Barbara Blandford is a happy and powerful young woman, but events are beginning to turn against her, reviving memories of an unhappy childhood.
CHAPTER THREE
Dianne Blandford, dressed only in a purple robe paced the lounge floor restlessly. Barbara could scarcely recall seeing her mother so angry and ill at ease.
‘I trust you don’t expect me to contribute to your foolhardy action young lady, whatever possessed you to pursue this foolhardy course I’ve no idea, I thought that when you’d completed your studies, at least you would have spent a little time at home contemplating before jumping in with both feet.’
Barbara’s ebony eyes held her mother’s furious gaze unflinchingly; financial help in her move with Mark? She wouldn’t have considered asking for it. Although not having worked professionally for some years Dianne held an inheritance of considerable proportions, though the possibility of a handout hadn’t entered her mind. She was prepared to stand and be counted on the issue.
‘I’m not jumping in with both feet, as you put it,’ her voice composed, she stared back defiantly, ‘I’m big enough and old enough to look after myself.’
‘Only you won’t simply be looking after yourself, will you Barbara?’ Dianne retorted, seizing her opportunity with a sudden self confidence. ‘You’ll be catering for him as well.’
Barbara swung away and faced the front bay window. She slapped her palm against her forehead before turning back with a forced smile, ‘Mother how can you say that? Mark has prospects as promising as my own, he’ll be a civil engineer in no time…’
Dianne flung out her arms, ‘I know it seems all hunky dory, Barbara, but I sense something in him and I of all people should know - remember my own experience.’
Barbara’s face soured. She didn’t need reminding of that, nonetheless she wasn’t about to let her mother’s misfortunes guide her. The legacy of her father’s heartless actions had left its scar but she was going to trust and believe in Mark – stand and fall by him, not all men were the same. Moreover, it seemed that her mother’s attitude towards them of late had been sculptured purely out of her own experiences, less and less it seemed was reason the prevailing factor.
‘My mind’s made up,’ Barbara crossed her arms and calmly stared her mother out. There was an intransigence in the stance that finally convinced Dianne of the hopelessness of her task.
‘You’ll get no inheritance from me my girl, neither of you…’ as soon as the words had left her mouth Dianne wished she could scoop them right back in.
‘Thanks Mother,’ Barbara said flatly, ‘do you really think I’d let that influence my thinking?’ She turned her back, headed for the door.
‘Barbara wait…’ Barbara hurried to the lounge door, grabbing her daughter’s arm.
‘Not now Mother if you please, I’ve a busy day ahead.’ Barbara’s arms were solid and strong, and she freed herself easily, climbing the stairs two at a time whilst trying to clear her head of conflicting emotions.
Mother had been angry and upset, of course she had; her actions had been governed by concern she had no doubt, but it was still concern formed by her own tribulations. Of course the blame lay with her father for the appalling way he’d broken away all those years ago. It had rocked their small family to its foundations, uprooted the core of their lives and scattered the segments around like the aftermath of an explosion. He’d seemed so caring, she could see now it was only a cover – it had always been, simply to divert attention from his adulterous activities.
And mother had never proved strong enough to fight back, she’d allowed the experience to overcome her – though it had been with his help – showing up at every unwanted moment like a key-holder unlocking all her stored up memories.
Barbara could never forgive her father, inside she knew it. As a result mother probably felt increasingly uncertain and alone, and although she was prepared to give her as much support as she was able, in the end she too, had a life.
*
David Hutchings, lean bespectacled chairman of the Partridge-Hutchings Partnership, cast a keen eye over the rear yard from his vantage point in the penthouse of the five storey office block that formed the headquarters of his company. As he did so Hutchings caught sight of a white Ford Cortina maneuvering into a parking bay below. The dark haired young woman who alighted, brief case in hand, instantly commandeered his attention. He turned to fellow director Roland Weismann, his index finger singling her out, ‘That young lady, Miss Blandford – I believe she’s been with us one month?’
Hutchings acknowledged the affirmation, ‘I’m more than satisfied with initial reports of her progress. We as a rapidly expanding organisation should have plans for her, make her feel an integral part of the team before another consortium does. With her educational background we did well to acquire Miss Blandford.’ Hutchings removed his spectacles pensively, ‘We need to prime those young shoulders for more responsibility at an early stage – call Charles and Siegfried, have them make themselves available, along with yourself in my office at eleven thirty.’
Weismann frowned, with his red face and bulbous nose he might have been judged comical had the effect not been offset by a distinguished crop of silver hair. But he was also shrewd, and the chairman’s enthusiastic backing for a youngster of whom he’d presumably little knowledge struck him as strange and in his memory, unprecedented. Weismann turned, preparing to comment but Hutchings had begun dictating a memo.
It was approaching noon when Barbara received an unexpected summons to the executive suite of the Partnership. Tentatively she left her desk, one of many set out military fashion across the advertising section floor, and dressed in a smart knee length beige suit she made her way to the top floor, and the executive suite.
‘Come in Miss Blandford,’ Hutchings rose, indicating a vacant chair at an oval oak table, around which sat four other figures.
‘I’ll begin by acquainting you with my board Miss Blandford, before explaining exactly why you’re here.’ The chairman, who she reckoned to be in his early forties wasted little time in introducing them. Despite her surprise and a little apprehension she remained alert, coolly profiling each one of them.
‘I’ll not beat about the bush,’ Hutchings began in Oxbridge-like tones, ‘our time is at a premium and we’re a go-ahead organisation, which is why we’ve singled you out for immediate advancement. Should you of course be prepared to accept the challenge at such an early stage.’
Barbara dusted down her skirt, crossed her legs and thought she perceived a cool glance from Hutchings’ red-headed secretary, introduced as Dawn Shelton.
‘In a nutshell Miss Blandford, we’re more than impressed by your qualifications and the first rate start you’ve made. Our company is rapidly acquiring a major name in market research and we believe we’ll benefit from what you obviously have to offer. That is why we’re coordinating a plan whereby you spend approximately two months with each of our section leaders; Consumer Research, Financial Accounts, Contracting, Advertising, Buying, Planning and so forth, to provide you with an in depth knowledge of our organisation, following which, in a year or so if all goes well, you’ll be ready for a role in a senior capacity – interested?’ Hutchings gave her a long glance then looked to the others for their confirmation of his proposal.
There were mandatory nods and grunts though Weismann was noticeably non-committal, while Barbara, more than pleased endeavoured not to show it, attempting instead to weigh each of them up. Dawn Shelton had been taking notes, but now, faced raised in her direction there seemed an expression of resentment, for whatever inexplicable reason.
‘Thanks, I’ll be pleased to accept,’ Barbara flashed a smile, though it turned to ice as she fixed Shelton with a momentary piercing stare.
Barbara stayed on until seven that evening before leaving the building, she’d assigned herself diligently to her work spurred on by the unexpected opportunities offered by the board of directors. But now she had an appointment in its way equally surprising, though of a different nature. As she pulled out of the car park onto the busy trunk road her thoughts turned to the brief conversation she’d had with Mark just prior to lunch. He’d been bursting with enthusiasm over the flat they’d been offered in Atkinson Street, on the outskirts of Chelmsford. Pleased that he’d seemed to have come up with something at such an early stage Barbara had readily agreed to meet him, though such had her devotion been to the tasks at hand she’d failed to realise the encroaching time.
At best, her endeavours were likely to leave her ten minutes late, but she trusted that Mark would excuse her for that. She spotted him waiting in the side road opposite the house, sitting in his car, arm extended from an open window, cigarette between his fingertips.
He jumped out on her arrival, slim, some five inches taller than her; she thought he looked terrific in his pale yellow cotton shirt, flared white striped trousers and platform shoes.
‘Hi babe,’ he smiled a greeting, his fair hair ruffled by the breeze making him look deceivingly unkempt, ‘I like the beige suit, aren’t you the executive?’
‘Guess so,’ she said, hanging onto her good news for a while longer and then sliding between his arms as he swung round to face the terraced, redbrick house.’Top floor, love, we’re really lucky to get this place so soon. I mean…’
‘Hey hang on, I haven’t seen it yet,’ she said, scanning the upper floor.
A mock frown deepened his brow, ‘Is it so important?’
‘Considering it’s our first home? No,’ she held on to him as they examined the outside in the evening sunlight, ‘Oh what a day.’
He glanced at her and this time the frown was for real, ‘Mother giving you grief?’
‘I can handle it, but no there’s something else,’ breaking into a smile she tapped him on the arm, ‘come on then, let’s size up our first home.’
*
Dianne Blandford had never felt so frustrated and isolated, yet it wasn’t solely attributable to her mundane existence. Life for her was comfortable enough, she didn’t have to worry about where the next penny was coming from – and ambition – she had at one time been a highly rated legal secretary – had long since left her. In fact it had
left her after she’d given birth to Barbara, her only child. From then on Martin had taken on the mantle of provider and it seemed of ideal father and husband.
How wrong could she have been, and how times could change. He’d proved unfaithful to her, unworthy of their daughter, and she could well understand Barbara’s animosity towards him; she’d felt the loathing herself, was sickened by his behaviour but nonetheless had kept her resentment in check.
And now he’d phoned yet again, the third time in two days expressing is sorrows at their estrangement, saying he desperately wanted to renew friendship with their daughter. Dianne was not even certain of his true intentions on that score, for many times over the past few months he’d called pleading for reconciliation but it hadn’t been in her heart to even consider it. Perhaps through Barbara he’d hope to weasel his way back in but there was no way that would happen.
But she’d given ground on Barbara, finally consenting to him calling on her later that evening, when presumably she’d be home. Precisely why she’d consented when she knew Barbara’s feelings towards him Dianne didn’t know. There were enough problems in their own relationship over Mark and the move to invite any further turmoil.
Perhaps also, deep in her subconscious she desired the wheel to turn full circle. As if coming face to face with her father would introduce Barbara to reality as she viewed it.
Dianne’s own instincts had told her that she saw in Mark, another Martin in the making, but trying to implant that feeling into a vibrant twenty one year old was another matter.
She heard footsteps along the path and recognized them as his, recalled how once she’d been pleased to hear them – but that was long ago. Now she listened apathetically for the chimes of the bell and all too soon they rang out. Martin was here, there was no recourse now.
Opening the door, she gazed at him with momentary resentment before lowering her eyes. ‘Come in,’ she said flatly. She’d taken in his appearance in that brief second, he’d aged more than he’d imagined; there was grey stubble around his chin which served as a beard, a bulge around his midriff and he’d lost a lot of hair. In spite of it all, as she led the way into the lounge they’d once shared, something stirred within, but it wasn’t to be allowed to
influence her. The memories of the cold, ruthless way he’d alienated himself from them held sway over everything else.
‘I’d just like to thank…’
‘Cut it right there Martin,’ she stared at his face, reddening in middle age, folded her arms, her fingers tapping rapidly on them. For his part, there was a steadfastness and determination in her eyes which surprised him. ‘You shouldn’t have come,’ she said in the same flat voice, ‘it’s not going to work – and don’t think I’ve allowed this for your benefit either; if I were you I’d turn around now and walk right back out.’
‘I can’t do that,’ came the mumbled reply, ‘not without seeing my daughter, not now I’m here.’
Barbara sighed, ‘Very well, I’ve tried to tell you, I don’t know how long you’ll have to wait, still two sugars is it?’ she asked, looking disapprovingly at his shape.
*
‘See you tomorrow night and the film had better be as good as you reckon,’ Barbara laughed affectionately as Mark kissed and caressed her, finally breaking away with a departing kiss on his lips.
She drove home in a much lighter frame of mind than when she’d set out for the office earlier in the day. For
her career prospects to appear so promising at such an early juncture was more than she could have wished for, though of course you never counted your chickens - oh no. Then had followed the flat: again the speed with which the development had materialised had confounded her expectations and it hadn’t seemed at all bad; a bit cramped maybe and in need of a broom but she’d soon see to that.
As Mark had conceded somewhat apprehensively, it wasn’t what she was used to but to hell with that, the point was they’d made a decision, taken a positive step and made it together as rational young adults. There was nothing reckless about it as mother feared. It was time for change, mother’s attitude was well meaning but entrenched in the past, adaptability and flexibility were requirements of the present, which brought Barbara’s thoughts back to her mother. They had always been close, and that closeness had been augmented by her father’s actions. Her varsity studies had been punctuated by visits home at every affordable opportunity, spent as much in her mother’s company as Mark’s.
Now however, there were strains in their relationship, no, more than that, signs of a divide. Barbara vowed as she entered the avenue to tolerate the intransigence which appeared to be dogging her mother. The discord had gone far enough.
The bright skies of day had slowly transformed into twilight as she approached the house and the light thrown by the streetlamp revealed an outline of a car in the driveway. Pulling in behind she saw it was a Rover 2000, and it seemed a new one. Immediately clouds started rolling in as she thought of her father’s partiality to that make of vehicle. She felt her temperature begin to soar as she entered the hallway and within all was eerily silent – no television, no radio – unusual in itself, only the ticking of the lobby clock was disturbing the stillness – and she sensed them with a surge of animosity that he was there.
Barbara slowed her stride, steeling herself against the impetus that rising adrenaline was giving her, then pushed the lounge door firmly.
He was seated in a recliner facing her mother, it might for all the world have been a scene from her childhood – except that it wasn’t. It was another mental image from the past that fought its way into her then – the one she’d seen as an eight year old. The one she’d seen from her playroom window while her parents whispered heatedly in the hallway. The vision of a smooth and
hospitable environment , fresh and green, that changed to a stark and foreboding grey before her very eyes. Now before her in silence sat the man responsible, looking calm and composed as though nothing had ever changed.
Well it had.
‘Hello angel dear,’ he raised himself up and took a step towards her, arms outstretched. Barbara recoiled, clenched her teeth and glared in anguish at her mother who was making a pretence at sewing her cardigan.
‘What’s he doing here?’ She swung back towards him, ebony eyes portraying the cold fire she felt inside, ‘No don’t you touch me, don’t you dare,’ her voice had dropped to a whisper but the threat unnerved him.
He halted, a tic twitching in his cheek, ‘Don’t – don’t take that approach angel…’
‘Don’t call me angel,’ the forced quietness erupted into venom but it was her mother who felt the full blast of Barbara’s fury, ‘why did you let him come here? Tell him to go.’
‘Let me explain, ang – Barbara, please…’
Dianne threw down the sewing she was making such a wretched job on; she hauled herself up, ‘Please let’s not have a scene, hear him out and then, Martin… please go.’
‘Make it quick.’ Barbara crossed her arms, uncertain of what she might do with them otherwise, and fixed her unblinking gaze on him.
Martin Blandford began, then baulked; his daughter’s expression was one of open hostility and he knew then that his mission was doomed to failure. He was faced with a wife who resented him and a daughter who despised him, he’d not planned for this.
‘If you’ve nothing to say then get out,’ Barbara hissed, ‘give us a break.’
He tried again, leaned forward, his hands clasped together, ‘I came to apologise for the upset I’ve caused you and your mother. Look I know what I’ve done and I’ve paid, believe me I have; Barbara honestly love I simply want a sound footing, if that’s too much then let’s work on a new beginning – we can’t go all our lives with this animosity between us…’
Barbara’s bitter laugh broke a stony silence, she placed her hands on hips, narrowly avoiding the temptation to use them, ‘Oh yes we can.’ Her stance was unnerving him and she knew it; she could do this to people when she wanted, at times like this she became sheer pent up aggression, she could feel it scorching her veins, bursting to get out… he only had to say too much… but at the last moment she summoned every ounce of will power to prevent it…
‘I think you’d better go…’ She could see he was frightened by the look in her eyes as he turned to her mother for support.
‘I should do as she says,’ Dianne Blandford said tiredly, ‘I told you no good would come of this.’
Barbara took a step closer, she was snarling and Martin grimaced that such a beautiful face could display such hatred and direct it at him.
‘I’ll count to three and if you’re still here I’ll throw you out – don’t you think I couldn’t?’
Martin had been taking in the face, but now he took in the whole show… her broad shoulders, her powerful arms…
This wasn’t the young Barbara he’d known and she knew that he’d taken in as much. She didn’t even have to count to one, he was on his feet and bound for the door, trying one parting shot as he quickly paused, ‘Nobody could say I didn’t try.’
‘I’ll treat that with the contempt it deserves,’ she hurled the door shut, then watched through the window as he
reversed down the drive, vowing never to call him father again, he wasn’t worthy of it.
But as she gave her mother an icy glance she recalled her earlier resolve to bridge the gulf that was developing between them, somehow that commitment had waned.
Boom! Pain! Blackness!
After an RPG attack on their barracks in Afghanistan, corpsmen, Amber Fox and Luke Owens wake up in an Army hospital in Germany.
Thus, begins a four-month recovery for both of them. Amber lost her left leg bel
A young man’s need for respect and his search for love enables him to be coerced into becoming an undercover cop. Follow this man to see how others see him and try to understand why the job he becomes obsessed with and his quest for love, tear him ap
Love, romance, innocence, intrigue, danger, and lust. Life is complicated, and love even more so. Life, and love, can be hazardous to a lady's health. Especially if she's fallen in love with a married pop star.
