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I smile sadly. ‘I remember.’
‘It’s not fair, Clara. He was such a good man. Why did he have to die?’
I nod. ‘I know. Dad would have done anything to be able to stick around. Knowing he wouldn’t be able to watch Bertie grow up was terrible for him.’
‘Or walking you down the aisle.’ She looks over at me. ‘He kept talking about that, you know. I said I’d stand in for him, and he laughed and asked if that was a promise or a threat. You and I weren’t exactly best pals at that stage. I thought you hated me for trying to take your mum’s place.’
I shake my head. ‘I never thought that. You’re so... different to Mum.’
She chuckles dryly. ‘I know. Your mum was kind and thoughtful... the perfect parent. It was clear your dad worshipped her. I was never under any illusions that I could match up, believe me.’
‘You shouldn’t be so hard on yourself,’ I murmur.
‘I would, you know. Walk you down the aisle. If you wanted me to.’
‘Would you?’ Her offer takes me so completely by surprise that my reaction is to laugh.
‘Well, it’s not that funny, is it?’ she says indignantly.
‘No, not at all,’ I say quickly. ‘It’s– um– the idea of me getting married. There’s about as much chance of that as Sunnybrook Boys winning the FA Cup.’
‘Well, stranger things have happened.’ But she’s smiling.
I grin at her. ‘Thanks very much.’
‘You’re welcome.’
We sit in silence for a moment, both of us staring at the blue swing, which is looking rather shabby now and could do with a good scrub.
And then I brace myself to ask the question I’ve been wanting to know the answer to for a while. ‘Why did you decide to become an escort, Irene?’
She turns and looks at me, and I almost wish I could take back the question because her eyes are suddenly clouded with despair. It’s clearly a huge struggle for her to talk about it. But finally, she starts to tell me.
‘I fell into it because I thought I had no other choice, Clara.’ She turns to me with a sad little smile. ‘I was just sixteen, homeless and desperate. But one day, I met a girl in a shelter, the same age as me, and she told me she was going to be working for an escort agency. She told me there was money to be made and she asked me if I wanted to do it with her. We could go along together and it would be easier because we wouldn’t be on our own.’
Irene shakes her head sadly. ‘How naïve we were. The plan was to make enough money so that we could rent a flat together. Then we’d get jobs working in a shop or a bar, and then we wouldn’t have to do it any more. But it didn’t work out like that, of course...’
‘But why were you homeless, Irene? I thought your aunts looked after you when your parents died?’ I remember Dad telling me this, and the picture he painted was a rosy one– of Irene’s mum’s two unmarried sisters sharing a house, and opening their doors gladly to their young niece, who so desperately needed love and comfort after losing both her parents.
Irene snorts. ‘That’s what everyone thought, of course. Lovely Aunt Nora and Aunt Mabel– pillars of society, pious and charitable– coming to the aid of their poor orphaned niece.’
I stare at her, shocked. There’s bitterness in every word she’s saying.
She smiles. ‘My lovely Granny Ivy would have taken me in like a shot, but she was getting older and suffering from a painful back condition. She couldn’t have handled a little five-year-old. And she died when I was nine.’ Her eyes fill with tears. ‘I loved Granny Ivy so much. She left me her engagement and wedding rings in her will and I kept them safe all those years. I passed them on to Lois when she turned twenty-one.’ She shakes her head. ‘I hate myself for having pawned them. I would never have imagined I could do that to Granny Ivy’s precious rings.’
‘It shows how desperate you were. You’ll get them back,’ I murmur, squeezing her hand. ‘But you were telling me about your aunts. They weren’t kind to you?’
She laughs bitterly. ‘Clara, they didn’t know the meaning of the word. They were all sweetness and light when we were out together. But behind closed doors, they treated me like a housemaid. They let me know that I was nothing but a hindrance in their lives. I had to earn their respect by waiting on them and dancing to their tune, and if I didn’t toe the line, I simply didn’t eat. I was three when Mum died, and five when Dad was killed in an accident at work. I’d known nothing but love up until that point. But the shock of going to live with those two witches...’ She shakes her head. ‘It’s coloured my life ever since. They beat me with a belt when I was “bad”, so I always tried my hardest to be good. But it was never, ever good enough.’
‘Oh, Irene. Wasn’t there anyone you could tell... confide in? An adult who would have been able to take action?’
She shakes her head. ‘I couldn’t. They made me so afraid. I knew if I told on them, things would be a hundred times worse at home. And anyway, these were two “pillars of society” who went to church every Sunday. Who would have believed me?’
‘So you left home as soon as you could?’
She nods. ‘I ran away when I was sixteen. They were getting older by then and they’d stopped the physical abuse, probably because they knew I’d hit back. But one day, I just snapped. I’d had enough. I didn’t think about where I’d go or what I’d do. I just packed a bag and walked, and after spending a few nights sleeping rough in a railway siding, I found my way to a homeless shelter. And that’s when I met the friend who offered me a way to make some cash.’
‘So you started working for the escort agency? I can’t imagine how you must have felt. Just sixteen years old.’
