the anger in his voice and flinched as though he’d struck her. ‘I should have told you before.’
‘Did you love him?’ he demanded.
‘I hated him. I’ll always hate him.’
‘Then why?’
‘He raped me.’
‘Raped! Who?’
She raised her head and forced herself to look at him. Light shone dimly upwards from the floor, casting amber shadows in the hollows of his cheeks and eyes. ‘It happened when I worked for him.’
He knew it couldn’t be Wyn, and she’d only worked for one other man in Pontypridd. ‘Ben Springer. I’ll kill the bastard!’
‘Someone beat him up shortly afterwards. They made sure that Ben wouldn’t be able to do what he did to me, to any other girl.’
‘William?’
‘No. William never knew. You won’t tell him?’ she pleaded anxiously.
He shook his head, he couldn’t trust himself to answer her. All his life he’d dreamed of a sweet virginal bride. Now he couldn’t even bring himself to look at her. Just thinking about what had happened between them left a bitter taste in his mouth.
‘I’m sorry, I had no right to do this without telling you first. It’s just that I thought you’d realise before … before it happened.’ Words tumbled out one after another in an erratic flow. ‘And then it would be easier for us to talk about it. But it isn’t, is it? If anything, it’s worse.’ She waited for him to say something – to touch her. When he didn’t, she clutched the blanket to her chest, picked up her clothes from the chair and carried them downstairs to the washroom off the kitchen.
She dressed hurriedly in the dark and waited until she was fully clothed before flicking the light switch. Only then did she dare look in the mirror. Her face was pale, bloodless; her eyes dark, her hair ruffled. Taking a comb from her bag she tugged it mechanically through her curls, slipped on her coat and went to the front door. She looked back at the stairs, but Tony hadn’t followed her. She slammed the door, pressing her weight against it to make sure the lock had latched, before turning towards the white-tiled railway tunnel that marked the beginning of the Graig hill.
Tony sat in the bed for a long time after Diana left. He’d heard her go into the washroom, heard her open the front door and knew he ought to call down to her to wait for him to walk up the hill with her, but he couldn’t bring himself to go near her. How could he face her, knowing what he did about her now? And to think he’d actually considered marrying her.
He recalled Ben Springer’s obscenely fat body and clenched his fists. If the man had been in the room with him, he could have quite cheerfully pummelled him into jam and strangled what was left. Then he remembered the rumours that had circulated Pontypridd after Ben had been attacked. Stories to the effect that a doctor had been forced to remove the remains of Ben’s testicles after they’d been subjected to a thorough kicking. He’d asked his brother-in-law, Trevor Lewis about Ben’s injuries at the time, but Trevor had tersely reminded him that no doctor could discuss private matters involving a patient.
But if William hadn’t attacked Ben, who had? He swung his legs out of the bed and reached for his clothes, all excitement at his first sexual experience fading to a dull, embarrassing and humiliating ache. Someone had done the right thing in hurting Ben, but he wasn’t surprised that whoever the hero was, he hadn’t waited around to claim Diana as a prize, because whatever else, she certainly wasn’t fit to be the wife of any decent man, not now. Not after an experience like that.
Diana walked slowly up the hill, stopping every time she heard a footstep ring out into the darkness. Reason told her it wouldn’t be Tony’s, but reason didn’t prevent her from hoping. It was only when she reached the halfway point and followed the broken white line past the entrance to Factory Lane that she started to think through the full
‘Did you love him?’ he demanded.
‘I hated him. I’ll always hate him.’
‘Then why?’
‘He raped me.’
‘Raped! Who?’
She raised her head and forced herself to look at him. Light shone dimly upwards from the floor, casting amber shadows in the hollows of his cheeks and eyes. ‘It happened when I worked for him.’
He knew it couldn’t be Wyn, and she’d only worked for one other man in Pontypridd. ‘Ben Springer. I’ll kill the bastard!’
‘Someone beat him up shortly afterwards. They made sure that Ben wouldn’t be able to do what he did to me, to any other girl.’
‘William?’
‘No. William never knew. You won’t tell him?’ she pleaded anxiously.
He shook his head, he couldn’t trust himself to answer her. All his life he’d dreamed of a sweet virginal bride. Now he couldn’t even bring himself to look at her. Just thinking about what had happened between them left a bitter taste in his mouth.
‘I’m sorry, I had no right to do this without telling you first. It’s just that I thought you’d realise before … before it happened.’ Words tumbled out one after another in an erratic flow. ‘And then it would be easier for us to talk about it. But it isn’t, is it? If anything, it’s worse.’ She waited for him to say something – to touch her. When he didn’t, she clutched the blanket to her chest, picked up her clothes from the chair and carried them downstairs to the washroom off the kitchen.
She dressed hurriedly in the dark and waited until she was fully clothed before flicking the light switch. Only then did she dare look in the mirror. Her face was pale, bloodless; her eyes dark, her hair ruffled. Taking a comb from her bag she tugged it mechanically through her curls, slipped on her coat and went to the front door. She looked back at the stairs, but Tony hadn’t followed her. She slammed the door, pressing her weight against it to make sure the lock had latched, before turning towards the white-tiled railway tunnel that marked the beginning of the Graig hill.
Tony sat in the bed for a long time after Diana left. He’d heard her go into the washroom, heard her open the front door and knew he ought to call down to her to wait for him to walk up the hill with her, but he couldn’t bring himself to go near her. How could he face her, knowing what he did about her now? And to think he’d actually considered marrying her.
He recalled Ben Springer’s obscenely fat body and clenched his fists. If the man had been in the room with him, he could have quite cheerfully pummelled him into jam and strangled what was left. Then he remembered the rumours that had circulated Pontypridd after Ben had been attacked. Stories to the effect that a doctor had been forced to remove the remains of Ben’s testicles after they’d been subjected to a thorough kicking. He’d asked his brother-in-law, Trevor Lewis about Ben’s injuries at the time, but Trevor had tersely reminded him that no doctor could discuss private matters involving a patient.
But if William hadn’t attacked Ben, who had? He swung his legs out of the bed and reached for his clothes, all excitement at his first sexual experience fading to a dull, embarrassing and humiliating ache. Someone had done the right thing in hurting Ben, but he wasn’t surprised that whoever the hero was, he hadn’t waited around to claim Diana as a prize, because whatever else, she certainly wasn’t fit to be the wife of any decent man, not now. Not after an experience like that.
Diana walked slowly up the hill, stopping every time she heard a footstep ring out into the darkness. Reason told her it wouldn’t be Tony’s, but reason didn’t prevent her from hoping. It was only when she reached the halfway point and followed the broken white line past the entrance to Factory Lane that she started to think through the full
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