A Family Scandal by Kitty Neale Page A

up,’ Rhona shouted as she ran out of the front door.

    Nearly an hour later, Rhona was getting cold as she stood at the exit to the tube. She knew there were lots of ways out of this particular station but she thought they’d been clear when they’d made their arrangement: the exit closest to Liberty’s. Rhona had never been into the grand old shop but she knew where it was and liked to gaze into its windows – not that she’d have been seen dead in any of the fabrics they displayed. ‘Maybe when I’m thirty,’ she muttered. Where was Gary? Surely he hadn’t stood her up? He’d seemed so keen on Sunday. After Kenneth’s poor performance nearly a week ago, she was beginning to wonder if her luck had turned and she’d lost her touch.
    ‘Hiya, beautiful.’ There was a tap on her shoulder and she turned around and there he was.
    ‘Gary!’ She hoped she didn’t sound too eager. Men didn’t like girls who were desperate. She grinned and made her voice casual. ‘Thought you might’ve had second thoughts.’
    He pulled back and made a face. ‘With you waiting for me? Never. No, I admit I did set off a bit late ’cos I’d had to go round to my old mate Jeff’s place, but then there was some problem on the Camden Road and all the traffic was backed up. I got the bus, I’ll know better next time. Jeff’s a great bloke but not worth me missing a date with you.’
    He put his arm around her shoulders and pulled her close to him. Rhona could smell his aftershave, warm and spicy, and the smell of his body mixed with it – he must have hurried to get here, knowing he was running late. Good, he was still keen.
    ‘Fancy a drink somewhere?’ he asked. ‘I know a quiet pub round here then we can go on and catch some music in that basement bar I told you about.’

    ‘Sounds fab,’ said Rhona, wanting to undo the top button of her mac as it looked better in a deep V shape but she was too cold. ‘I could do with something warm.’ She giggled.
    Gary steered her down the side of Liberty’s and into a back street, where in the orange glow of a streetlight she could see a pub sign swinging in the chilly wind. It was an old-fashioned place with leaded windows and deep green paintwork outside. As he held the door open there was a low buzz of conversation from the small crowd inside. Even though it was a weekday evening the place was far from empty. Gary elbowed his way through to a vacant table and they sat on raised stools.
    ‘Here, I’ll just take my jacket off and then go to the bar. Babycham again?’ he guessed.
    ‘I’ll have a rum and blackcurrant,’ Rhona said. ‘That’s what the Beatles like, I heard it on the radio.’
    ‘Wow, OK,’ Gary whistled. ‘I’ll stick to the bitter if it’s all the same with you. Back in a mo.’
    Rhona leaned back cautiously and lit a cigarette, wondering if she would actually like the new drink. She’d have to pretend she did whatever happened. If the Beatles had it then she’d do her best to enjoy it, as it would mark her out as somebody in the know. She wondered what the Stones drank. Kenneth could have told her, but she wasn’t talking to him.
    Gary came back bearing his pint and a small glass for her and she thought again how like Brian Jones he looked. She smiled involuntarily. ‘Cheers,’ she said, raising the glass and sipping. That wasn’t too bad. Oh, no. Wait a minute. It had an aftertaste she wasn’t at all keen on. She managed not to pull a face and resolved to get used to it. She couldn’t go round having Babycham all the time, everyone drank that.

    ‘So shall I put something on the jukebox?’ Gary suggested. They could hear it playing above the murmur of conversations around them. ‘How about something by the Beatles if you’ve started ordering their favourite tipple?’
    Rhona laughed. ‘It doesn’t mean that I like their music the best. I don’t mind it but there’s other stuff I prefer. Like the Stones. They’re … I don’t know,