Sheila’s mother was feeling entirely dissatisfied about the way that conversation had gone.
She made other calls.
She would agonize about what Sheila had told her (and not told her) until the time came for her to leave very early on Saturday morning, feeling that man taking advantage of her poor daughter with every breath, and at every moment, except Sheila hadn’t sounded upset about anything.
However, a lot could happen in even one day, and they’d had three days already to get started on mischief, and likely had done so in all of the beds in the house and every room. Even in the garden. Men were adventurous like that, leading innocent girls astray.
Those things happened when a man came into a girl’s life, although her own husband had been a wonderful surprise for her, and they had been in love from that first moment. She hadn’t been twenty, either, as Sheila was, but sixteen, and she had got pregnant almost immediately too.
She remembered what they had also done soon after their first meeting, just hours after, and without any resistance from her. Her mother hadn’t found out about it for weeks, but her mother had still been difficult.
It was sobering to think that Sheila was only treading in her own mother’s footsteps, but it still didn’t feel right.
She metaphorically kicked herself firmly, berating herself for her lack of trust. What the hell was she worrying about? This was her daughter that she’d raised and had learned to trust for twenty years. Sheila was twenty-years old and had already been away from home looking after herself at university for two of them. She was also much more sensible than her mother had ever been at that age.
Even so, she still worried for her, her only daughter.
That man, that... Peter Walker—she growled his name—had better not have harmed a hair on Sheila’s head. Except his target would not be either her hair, or her head, but a target, targets, lower on her body than that, with the ultimate prize being her quim. They’d had too much time together already if they met on Monday, and had not been apart since then, with him living in the house, and sharing… far too much, over the last three days.
Not even two years at university in that sex-mad environment of exploding hormones had got through to Sheila. But something had; someone had, and much closer to home. Sheila could be being fucked even now in her own home; even after just hanging up the phone! He might even have been doing her as they'd talked!
Brenda realized that she’d not handled it well.
She should phone Annie and find out what she knew. She would know everything, being closer to her daughter in some ways, than her own mother was.
It might not be too late to get Annie. She rarely retired before twelve. She must know something.
She phoned that number from memory.