Two Women (32 page)

Barry nodded, amazed at how complicated this job seemed to be. He liked the old man, though, and was grateful for this chance.

‘You won’t regret taking me on, Ivan.’

The older man looked into his face and said flatly, ‘If I do, son, you’ll be the first to know.’

 

The kids were in bed and the baby was lying beside her on the sofa as Susan watched television. She was enjoying a few hours of peace and quiet. She hoped Barry wasn’t going to come home now and spoil it all. She still had to make some jelly and a trifle for Wendy’s birthday party the next day. She had got the money from Kate, Barry as usual pleading poverty.

Susan kissed her little son’s fingers and he crowed with delight. He was gorgeous. Holding him into her breasts, she caressed his little sturdy body as she watched Starsky and Hutch, smiling at their antics on screen with Huggy Bear.

Twenty minutes later she was asleep, tiredness enveloping her body like a shroud. Barry came home at just past midnight and stood in the doorway looking at her and his son.

Barry Junior had dumped and the acrid smell permeated the room. Susan was snoring softly, her face almost pretty in repose. Barry watched them. He saw his son move, trying to get comfortable, and heard his snuffling. He saw Susan instinctively hold him tighter, moving her body as she slept to accommodate him.

Barry smiled and wished he had not hit her earlier in the day.

On the kitchen table was a ham sandwich and a cheese sandwich, covered in clingfilm. Seeing this little bit of homely care made him feel guilty. She was a good sort, old Susan really. A kindly person.

As he opened the sandwiches and the bottle of Scotch he had bought, he heard her stirring in the lounge. After putting the baby in his cot in their room she came back downstairs and into the kitchen.

‘I thought I heard you. Want me to do you a bit of egg and bacon?’

‘Nah, that’s all right. Get up to bed, mate, and I’ll join you in a minute.’

He was being nice to her and she felt like crying at this change in him. He could be so good at times, so nice, like he used to be.

‘It’s Wendy’s birthday tomorrow and I have to get me arse in gear and start the jellies and that. I fell asleep watching bloody Starsky and Hutch.’

She put the kettle on and began taking bowls out of the cupboards.

‘Do it in the morning.’

Susan shook her head. ‘I won’t have time. I have to do all the sandwiches and cakes tomorrow. Your mum’s going to give me a hand, and Doreen.’

Barry nodded, resigned.

‘I got a job.’

Susan turned towards him, beaming.

‘Really, what you doing?’

He shrugged nonchalantly.

‘You are now looking at the new doorman for the Hiltone Club. A oner a night.’ He threw fifty pounds on the table and she looked at it gleefully. ‘I got a sub from Ivan, the old cunt. Practically had to prise it out of him with a fucking jemmy.’

His countenance was dark now, remembering Ivan’s warning.

‘Don’t try and tuck me up, Barry. I know all about you and I hear everything, remember that.’

He had swallowed it, had had to. He owed money all over, especially the bookies. He was going to have to sort out a scam at some point to clean his slate.

‘Well, at least it’s a start. What kind of club is it?’

Barry bit into his sandwich noisily.

‘It’s a hostess club of all things. But the money’s good and the hours. A lot of responsibility, though, a hell of a lot.’

This was said with a great deal of self-importance.

‘Can you get your collar felt, that’s what I want to know?’

Barry tutted loudly.

‘Why do you do it, Sue, eh? Why do you have to put the mockers on everything? I try and make a fucking living and you mug me off.’

He was spitting out food as he spoke, his anger building, and Susan felt her heart sink.

‘All right, Bal, keep your fucking hair on. I was worried about you, that’s all.’

He stood up and poked her hard in the chest.

‘Well, fucking don’t worry about me, all right? Worry about yourself and getting some of that fucking fat off your arse. You look like a fucking sow as usual.’

Picking up his plate, he smashed it against the wall. Susan stood white-faced and silent, waiting for it to be over, hoping it was.

‘You’ve even turned me fucking mother against me, you have. Everything I do you fuck up somehow. You fucking Jonah.’

He was incoherent with rage. Susan watched helplessly as he ranted on and threw everything to the floor. She watched the jellies she had begun making hit the lino and sighed inside herself.

Then he was poking her again, hard bony finger prodding her soft chest. Hitting her milk-swollen breasts as hard as he could, making her flinch, making her nothing. She tried to disappear inside herself, go to her special place, but Barry was not having any of it. Tonight for some reason he wanted her to answer him.

She couldn’t.

He pushed her with the flat of his hand and she slipped heavily on the soaked floor, face banging hard against the lino as she tried to save herself.

He looked down at her and shook his head as if in disgust before he kicked her.

‘Please, Bal, please! Not tonight, mate, it’s Wendy’s party tomorrow. Please leave it, mate, please.’

He mimicked her.

‘Please, Bal, leave me alone. You fucking wind me up and then you expect me to let it go, don’t you?’

He was genuinely incredulous.

Susan pulled herself to her knees. She could hear the kids getting up and prayed they would have the sense to stay upstairs until it was all over. He punched her in the side of the head then, knocking her flying across the kitchen.

Wendy and Alana came into the room.

‘Leave my mummy alone, you horrible bully!’

Alana’s voice was high-pitched with fear.

Wendy stood like a statue in the doorway. Susan’s eyebrow was bleeding and she could feel a lump forming on the side of her head. He had opened her eyebrow with a heavy gold keeper ring she had bought him one Christmas.

‘Go back upstairs, darlin’, Mummy’s all right. Just go back to bed and I’ll be up in a minute to tuck you in.’

But Wendy came into the room and went to help her mother up. Barry’s hand hit the child as she passed him, knocking her flying. The blow was hard and Wendy screamed out in pain and shock.

The next second Susan was on her feet. She used her body weight to knock Barry out of the child’s path. Then, as she went to Wendy, he grabbed her arm to stop her. The little girl was on the floor, nightie soaked from the molten jelly and her face red from the blow.

She was still screaming.

The next thing Susan was aware of was both girls pulling her away from Barry - who was on his knees in front of her now as she held a knife to his throat. The big carving knife she used to cut bread for the kids.

‘Mummy - stop it, stop it!’

Alana’s voice was a high-pitched scream, terror in her every word.

Susan shook the girls off her.

‘Get upstairs. Now!’

Her voice was loud and brooked no argument. The girls ran from the room. Susan looked Barry in the eye.

‘You ever touch my kids again and I’ll slice you into little pieces, do you hear me, boy?’

For the first time in his life Barry Dalston was scared of his wife.

‘Let go of me, Susan, I mean it. If you don’t, I’ll break your fucking neck.’

She laughed, a small bitter sound she would have sworn she did not have inside her.

‘You touch my kids again and you’d better break my neck, mate, because if I can get my hands on you, I’ll kill you. I mean it, Barry. I’ll fucking kill you.’

He knew she meant it and swallowed hard. He saw the truth in her eyes, heard it in her voice.

She removed the knife from his neck slowly, her whole body shuddering as she tried to draw breath.

Everything felt different somehow. Even the teeth in her head felt strange and out of place. She had a tannic taste in her mouth that she guessed was blood and imagined the tableau they must have made for the kids.

She dropped her arm to her side, still keeping hold of the carving knife.

‘Get out, Barry. Get out now.’

He waited until she was relaxed before he lunged at her and took the carving knife from her grasp.

Then he laughed.

‘You really meant that, didn’t you, Sue? The mother hen looking after her chicks, eh?’

He sounded proud of her, friendly even. But she wasn’t fooled. Picking up a tea towel she held it to her eye. She was immune to pain now. Having experienced it so often, this was like a paper cut to her. She looked him in the eye.

‘I ain’t joking, Bal. No one touches my kids, not even you. Now go and stay somewhere else tonight, go round one of your old sorts or something, but leave this house.’

She walked from the kitchen and went upstairs to try and calm the children. Wendy had run her a bath and was trying to soothe little Barry who had woken up with all the noise.

‘You all right, Mum?’ Wendy’s own face was swollen and Susan knew she would be bruised.

‘Are you all right, mate? Let Mummy look at your face, heartbeat, let me kiss it for you, make it better. Daddy isn’t well, love. He don’t know what he’s doing.’

Barry stood at the bottom of the stairs and listened to her talking to the child.

‘Come on, let’s put some witch hazel on it, bring the bruise out, eh? Then I’ll make us all hot milk and biscuits.’

Alana was crying still, her little sobs were heartbreaking.

Susan put the two girls in the bath about ten minutes later, telling them they both had Monday off school.

‘Now have a little play and I’ll tidy the kitchen up and make us something nice, eh?’

They nodded dutifully.

‘Can I still have me party, Mum?’

Susan smiled.

‘’Course you can, heartbeat, don’t let this spoil it for you.’

She walked slowly down the stairs, her whole body screaming out for sleep and rest. She had picked up little Barry from her bedroom and cradled him to her until he dropped off again. Placing him on the sofa with two cushions to keep him from rolling off, she went out to the kitchen.

Barry was strewing all her clean towels on the floor to try and soak up the mess. She closed her eyes in distress. More washing. As if she didn’t have enough already.

He stared at her. She was wearing an old nightie and looked a mess. Her face was a mass of bruises and streaked blood. It had dried on her hair and dyed it rust-coloured in places.

‘You know I don’t mean it, Sue.’

It was the nearest he ever got to an apology.

‘I don’t want to hear it, all right? I still have to make her stuff whatever happens. I said she’d have a party and a party she will have, no matter what you do.’

Susan started to cry then, long ragged sobs that seemed to bounce off the kitchen walls.

‘Look what you done to me, Barry, and with everyone coming tomorrow. I look like I’ve been in a fucking car crash. Little Wend’s face is already bruising. Why do you do it, Bal? Why the fuck do you do it?’

Going to her, he held her in his arms for a moment, caressing her back and shoulders. Kissing her hair and her face.

‘Take the fifty quid and blow it round the Jewish deli down the lane, eh? Get her what she needs and something special for the others. Some champagne or something.’

Susan didn’t answer, she was still crying.

‘I had the hump, mate, and I took it out on you. But you taught me a thing or two about women tonight, Susan - you can’t trust them where the kids are concerned.’

He tried to make her laugh but she wasn’t having any of it.

‘You can’t hit the kids, Bal. They’d take them away and then I’d go fucking mad.’

He held her face in his hands and caressed her cheekbones with his thumbs.

‘You’re a blinding mother, Sue, a fucking diamond and I am a right arsehole at times. But you got me tonight, girl. I thought me number was up then.’

He lifted his head and laughed.

‘Look at the cut under me chin, girl, it’s still bleeding.’

‘It scared me, Bal. I really wanted to stab you and it frightened me.’

He laughed again, everything forgotten until the next time. And Susan knew there would be a next time.

‘Stop making a big deal out of it. All married couples fight, it’s what you marry for. Fucking and fighting, girl. That’s us two, I’m afraid.’

She wiped her eyes with her fingers.

‘I promised the girls some hot milk and biscuits. I slung them in the bath.’

He nodded.

‘I’ll clear up, you go and jump in with them, give yourself a soak. I’ll make us all something nice, eh?’

She nodded, resigned now to this switch back to the Barry she could have loved. Did love once. It was pointless arguing with him.

Twenty minutes later she lay in a hot bath and listened to Barry making the kids laugh with his silly antics. She prayed that this new job worked out and that he’d like it.

But, knowing him like she did, she knew what would happen.

What always happened.

Still, she reasoned, it was night work so that should keep him out of her hair and give her some peace at last.

She lay back in the bath and let the hot water do its work. Then he brought her a cup of tea and a cigarette, luxury as far as Susan was concerned.

It crossed her mind she should threaten to kill him more often.

 

Wendy’s party was a success until Barry and Joey had an argument. Everyone left in a hurry and the police were called to the house by a neighbour. The men were both locked up on a D and D.

Susan was over the moon. She’d finally get a good night’s sleep. The first one she’d had in months.