Annie Groves - Christmas on the Mersey

With mention of Jack Callaghan, Rita had a sudden vision of him, his kind eyes and strong face looking into her own. I’ve always loved you, Rita. You know that, don’t you? If only Jack were here now. He’d never let Charlie treat her this way. But she had married Charlie instead of Jack. She had been a deceiver and this was the price she was paying. All the same, the thought of Jack and his words gave her strength.

‘I know you, Charlie Kennedy, you’re up to something.’ Even in her anxious state, something was niggling away at her.

Charlie was still managing to evade conscription but that wouldn’t last for ever. Men were being called up all over Liverpool and Charlie’s turn would come. Was leaving with the kids some way of avoiding his duty? He couldn’t look at the children most days, let alone show them affection. Were the children to be solely in his hands, she feared for their welfare. And what about his job? How could he look after Michael and Megan when he was working all day? Questions tumbled inside her head.

‘The appeal of marriage soon wore off when you got the gold ring on your finger … Prim and proper on the outside, but I know different,’ Charlie continued.

Rita bit back a retort, knowing it was wise not to antagonise him. What choice did she have? Her husband’s put-downs, while making her feel stupid, were a small reminder of the wrong she had done. To add to the misery, his mother expected her to carry the burden of running the corner shop and raising two children virtually alone. Was it any wonder she went back to nursing with her arms wide open as soon as the children were evacuated?

While accepting this was her lot in life, Rita adored her beloved children above all else.

You play with the hand you’re dealt, Rita. Her mind echoed Charlie’s sentiments now and Rita felt she was getting no more than she deserved. Like most women round here, she had made her bed and now she must lie in it. Being Catholic, she would never contemplate divorce – the idea was ludicrous in a place like Empire Street, where women married for life but not always for love. For women like her, happiness was a bonus, not an expectation.

‘I don’t understand why they can’t just go back to Freshfield,’ she said again.

‘Those people tried turning my children against me.’ Charlie went back to the suitcase and Rita wondered what excuse he would make next. ‘They hid behind the old woman’s skirts like I was the bogeyman.’

‘You hadn’t been to see them for months,’ Rita explained. ‘They thought they had done something wrong when you attacked the farmer!’

‘He tried to stop me taking them home.’

‘He’d never seen you before.’ Rita knew that Charlie was lucky he had not been threatened with a shotgun – ‘Uncle Seth’, as the children called the farmer, was very protective of Michael and Megan and a very good shot.

‘Michael took his time confirming I was, in fact, his father,’ Charlie straightened himself to his full six foot, ‘which just goes to show they were in need of a firm hand!’

Rita gasped at his delusions of civil paternity … Charlie had no patience with his children or, indeed, anyone else.

‘I can take them to the farm myself,’ Rita said. ‘Joan would be thrilled to have them back. I got a letter from her yesterday. She asked if …’

Charlie’s head was still bent as he raised his eyes. They cut her with a warning glare that told her to be quiet or else; to say no more. It told her that she was making things worse for herself.

‘Go down. You’re wasting precious time with your beloved children,’ he said. ‘You’ve shown where your priorities lie, even when it is obvious your own flesh and blood need you more.’

‘Charlie, there is a war on. People are dying and the hospitals need all the nurses they can get.’

‘Of course.’ His eyes were full of scorn. ‘That is why I am releasing you of the burden of your own children.’

‘They have never been a burden! You must tell me where you are taking them!’ Rita’s voice was rising, becoming shrill with anxiety. She must remain calm. Think straight. He would want her to dissolve into hysterics. That way he was in control. His lips parted into a disparaging grin as he mimicked her words in better times.

‘ I love my children more than life itself! ’ He threw his head back and gave a laugh that was far from humorous. ‘You should be on the stage at the Metropole, Rita.’

There was a cold gleam in his eyes and Charlie’s words were low when he said, ‘All in good time, Rita. You know, you can be very entertaining when you’re riled.’

Horrified, she watched Charlie stop packing the little suitcase. His eyes were now taking in every inch of her body, pausing on the parts he would claim without consent, given the chance. Rita froze, aware now what he had in mind. He was going to put her in her place. This was the real reason he had agreed to bringing the children back from evacuation. His violent attentions – she could never call it lovemaking – were so painful they reduced her to tears. She prayed for him to stop, unable to cry out for fear the children would hear. It was her duty to preserve her children’s innocence.

Her eyes never left him as he edged towards her. Bitter bile was searing her throat. How far was she from the closed bedroom door? She would never get past him from this distance.

Rita felt the blood run like cold water through her veins. It was broad daylight. Her children were downstairs having breakfast. She could hear them chatting away. He wouldn’t … Not now …

Charlie moved inch … by inch … enjoying her torment.

Please Lord, don’t let him do this to me again …

Текст предоставлен ООО «ЛитРес».

Прочитайте эту книгу целиком, купив полную легальную версию на ЛитРес.

Безопасно оплатить книгу можно банковской картой Visa, MasterCard, Maestro, со счета мобильного телефона, с платежного терминала, в салоне МТС или Связной, через PayPal, WebMoney, Яндекс.Деньги, QIWI Кошелек, бонусными картами или другим удобным Вам способом.