The Broken Man (Special Edition) Page 11

  ‘What? What did I say?’

  ‘It was the question you asked me.’

  ‘Well, whatever it was, let’s just forget it. It’s not my business, and I don’t need to know the answer.’

  But Anne could not let it go now. ‘Sally, can I trust you … implicitly?’

  ‘Absolutely! Whatever you tell me won’t ever go any further, I promise.’

  Anne fell silent for a moment. She needed to be sure she was doing the right thing. She had always intended that Sally should never know anything of her turbulent past, but now, having come to a new decision, there was no turning back. ‘Sally, while you were sleeping, I was thinking,’ Anne told her. ‘And I feel I owe you an answer.’

  ‘You don’t owe me anything, Anne. Maybe we should just put it out of our minds and forget it ever happened.’

  ‘No!’ Anne stopped her. ‘Please listen, Sally. I’ve never been able to make friends; not even when I was a little girl. You see, my mother had me when she was forty-five years old. When I was born, my parents were already set in their ways. I was not allowed to bring friends home from school, nor play out with them, nor walk to school with them. Mother took me to school and she picked me up, and once she got me home, I was very rarely allowed to go outside, though I could play in the back yard on my own. So, y’see, you’re the first real friend I ever had.’

  Sally reached out to take her hand. ‘It doesn’t matter to me what’s in the past, because I’ll always be your friend. And I hope you will always be mine.’

  Anne was grateful for Sally’s loyalty, but it was now time for the truth to be told. ‘I need to be honest with you, Sally. There are things you don’t know about me. Bad, terrible things that I need to share with you. I’m a weak person. What happened was partly my fault. After I’ve told you, if you want to walk away from me, I won’t blame you.’

  ‘It doesn’t matter what you tell me, good or bad, I would never walk away from you.’

  She was intrigued by what Anne had described earlier. ‘You said your mother was in her mid-forties when she had you.’

  ‘That’s right, forty-five. My father was three years older.’

  ‘Crikey! So, did you have older brothers or sisters?’

  ‘No. I was an only child, more’s the pity. Mother never mixed with anyone, and she raised me to be the same. When I was about ten years old, I was invited to a birthday party, but she refused to let me go. It seemed like a punishment to me, so I argued with her. I wanted to know why she would never let me play out with other children.’

  ‘And what did your mother say?’

  ‘She sat me down and told me I should never have been born. She said I was an accident of nature, that I was never planned, especially at their time of life, that I wore them out and that she had nothing in common with the other mothers. She said if I went to the party she’d be expected to have the other girls back when it was my birthday, but she had no intention of doing parties. She said that Father was coming up to sixty now, and if it weren’t for me, they’d have been planning his retirement; looking for a smaller house on the coast. She said all they had to look forward to now was bringing me up, and by the time that was done, they would be too old to make any plans for themselves.’

  Sally was shocked. ‘That explains why you found it so hard to make friends when you started at Woolworths. It’s why I had to tease you out of your shell. I noticed at first you found it so hard to mix with other people.’

  ‘You helped me, Sally,’ Anne admitted. ‘I could never have done it without you … and lovely Aunt Ada. She was older than my parents, but she was so kind and unselfish. She took me in when I needed someone to help me. She made me laugh. She brought me out of my shell, and made me believe that I was special.’ She gave a fond little smile. ‘She said I deserved a chance to shine.’

  Sally remembered the old woman. ‘I met her only a couple of times, but I really liked her. She seemed a genuine soul.’

  Anne’s voice broke with emotion as she confessed, ‘I owe her so much, and, oh, I do miss her terribly.’

  ‘I’m sure you do.’ Sally knew how close these two had been. ‘I don’t mean to pry,’ she ventured, ‘but I’ve always wondered how you came to be living with your aunt.’ She was already learning more about Anne in these few minutes than she had learned these past years. ‘Did you leave because of the things your mother said to you? Did you think your parents would be happier if you moved out of the family home as soon as you were able?’

  Anne smiled wryly. ‘I always knew they’d be happier without me in their lives,’ she acknowledged sadly. ‘In a way I felt sorry for them. I felt as though I’d ruined their lives. But the truth wasn’t as simple as me just “moving out”.’

  Though she was determined that Sally should know the truth, she was finding it difficult to bare her soul. ‘When I was seventeen, I did something really bad. There was a terrible row. Mother threw me out. She told me she and Father never wanted to see me again … that I was never to come back. She said, as far as they were concerned they did not have a daughter.’

  Sally was beginning to realise what had made Anne so very shy and private. ‘Whatever did you do that was so bad it made them throw you out?’

  Anne fell silent for a while. In her tortured mind it was almost as though she was back there, caught up in a nightmare.

  Having taken time to focus her thoughts, she explained, ‘It was a couple of weeks before my seventeenth birthday. Mother had found me a job in the local dressmaker’s. I was working long hours and earning decent money; half of which I gave to Mother for my board and keep. She even seemed proud that I was doing so well.’

  ‘So what happened to make it all go wrong?’ Sally was intrigued.

  ‘I should have known better. It was the day of my birthday. Irene, the dressmaker’s daughter, asked what I had planned. When I told her that my mother did not agree with parties or celebrations, she insisted that the two of us should mark my seventeeth birthday by going out somewhere.’ Anne gave a knowing smile. ‘Irene was a bit of a rebel on the quiet.’

  ‘So, did you go?’

  ‘Yes, and that’s when I deceived my mother for the first time in my life. When Mother asked where I was going, I said I was meeting up with Irene, and that we were going to see one of Irene’s friends. When I was ready to leave, Mother gave me the once-over, to make sure I was dressed accordingly. She did not approve of make-up and stockings, and girls who flaunted themselves. She also reminded me that the house would be locked and bolted at 10 p.m. as usual, and that if I wasn’t back before then, it would be no use banging on the door, because neither she nor Father would get out of bed to let me in.’

  ‘And were you back on time?’

  Anne shook her head. ‘Irene insisted on the two of us going out on the town. She said it wasn’t every day a girl was seventeen, and that it was cause for a special celebration.’ Anne laughed out loud at the memory. ‘By the time we left Irene’s house I was a different girl. Irene had plastered my face with make-up. My hair was curled, and as we were more or less the same size, she sorted me a strappy dress from her wardrobe. Honestly, Sally, when I walked out of there, I felt like a film star!’

  ‘Wow! And I bet you had a good time, didn’t you?’ Sally couldn’t help but smile at the idea of Anne being plastered in make-up, with her hair curled, and wearing a naughty dress. It was hard to imagine.

  ‘This is where I did a bad thing,’ Anne recalled. ‘We really enjoyed ourselves. We met up with one of Irene’s friends. She was a few years older than me and Irene, but she was so lively, and such fun. I had never met anyone like her. We talked about going to the pictures, but then Irene had an idea, and we ended up dancing to the band at the Palais. Irene’s friend got us some drinks. I asked for a lemonade, but she told me to try one of their specialities, which I did.’

  ‘Oh, what kind of “speciality”?’ Sally had her suspicions.

  ‘I never knew, but I went with the mood, and I drank
it. Then I had another. I felt a bit woozy after that, but by that time I didn’t care. For the first time ever, I was out on the town with these lively girls, and I was having fun.’

  She explained how, after they left the Palais, they walked the streets looking for a taxi home. ‘A big black taxi pulled up and we all climbed in.’

  In her mind she could see the driver vividly: long-boned, handsome and dark-haired, he had a smile you believed you could trust. ‘The driver was really friendly. He said his name was Edward Carter, and that he meant to make his mark in the world. He told us he owned the taxi firm and that every now and then, especially on a weekend, he enjoyed coming out of the office to drive a taxi himself. Apparently, his uncle had built up the firm. He had promised Edward he could buy it when he was more experienced, and Edward eventually bought him out.’

  ‘Quite the businessman, eh?’ Sally thought he sounded very enterprising. ‘Did he get you home safely, though?’

  ‘He took the others home first, then he drove to my house. It was gone midnight. I banged on the door, and called up to the bedroom window, but got no answer. Either my parents were fast asleep and couldn’t hear me, or Mother meant what she said and had locked me out.’

  ‘So, what did you do?’

  ‘Well, Edward Carter refused to leave me there in the dark on my own. He asked me if there was a relative he could take me to, and when I told him there was no one, he got me back to the car. He said he could not believe they would lock me out like that.’

  ‘So, where did you go?’

  ‘He took me to a really nice hotel. He even offered to pay my room for the night, but I wouldn’t let him. Fortunately I had enough money in my purse to cover it.’

  ‘I think I can guess what happened when you got to the hotel.’ Sally was worldy-wise. ‘I bet he insisted on escorting you safely to your room. Am I right?’

  Anne blushed with shame. ‘When we got there, he made a play for me, and like a drunken, gullible fool, I fell for his smooth talk.’

  She fell silent, deeply regretting that shameful night, and the fact that it had cost her so dearly. ‘I can’t put all the blame on Edward Carter,’ she confessed. ‘I should have been strong enough to resist his advances.’

  Sally was angry. ‘That’s all very well, but don’t forget you were a young girl of seventeen. You’d been kicked out of house and home in the middle of the night, with little money and nowhere to go. You must have been really scared. That man took advantage of you. He was the one who should have known better, not you!’

  Anne made no response to Sally’s wise words.

  ‘So, did you ever see him again?’ Sally was curious.

  ‘Yes, I did, more’s the pity. My parents never knew, but over the next few weeks, we met up a lot. Things got serious. He began talking about getting married, but I didn’t want that. I said it was too soon. I felt I was too young to be married. But then it became clear that I didn’t have a choice.’

  ‘What do you mean? Of course you had a choice.’

  ‘No, I didn’t, because I got pregnant. Edward didn’t know and I was too afraid to tell anyone. I was two months gone, and one morning I was too sick to go to work. Mother guessed and forced the truth out of me. She went crazy!’

  Anne choked back the tears. ‘It was awful! When Father came home she told him, and there was a huge row, shouting and screaming like I’ve never heard. They called me a slut. They said I’d brought shame on them … that they did not want me under their roof. They threw me out that night, with nothing but the clothes on my back and a couple of personal items. I had a small amount of money, but it wasn’t enough to carry me through.’

  Sally was shocked. ‘That was so cruel. You must have felt really frightened.’ She could hardly believe anyone’s parents would do such a thing.

  ‘I remember it was pouring with rain,’ Anne went on. ‘I ran to the telephone kiosk and called Edward’s number, but there was no reply. So, I called Irene. When she told me to get a taxi and come straight over, I was so thankful.’

  ‘That was good of her, especially at that time of night.’

  Curiously Anne made no comment. ‘When I got to Irene’s house, she was watching out of the window for me. She said she knew someone who could get rid of the baby for me, but it would cost. I said no, that it wasn’t the baby’s fault, and I didn’t like the idea of doing that. She got angry, saying I was a fool for having got myself into that situation, and that she couldn’t help me, and that I’d best go before her parents found me there.’

  Sally was disappointed. ‘Hmm! So she wasn’t such a friend after all?’

  ‘She was, but I don’t really blame her for turning me away. She urged me to go and see Edward that very night, and tell him the truth … that he was to be a father.’

  ‘And did you?’

  ‘Yes. I went to his house, but it was in darkness, so I took a room in a small boarding house nearby. I caught Edward at the office early the next morning, and I told him about the baby. He seemed delighted that he might have a son, who he could train up to take over from him one day. He started talking wedding plans and all that, and a short time later we were married at the registry office.’

  ‘Well, at least he seemed to have done right by you.’ Sally had been taken aback by what she’d learned. Her quiet, unassuming friend, who most times had little to say, had poured out her heart and soul. She had confided her extraordinary and shocking past, and now those awful times, and her suffering, were clearly evident in her face.

  For a moment, Anne spoke not a word. Instead, she sat fidgeting, her head turned away to look out through the car window.

  When Sally looked up, she was deeply moved to see tears flowing down Anne’s face.

  Instinctively, she wrapped her arms round Anne’s small shoulders. ‘What you’ve told me won’t go any further,’ she promised. ‘But what happened between you and Edward? The fact that you’re on your own now must mean it didn’t work out. Am I right? Is that the way it was?’

  When Anne merely nodded, Sally went on, ‘As far as I can see, you’ve had a hard time of it. Up to Edward marrying you, there was never anyone there to help you … except later, when your aunt Ada took you in. But you’ve got me now, and I’ll always be here for you, but I’m sorry things didn’t work out with the marriage, Anne, I really am.’

  Hugging Anne closer, she asked, ‘You take it easy now. I’ll drive from here, and when we get back, I want you to come and stay with me for a while. OK?’ In the back of her mind, she suspected she had not yet heard the whole story.

  Anne, however, was reluctant to leave just yet. ‘Please, Sally, I need to tell you everything.’ Drawing from Sally’s embrace, Anne continued, ‘Edward Carter was not the man I believed him to be. He was a spiteful bully. He beat me often, sometimes for no other reason than that he’d lost a good client, or a lucrative hotel-booking had been cancelled at the last minute. Sometimes he beat me so I could hardly walk. When I was eight months pregnant, he came home from a night out. He’d lost a great deal of money gambling. He was in a foul mood and so drunk he could hardly stand up. He was looking for a fight, and things turned nasty. It was awful, Sally … I really thought he would kill me.’

  Realizing that Anne was badly shaken, Sally held onto her. ‘Don’t think about it, Anne. You shouldn’t be on your own tonight. Please, come and stay with me and Mick, for as long as you like.’

  Anne graciously declined the offer. ‘I’ll be fine, honest. At least I know I’m safe now. Edward Carter is long gone. He can’t hurt me any more.’

  ‘Is it helping you – to talk about it, I mean?’

  ‘Oh, Sally! You can’t know how long I’ve wanted to tell you, only I’m so ashamed, I thought you wouldn’t want to know me any more.’

  ‘Huh! If I couldn’t share your troubles, what kind of a friend would that make me?’ She gave Anne a friendly little push. ‘You might as well go on, now that you know we understand each other.’

  ‘He hur
t me so much that night, Sally. I lost the baby.’ Anne fell silent, and for a moment she could hardly breathe. Then, in an almost inaudible voice, she went on, ‘Edward Carter killed our baby. At the hospital, they induced me into labour, and I had to give birth.’

  The trauma of seeing the baby afterwards was too awful a memory. ‘I’m sorry.’ At first, she tried not to cry, but then the tears flowed and her heart broke. ‘I will never forgive him, Sally. For as long as I live … I will never forgive him!’

  For a seemingly long time, Sally held her while she cried. And, though silently, Sally cried with her.

  After a time, Anne drew away. Her voice was breaking as she continued, ‘Afterwards, they brought him to me … so tiny … a perfect little man.’ She gave a muffled laugh. ‘He had a look of my mother … his grumpy face and that tuft of hair on his head.’

  Relieved that for the first time, Anne was able to pour out her heart and soul, Sally urged her to go on.

  Anne told her, ‘After they took him away, the chaplain came to see me. He said they were bringing in Social Services, because I’d been beaten up. They had pictures of my broken fingers and the bruises all over my body. They said the police had also been informed and would want to ask me some questions.’ In her mind, she relived the moment. ‘I was frightened they might blame me.’

  ‘So, what did the police say?’ Sally asked gently.

  Anne shrugged. ‘I didn’t wait to find out. After the nurses had treated my injuries and settled me down, I waited until they were out of sight, then I scrambled my clothes on, and got as far away from the hospital as I could. I planned to make my way down to Aunt Ada. Edward knew of her existence, but he had never met her, or asked about her. As far as I know, he had no idea where she lived, except it was down south somewhere.’

  ‘So, you made your way down here, knowing you should be safe?’

  ‘Yes. It was my only chance. My parents had disowned me; I had no friends who could help, so the only person I could turn to was Aunt Ada. I thought I’d be safe with her … if she didn’t mind taking me in. The trouble was, I hadn’t seen her in such a long time, I had no idea if I’d be welcome.’