I wasn’t giving you a signal and I’m only seventeen.’
‘What! That means you’re underage,’ Roy yelled, his face suffused with anger. ‘You lied to me and if you don’t keep your mouth shut I could end up inside.’
‘You shouldn’t ha … have done it. I said no, tried to fight you off, but you wouldn’t stop.’
Roy looked agitated now and rubbed a hand around his chin before saying, ‘I just thought you fought a bit because you like it rough. After all, I’ve known other women who do. If you drop me in it I’ll make sure a mate of mine on your local paper gets to hear about it. I’ll tell him that seventeen or not you’re a tart, and when I wouldn’t pay for it, you got your own back by accusing me of rape. I bet your parents would love to see that splashed across the newspaper.’
Carol felt bile rising in her throat, utterly humiliated as she scrambled off the bed, wanting only to get away from Roy. She still had her coat on, and as she straightened herself out, Carol felt soiled and sullied with shame.
Her shoes had come off in the struggle, and shoving her feet into them she hurried from the room, her mind and emotions in turmoil.
Roy did nothing to prevent Carol from leaving. He couldn’t believe that he’d got it so wrong. When she’d agreed to come up to the flat, knowing she’d be alone with him, he’d taken it as read that she was as keen for sex as he was.
Of course there’d been a bit of a struggle, but he’d
seen that as part of the game. It had come as a shock to find that Carol was a virgin, but of course by then he’d been too far gone to stop. He groaned, still unable to believe that he’d misread the signals. Carol didn’t look seventeen, nor had she acted like a virgin, with all the flirting and flaunting she’d done to attract his attention in the first place.
Roy hoped that the act he’d put on, the confidence he’d displayed that the police wouldn’t believe her, along with the threat of being splashed across the local paper would be enough to stop Carol from reporting him for rape. If she still did, Roy thought, at least she had no idea where he lived, or his surname. That bit of hope was soon quashed when Roy realised that Carol knew where he worked, and though the job was finished, he could still be traced through his firm.
At last he left the flat, desolate, knowing that his only chance was that he’d said enough to stop Carol from going to the police. It wouldn’t be long before he found out one way or the other, and in the meantime he would have to put on a front, act like he didn’t have a worry in the world.
It was half an hour later when Roy pulled up outside his small, terraced house. He got out of the car and went inside, fixing a smile on his face as he said to his wife, ‘Hello, darling.’
She rose to waddle towards him, heavily into the pregnancy, but still so beautiful that she took his breath away. Her ankles were badly swollen due to high blood pressure and she’d been advised to take it easy. Roy dreaded to think what would happen if it all came out; the hurt and stress it would cause.
Worse, it would probably mean the end of his marriage. Roy cursed his weakness for illicit sex, and vowed that it would never happen again as he gently took his wife into his arms.
Though Roy didn’t know it, he had no need to worry. In turmoil, Carol had eventually found the main road and a bus that would take her to Clapham Junction. She was now walking along Lavender Hill, her head bowed in shame.
Close to the top of the hill she would have to pass the police station, and a part of her inwardly screamed out in her need to make Roy pay for what he had done. Yet upon reaching it, Carol didn’t pause to go inside. It wasn’t just that the police might not believe her – worse was her fear of Roy’s threat if she accused him of rape, the lies he would tell his friend on the local newspaper.
She’d be branded a tart and imagining her parents’ reaction, Carol trembled with fear and shame. They must never find out! Never!
It wasn’t yet ten o’clock when she turned the corner onto Lark Rise and she fought to compose herself. She had to pretend that nothing was wrong, and as Carol arrived home, she somehow managed to hold herself together.
‘Hello, you’re early,’ her father said.
‘Yeah, I know. The bloke I went out with was a bit boring so I made an excuse to leave,’ she lied. ‘Where’s Mum?’
‘She’s round your gran’s again. Since the day your gran got a television I reckon your mum got hooked on it. She’s always going on about some programme she likes to watch a few nights a week, but I’m no mug and I know what she’s up to.’
‘What do you mean?’
‘She thinks that I’ll get fed up with her going to your gran’s and I’ll buy our own television. It’s working, I’m saving up, but it’ll be a month or two before I’ve got enough,’ he said, glancing at the clock. ‘She should be home soon, but keep it to yourself. I want the new television to be a surprise.’
‘All right. I’m a bit tired so I think I’ll have an early night. Tell Mum I said goodnight.’
‘Will do,’ he said. ‘’Night, love.’
Carol hurried upstairs. She had got away with it, yet she still felt filthy, sullied and going into their tiny bathroom she washed herself over and over again.
At last Carol went to bed, but found sleep was impossible as behind closed lids she couldn’t stop the scene from replaying in her mind. She felt Roy’s hands on her again, the fear, the shock and the pain. She hated Roy, loathed him, but along with that came feelings of self-disgust, shame, her mind tortured until at last, Carol fell asleep.
March came, heralding spring, and by mid-May there was clement weather. Amy had watched her mother carefully since Winnie had passed away, and was pleased to see that she no longer looked tired. There was colour in her cheeks again, but as the concern for her mother diminished, she became worried about Carol.
Her friend had been vivacious, outgoing and confident, but now Carol’s love of music and dancing was a thing of the past. Carol was now eighteen and the days when they had talked about everything had gone as her friend became withdrawn, though when questioned Carol continued to insist crossly that nothing was wrong.
It was Sunday afternoon and Amy would be seeing Tommy later, but now as she helped her mother with the washing up she told her, ‘Lena Winters is being transferred to a larger branch. We’ll have to get used to a new manageress soon.’
‘I’m sure she’ll be fine.’
Amy hoped so, but her mind drifted back to Carol and she voiced her concerns again. ‘Mum, I wish I knew what was wrong with Carol.’
‘Maybe she’s mooning over a boy or something.’
‘No, I don’t think so. The last date Carol had was back in February and she said that was a washout. She hasn’t mentioned anyone since.’
‘In that case, maybe Carol’s seeing someone she doesn’t want you to know about.’
