Kitty Neale - Sins of the Father

‘Blimey, what’s wrong with that?’

‘I’d be a lot older than her.’

‘Leave it out, Mr Bell. You’re still in your prime.’

As he had hoped, Horace had been able to lead the conversation to this point and now he plunged in, ‘I’m glad to hear you say that. You see, I’m interested in Emma.’

‘Emma! What, my Emma?’

Horace ignored the shock on the man’s face. ‘Yes, your daughter, and in fact, if you could persuade her to marry me, well—’

‘Marry you?’ Tom’s voice was high as he broke in. ‘Bloody hell, man, she’s only seventeen! Have you talked to her about this?’

‘No, you see I thought I should discuss it with you first. Anyway, you didn’t seem to think that age was a problem a few moments ago.’

‘Yeah, well, that was before I knew we were talking about Emma.’

‘I’d be good to her, Tom, and if you can persuade her to marry me you need never worry about the rent again. In fact, you could live rent free for the rest of your life.’

Tom’s face darkened. ‘So, you’d be letting me off the hook in exchange for my daughter?’

‘I don’t see it that way. Think about it. With Emma as my wife, I could hardly take money from her father for renting one of my flats.’

Horace lifted his glass, taking a sip of port, and then leaned back in his chair. Tom needed to mull it over, to see the sense of his proposal, and, saying nothing more, he left him to do just that.

Tom glanced at Horace Bell. Then, taking out his tobacco pouch, he rolled a thin cigarette. He fished in his pocket and pulled out a box of matches, all the time avoiding the man’s eyes as his thoughts raced. With his cigarette alight he sucked on it, coughing as the nicotine hit his throat, and then sat back in his chair, eyes narrowed as his mind turned.

Emma was only seventeen. Horace Bell might think himself a young man, but he must be in his mid-forties. Christ, the bloke was older than him, old enough to be her father. It didn’t seem right and, anyway, he doubted Emma would agree.

Yet what about the rent? How the hell was he going to pay it? A small voice began to whisper persuasively at the back of Tom’s mind. Horace Bell was a rich man. If Emma married him he’d be a part of their family. He’d already offered the flat rent free–what else might come their way? Enough, he hoped, to persuade Polly Letworth into his bed…

Tom took another drag on his cigarette and through the smoke shot Horace Bell a glance. All right, the man might be a bit old for Emma, but she would want for nothing and surely a mature man would be better than a young tyke without prospects?

The small voice continued to whisper persuasively. The man’s money, the rent-free flat…Moments later it won the day. Tom picked up his glass, took a swig of beer and, wiping the back of his hand across his mouth, he said, ‘All right, Mr Bell, you’re on. I’ll speak to Emma.’

Bell smiled, and then rose to his feet. ‘Good man, Tom. Please put my proposal to Emma tomorrow. I’ll call round in the afternoon for her answer.’

‘Blimey, that soon? Can’t you give me a bit of time to work on her first?’

Horace Bell’s friendly demeanour disappeared. ‘I’m not a patient man, Tom, and can see no good reason to wait. I want my answer tomorrow and hope you won’t let me down. After all, you know what will happen if you do.’

Tom paled. Seeing Horace Bell’s expression, he didn’t doubt that the man would carry out his threat. ‘All right, you needn’t worry. Emma will do as she’s told.’

It was Sunday morning and Dick was out working again. Emma was at the sink, peeling potatoes, the kids playing and giggling. She turned as her father shouted, ordering them outside to play, and gritted her teeth. They weren’t being naughty, just a bit loud, but Emma knew it would be useless to protest. One by one they scrambled to their feet, running out, the door slamming behind them.

Her father gestured. ‘Emma, come here. I want to talk to you.’

‘Talk to me? What about?’

‘Just get over here, girl.’

She dried her hands on a piece of rag, heaving a sigh as he indicated that she sit down. As he hurriedly spoke, she was unable to believe her ears and stared at him in horror.

When she managed to find her voice, her reply was a squeal. ‘Me! Mr Bell wants to marry me?’

‘That’s what I said.’

Bewildered, her mind unable to take it in, Emma shook her head. ‘But why me? He…he’s a gentleman and I’m hardly in his class.’

‘For Gawd’s sake, don’t you know how pretty you are? You’re just like your mother and she was a knockout. As for class, well, Horace Bell obviously thinks you’re good enough.’

‘But I don’t want to marry him,’ Emma cried, sickened by the thought. ‘He…he’s an old man.’

‘Don’t be daft, he’s in his prime. Anyway, you’ll do as you’re bloody well told.’

Emma jumped to her feet. ‘I won’t! I won’t, and you…you can’t make me.’

‘Now you listen to me, my girl. If you turn him down, we’re all out. Do you want to see your brothers and sisters on the street?’

Emma’s eyes were wide, her mind reeling. ‘But…but I’m working for Mr Bell to pay off the arrears. Why would he chuck us out?’

‘’Cos I ain’t been paying the rent and the few bob he takes out of your wage is just a drop in the ocean.’

‘You haven’t paid! But why?’

‘I got laid off again.’

Emma gawked at her father. He’d been taking her wages, and Dick’s, but instead of keeping up with the rent, he’d been pouring drink down his throat. Frantic, she cried, ‘But, Dad, you can get another job. In the meantime I’ll work for nothing and Mr Bell can keep all of my wages.’

‘I suggested that, but he won’t stand for it. We owe too much. The only way out is for you to marry the man. When you do, he said he’ll wipe out the arrears, and not only that,’ he added eagerly, ‘we can have this place rent free.’

‘And if I refuse, he’ll chuck us out? My God, it sounds like blackmail!’

Her father’s tone changed, his voice becoming soft and persuasive. ‘It ain’t like that, Em. The man wants you, and as he said, he can hardly take money from me once you’re his wife.’

‘I don’t care what he said! I won’t marry him and you can’t force me.’

‘Who said anything about forcing you? Think about it, Em. You’d be living in that big house that you’re so fond of, and us lot would never have to worry about eviction again.’

Emma’s stomach was churning. She may have fantasised about living in Mr Bell’s lovely house, of being rich, but she’d never dreamed of being his wife. Her eyes burned as she faced her father.

‘It isn’t my fault that we’re facing eviction, it’s yours. You’ve got us in this fix, and I’m supposed to marry an old man to get you out of it. What did you do, Dad?’ she taunted. ‘Did you offer me for sale to the highest bidder?’