The Diary Of Pamela D. Read online

  She wanted to thank Theo for lending her his strength and support the night before, but found she didn’t know how. She was spared having to try, however, because upon going downstairs she discovered that Theo had left for London at eight that morning, obviously without sleep; she was told he would be gone for two weeks. Feeling strangely disappointed, she threw herself with renewed vigour into the housework she had begun, spending whole days cleaning the kitchen before moving on to other parts of the mansion.

  A few days later, while Pamela was standing on top of the dining-room table polishing the cut-glass prisms of the chandelier, Doris answered the front door when the bell rang. She returned a few moments later, sorting through several envelopes. ‘There’s something in the mail here for you, Pamela,’ she said, her voice belying nothing. ‘I’ll leave it here on the table for you.’

  Too engrossed in what she was doing to stop, Pamela finished cleaning the last of the grime from the chandelier and tossed her rag in the bucket, its sloshing contents a murky yellow-brown, attesting to years of accumulated cooking grease and smoke stain. Only belatedly she remembered the letter and picked it up. To her delight, she discovered that it was from Tessa. She tore it open, and read:

  Dear Pamela:

  Would you mind very much if I called you Pam? Everyone calls me Tess, except for my aunts and uncles. There’s no need for formality between friends, now is there?

  I got your letter only today. Sorry I didn’t write sooner but we only got back from Danby last night so I didn’t have much of a chance.

  How are aunt Ellie and aunt Doris getting along? They are special, aren’t they? I can’t imagine why they never married, except that they’ve always been perfectly satisfied with their own company, at least, that what I’ve been told. No place for a man in their lives, it seems, unless it’s a visit from the gardener.

  Mum wants to know if you can come visit us this summer, with aunties Ellie and Doris when they come to visit. She liked you very much, Mum did, as did the whole family. As you can tell from my address, I live in Hornsea, which is about 25 km south of Bridlington. I believe I told you over Christmas that I lived in Hornsea, but neglected to tell you where Hornsea was. Like Scarborough, it’s right on the Sea (the Ocean, Mum is telling me over my shoulder). We have a place in Cornwall, too, that my parents let to friends of theirs. Its right on the ocean, and there’s a tiny summer cottage on the property which we can have all to ourselves. By late fall it’s usually empty, so I’m hoping that we can go there sometime in September or October, just you and I, without a bunch of older people bothering us.

  Please say you’ll come. And write soon!

  Your friend, Tess

  Pamela smiled to herself and read the letter over several times before giving it to Ellie and Doris to read, but waited until they finished reading to take it back, as though afraid to let it out of her sight.

  ‘You and Tessa enjoyed each other’s company very much, didn’t you,’ Ellie said thoughtfully as she handed Pamela what she knew to be the girl’s most prized possession of the moment, and went back to kneading bread dough.

  ‘I’ve never had a friend like her before,’ Pamela was able to say without bitterness.

  ‘Nor she, you,’ Ellie told her. ‘I’ve never seen her look so happy.’

  ‘Tessa? I can’t imagine her being unhappy,’ Pamela said.

  Ellie smiled a small, enigmatic smile. ‘Around you, my girl, it’s hard not to find something to smile about. Especially not since you threw out Norrie’s preserves! The poor woman was positively scandalized.’

  Pamela couldn’t help but make a face. ‘But Ellie, they were growing. I was afraid she might actually try to feed them to someone.’

  ‘Yes, well, they had been sitting in the cupboard for a good long time. Fifteen years at least would be my guess. They were rather a fixture in this household, but perhaps you’ve inadvertently saved us all from a fate worse than death.’ She managed to say this without cracking the least hint of a smile, or pausing in her kneading. ‘Regardless, you will help Norrie make some more in the near future, won’t you? At least, let her feel that she’s participating in some small way. It doesn’t take much to make the poor soul happy. All it takes is a little kindness.’

  Pamela cringed, despite Ellie’s attempt to lighten her unintended slight against Norrie’s incompetence. ‘I didn’t realize that I’d hurt her feelings. We’ve got some extra fruit that needs to be used up. How be I fetch her and we make preserves out of that?’

  ‘That sounds splendid,’ Ellie said, her enigmatic half-smile returning. ‘I’m sure that with your help Norrie will be quite herself again.’

  In fact, Norrie did quite well, for Norrie. She was having one of her good days and didn’t forget a thing or become sidetracked. She quite forgave Pamela and seemed happier than she had been since Christmas.

  As they were processing the bottled preserves, Norrie said, quite unexpectedly, ‘I don’t understand why Mr. Theo hasn’t asked you to marry him. There’s no one in his life, and you would be so good for him. I wonder why he hasn’t seen that for himself yet?’

  ‘I don’t know what you mean! Mr. Theo would never want someone like me.’ Pamela said brusquely. ‘I just work in his house. He needs somebody like himself, someone who was born into wealth, who grew up with it, who knows how to deal with it.’

  ‘Piffle! My dear, after the few short months you’ve been here, you practically run this establishment. You think I don’t notice, or that old Norrie’s wits are somewhat addled. But I do know this much! Theo relies on you. He depends on you. And the sooner he comes to realize this for himself, the better!’

  ‘I do only what he tells me,’ Pamela rejoined. ‘I don’t know the first thing about business.’

  ‘Have you told him yet that you’re in love with him?’

  Pamela could only gape.

  Norrie gave her a look that was all too knowing. ‘Come, girl, everyone under this roof knows how you feel about him, with the possible exception of you and Mr. Theo himself. You’ve never been intimate with a man, have you.’ It was a statement.

  ‘What-?’ Pamela, who had gone a deep shade of red, could only manage a squeak.

  ‘You’re still a virgin, aren’t you? That’s why you’re so terrified to get too close to Mr. Theo. God knows, in this day and age, that’s a rare commodity. Unless you want to end up a nun you’d better hurry up and tell him how you feel. He won’t hold out hope forever, you know.’

  ‘Norrie! Theo . . . he doesn’t want me. He’s not the least bit interested-’

  ‘Then why’d he buy you all those new clothes, eh? I know, he told you that the money came from Mrs. D. Well, it didn’t. If you must know, I overheard Mrs. D. saying that it was about time he was nice to the girl, meaning you. So there.’

  ‘Norrie . . . I-’ she stopped herself and, purely on impulse, went over to Norrie and hugged her. ‘I’m sorry I threw out your preserves.’

  ‘Oh, bosh! At least these will be edible. I was having a rather bad time of it when the old batch got made. The others kept them far too long, just to humour me, thinking I didn’t know they’d gone bad. Brr! I hope you had sense enough not to open them before you threw them out. But never mind. A clean slate! That’s what we all need. And you know, my dear, there are times when I can’t help but think of you in those terms. Now come, that’s fifteen minutes. Let’s seal these and get the next batch in before both of us lose track entirely.’

  Theo returned four days later during an horrific snowstorm. There had been a number of problems: icy road conditions, impassable roads, collisions involving several cars. Theo and Mr. Pascoe had just finished changing a tyre only a few miles from the Dewhurst place, and they were both thoroughly chilled and miserable. Without thinking, Pamela brought Theo a large mug of coffee laced with rum as he sat in the sitting room by the fire, glaring at the inclement weather from the safety of his armchair. He accepted the mug from her, smelled it in surprise, and drank deeply. P
amela had turned away and was just about to leave when unexpectedly he said, ‘Wait, please. Sit down a moment. I wish to have a word with you.’

  She did as he asked, but sat on the edge of the chair across from him, stung with misgiving, hands clutched in the hem of her apron. As before, taking in her demeanor, he seemed angry or unsatisfied with what he saw. What he said, however, caught her entirely off-guard.

  ‘I’ve managed to track down your parents.’

  Ashen-faced, Pamela could only stare, waiting for him to continue.

  ‘They’re both alive, living in different parts of North America. Neither of them expressed the slightest curiosity over how you are, or what you look like now that you’ve grown.’

  Looking away from him, Pamela wiped at tears that came unbidden, yet found herself experiencing a sudden detached feeling of desolation that was somehow akin to fate, as though she had known all along that this would moment would come. Her parents were not the kind of people that Theo and his family would ever associate with. It was over.

  ‘When are you sending me back?’

  He was silent for several long moments. At last, he said very quietly, ‘Is that what you want?’ For the first time, his voice sounded gentle, if that was possible.

  ‘What I want?’ she said, bitterly. ‘What I want doesn’t matter, does it? I suppose I should be used to that by now-’

  He took a deep breath, let it out slowly. ‘I’m not sending you back unless that’s what you want. I would rather you stayed-’

  ‘What?’

  Wryly considering her wide-eyed look of surprise, he said, ‘Look, it must be clear by now, even to you, that you’ve made yourself something of an asset around here, not just in our home, but in this community.’ It was clear that this wasn’t what he intended to say, but he plunged ahead. ‘That Cross child would have died if you hadn’t known what to do. The church choir sounds better than it ever has. From what I understand, you have a big solo coming up at Easter. You’ve rattled the cobwebs out of all the dark corners of this house and organised my files. Of course I want you to stay.’ He considered her for a long moment, until she coloured under his scrutiny. ‘All right, Miss Pamela Dee, as Mother says! You may now run away if you wish. I suppose you’re still a little young to understand what I really meant to say to you.’

  Taking his empty coffee mug, she left for the kitchen, trying not to smile. Of course she understood. He wasn’t sending her away after all! She could stay if she wanted to! What could be more obvious?

  She was so elated that for the rest of that day, and for the rest of that week, the little worm of melancholy which had been eating away at her heart was quiescent.

  Inevitably, Pamela’s thoughts turned often to Theo and the time he had kissed her. She didn’t like to think that he’d done so merely because he was a typical male in his prime who merely wanted to satisfy his carnal appetite without any sort of regard for her as a person, that he thought of her only as an object, a toy, a possible outlet. Such thoughts evoked feelings of hurt, anger, betrayal. But who was she kidding! Her own body had betrayed her. If Theo hadn’t allowed her to break free of his grasp, he could easily have taken her. And what was worse, Pamela had no illusions about his physical strength, which was easily more than a dominating force where a mere slip of a girl like herself was concerned, or that when he held her, that she wanted him in ways that made her flush to think of. That feeling in itself made her writhe, with embarrassment, with anticipated pleasure, with outright humiliation, with a strange sort of tingling in her vitals which she instinctively knew was the beginning of carnal desire.

  So much for simply being content to live under the same roof with the man!

  As the weeks went by, a curious thing began happening to her. She was becoming emotionally stronger, bolstered by the people she had come to love, to think of as her very own family, yet weaker at the same time, unable to control her moods, especially where Theo was concerned.

  Winter had lost its harsh sting and was just beginning to show signs of abating when one morning, as the women were serving breakfast to the field workers, they ran short of eggs. It was a strange sort of morning; more like a sepia photograph or an old memory than waking reality. Things moved in a fluid, slow-motion sort of way, like the cloying, wraithlike mists that floated grudgingly across the moors, clinging to the sweeps of gorse as though possessing tendrils.

  ‘Pamela,’ Ellie said as the girl took a fresh loaf of bread out of the oven and set it on the counter to cool, ‘would you mind very much fetching some eggs, please? We’re all out, and I’ve got my hands full at the moment.’

  Pamela, Ellie and the other women members of the staff were wearing brand-new uniforms which they themselves had made only days before. The material was still crisp and new-smelling, and they were dove grey and white, trimmed with a deep burgundy. Of course, all of the women were loath to allow anything to stain, tear, snag or otherwise mar their new and illustrious attire, so they were more than a little stiff and careful in their movements, where before they had been far more loose and casual. This fact stood out in Pamela’s mind, momentarily, as though nothing else mattered in the world. It was as though she were laying on her bed, her vision filled by nothing except a vision of a crisp, new uniform.

  But that was nonsense. Where was she? Oh, yes, she was putting on her wellies, which waited for her on a rubber mat by the back door. Pamela then hitched up her dress on one side with one hand and, carrying the wire egg basket in the other, made her way to the chicken coop. She didn’t mind this chore in the slightest. To get free-range eggs in their freshest possible form caused a childlike wonder to stir within her, and she went about the task dutifully, talking at the chickens as though they were all familiar old friends-

  ‘Well, if it isn’t Miss Prissy Pants.’

  Startled, Pamela almost dropped the basket. ‘Albert! What are you doing, lurking in the dark back there! You almost gave me a heart-attack.’ Though she had been startled, the moment seemed somehow rehearsed, as though she had gone over and over it in her mind, until she had got it just right.

  ‘I saw you coming,’ he said. ‘I came through the back way from the barn.’

  ‘Oh,’ Pamela said, her attention on making her collection. ‘Well, don’t do that. At least make some noise so I know you’re there.’ She was suddenly uncomfortably aware that he was standing very close behind her. Without warning, he put his hands on her waist. Was that what happened? Yes, that’s how it was.

  ‘Come on, Miss Prissy Pants. Let’s go into the barn for a bit.’

  Afraid now, she pulled free of him, continuing with her task, hoping he would simply give up and leave. ‘Don’t touch me like that, Albert! I mean it! Go and do . . . whatever it is that you do. The men are all sitting down having breakfast. Why don’t you go join them?’

  ‘I’ll join them all right,’ he said, and picked her up by the waist, making her cry out in alarm. ‘I’ll join them after we have a little romp in the hay.’

  Unceremoniously, he hoisted her onto his shoulder, causing her to drop the eggs- she watched them, one by one, as they fell- perfect, pristine ovoids one instant, scattered spilth and ruin the next. Terrified now, her mouth dry, she realized that he was going to rape her unless she did something. But he was horribly strong; there was nothing she could do to break his grasp. And for some reason found that she couldn’t scream for help; somewhere in the back of her mind, she felt as though she somehow deserved what was happening to her.

  He carried her into the barn and flung her onto her back on a fresh pile of straw, his gloating, totally self-involved mien chilling; it was all she could do not to throw up from fear.

  ‘You’ve no idea how I’ve been waiting for this, you uppity little slut. Think you’re too good for the likes of me, eh? Don’t want to get a little dirt on all that starched linen?’ He was on her now, having undone his belt and pulled his pants to his knees, before forcing his hands up her dress, grabbing her undergarments.
At that moment, sheer terror accomplished what no amount of calm reason or calculated thought could. She pulled away from him just enough to begin kicking. Somehow she found herself away from him, her hand touching something smooth and hard. It was the handle of a long, three-tined pitchfork. She picked it up, got to her feet, and squared off with him.

  Laughing as he pulled up his pants, still approaching, he said, ‘What you going to do with that Miss Prissy Pants? Poke me with it? Think a little city bitch like you can take me?’

  Call it blind instinct and desperation, call it what you will; she knew in that instant that her continued existence depended on fighting, lashing out at him with every ounce of strength she possessed. Viciously, she jabbed the tines into Albert’s shins, making him back up in surprise. Every time he turned away and exposed some unprotected part of himself, she lunged, utterly without mercy.

  ‘Ow. OW! Stop, damn you! Agh! You little- Get off, or I’ll-’

  ‘Or you’ll what?’ Pamela shouted at him, her features suffused with terror, and with unfamiliar emotions that she could never have imagined before: the desire to lash out and hurt someone, to kill something that was monstrous and evil. She was shaking like a leaf, but managed to keep herself under control. ‘Get moving! Go! Into the chicken coop! You’re going to start by cleaning that basket. Then you’re going to fill it, and if you try anything and you don’t do exactly what I tell you then I’m going to skewer you like a pig. DO YOU UNDERSTAND ME!!!’ Surely that wasn’t her screaming?

  As they came back to the house, there was a crowd standing at the back door, wondering what all the commotion was about. Some of the men were laughing, until the two got close enough to see. All present became utterly silent when Pamela said to Albert in a low voice, as he handed the eggs to Ellie, ‘If you ever try to force yourself on me again, Albert Askrigg, I’ll-’