RAPE OR PASSION - CHAPTER 2

Forest Gate, London E7 was not an area that I was very familiar with. It was grey and dull as I took my first exploratory walks with my younger step brother, Julian.

Obviously, he being only seven at the time, our first excursions were to the local park but alone I went further afield and checked out the local shops. I was in awe at the beautiful asian clothes displayed in some shop windows and I was thrilled to notice that our next door neighbours seemed to be a huge family of Indians, the matriarch of which was frequently to be seen sitting on a sheet in the garden making chappattis.
I tried to engage her in conversation. She smiled but gestured that I should wait a minute.
She went back into her house, brought out a young man who was about the same age as me and smiling like a cheshire cat she resumed her creativity.
"My mother says that you wish to speak to her?" he questioned very politely. I explained that I was asking what she was making.
From there we chatted, asking each other questions to become clear about who we were and what our lives were about.
His mother spoke to him while I waited. He told me that his mother wanted to teach me how to make chappattis and to come to their side gate to gain access.
I was delighted, went shooting through our side gate and appeared at his gate, where he stood still grinning amicably.

We laughed a lot that afternoon, as I poked my inept fingers through the chappatti discs long before they reached the required size. I asked, via her son, how she got her hair so very long and was really surprised to hear her reply.
I have soaked my hair for 24 hours in olive oil before washing it ever since and she was so right, it really did seem to grow faster and longer than I had ever achieved before. She warned me never to believe hairdressers, that they were just trying to make a living.

Within a few days I had secured work with a temporary agency and after doing a few weeks here and there I was sent to an international freighting company in Wapping.
More or less immediately I was offered a full time job there because I had assisted some French and Spanish drivers by translating between them & the director as I was passing in the corridor. Yes, it is true that being in the right place at the right time can make all the difference to a career.

When I told my father how much I was to be paid he gulped & looked at me aghast "How much?" he choked "That is more than I pay myself!"

After a few weeks, when the atmosphere between me & my father had resumed it's usual respect, I casually announced that I would be spending the coming weekend with my old school friend in Harold Wood.
Except I had absolutely no intention of going there at all.
I packed a case on the Thursday evening, took it to work with me on the Friday and left work early having put in overtime during the week to permit me to have Friday afternoon free.
I went to Whitechapel street market, bought myself a new dress, then headed for Liverpool Street station where I boarded a fast train for Clacton on Sea.
In the toilet facilities I stripped, washed and put on the new dress. I spent the rest of the journey putting on make up and doing my hair so that when I arrived in Clacton I looked as glamorous as I possibly could!

Wishing to avoid my family, I booked into a cheap bed and breakfast, dumped my bag in my room and headed for the centre of town. It was about 4pm in the afternoon by the time I found Tony calling out the bingo numbers in the amusement arcade and looking totally bored out of his mind.
I sat down on one of the stools and grinned at him.
He completely lost his place, fuddled his way to the end of his shift and suggested that we should get something to eat.

We caught up on our news and he was looking forward to the coming Monday when he would be starting a new job.
"I am going to be a roofer!" he said proudly, going on to explain how he had been chatting to two guys in a pub and they were desperate for a labourer.
He had leapt at the chance to be outside during his working day and was not worried about heights, of which I confessed to being hopelessly terrified.
We spent the whole weekend together but I slept at the B&B because he was still sharing a bedsit with his brother and it was not the cleanest place I had ever been.

Over the following weeks he would phone me at the office every day and I would go through the same routine at the weekends until he managed to find a two roomed flat.
Conveniently his brother was renting a similar flat on the same floor with his girlfriend Jeanette and other young people rented all the other flats.
We found ourselves with a whole new set of friends and access to the flat roof for sunbathing parties.

Tony took to roofing with a joy. He got on really well with Barry and Ray, who were brilliant teachers and highly respected professional tradesmen.
One day he phoned me at the office in London to say that he wanted my Dad's work phone number.
"Whatever for?" I asked, shocked.
"It's a printing job, advertising.... sort of" came the reply. Realising that my father would never knock back a business opportunity I gave Tony the number and totally forgot about it as I went about my working day in the office.
I worked overtime that evening until past 8pm, translating documents in the peace of an empty office.
When I turned the key in the door of my home I was greeted by my father's voice "Frances, is that you?"
He called me into the lounge, while Mary warmed my dinner.
"Tony phoned me earlier" he said expressionlessly.
The rush of memory hit me as I said "Oh really?"
"Yes" came the solemn reply.
"He wants to marry you" equally solemnly.

I think I sat there looking like a gasping goldfish, I was so very shocked.
"What did you say?" I dared to ask, wincing and expecting the worst.
"Well, I said I would think about it and talk to you first" he stated as if we were chatting about a new colour scheme or a minor family matter.
Mary, ever the diplomat, came in just at that moment with my steaming evening meal and I moved to the dining table at the other end of the room, somewhat relieved to have something normal to do.

Over the next few days Mary discussed the matter with my father and somehow persuaded him that the best course of action would be for me to live with Tony for a minimum of six months.
If, after that period, I was still happy then my father would agree to the marriage.
This took both Tony and I completely by surprise.
It seemed so very modern for a traditional father like mine, but Mary was very much younger than him with a mysterious power of persuasion that proved to be invaluable.

The following weekend I packed all that I could carry and my father helped me to the train station.
"Don't give your job up, will you?" he said anxiously.
"No way" said I and assured him that I loved my job and would commute from Clacton even though it meant a 12 hour day.

Tony met me at Clacton station to help me carry the bags.
He led the way to his brother's car and having got me settled into the passenger seat he opened the driver's door and climbed in.
"What are you doing?" I asked confused "I didn't know you could drive!"
"I learned!" he grinned "This week!"
I white-knuckled it all the way through town, absolutely terrified as he concentrated as if his life depended on it, which of course, it did!
"But you haven't got a driving license!" I wailed.
"A mere technicality!" he stated as we pulled up onto the forecourt of his home.

I have to confess to being completely impressed that he had quickly learned to drive, just to collect me from the station. As I set about fitting my unlimited stuff into the limited cupboard space, he was chatting about roofs he had worked on and a surprise he had for me.

We ate a quick meal but I felt really nervous.
I was becoming aware that Tony's surprises were usually not something I could ever imagine.

He produced a ring box and fumbling a bit, he muttered something about getting engaged.
It was such a pretty ring. A diamond in a flower shaped white gold setting on a plain gold band. Very simple and original.

I think I burst into tears which confused him a bit.
I always cry when I am happy, only God knows why.