Second Time Around Part 20

'Are you sure you don't want me to come over for moral support? I can be there in five minutes.'

Donna's kindness made Jennifer feel weepy again but she fought back the tears. 'No, it's okay. This is something I have to do by myself.'

'Good luck, pet. Ring me later,' said Donna and she hung up.

Jennifer stood with the phone pressed against her chest. Her heart felt like it had been spliced in two, but she would talk and act the way she always did, even though she felt sc.r.a.ped out inside, like the pumpkins Matt and Lucy used to hollow out with spoons at Halloween.

'Did you make this?' said Lucy, poking at the pastry on the pie suspiciously with her fork. 'It tastes different.'

Jennifer smiled weakly, worn out with the effort of keeping up appearances; of looking interested while Lucy chattered on about the details of the wedding; and trying so hard to like Lucy's big, brooding fiance. 'It's from the supermarket. I didn't have time to cook.'

'That's not like you,' said Lucy with a frown.

Jennifer shrugged, the heat in the kitchen making her dozy. Her eyes were gritty with tiredness she'd slept badly this last month and was constantly exhausted. 'Nothing tastes as good as homemade,' said Oren with authority, his elbows on the table and his s.h.i.+rt sleeves rolled up like he was about to go milk a cow. 'My mother always says shop-bought pastry tastes like cardboard.'

Jennifer smiled thinly. 'What an interesting observation.'

'Dad's booked The Marine for the reception,' blurted out Lucy with a furtive glance at Jennifer, while Oren speared a baby potato with his fork.

'Great,' said Jennifer, trying to inject some enthusiasm into her voice.

'And I was thinking that I might pick up a dress in the sales.'

'Make sure you get something suitable now,' warned Oren and Jennifer paired her cutlery noisily on the plate, her appet.i.te vanished.

'Oh, don't worry,' said Lucy, patting the back of his big hairy hand, 'I'll get something white and traditional. Would you help me choose, Mum?'

'The dress. Why yes, of course,' said Jennifer colouring, realising that she, as the bride's mother, ought to have proposed this idea. 'We'll make a day of it,' she said, deciding to step up to the plate no matter what her reservations about this union. 'And have lunch out somewhere nice in Belfast. In fact, why don't we make a weekend of it and go to Dublin? Maybe Amy would like to come too?'

Lucy grinned excitedly and Oren said, 'Is such extravagance necessary?'

The smile fell from Lucy's face and she bowed her head.

'I'm buying the dress,' said Jennifer flatly, throwing the snap decision down on the table like a gauntlet.

Oren shrugged and Lucy glanced anxiously from her mother to Oren, reminding Jennifer of her earlier resolve to try and build bridges. She blinked and took a deep breath. 'Is there anything in particular you fancy doing while you're in Ballyfergus, Oren?' she said pleasantly. 'I thought you would like to meet some of Lucy's relatives. Maybe we could take a run over to Ballymena to meet my brother and his wife.'

'Sure,' said Oren wolfing down a big forkful of pie like he hadn't seen food in days. So much for his aversion to shop-bought food. He sniffed and rubbed his nose and Jennifer looked away, repulsed by his crude manners.

'Maybe I'll walk m.u.f.fin over to Grandpa's this afternoon,' said Lucy and m.u.f.fin, asleep in his basket, stirred at the sound of his name.

'He'd like that. He hasn't been out today.' She glanced out the window at the grey snow clouds gathering, boiling up on the horizon. 'Wrap up warm. Snow's forecasted for later.'

'I'll come with you,' said Oren, filling Jennifer with relief. Maybe Brian would offer them tea and they'd stay most of the evening.

'We'd better go soon then,' said Lucy. 'It gets dark so early.'

'I'll stay here if you don't mind. I've fallen behind with ... er ... my paperwork,' said Jennifer, as Lucy stood up. 'I could do with a couple of hours to catch up.'

Oren pushed his sc.r.a.ped-clean plate into the middle of the table. 'That was delicious.'

'Even if it was shop-bought?' she smiled, offering the joke as an olive branch.

He grinned and looked almost handsome. 'Yes. Even if it was shop-bought.'

They all laughed and harmony was once more restored. Oren was hard work, there was no doubt about it, but this little exchange heartened Jennifer. It proved that she and Oren could find common ground, a way to get along. They may have little in the way of shared values but they could share humour at least.

Lucy stood up and went and got m.u.f.fin's worn lead from the bra.s.s hook by the back door. 'Come on, m.u.f.fin. Let's take you for a walk.'

Oren pushed back his chair with a screech and stood up, filling the room with his big frame. 'On second thoughts,' he said with a hand on his stomach, 'I might give the walk a miss.'

'What's wrong, sweetheart?' said Lucy, going over to him and putting both arms round his waist. 'Are you feeling unwell?'

He moved his hand from his stomach to his head. 'Just a bit tired, that's all.' He yawned and stretched both arms over his head, touching the ceiling with his fingertips. 'Do you mind if I give the walk a miss? I might have a nap.' His arms fell to his sides and he rolled his shoulders as if he'd been sitting too long at a computer screen. 'Tell your Grandpa I'll pop in and see him before we go.'

'Okay,' said Lucy, shrugging on her coat. 'I'll not be long.' She gave Oren a kiss on the cheek and led m.u.f.fin out the back door into the bitterly cold afternoon.

As soon as she'd gone, Oren said brightly, 'I'll get the bags out of the car then, shall I?'

'Sure,' said Jennifer. She dried her hands on a towel and watched him walk up the hall with a spring in his step. He went out and the front door banged behind him.

Moments later he was back, standing at the bottom of the stairs with a grip bag held lightly in each hand. 'Where shall I put them?'

Jennifer walked up the hall, rubbing hand cream into the dry, cracked skin between her fingers. She would have to start wearing the Marigolds that lay unused in the cupboard under the sink. 'Just leave them at the bottom of the stairs for now. We can take them up later.'

'Why don't I just take them now? Save doing it later, eh?' he smiled. He put his right foot on the bottom stair and she noticed he'd taken off his brogues in preparation for ascending the staircase. The toe of the pale beige sock on his right foot was almost worn through and his discarded shoes were lying by the front door. It was good that he felt relaxed enough in her home to kick off his shoes wasn't it?

She looked up the stairs, the landing at the top shrouded in darkness, and said slowly, 'Well, okay, if you insist.'

'Mmm, what's that lovely smell?' He leaned over, too close, and Jennifer backed away.

'Just hand cream. Gardenia,' she said briskly, avoiding eye contact. 'Now, you're in Matt's old room,' she said pointing upstairs. 'Top of the stairs, first on your left. Lucy's room is the second door on the right, past the bathroom.'

He looked up the stairs and frowned, then shook his head. 'Sorry. I didn't catch that. Why don't you show me?'

'First on your left. Second on your right,' said Jennifer, wondering why he was playing silly games. There were only three bedrooms upstairs; he'd hardly get lost.

'Please?' he said and stared at her without blinking.

She did not want to go up the stairs with him. She had nothing concrete on which to base this vague reluctance, only a gnawing unease in the pit of her stomach that she put down to the fact that she did not like him. But how could she refuse to show him to his room? She took a deep breath and smiled brightly. 'Of course.'

'You go first,' he said and, again, how could she refuse? So she climbed the stairs, feeling his eyes on her behind all the way up, glad that she'd had the foresight to wear a modest, loose fitting dress. She made a mental note never to allow such an uncomfortable situation to arise again. She ought to have gone out with Lucy, rather than stay in the house with Oren alone. In fact, as soon as she was done here, she'd follow Lucy over to Dad's house and they could walk back together. Oren could stay here and do what he liked.

On the landing she flung open one door, fumbled for the light switch and said, 'This is Lucy's room.'

Oren cast a cursory glance around the room, then dropped one of the bags just inside the door. Jennifer opened the door of Matt's old room, flicked on the light and stood to one side, not looking at Oren. 'And you're in here.'

But he didn't walk into the room straight away. 'And the bathroom?'

'Oh, yes of course,' she said, going over to the bathroom door, pus.h.i.+ng it open and pulling the light cord. She was rather proud of the sleek bathroom which she'd done up only last year, replacing the tired pale pink suite with a modern white one. The walls and floor were finished in slate grey tiles and the chunky chrome fittings gleamed in the bright overhead light.

'You just need to watch the shower curtain. Make sure it's inside the bath or you'll flood the place,' said Jennifer, stepping into the room and tugging at the shower curtain to ill.u.s.trate her point. And then suddenly the door clicked shut behind her and she froze.

She turned around in time to see Oren flick the lock on the door. 'What are you doing? Open that door at once,' she said, her calm, commanding voice at odds with the terror she felt inside. She was trapped. There was no way out except through that door and between her and it stood the huge figure of Oren. He stared at her with his head c.o.c.ked slightly to one side, regarding her with a mixture of curiosity and l.u.s.t.

'Come here,' he said huskily and she inched backwards until she could go no further, the rim of the sink pressing into her b.u.t.tocks.

He dropped the bag on the floor and advanced on her, the pupils of his pale blue eyes huge and black. 'Gone all shy on me, have you?' he leered and he s.n.a.t.c.hed at her arm making her lunge backwards, hitting the small of her back painfully on the rim of the sink. He made another lunge for her and suddenly he had her in an iron embrace, the hardness of him pressing into her belly, his hot, panting breath moist in her ear. She wriggled to free herself but it was useless. He was too strong.

'Oh, stop acting as if you don't want this,' he hissed, holding her still with one arm as easily as she might restrain a newborn puppy, while he lifted her chin with his free hand. 'You're hot for me, aren't you? Look at you, all made up like a painted doll with that red lipstick. Who's that for then, if not me?' He wiped his thumb, the skin as rough as sandpaper, across her lips. Then he pressed his forehead to hers and said, 'You get off on younger men, don't you?' His damp breath was foul and cold sweat beaded his brow. 'That's why you finished with Ben Crawford, isn't it? So you could be with me. I wonder how he'll feel when he finds out I've had you too.'

'Get off me, you creep!' she shrieked and from somewhere she found the strength to break free of his grip. They separated and stood, panting, glaring at each other, her heart pounding against her ribs. 'I don't know where your delusion's come from, Oren,' she said, averting her eyes from the bulge in his trousers that made her want to throw up. 'You disgust me. You're absolutely ... repulsive. And you're stupid too. What on earth makes you think I would welcome advances from you? I've done nothing to encourage you.'

He flinched slightly, as if wounded by her words, and then his gaze hardened. 'So I'm not good enough for you, eh?' he demanded, his lip curling up in hot anger, and she was suddenly acutely aware of his superior strength. She hadn't broken free he'd let her go. 'You'd s.h.a.g Ben Crawford but not me.'

Her only hope was to talk her way out of this room. Instinctively, she realised that she must not, under any circ.u.mstances, show that she feared him. She lifted her chin and, in spite of the dread in her heart, said boldly, 'You're not half the man he is.'

'Ben Crawford is a sneaking, lying little snitch!' he exploded. 'He doesn't know the meaning of loyalty or trust.'

Jennifer almost choked, fear giving way momentarily to astonishment. 'You talk of trust,' she said, putting a hand to her neck, where the skin burned hot under her palm. 'You're engaged to my daughter.' She let out a sob then, unable to retain her composure any longer. 'How could you touch me? How could you? How could you do this to Lucy?'

He smiled then, crookedly, and she thought that he must be mad. She looked past him at the locked door. The window was behind her but it was tiny. She'd never manage to squeeze through it. 'This has nothing to do with Lucy. She's not a tart like you.'

She ignored this. Told herself that what he thought of her was of no consequence. All that mattered now was saving her daughter from this maniac. 'It's over, Oren. Your cover's blown. The marriage can't possibly go ahead after this.'

He shrugged his shoulders and put his hands in his trouser pockets. 'I don't see why not.' He was relaxed now, the feverish pa.s.sion replaced with a cool, calculating expression.

'When she finds out what you've done, it'll be over. You and Lucy are finished. And thank G.o.d for it.'

Her intuition had been right all along. If only she'd had the courage to stick to it before. She should never have invited him into her home.

'And what makes you think,' he said very slowly, running his eyes up her body from feet to head, the l.u.s.t replaced with revulsion, 'that Lucy's going to believe you?'

'Of course she'll believe me,' said Jennifer, pulling herself up to her full height.

He gave a hollow laugh, turned and unlocked the door. He was leaving! She breathed out and her knees suddenly gave way. She sank down onto the edge of the bath and held on to the rim of the sink with both hands.

He stepped onto the landing, and turned round to gaze at her once more. Her stomach muscles tightened in a spasm. She held her back straight and her head erect, and tried to look strong and defiant while her insides dissolved to jelly.

'Lucy loves me. And when it comes to choosing who to believe, trust me, she'll choose me.'

He disappeared and a few moments later she heard the front door slam shut. She closed her eyes and sobbed, 'Thank G.o.d!' And then her bones seemed to turn to rubber and her muscles to elastic, unable to support her any longer. She slid onto the floor and lay on the bath mat, her breath coming in short gasps. Tears spilled out the corners of her eyes and she sobbed. She'd thought he was going to rape her. The room felt cold and she started to shake and suddenly nausea overcame her. She managed to crawl to the toilet where she threw up in the bowl. Then she sat on the floor and leant against the side of the bath, her back moist with cold sweat, and the acrid taste of vomit in her mouth. She told herself she'd had a lucky escape. She'd endured an unwanted advance, an unwelcome touch and horrible, suggestive comments. But that was all. Nothing she couldn't overcome, nothing she couldn't deal with. Except this clammy fear that gripped her still.

But what about Lucy? She glanced in the direction of the door. Was she in danger? Had he gone to find her? And do what? She must find Lucy, make sure she was all right. She struggled to her feet and looked at her face in the mirror above the sink. Red lipstick was smeared across her chin like blood seeping from an open wound. She ripped loo paper off the roll and rubbed her lips and chin until every trace of lipstick was gone and her skin was red. Then she dabbed the tears from her eyes and tried to think clearly.

Oren would not hurt Lucy, not until she was his wife anyway, of that she was certain. And he wouldn't tell her what had happened either. She would have to break the awful news to Lucy that the man she loved was a s.e.xual predator, a morally corrupt creep. Oren would deny it, of course, but Lucy would see through him just as Jennifer had done.

In the kitchen she'd just pulled on her coat with the intention of going out, when the door burst open. Lucy, giggling, stepped in out of the cold followed by a flurry of snow, m.u.f.fin and, bringing up the rear, Oren. The door closed behind the three of them and Jennifer stood with her hand on the collar of her coat, her mouth hanging open. Oren refused to look at her and her initial fear at the sight of him turned to cold anger. How dare he cross the threshold of her house after what he had done?

'Grandpa wasn't in,' said Lucy, pulling off her hat and chucking it on the table. It skidded to the opposite edge leaving a slick of water on the surface. 'Can't imagine he's gone for a walk, though. Not in that weather. It's just started to snow. Never mind. We'll maybe catch up with him tomorrow.' She undid m.u.f.fin's lead, then looked at Jennifer. 'Are you all right, Mum? You look a little peaky.'

'Get out of my house, Oren.' m.u.f.fin crept into his basket and looked up with big, doleful eyes understanding perfectly the tone, if not the meaning, of Jennifer's words.

'What?' said Lucy and she turned and looked at Oren who instantly adopted a bewildered, hurt-looking expression.

'Get out of my house,' she repeated through gritted teeth.

'Mum! What is wrong with you?' Lucy went and stood beside Oren and hooked her arm in his. He stared straight ahead, his brow furrowed as if he were terribly confused, his pupils tiny black dots of lucid understanding.

'Oren's not going anywhere,' said Lucy. 'Now, can you tell us what on earth this is about? Why are you demanding that Oren leave?'

Jennifer looked into Lucy's face, flushed with loyal indignation, and her heart sank. This terrible news would surely break her heart. Why couldn't she have given her heart to someone worthy of her love? How could she not see Oren for what he was? She did not want to deliver this devastating news but she must.

'Well?' demanded Lucy and she waited while Oren stood dumbly at her side.

Jennifer took a deep breath, held on to the back of a chair, and closed her eyes. 'After you left the house, Oren made a pa.s.s at me.'

There, she had said it. She opened her eyes. Lucy's head was c.o.c.ked to one side and she had a blank, puzzled look on her face, as if Jennifer had just uttered something in a foreign, unintelligible tongue.

'Upstairs, in the bathroom,' went on Jennifer, for it was clear her words had not penetrated Lucy's consciousness. 'Oren asked me to show him to your rooms and then he got me into the bathroom and locked the door. And he tried to ... to ... force himself on me. He said that he knew I wanted him.' She shook her head, unable to go on. 'It was grotesque. Awful.'

Lucy's face, pale to begin with, drained of all colour. She turned slowly to Oren and looked up into his face. 'Oren?' she whispered.

He looked into Lucy's eyes and tightened his grip on her hand. 'As G.o.d is my witness,' he said, without so much as a flicker of an eyelid, 'that is not what happened.'

'You liar,' shouted Jennifer and Oren smiled placidly. 'How can you stand there and tell barefaced lies like that? You know what I'm saying is the truth.' He wasn't just a creep overtaken by hot emotion, he was a calculating, practised liar. What else had he lied about?

Oren considered her calmly for some moments and then he turned his attention back to Lucy, who stood with her mouth slightly ajar staring at them both. 'Lucy,' he said and she looked up at him and blinked, as a tear slid out the corner of her eye and down her cheek. 'I didn't want to have to tell you this.'

Jennifer's anger subsided to be replaced with an awful apprehension. He was going to own up after all. He must realise he had no choice. But poor Lucy. It would break her heart. Tears welled up in Jennifer's eyes.

'I didn't want to hurt you, but your mother,' he said, glancing meanly at Jennifer, 'has given me no choice.'

'Oh no,' whispered Lucy. 'Tell me it's not true, Oren.'

Jennifer swallowed the lump in her throat. She hated him for what he was about to confess more than what he'd done in the bathroom upstairs. She could bear the indignation. But she could not bear to see her daughter's heart broken.

'We were in the bathroom together. You mother was going on about the shower curtain and telling me to make sure I didn't flood the floor when I had a shower. She called me over to have a look and when I got close, well ...'

Jennifer frowned. She hadn't called him over to look at the curtain. And he'd left out the bit about shutting the bathroom door and locking it.

'... that's when it happened.' He put his hands over his face and sobbed. 'Oh, Lucy, I'm so sorry.'

Lucy slipped her hand from his arm and stared aghast at him while Jennifer tried to hide her satisfaction. Oren removed his hands from his face, revealing red eyes and tear-stained cheeks. He looked so contrite, Jennifer couldn't help but feel moved herself. Was this how he hoped to win Lucy round with a show of repentance? But Lucy would see through it.

'I've always felt a little bit uncomfortable around your mother, Lucy. I didn't want to say anything before. But she's obviously got a thing for younger guys. I mean, look at Ben Crawford.'

What the h.e.l.l was he talking about? What had Ben got to do with his behaviour?