Forgotten Child. Kitty Neale
you put her before me.’
‘For goodness’ sake, Delia, this jealousy is ridiculous. Is it any wonder that Jenny runs to me for affection? She certainly doesn’t get any from you!’
‘I am not jealous. As for my lack of affection, you’re to blame for that.’
‘I don’t know what you’re talking about, Delia.’
Delia knew she was fighting a losing battle; Edward was sure to deny it as usual. Still, there was more than one way to skin a cat.
‘How many times do I have to tell you that a jenny is a female donkey? Jennifer, as we christened her, will be sixteen soon, old enough to leave home and it’s time to tell her the truth – though of course not all of it.’
‘No, Delia, I don’t think there is any need.’
‘Of course there is. She has a right to know and if you don’t tell her, I will.’
‘You’ll do no such thing! It’s unnecessary and I won’t stand for it.’
Delia’s jaws ground. Edward didn’t know it, but she wasn’t finished yet and he’d soon find that out. ‘I’m going to bed. Please don’t disturb me when you come up.’
‘Don’t worry, Delia, I know better than to come into your room.’
Without another word, she stalked out. Long ago Edward had given her the power to get her own way and she had made the most of it, insisting on separate bedrooms, among other things. She still had that power and intended to use it.
It was time for the truth to come out – time to stop living in a house of secrets.
When Robin awoke the next morning, he could hear the sound of raised voices. It was always the same when his father was home, the atmosphere rotten until he left again.
There was a soft tap on his bedroom door and moments later Jenny poked her head into the room, hissing softly, ‘Robin, are you awake?’
‘Yes.’
‘Mummy and Daddy are arguing.’
‘I know.’
‘I heard my name mentioned and think it’s about me. Have I done something to upset her?’
‘I haven’t got a clue. Now just bugger off, Jenny.’
‘But—’
‘Just go!’ Robin snapped, relieved when his sister did as she was told. Yes, his parents were rowing, but it was nothing unusual. He blamed his father for his mother’s unhappiness, and it was odd that they slept in separate rooms. There had to be a reason, a problem, perhaps his father’s, and Robin wondered if it was something that could explain his own disgusting feelings. Had he inherited some sort of deviant sexual tendencies from his father?
Yes, he knew about sex now, but the knowledge brought him agony. What he felt wasn’t right – what he wanted wasn’t right – yet night after night he lay awake, so aware that Jenny was only in the next room. She was his sister, and all he should feel for her was brotherly love, but from the moment he’d seen her small, burgeoning breasts, his feelings had begun to change.
If anyone found out they’d be horrified, sickened, so the only way Robin could deal with it was by pretending indifference, hiding his feelings behind the same facade his mother portrayed. He knew it confused Jenny, probably hurt her, but it was the only way to keep her at a distance – a safe distance.
Despite that, the temptation was always there and Robin knew he couldn’t stand much more. He’d be finished at college next year and hoped to get the A level results he needed to go on to university. He had to be away from this house…away from Jenny.
Annoyed at the interruption when the milkman knocked, Delia impatiently rummaged in her purse, saying as she opened the front door, ‘I think this is the right money, but I hate this new decimal currency. I’ll never get used to it and why we had to change from good old pounds, shillings and pence is beyond me.’
‘That’s what most of my customers say,’ the milkman said. Once satisfied that it was the correct amount, he licked his pencil before ticking off the payment in his book. ‘See you next week, Mrs Lavender.’
Delia barely acknowledged the man before closing the door again. The argument with Edward had been raging for half an hour, yet still the issue was unresolved. She returned to the kitchen, ready to take up where they’d left off, only to be thwarted moments later when Jennifer appeared.
‘Good morning, dear,’ Edward said, smiling warmly at his daughter.
Jennifer went to sit next to him, her manner subdued. ‘Hello, Dad.’
‘Why the long face?’ he asked.
‘I heard you having an argument. Was it about me?’
‘Of course not, and anyway, it was just a heated discussion. Now cheer up. It’s a lovely day and after breakfast I thought we could all go out for a drive.’
‘You can count me out,’ Delia snapped. ‘I haven’t got time for gallivanting. I’ve got housework to do.’
‘Can’t you leave it for once?’
‘No, I can’t. Look at this kitchen, it’s filthy. Jennifer was supposed to have cleaned it, but as you can see it hasn’t been done properly.’
‘Filthy? Delia, it’s immaculate as usual, as is the rest of the house. Come on, let’s all four of us go out together. It’ll make a nice change.’
‘What will make a nice change?’ Robin asked as he walked into the room.
‘Your father wants us all to go out for a drive.’
Robin frowned and then said, ‘No can do, Dad. I’ve missed two days at college and will have to study all weekend to catch up. If I want to pass my A levels next year I’ve got to get my head down.’
‘Why were you home for two days?’ Edward asked.
‘I had a bit of a fever and sore throat, though I’m fine now.’
‘That’s good, but as I’ve been away for a while I’d like to see something of you. Surely you can spare a few hours this morning?’
‘If Robin wants to study it’s to be commended,’ said Delia, ‘and I for one am proud of his dedication.’
‘I’m proud of him too, Delia.’
‘You don’t show it. Jennifer is the only one you praise.’
‘Look, if you two are going to start rowing again, I’m going back to my room.’
‘Don’t be silly, Robin, we aren’t rowing,’ Delia said quickly. ‘Now sit down and I’ll cook breakfast. What would you like?’
‘A boiled egg would be nice.’
‘Yes, I’ll have the same,’ Edward said.
‘Do you want me to help, Mum?’
‘Of course I do, and don’t use that term. It sounds so lower class and goodness knows what my friends would think if they heard you. I’m Mother, or Mummy. Your father may not object to being called Dad, but I have higher standards. Now lay the table and then butter some bread.’
‘Yes, Mummy.’
Delia saw the look Edward threw her, the disapproval in his eyes, but ignored it. Jennifer wasn’t a child and should earn her keep, help around the house and with the laundry, something she insisted on, whether Edward liked it or not. What he’d forced on her all those