Don’t Cry Alone Read online

‘No.’ Winding her fingers in his, she kept him back. ‘Stay here, with me,’ she murmured. Her voice was soft, inviting.

  ‘Beth, do you know what you’re saying?’ Her words had shocked and excited him. He saw the meaning in her eyes and he could hardly breathe.

  ‘Love me,’ she whispered. ‘Like before.’ Only ‘before’ had not been here in this room. Nor was it on a damp grey day. On that wonderful July evening a little more than two months ago, she and Tyler had travelled to Hampstead Heath, partly for the enjoyment of it, and partly out of curiosity. Her father had recently acquired a derelict gentleman’s residence belonging to an old manorial estate there. The big house itself was not totally beyond restoration, but the project would demand more investment than could ever be recovered. Richard turned his attention instead to the three acres of grounds; prime development land. Hampstead was a most desirable area with many amenities, not least of which was the Heath itself. Besides which, it was easily accessible to central London. Intrigued by her father’s vivid description of the once beautiful house and old rambling gardens, Beth wanted to see for herself. Against his better judgement, she persuaded Tyler to accompany her there on that glorious evening. It was the most memorable evening of her life, the sun was shining, the birds were singing and there was no one to spy on her and Tyler. Hand in hand they had wandered through the grounds, watched the creatures at play in the spinney, picked their way through the overgrown lawns and gardens, and been enchanted by the house itself, with its towering gables and sadly decaying structure which once had been so proud.

  Later they had sat in the summer-house, a round, surprisingly well-preserved building where the sun poured in from all sides. Sitting in that small private place, surrounded only by God’s wonderful nature and the sound of birds trilling out their joy, Beth had felt a great sense of peace. In that beautiful place, she and Tyler had made love for the first time – and for the rest of her life she would always remember that special evening, lying in his arms with the rest of the world a million miles away. On that evening a child had been created, a child of love, her child – and Tyler’s. She had suspected for some weeks, but now she was sure. Oh, how she wanted to share her joy with him. But she was afraid. Already he believed he was ruining her life, coming between her and her family. Telling him about the child would only increase his feeling of guilt, and she did not want that. There was time enough for him to know. Beth felt instinctively that the time was not now.

  She waited for his answer, her hands flattened against his chest and her eyes smiling into his, ‘Love me, Tyler,’ she urged softly. ‘Here. Now.’

  ‘You’re a vixen,’ he murmured, his green eyes darkening with passion, his hands stroking her hair. The struggle inside him was unbearable. He loved her so much, ached for her with his very being. But he was wrong for her, he knew that. Beth knew it too, only she wouldn’t let herself believe it. This past week lying here, and when he had thought himself to be close to death, he had come to realise how much of a sacrifice Beth was prepared to make for him – and he could not let her do it. Yet he could not imagine life without her. He had come to the conclusion that his was a selfish love. Her brother Ben had said as much to him.

  ‘She has an admirable suitor,’ Ben had told him. ‘Wilson Ryan, a man in his twenties, and who will one day come into a small fortune. His father owns a chain of milliners. He and Beth met when Mother craftily placed her in one of the Ryan shops, and he visits the house on every pretence. Beth likes him too, although I don’t think she feels more than that. He adores her… worships the ground she walks on.’ Tyler knew that Ben had not told him all this just to hurt him because, strangely enough, he and Ben liked and respected each other, although there were times when Tyler was discomfited by Ben’s love for gambling and by his choice of friends. But what Ben did was not Tyler’s business, and so it was difficult for him to offer advice. Yet, he was grateful for Ben’s help where Beth was concerned, because, like Tyler, Ben knew that the love between Blacklock and his sister was an impossible love, a love that would bring unhappiness in its wake.

  ‘No, Beth.’ The touch of her fingers against his naked chest heightened his desire for her. It took all of his will-power to clasp his fingers over hers and to hold them still. But she only smiled, her dark eyes staring up at him, astonishingly beautiful, deep with love, drawing him in, mesmerising. She took her hands away and undid the small cameo brooch at the neck of her white blouse. After placing the brooch on the mantelpiece, she raised her hands to her hair, silently plucking at the mother-of-pearl clasp, until in a moment her long rich tresses spilled about her shoulders.

  Her beauty made him gasp. Swept along on a tide of passion, he knew there was no going back. Quietly now, he went to the door and slipped the bolt across. He remained there a moment, his face turned away from her and his dark head bent. The struggle was still going on inside him; the fear and the love. But love was stronger; always stronger. Now, when he turned to see her standing there, the flickering firelight playing on her lovely features and her arms open to him, he knew he would never want any other woman. Slowly, he came towards her. There was no pain, no fear, only soaring exhilaration, and the thrill of knowing he would soon hold her as close as any man could ever hold the woman he loved.

  When Tyler took her in his arms, Beth forgot all the bad things, all the things that sought to keep them apart. Here in the haven of his love, she felt safe, part of him. In her heart she truly believed that nothing on this earth could spoil their happiness. The warmth of his nakedness shocked through her, firing her desire. His hands were gentle, his mouth soft against her face, stroking her hair, caressing her breasts. His passion hardened and an agonised moan broke from him as he pushed into her. Clinging to him, sharing all the love she had to give, Beth knew above all else that here was the rest of her life; this man and their child. Until the end of her days she would want nothing more than that.

  * * *

  Downstairs in the kitchen the girl leaned back in the rocking chair and rolled her resentful brown eyes up to the ceiling. The thought of Tyler Blacklock and his visitor rankled in her like a festering sore. But she was not given the time to dwell on the images that were already rising in her mind. Instead her thoughts were rudely interrupted by Florence Ball’s loud demand for, ‘Another dram, darlin’. Just one more little drop fer yer ol’ mammy, eh?’ From the depths of the old leather chair, the drunken woman thrust out a dimpled arm to tap her whisky glass against the fender. When her pleading drew only a sullen silence, she jutted her head forward to peer at her daughter through bleary accusing eyes.

  ‘Surely ter God yer ain’t telling me there’s none left!’ she exclaimed with horror. ‘Why, yer little sod! I’m buggered if yer ain’t gone an’ downed the bleedin’ lot!’ She began struggling from the armchair, but was roughly shoved back into its squashy depths. At first she was shocked, waggling her head from side to side in an effort to focus on the one who would do such a thing. When she saw it was only her daughter, she flung her arms up and waved them above her head, loudly chuckling and doing a little jig with her feet. ‘Yer ’avin’ me on, yer little monkey,’ she laughed. ‘I’ve a good mind ter tan yer bare arse… teasin’ yer ol’ mammy like that! Me as luvs yer an’ who’s allus been yer best friend.’ Then the enormity of what the girl had done, trying to deprive her of what was rightfully hers, took the shine off her enjoyment. ‘It ain’t a nice thing to do to yer own mammy.’ She made a face as though her feelings had been hurt.

  ‘Is that right then?’ The girl held the bottle up, ready to pour the golden liquid into her mother’s tumbler, but then she paused, watching the other one’s face as she said in a low cunning voice, ‘So… you reckon you’ve allus been my best friend, do you?’

  ‘Oh, I do. I most certainly do,’ declared the inebriated Florence. ‘Best friend… allus been yer best friend.’ Her mood was suddenly made brighter by the sight of the bottle poised over her glass.

  ‘Well now, that’s strange.�
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  ‘Oh, aye? What’s strange about it then?’ She wasn’t in the mood for riddles – and besides, her head felt like a bag o’ fighting rats.

  ‘It’s just that… well, I always understood that best friends share all their deepest secrets.’

  ‘And so they do! So they do!’ She thrust her glass forward. ‘The buggers allus share their drink an’ all,’ she said sulkily. ‘Anyroad, what the ’ell are yer talking about… sharin’ secrets? I ain’t never kept anything from yer, ’ave I?’ She smiled when the bottle was tipped forward and the smallest measure allowed to trickle out. ‘You just tell me when I’ve ever kept anything from yer,’ she snorted, ‘an’ we’ll put the bugger right without any more to-do… else yer ol’ mammy’ll chop ’er tongue out an’ no mistake.’ She suddenly chuckled and winked knowingly. ‘Oh, I get yer meaning, yer crafty little cow,’ she whispered, with one eye glued to the door for fear it might come flying open. ‘It ain’t me that’s got the “secret”, is it, eh? It’s you, ain’t it?’ She laughed louder. ‘Silly fool! Don’t yer think I ain’t seen how yer pant after that feller upstairs?’ She jerked her thumb upwards. ‘He ain’t fer you!’ she snarled. ‘So get him outta yer mind. What! Yer ain’t got the bloody cradle marks off yer arse yet… and he’s twenty-five if he’s a day!’

  The girl’s smile was sweetness itself as she kept her mammy waiting for her precious ’ol stuff – and she would keep her waiting until the old slag saw different.

  * * *

  It was gone midnight when the knock came on the door. The muffled sound startled the girl from her deep reverie. There was no doubt in her mind now that her mammy would help. It was true, there were richer pickings to be had than Tyler, but he was what she wanted, and she meant to get him by hook or by crook. Men of Tyler Blacklock’s quality were few and far between.

  Curious and a little apprehensive, the girl made her way to the door. The house was quiet. Tyler had returned from taking the Ward woman home some time ago, Florence was still deeply under the influence, and the two remaining lodgers slept like dead men. Swearing beneath her breath, she inched open the front door.

  The visitor was a gentleman, a stiff-faced little creature who declined to give his name but whose shock of startling white hair made him instantly conspicuous. ‘I think it best if I come in off the street as quickly as possible,’ he told her. When she hesitated, he reached inside the pocket of his jacket. ‘It will be in your own best interest to hear what I have to say,’ he suggested quietly, showing her the fattest wallet she had ever laid eyes on.

  Within the space of a minute, she had opened the door and ushered him in. In another minute, they were seated opposite each other at the kitchen table as he explained the reason for his visit. As he spoke, her eyes grew wider with astonishment. Because here was the very opportunity she had long waited for.

  * * *

  ‘For God’s sake, Beth!’ Ben grabbed his sister roughly and pulled her to one side. ‘Where the devil have you been ’til this time? Mother’s in there.’ He made an impatient gesture towards the sitting room which was situated a short distance along the hallway. ‘Wilson Ryan’s in there as well. He’s been here over two hours.’

  ‘What does he want?’ Beth spoke in a whisper. She had no intention of seeing either of them.

  ‘You know very well what he wants!’ Ben also spoke in a whisper, but it was a harsh accusing whisper. ‘He came to see you. When Mother asked where you were, I told her you’d gone to bed with a severe headache, and had asked not to be disturbed.’

  ‘Did she believe you?’ Beth put her hand over her mouth to stifle the mischievous giggle. Whatever Ben told her now, he could not spoil the wonderful evening she and Tyler had spent together.

  ‘I’m not sure. You know Mother has a naturally suspicious mind. But at least I managed to dissuade her from going to your room when Wilson arrived. Thanks to him she hasn’t had time since.’ He smiled at the thought of Wilson Ryan’s serious and staid nature compared to Beth’s natural exuberance. ‘He does go on a bit, doesn’t he?’ Now, it was Ben who had to stifle his laughter, but then he added in a serious voice, ‘He’s a good man though, and he idolises you. He’d look after you, Beth… always. You would never want for anything.’ This business with Tyler Blacklock was a great source of anxiety to him. He had hoped that she would make a richer match, though the reason for his hopes was more to do with his own pocket than with Beth’s.

  She shook her head. There was a strange sadness on her face as she told him, ‘You’re wrong, Ben. I would always want Tyler. I could never be content without him.’

  He sighed noisily, his worried brown eyes meeting her determined stare with mingled affection and anger. ‘I don’t know why I bother with you!’ he said hoarsely. When she smiled at his remark, he reluctantly returned her smile. ‘All right,’ he conceded, ‘we can talk about this tomorrow.’ Casting an anxious glance towards the half-open sitting-room door, he told her, ‘Look, Beth… if you don’t want to prove me a liar, you’d better go quickly to your room.’ He crooked his hand beneath her elbow and began taking her at a fast pace across the spacious hallway, towards the foot of the wide curving staircase. ‘Hurry! If she catches us here, there’ll be Hell to pay.’

  ‘I’ve a good mind to face her,’ Beth whispered angrily, ‘and tell her to go to Hell!’ As the last word fell from her lips, she was struck by the venom in her statement, and was ashamed. Things like that were all right in the privacy of your own thoughts, but they should never be spoken aloud, especially not in front of Ben who had always enjoyed a much happier relationship with their mother. She looked at him now, and his harried expression caused her pain. ‘Oh, Ben, I shouldn’t have said that,’ she murmured, squeezing his hand in hers, her dark eyes filled with remorse.

  ‘Just go to your room, Beth… please.’

  ‘Goodnight then.’

  ‘For God’s sake, Beth, just go.’ He dropped his head to his chest in frustration.

  Blowing him a kiss, she tiptoed up the stairs, her feet sinking silently into the blue patterned carpet, her small fists clutching the front of her skirt to raise the hem from round her ankles, and all the time she was acutely aware of the conversation taking place in the sitting room. From the low continuous droning she knew the discussion was intense. Occasionally she heard her own name mentioned, and her suspicions were confirmed. They were discussing her. Halfway up the stairs, much to the consternation of her brother who was still monitoring her progress, she paused to lean partway over the banister in order to hear the voices more clearly. The strong vibrant tones of Esther Ward were unmistakable, as was the quieter voice of Wilson Ryan, but despite almost tumbling into the hallway below, Beth was not able to distinguish the content of their conversation. Her father’s voice was not very prominent. But then, it never was, she thought sadly as she continued on her way up the stairs.

  At the top Beth turned to mouth goodnight to Ben. His answer was impatiently to flick his hand in the air in a gesture that warned her to get out of sight before she was discovered. When he saw her disappear into her room, which was almost opposite the staircase, he gave a quiet sigh of relief then strode swiftly along the hallway and towards the sitting room, anxious to return before his mother took it into her head to come and seek him out. Before long he too was adding his own voice to the deliberations, while at the same time making every effort to divert attention from the subject of his ‘wayward sister’ who, according to Esther, ‘would greatly benefit from the discipline of marriage… and of course would make an excellent wife for a man such as yourself, Mr Ryan’. Wilson’s unbridled enthusiasm brought a rare smile to her face as she mentally assessed the worth of his father’s lucrative chain of shops. She had no love for Beth. No maternal instincts whatsoever. But she had no qualms about exploiting the girl in order to feather her own nest. No qualms at all!

  Upstairs in her room Beth sat on the bed, absent-mindedly watching the shadows cast on the wall by the flickering light from h
er bedside lamp. In the dim glow she let her gaze drift lazily round the room. Strange how she had never really felt a sense of belonging to this house, or this room, or even to Esther. She had always loved her father, always thought him to be the most kind and gentle man on God’s earth. Once upon a time he’d had strength too, and had dared to voice his own opinions; but Esther had robbed him of all that. She had sapped his dignity and enthusiasm for life, just as she would have done Beth’s, if her daughter’s will had not been stronger than her own. Beth still loved her father, although she could not help but feel deeply disappointed by the way he allowed his wife to domineer him. She loved Ben also, although she was anxious about his secret gambling and had pleaded with him on more than one occasion to stop. He had assured her that he was now on the ‘straight and narrow’, yet she suspected he might be lying. Whenever she broached the subject, he would turn it around and accuse her of ‘deliberately antagonising Mother with your choice of suitor’. He meant well though, and of course it couldn’t be easy being caught between two women whom he loved, when those two women disliked each other so intensely. Beth understood that, and all her life had tried hard not to cause him pain because of it.

  Leaning back against the pillow she recalled her brother’s words, when he had told her, ‘You really are your own worst enemy.’ In a way he was right. But she could never change the way she was. It was her nature to defend what she believed in her heart to be right, and her heart told her that the love she and Tyler shared was the most wonderful, natural thing in the world. Whenever she was in his arms or strolling beside him in the park, she was filled with a sense of peace and fulfilment. In Tyler, she had found everything she had always longed for. He was something precious. Something that money could not buy. She thought about him now, reliving events of the evening and letting his image fill her mind. The joy it brought moved her to tears. ‘I’ll always belong with him,’ she murmured. ‘Not here. Not in this place, where there are more bad memories than good ones. I don’t belong here. I never did.’