled at me.

‘It was all our plans that made me fight him,' she said. ‘I had something to battle for.'

‘Oh Suze,' I said, my voice wobbling. ‘I think it's all gone wrong.'

For the first time, Suze looked at me properly.

‘You've had your hair cut,' she said. ‘No wonder your dad mixed us up.'

She took a gulp of gin and looked at me again.

‘Did someone hit you?' she said, reaching out a hand to touch my cheek.

‘Dad,' I said. ‘Yesterday.'

Suze looked really tired.

‘He doesn't like it when we argue, does he?'

I slopped more gin into each of our mugs and topped them up with lemonade. Then slowly, I told Suze what had happened yesterday when I went home – it seemed like a lifetime ago now.

‘Do you think your dad will come back?'

‘I don't know,' I admitted. ‘I never thought he'd come here in the first place. He's really angry.'

‘Are you scared of him?' Suze asked.

‘I wasn't,' I said. ‘But now I know what he's done to you, I'm terrified. I'm so sorry, Suze. So sorry.'

‘We should swap names,' Suze said with a humourless laugh. ‘You be Suze and I'll be Nancy and then if he tries to find you he'll find me instead.'

‘That's not the answer,' I said, guilt making me snappy. ‘The answer is getting on with our lives.'

‘You're right,' Suze said.

‘There's just one problem,' I said. ‘Dad ripped up our magazine.'

‘Can we stick it back together?'

I reached into my pocket and pulled out some of the tiny shreds.

‘No,' I said. I opened my hand and the pieces scattered across the floor.