CHAPTER FIVE: DANNY’S
Jason stared at his sister curiously as she returned his bike. ‘Did you get what you wanted?’
Doreen averted her eyes. Susan seemed to be trying hard to suppress a giggle as Doreen sat beside her on the bench again, and it was a long moment before she spoke. ‘Did it work?’
Doreen could not help but preen, just a fraction. ‘Oh, yeah, it worked.’
‘What happened?’
Doreen tossed her hair, with all the ineffable supremacy that a girl of nineteen could impose on a companion three years younger. But she did not reply. There are things, feelings, that one cannot share, and her mind was racing. Mr. Chapman would call her, she was sure of that. But what should she do then? It was one thing to think about ensnaring a man and turning him into an open chequebook, but rather more difficult to convert thought into performance. She had gained a little experience of milking men for benefits on assorted dates. But there were a million miles between coaxing a man into upgrading a planned trip to MacDonalds into a meal with wine at an Italian restaurant, and persuading him that you possessed the trophy qualities that made for staying power.
She supposed he might invite her out for a meal, because drinks in a pub would be cheapskate. And then? She did not think he was a man to drive out into the sticks, and moan about his wife, and then try and have her away on the back seat, because she judged him more classy than that. But he might try taking her to an hotel for a quick bonk. She expected she might dump him if he did. She had known a girl who had gone back to a hotel with a man, and had a couple of fifties stuffed into her bra as she left. She was better than that, classier than that. She was not prepared to be a whore, and certainly not on the cheap. She wanted adventure, and an escape into a different world, with a door she could close firmly behind her.
Mr. Chapman wanted to get inside her pants: she had seen it in his eyes. But a girl only gets one bite at a cherry with a man. He fancies her, and wants her more, and possibly more and more, or she turns him off, and he just wants a quick bonk, and then walks away.
She was still musing about how she might handle him, when she felt her mobile ringing. She put her hand down to tug the phone from her jeans pocket, and then thought better of it. Perhaps it was Mr. Chapman, calling already. She stood up, and walked off a little way from the bench, out of Susan’s earshot. Private things, secret things, must always be secrets. She knew that Susan was watching, and probably Jason with her, but it was none of their business.
She heard her voice rasp as she answers. She was nervous, and she knew it, like a little girl waiting to go into a Father Christmas grotto.
It was Marje, sounding tight.
‘Where are you, Sparkles?’
Doreen bridled a little. ‘Out on the green with Susan and Jason.’
‘Len’s got a man here.’ Marje began uncertainly at first, but then her voice gathered strength. ‘They’re doing some business, and he’s got a big silver Merc, brand-new.’
Doreen grunted non-committally. ‘Oh, yeah?’
‘We thought we could all go out for a drink, the four of us. He knows this posh place over by Henley, and he’s got a pot of cash. He says he’ll shout the lot.’
‘Oh, yeah?’ Doreen made her voice deliberately negative. She was perfectly happy where she was. Marje and Len had tried co-opting her as bait before, but now she has a much better fish to fry.
‘We don’t just want to be three, it wouldn’t be nice.’
‘For Len’s man?’
‘You’ll like him, he’s really rich.’
‘Maybe he’ll find somebody at Henley.’
‘Oh, come on.’ Now Marje’s voice was coaxing. ‘He’s seen your picture, the one on top of the telly, and he really seems to fancy you.’
Doreen was unsure whether to smile or frown. A photofreak from Slough had taken the picture, hoping to get into her pants. He had promised to provide her with a modelling portfolio, and made her look really sexy: challenging eyes and a pout, legs crossed provocatively and shoulders squared to push out her bra, just one button fastened on a black silk shirt, over a short, short black skirt. But he had also spent a deal too much time stroking and patting her into place, and she had flounced out in the end. He had given her one picture in a bid to tempt her back: Marje had put it on top of the telly. She sniffed. ‘I’ve got Jason and Susan with me.’
‘So?’ Marje’s voice was sharp.
‘We’re all together.’
Marje’s sharpness hardened, taking on a steely edge. ‘It’s not a bloody party.’
‘He’s Len’s friend, not mine.’
The phone made a bad-tempered sound, and Doreen heard voices. She could tell that her mother was relaying her words, and she waited. She was set to win either way. She and Jason and Susan would have the house to themselves for the evening, if Marje flounced off, or else they could drink themselves silly.
Her mother returned, and now she sounded grumpy. She was not a woman to like being crossed. ‘He says to bring them along as well.’
Doreen’s mobile clicked, and she realised that her mother had hung up. She grinned as she turned to rejoin Susan and Jason. She liked adventures.
Susan greeted her news enthusiastically, but Jason looked doubtful.
‘Oh, come on.’ Susan was already starting to bop on the grass to one side of the bench. She was not really dressed for partying, but she could always borrow something sexy from Doreen.
‘What if he don’t like us?’ Jason scowled. He was a teenager with a suspicious attitude.
Doreen shrugged. ‘He’ll be lumbered with us, won’t he?’
‘But he only wants you.’ Jason’s face darkened. Henley was a long way from Tithing St. Mary, and could cost a fortune in taxi fares if anything went wrong.
‘He gets me as part of a package.’
Susan snatched at Jason’s hand. ‘Oh, come on, just for the thrill. We’ll be three against one.’
Jason stepped back, out of her reach. ‘Three against three.’
Doreen decided to mobilise her troops, before they began scrapping in earnest. ‘Stop squabbling with her, Jason. I’ll get you there, I’ll get you back. See if I don’t.’
Jason shrugged huffily and turned to start pushing his bike homewards. He walked, because he needed to think. Doreen’s decision threatened to bring his personal life to a head. He worked for Tithing St. Mary Motors as a junior mechanic and novice car salesman, and Bill Grant, the garage’s proprietor, has several times offered him a room. Jason likes and admires Bill a lot, both for being a man very much better than Len, and as a kind of father figure. Bill has taken him in, and begun building him up, and making him feel like a real person, instead of just another mouth to be fed. Bill never cracks on about his acne, and they often spend their evenings sitting in Bill’s livingroom, drinking beer and talking about life in general. Twice a week they practise judo together. But Jason has sensed that Bill wants to come closer. He has often told Jason of his loneliness on his own since watching Sandra, his ex, flounce out of the front door to drive off with a salesman, and hinted more than once that Jason might move in to help him build an exclusively male bastion. Sometimes, when he has drunk a bit too much, Jason has crashed out on the big double bed in Bill’s spare room, and only the week before found Bill asleep beside him, both of them naked like small children. Bill had touched him in waking, almost as though by accident, and he had found the contact exciting. Jason knew a little about sex, and knew how to bring on an erection by playing with himself, though he had never been with a girl. He had felt himself engorge. But he had been nervous.
Now Doreen has begun trying both to pair him off with Susan, and dump all four of them on some stranger. He could already smell trouble ahead. Len and Marje would drink too much, and Marje would either throw Doreen at Len’s rich man, or throw herself. Len would pounce on Susan, leaving him with the short straw. Or the two men would fight, the rich man would strand them, and he would be expected to pick up the pieces. Susan might even make a heavy pass at him. He scowled at the thought. She was a sight too flighty for her own good, not to say a bit on the thick side, and he wanted nothing of her. Doreen might value her as a handmaiden, because Doreen lapped up flattery. But he was not interested. Perhaps it was time for him to move on.
The Mercedes gleamed in the afternoon sun in front of the Simmonds’ house, and the three teenagers stopped in awe for a moment. Jason touched it with professional admiration.
Susan admires her reflection in the front nearside window. ‘It must be worth a fortune.’
Jason looked knowing. ‘About eighty grand.’
‘Cor.’ She looked as though she wanted to breathe on it, and then polish it. Doreen looked haughty. Mr. Chapman also drove a big Merc, and she was worth more than a drive in a big flash motor.
Marje broke up their admiration. She stood at the door, waving at them excitedly. ‘Come on, come on in.’
She had the air of a woman who has been enjoying herself. Doreen led the way. She did not know quite what to expect, but she was ready to hold her own. A tall man got to his feet as she opened the livingroom door, and she inspected him quickly before lowering her eyes demurely. He was casually dressed, probably in his forties, in a blue and white checked open-necked shirt and white chinos, with an indefinable air of wealth and authority about him. He looked like a man accustomed to having his own way, and she mistrusted him instinctively. A couple of champagne bottles, both now empty, and three glasses, stood on the table in front of the sofa. Somebody had also laid out a packet of cigarette papers and a pouch of Golden Virginia rolling tobacco. An ashtray overflowed with cigarette butts, and she scented the sweetish smell of hash.
Marje bubbled. ‘Frankie, let me introduce my daughter.’ She beamed at Doreen a little lopsidedly. ‘Reen, this is Frankie. He’s going to take us all over to Danny’s at Henley.’
Doreen played coy under her eyelashes. Marje plainly expected her to come up front, but she reckoned Frankie was not for her – she was not for Frankie. She might let him start some drinks flowing and bop around him a bit, but Frankie could scrap any hopes of getting into her pants.
However the man in the open-necked shirt gleamed at her with obvious admiration. He leered. ‘You’re a bit of all right, aren’t you, darling?’
Doreen could see a heavy gold necklace peeping out of his shirt. She was not impressed. He looked like the kind of man that hung around night clubs, probably strip clubs, hunting for lap dancers. She has her line in a different pond.
Susan and Jason followed her into the small livingroom. Frankie took one look at them and looked back at her.
‘Fancy a night out?’
Marje and Len look alarmed - Frankie’s tone plainly implied that he was shifting from planning a foursome to an exclusive twosome. Doreen hesitated, pretending to reflect on the invitation for a moment. Then she shook her head, tossing her hair away from her face. Frankie flagged danger, and she needed protection when danger flags were flying. But she also dimpled, just a little. She would play along, and get him going, turn him on just a bit. She would fish a little, in a world where lust may encounter reluctance and read it as shyness, and she might have fun.
Susan and Jason settled unobtrusively into the background, half way into the Simmonds’ kitchen, because the Simmonds’ livingroom was crowded with four, and a sardine can with more. Susan eyed the cigarette papers and the tobacco on the table with interest. She had smoked pot from time to time, with schoolfriends. But she was too polite to ask. Jason wondered how Bill might handle him moving in.
The Simmonds’ livingroom was silent for a moment. Doreen and Frankie were still on their feet, Marje had backed away to the sofa. Len looked a bit vacant. Doreen beamed at her mother.
‘I’m thirsty.’
Her words worked a charm. Marje managed to lever herself to her feet a little shakily, to find that both champagne bottles were empty. She pushed past Susan and Jason to lurch into her small kitchen, whilst at the same time Frankie moved to stand close beside Doreen.
‘I’ve got another couple of bottles in the motor, nice and cold.’ He spoke in a murmur, out of the side of his mouth, a mere whisper. ‘Why don’t we push off and leave this lot?’
Doreen steps back, merely smiling. Marje was now back in the living room, wrestling with a champagne bottle. Jason went to fetch another three glasses. Champagne was way out of the Simmonds’ normal reach, and he returned with two water tumblers and a mug.
A champagne cork popped, and they stood in a circle, holding out glasses and a mug, and Susan sneezed as champagne bubbles tickled her nose. They might have been a group celebrating a birthday, except that Frankie had now trapped Doreen against an armchair and begun stroking her thigh. She ignored him: it was easier than creating an embarrassing scuffle.
The champagne drained away, but they remained standing, waiting for action. Frankie stopped his stroking and looked at each of them in turn, as though assessing them. Then he bent to open a smart black leather briefcase, taking out a plastic box with a transparent bag of white powder inside, and pushing Marje’s tobacco away.
‘Anyone fancy a snort?’ He was already carefully pouring some of the powder into a clear space on the glass table top, and chopping it into lines, using a credit card. Doreen noticed that the lines were rather on the small side. But Marje has already pulled out her purse and was carefully rolling a tenner into a little tube.
‘Lovely jubbly.’ She fell on her knees to lean over the table, tenner to one nostril, left hand forefinger closing the other, and took a deep breath as she travelled up the line, inhaling the powder.
Then she held the banknote out to Doreen. Doreen shrugged. She had done coke a couple of times, on rather bigger lines, and knew she could handle it. The photofreak had tried seducing her with snow, but she had scoffed his lot, and done a runner. She bent over the glass table: she felt she deserved a bit of a bang.
She straightened herself again as the drug began to blow through her mind. The people around her began to change subtly, and she felt power mount within her. Now she knew she could make the lot dance at her fingertips. She felt Frankie’s hand return to her thigh as she watched the others take their turns, and wriggled a little against him. She would pull this man’s strings, and watch him dance to her music.
Now they were all in the Mercedes. Frankie insisted on Doreen sitting in front beside him, and kept stroking her, as though stroking might build him credit. She laughed a couple of times, practising her trills, and pushed him away when he tried to get too close to her crotch. Once she scratched him slightly, to send him a warning. Marje, Len, Susan and Jason sat crammed in the back, each with their own thoughts.
Danny’s looked like a country house set in its own grounds. Cars glinted in rows in the evening sun, and a disco thumped as the Mercedes purred to a halt. Susan lurched a little as she stepped out of the car and giggled, and Marje marched towards the house with her arms linked into Len on one side and Jason on the other. Frankie put his arm around Doreen’s shoulders, but it was awkward, and he settled for holding her hand.
The club doorman greeted him with deference. He plainly knew the man with the gold chain well, and the two shook hands. The doorman’s eyes took in Marje, Len, Susan and Jason with a quick dismissive look and lingered a little on Doreen.
‘You know your way to the bar, sir.’ He paused fractionally. ‘Or would you rather drink privately?’
Frankie hesitated, and Doreen took control. ‘We’ll go through.’
She had been to Danny’s a couple of times with young men out to impress her, and heard tales about the private rooms, complete with bedrooms en suite. She was not taking chances.
Frankie led the way through to a long room with a bar along one side, and groups of comfortable cane chairs set around matching tables. A door at the end opened onto a disco that swamped the bar with waves of sound whenever it opened. A few people sat drinking, and a group of young men stared hard at Doreen, but she turned up her nose. She was not on the prowl. Frankie ordered champagne and they drank their way through the bottle. Then he stood, holding out his hands to Doreen, and she fluttered her eyelashes. She was a good dancer, and she knew it: a man had once seen her moving at a club in Windsor and offered her a job as a stripper. She would make Frankie drool, and rue it.
They bopped together and she was as sinuous as a snake. Then she took a couple of turns with Len, pretending to rub herself against him, and she could feel Frankie’s eyes boring into her. Susan had managed to drag Jason onto the dance floor, but he was plainly unhappy, moving almost automatically, as though powered by clockwork. She shrugged to herself. Perhaps more champagne would ease him up. It was time the two started something going.
Then Frankie returned, bopping her towards an open french window leading out onto a lawn. Doreen smiled secretly. He could think again if he counted on taking her under the bushes.
He bopped her out into the open air, and took her hand, leading her away from the window. Doreen stopped as they reached the edge of the lawn, and he moved close to her, placing his hands on her shoulders and kissing her, and she toyed with him with the tip of her tongue. She liked playing with men and leading them on, and it was still light. But suddenly he seemed to have hands everywhere, and she drew back. He was trying to get into her dress, and starting to use force. She had paid good money for her bra, and did not want it ripped off her. Now he was nuzzling her neck and biting her, and she could feel his hand trying to come up under her dress.
She pulled back. ‘Stop it.’
Her voice was a command, but Frankie ignored her. He was a strong man, and he was getting the better of her. She tried letting herself go limp, and in their movements, to an observer, they might have seemed as though they were still dancing, out there on the grass, as one tried to subdue the other. Then she broke away from him and began to run, heading back towards the disco. But she was not quick enough.
Suddenly she felt her legs give under her as Frankie dived at her in a rugger tackle, and she screamed, but knew with despair in her screaming that the disco music would drown the sound of her voice. Now he was dragging her across the grass, and she knew that he planned to take her into the lee of the house, out of sight of the french windows. She fought, but he seemed possessed of all the powers of the devil, and she wished she had taken up Jason’s offers to teach her judo. She could feel Frankie forcing himself down on her on the soft grass, and his hands scrabbling and tearing at her dress and her bra and panties. She fought, and she was struggling, and fighting for dear life, but he was bigger and stronger than her, and she knew that slowly he was winning. She also knew that he would bruise and tear at her in his lust until she yielded, and suddenly surrender seemed the easiest exit.
‘Reen, are you alright?’ She heard a voice, as if from a long way distant, and tried to marshall her senses. She thought that it might be Jason. It sounded like Jason.
‘’Reen, did he hurt you?’
She opened her eyes slowly. She was on grass, and she could see Jason looking down at her, and someone who looked like Susan. She flexed her limbs cautiously. She could tell she was bruised, but she knew that she had not been violated.
‘I’m all right.’ She spoke weakly, still trying to place herself. ‘Has he gone?’
‘I sent him packing.’ Jason’s voice was harsh.
‘We saw him chasing you across the grass, and then sending you flying.’ Now it was Susan speaking. ‘Jason came out and told him to knock it off, but he just ignored him. Some of the security came out as well, but they wouldn’t do nothing.’
Doreen looked up at them, and smiled weakly. She touched Jason’s hand. ‘What happened?’
‘I told him to let you go. He told me to fuck off.’
Susan breaks in. ‘He called Jason a spotty nerd.’
‘He got to me, he really did.’ Jason grinned wickedly. ‘I got him with a scissor kick, in the small of the back. He let you go, and I chopped him in the goolies.’
‘He screamed like a stuck pig.’ Susan plainly relished the memory. ‘The security help him limp away, he really seemed painful.’
Doreen lay still for a moment, pulling her thinking together. Her memory began to climb back in time. ‘What about Marje and Len?’
Jason shrugged. ‘Frankie took them with him. Marje was swearing blue fucking murder. She said she never wanted to see either of us ever again.’
Doreen felt her world start to crumble around her. ‘What are we going to do?’
Jason grinned again. ‘I turned Bill out of bed – he’s coming to fetch us. He said we can both stay with him until we sort ourselves out.’