Between The Lines Ch. 06

My discomfort wasn't helped by the fact that I was seated next to Penny's delicately attractive 'sister,' Lady Isobel Pendlebury-Willaston (Penny had described her as a 'quite pretty, very genteel, man-eating slut!') on one side, and her grotesquely overweight husband on the other. Sir George, according to Penny's briefing, was an extremely predatory bisexual and, as far as I could tell from what I'd heard over dinner, had been awarded a knighthood for fucking up the economy from his position in the treasury. I silently promised myself that if either made a pass at me I'd ask to borrow one of Mason's sharpest kitchen knives.

"So... Mr de Ladd... you're our Margaret's... errm... partner. Is that right?" Sir Walter began with what was meant to be impressive portentousness, but still made him sound like a pompous twat. "You sort of... add a few funny lines to her script... yes?"

"Don't be such an utter prick, Walter," his wife intervened, and went up a few more notches in my estimation. "It's clear to anyone with eyes that they're in love with each other. And his name's Jack... as you know perfectly well!"

The utter prick regarded me with a look of utter disdain and then, with great precision, he said, "Well, Jack... I do hope that, if you're intending to marry her, you don't think that it's going to be an easy route to a fortune!"

"Walter!" his wife exclaimed, but got no further.

"No, my dear... we need to make it absolutely clear where we stand on this. We're talking about someone who's several years older than Margaret; a man who makes his living telling dirty 'jokes' in seedy nightclubs (he managed to make it sound like I was one step below a drug dealer), and possibly thinks that marrying into a wealthy family is going to put him on easy street for the rest of his life. I just want to make it clear that he isn't going to sponge off my fortune!"

This time, I managed to get in before Lady Mary could say anything.

"Of course not, Sir Walter," I said, oozing false deference, "with the money I've saved... added to the pennies I'll earn... I'm sure your daughter will only have to sell her body on the streets for a very short time before we can rent a little house on a council estate."

There was, for several seconds, one of those silences that clichéd writers describe as 'pregnant,' and then I felt the leather of the sofa begin to ripple beneath me as Sir George began what I can best call a rumble of laughter that just grew and grew. It was like throwing a stone into a geyser: he bubbled ominously until his whole, massive body became obscene, quivering ripples of movement before he finally burst out into the loudest laughter I'd ever heard. God -- what I wouldn't give to have someone like that in the front row of an audience!

The initially shocked appearance of the other faces quickly turned to amusement and then, because the laughter was contagious, all except Sir Walter joined in with it. I kept a straight face, of course (although I was a tiny bit uneasy that 'companionable' touches to my thighs came from both sides), and waited for the laughter to die down. Finally, it was Penny's mother who spoke.

"Jack... I honestly don't care if you're bloody penniless!" she announced loudly. "You may not get any of my husband's fortune, but I'd be happy to help if you ever need it." And then, with barely a glance at her clearly outraged husband, she went on, "and at least my money's honest! I didn't get it by arranging deals to sell arms to enemies of this country and its allies!"

You could have heard a pin drop. In fact, if I'd had a pin handy, I might have tried it.

Then I realised that penny was standing up. I half-expected some kind of explosion from her, but she was remarkably calm as she said:

"I think it's time we were leaving," giving me a warning look as if she knew I was about to protest that we were having such fun; "That's if darling Isobel and gorgeous George can bear to take their hands off your legs." (The hands were removed immediately!)

"Oh, by the way, Walter (What... no 'Sir'?), it may interest you to know that Jack has just used his own money to open and equip a state-of-the-art hospice. He's also arranged a trust with enough money in it to keep it active for a long time to come. I'll let you work out whether that means he has enough to support me or not. Come on, Jack!"

I agreed it was time to go, but I still took my time over saying goodnight to everyone and thanking them for their hospitality. Well, it was only polite, wasn't it? I half expected the ever present Mason to show us to the door, but it was Lady Mary (that's the way I now thought of her) who accompanied us. As we stepped outside, and before we could say our farewells, she kissed my cheek and said:

"It's been a pleasure to meet you, Jack. I mean that. You stood up to my boorish husband very nicely... so at least that means Margaret's found someone with some balls... and I'm delighted for her." Then, turning her youngest daughter, she said; "Margaret... yes, I know you prefer to be called Penny, but you'll always be Margaret to me... I know we haven't always seen eye to eye, and you've never wanted my advice, but I'm hoping you'll listen to me just for once...."

"Mother, I...."

"No... just listen, my Dear. I think you've got a good man here. Don't let him get away! And I insist on paying for the wedding... whenever that may be."

"Nothing's been decided about that yet," Penny declared firmly.

"Nonsense!" Lady Mary insisted, "A child needs two parents, you know? Anyway... don't stand out here in the cold. Go on back to your warm bed and make sure you both take care of one another. I'll see you both again soon, I hope. Goodnight!" and she gently closed the door.

"You told her that you're...." I started to ask.

"No... I never said a word," Penny replied, "But she's my mother, isn't she?"

**

17.

"I like your mum, Penny," I said.

"Well then, maybe you should arrange a threesome with her and my sister," she snapped, and the bitterness in her voice took me by surprise. I decided it was best to say nothing and just concentrate on the road (Yes, I know I said that Penny was driving, but it was the Alfa and she'd let me take the keys from her). We drove a few more miles (at a steady 50mph because I didn't want her to get nervous about the safety of her vehicle), before I realised that she was gently sobbing.

"I'm sorry, Love," I said. I've no idea why I apologised, so it's no use asking. It's a very British thing, I suppose; when someone's upset, the first thing we do is say 'sorry.'

"It's not you, Jack," she sniffed, "it's me... me and the family zoo!" And then, throwing me off balance completely, said: "Oh my God! Look at that! What a mess!"

I had no idea what she was on about, until a quick glance in her direction told me that she was looking at one of those tiny mirrors that females seem to be able to conjure up out of nowhere and was muttering, "Smudged mascara, stupid tears and a snotty nose... how sexy is that, eh?"

"Don't worry," I comforted after allowing her to pick my pocket for a handkerchief and start to clean herself up, "when we get home I'll put the kettle on and we can relax while you tell me all about it."

"Jack... I'm not sure I...."

"No arguments, Penny! Those tears aren't for anything that happened tonight. So, you're going to tell me all... and I really do mean 'all' ...about it! Okay?" I don't think I'd ever spoken to her as firmly as that and I guess it surprised her. I was half-expecting an argument and preparing to deal with it -- and I'm sure she thought about it -- but she must have seen the look on my face because she lowered her head as she whispered; "Alright, Jack... if that's what you want," and gently placed her hand on my thigh. It felt nice -- a lot nicer than when her sister and brother-in-law did it -- but I decided not to mention that.

It was quite a long drive so it was fairly late by the time we arrived at Penny's place, and it took time enough for me to fall head over heels in love with the Alfa. The Pininfarina design meant that it looked wonderful -- almost like a small Ferrari -- but you had to love 'real' sports cars to enjoy actually driving it. It was, for example, a bit too small for comfort for someone of my size; it didn't have the power you'd hope for and it didn't have all the stupid 'gadgets' -- like cup holders -- that others might have. But, oh boy, was it fun to drive -- and the sound of that engine! It was so -- well - so Italian! I was almost sorry when I finally had to park it up.

I went to head for the kitchen when we went inside, but Penny took my arm and drew me towards the bedroom.

"We don't need a drink, Jack. Just get into bed and wait while I go to the bathroom. We'll talk... I promise you. We'll talk... and I won't hold anything back... but there's something we need to do first."

I barely had time to strip off and get under the covers before she reappeared. I don't know what I was expecting but, apart from the fact that she'd cleaned her face properly, she seemed no different to the way she'd looked before.

"Don't say anything... please?" she begged, "Just watch, Jack... don't say anything and don't move."

It has to be remembered that, not too long ago, I had watched her do a striptease for audiences of extremely horny young men. I was perfectly well aware of her ability to dance while she removed her clothes, so sensuously that she could produce more erections than Bechtel. But this wasn't anything like that kind of performance. Facing me - standing just far enough away that I could see her from head to toe -- she stepped out of her shoes then slowly lifted her top over her head and dropped it on the floor before tossing her head to let her wonderfully flowing waves of red-brown hair fall loosely around her shoulders.

There was no real expression on her face that I could read, but her piercing, green eyes never left mine even for a moment as she unclipped the fastening on the long skirt, unhurriedly drew the zip down, and let the garment fall to the floor. There was no element of teasing in her strip and it wasn't really erotic but, somehow, I understood that it really wasn't meant to be. Even when she reached behind her to unfasten the white bra, removed it and dropped it onto the other clothes on the floor to reveal her firm beautiful breasts, there was something about the way she did it that failed to stir me as the sight of them normally did.

Finally, she slid her panties down to expose the healthy growth of a partially trimmed bush, and then removed them. Placing her hands on her hips, she remained perfectly still for a few seconds, staring at me with a look that I simply couldn't read, until she said:

"This is me, Jack. No make-up, no jewellery, no clothes... just me. I know that you probably don't understand... but I want you to see me as I am, and then to know me as I am. This isn't about sex, Jack... this is about me revealing myself to you; absolutely and completely. And it's really scary... because it's something I've never done before.

"Other people have seen my body... lots of people... men and women, you know that. But my body's just the shell that I live in. Tonight, though, I'm going to give you far more than just my body. I'm going to give you my mind, my history, my inner self... whatever you want to call it. I'm going to share things with you that I've never shared... never dreamed of sharing... with anyone.

"After tonight, Jack, we'll both know how much we mean to one another. We'll both be able to decide how much trust we can have between us. You'll know exactly who I am... and what I am; and you'll know whether or not you really want to spend the rest of your life with me."

With that, she moved to the bed but, instead of getting under the covers, she just sat on top of it -- propped up by pillows --and turned to face me. I desperately wanted to take her in my arms, to hold her close and tell her everything was going to be alright, but I sensed that she didn't want me to. For a moment or two, she silently held my gaze, and then she began:

"You're stronger than you look, Jack... and you're smart. Most men would have tried to pull me down and tried to make love to me by now. Who knows? Maybe this will work. Anyway, I've got a lot to tell you and I want you to just listen... please?" With an unaccountable sense of foreboding, I just nodded and she began:

"When I was very little, I was just about as spoilt as a child possibly could be. For the first ten years or so of my life I had two doting parents and a big sister that I looked up to and admired. Life was good, as they say.

"Then it suddenly changed. I didn't know why at the time, but I found out later that it was because of what I've told you about my mother and her affairs. I'm pretty certain that my father already knew about them -- but it didn't bother him too much for various reasons. Firstly, it was because he was totally absorbed in his work and, secondly, he was desperately striving to get a knighthood. That was really an obsession with him. But the most important thing, I believe, was his coldness... he really is the most emotionless man you could ever imagine. I think it was only when he learned that I wasn't his daughter that it actually got to him.

He'd never been unkind to me but, at the same time, we were never close. I'm only guessing, now... but I think the truth about my parentage probably came out when mother was drunk. She had a habit of hitting the gin whenever she had writer's block... and she used to hit it pretty hard! For anything up to a week she'd be almost completely out of her head and she'd be rambling and pretty incoherent most of the time. I suppose it's amazing that it didn't all come out long before... but I'm pretty sure that's when it happened because that's when everything changed.

"I was still too young to understand, of course, but all of a sudden I found Mother moving to her own room and Walter totally ignoring me. Naturally, it hurt. I didn't know what was happening.

There was one time a couple of years later - when I overheard a conversation between mother and Isobel. Mother was drunk and her words were slurred, but I distinctly remember her saying; 'The bastard! I fucked three MPs, an earl and two civil servants to get him that knighthood! And he treats me worse than one of those whores he pays to tie him up!' although I didn't have much idea what any of that meant at the time.

"What I learned later was that he'd cut both mother and myself out of his will... which doesn't bother me at all. But he'd also tried to stop me ever receiving income from the trust that my maternal grandmother arranged to begin on my eighteenth birthday. That's what I mostly live on, in case you've ever wondered... it isn't much, but it's enough to get by on as long as I'm careful.

"Anyway, over the next few years things got steadily worse. I was packed off to boarding school, which I hated. I was always getting into trouble. At first, it was people blaming me for things they'd done themselves... but then I worked out that, if I did them myself, I might get expelled... and it worked. I was caught in bed with one of the other girls! As a matter of fact, we were only having a cuddle because we'd watched a scary film... but I suppose it may have looked much worse.

"What I didn't realise, of course, is that Walter would simply send me to another school... one with a much stricter regime.

During the week or so when I was between schools, he forbade me to even talk to him -- and he and mother seemed to spend a lot of their time glaring at each other. So... it all came to a head when I was fourteen. In fact, I can be much more specific than that... it was two days after my birthday.

It was a Thursday, so mother was out at her bridge club. I was in my room listening to music when, all at once, Walter came into my room without even bothering to knock. No... I said I'd tell you it all, and I will. Yes, I was listening to music... but all I was wearing was my nightie."

She stopped for a second took a deep breath to compose herself and then, her voice little more than a whisper, continued:

"The truth is that my nightie was bunched up around my waist and I was... I was masturbating. He was drunk... I'd seen mother drunk many times, but I'd never seen him like that. His face was red and angry-looking and he just stared at me. I was like a rabbit caught in the headlights... I couldn't move. Then he came forward to the bed, grabbed my ankles, and bellowed, 'A dirty little whore! Just like your mother!'

"I was terrified. I was trying to push the nightie down to cover myself and I must have called him 'dad' because he suddenly roared, 'I'm not your dad, you little bitch!' and lifted my ankles up into the air. I tried to scream, even though he said there was no one in the house to hear it. Then he wrapped one arm around both my legs and held them tight while the other hand unfastened his trousers.

"That was when I really did scream. But he paid no attention to it. He just pushed his trousers and underpants down and... well I think he was... sort of... playing with himself... trying to get hard, y'know? But I don't think it was happening. I'll never know what would have happened if he had... I think he was insane enough at that moment that he would... that he would have...."

She paused again and tears were flowing down her face; but I didn't say or do anything. I just waited until she'd composed herself enough to continue.

"Then... all of a sudden, there was another voice from the doorway saying something like; 'did you call, Miss Pendlebury?' It was Mason, of course. Wonderful Mason! Walter tried to order him to go away and mind his own business, but Mason just casually hefted the kitchen knife he had in his hand and insisted that he'd leave when Walter did, and not before.

"Eventually, Walter gave up. I was afraid that he'd fire Mason... but that never happened and I can't tell you how glad I was. Two reasons... apart from the fact that Mason became my hero after that. The first is that he was only in his twenties then; he was very handsome and, for God's sake don't ever tell anyone... but he was the 'fantasy' that I was masturbating over! The second reason is that my mother soon realised that I had a crush on him, so she told me a secret that you must never let on to anyone. Mason is actually 'Mason McLintock.' His dad is... or rather was... my dad. He died a few years back. Mason's my half-brother!"

Okay, I hadn't seen that coming!

"Before you ask... yes, he knows. He knew long before I did and I guess that's why he's so protective of me.

"Anyway, I went to drama school when I was sixteen... I think mother paid for that... but I wasn't really good enough. Oh, I could dance pretty well and I had a decent singing voice, but millions of others have those kinds of talents. But I was too stubborn to admit my failure. One of my tutors told me that I was 'okay' in front of the camera; you know, I could deliver lines perfectly, hit my marks just right and move confidently... but I couldn't express emotions very well. He told me that one night when we were in bed together! He wasn't the first... I'd been with a couple of guys by then and I hadn't enjoyed it at all. I was just another notch on the bedpost for all of them. But I'd also had a brief affair with one of the girls and found that to be much more fun.

I knew I wasn't going to make it in showbusiness... you know yourself, Jack... it's a brutal occupation, but I couldn't face staying at home. There was one occasion when I really thought I was going to defy the odds. I was offered a decent part... but then I found Walter was backing the production... probably to keep me happy and stop me telling anyone about him. That was devastating to say the least.