Two Women (43 page)

Unlike Susan she had back up, had people to ‘sort it all out’ for her in the only way people like Barry Dalston respected. With violence. With hard punches, with baseball bats, and if necessary maybe even a gun.

She phoned the ambulance, though, after he had lain on the ground for ten minutes. After all, she wasn’t without her finer feelings.

 

June came in the house and without a word put on the kettle and looked through Susan’s cupboards.

‘You seem to be well stocked, love.’

Susan nodded. She was sitting at the kitchen table. Her face was still bruised but she was at least mobile five days after the latest hiding. Baby Rose was walking unsteadily around the room, opening cupboards and playing with the saucepan lids.

June smiled as she looked down at her.

‘She’s a little princess, ain’t she? Look at them eyes! Who’s nanny’s little darlin’, eh?’

Rose smiled, a big gummy smile that melted everyone’s hearts.

‘Me. Me.’ Her little voice was like a corncrake when she got going and the words became a hoarse shout that made them both laugh out loud.

‘Well, Susan, how’s everything?’

June poured out the tea, her tight black skirt and high heels making her look much younger than she actually was.

‘All right. The usual. He’s been missing for nearly a week again so we’ve all had a bit of peace and quiet. Why?’

She knew her mother well enough to realise that June playing the caring grandmother could only mean one thing. She was on the ponce.

‘If it’s money you’re after I am boracic lint, Mother. I ain’t even got the money for an ice cream.’

June turned to her then.

‘Why are you always such a fucking miserable mare, eh? I was going to offer you a few quid as it happens. Your father had a tickle at the weekend. He turned over the bookie’s at Green Lanes in Ilford.’

She laughed then at Susan’s shocked expression. ‘He had a big winner. Anyway, I thought I’d spread it about a bit as Christmas is just around the corner like.’

She placed fifty pounds on the kitchen table.

‘You can pay me back in the New Year, I’ll be needing it by then.’

She laughed again and Susan nodded wearily.

‘I’ll see what Barry has to say before I spend it. To be honest he’s out of work again. But I’m hoping he’ll find something soon. I’m still claiming benefit. I have to, Mum, you know what he’s like. I never know where we’ll be from one day to the next.’

June nodded in understanding.

‘Like your old man. I know what you’re saying. Still, at least you’ve got him back now. That must be a touch.’

Susan rolled her eyes to the ceiling.

‘Oh, it’s wonderful, I was missing the hidings, the rows, the violent clashes of temperament. The kids were gutted when he left, couldn’t get used to the peace and quiet. I was going to send them to the fucking Falklands so they could live with constant warfare.’

June grinned.

‘You’re a sarcastic mare, Susan.’

‘Well, to be truthful, Mum, I wish him and me dad would drop down dead.’

June sipped her tea and took a puff on her Rothman’s.

‘Fucking tell me about it. I wish your father was brown bread meself. Old ponce!’ She laughed then. ‘I remember once, when you was a baby, he punched me lights out in Romford market. Said I was looking at a bloke. Which of course I was, me being me like.’ She took a deep drag on her cigarette before she continued. ‘He was handsome, though. Too fucking handsome really.’

Susan’s voice was incredulous.

‘Who, me dad?’

June laughed out loud then. ‘No, the other geezer. He was a Turk or something, dark handsome fucker with great big eyes.’ She looked off into the distance, to another time, another place. ‘I had him, though. Your father never knew, but I went back and I had him. He was fucking blinding he was. All muscles and chocolate skin. I always liked the spades, me. Funny that, ain’t it? They do something for me like, make me blood boil. Do you know what I mean, girl?’ June was serious now and Susan felt the uneasy pity she always ended up feeling for her mother and her endless quest for men.

‘They treat a woman how she should be treated, they’re grateful like that you want them.’

‘Maybe then, Mum, when it was all new to them, but not now. They treat you like all men do, I suppose. Not like Barry and me dad, but like regular people treat their wives.’

June nodded.

‘I suppose so, but I did love it in them days. I loved the chase, you know? Loved the feeling of being someone, going somewhere, feeling like I had a life to lead. That I was important to someone.’

‘You was important to me and Debbie, Mum.’

June shook her head and waved her cigarette in denial.

‘Nah. You ain’t wanted unless a man wants you, girl, remember that. It’s hard you know, getting older. Men stop looking at you, just ignore you. See you as too old to bother with. It’s hard when you was an attractive woman once. A head turner.’

Susan smiled softly.

‘Well, Mum, you look better than I do, girl, always did and I’m still a young woman really. But I never turned heads. Never.’

June shrugged. ‘You was always an ugly kid, love. Luck of the fucking draw really. If Debs had had your brains she could have gone places. She had the looks - no real body to speak of, but enough to get her what she wanted. Now look at her, stuck out there in Rainham with no kids, nothing. A right fucking miserable mare she turned out to be. Have you heard from her at all?’

Susan shook her head.

‘Jamesie is at it, I heard through the grapevine. His bird had a baby as you know. Must have hurt Debs. In fairness, Mum, to be barren must be terrible.’

‘Especially when you’ve lumbered yourself with a ponce like him! I never liked the Irish. Look what they’ve caused, them bleeding Catholics out there. Bombings and that . . . I don’t know what the world is coming to.’

Susan felt an urge to laugh at her mother’s ignorance but she didn’t. June was June and that was all there was to it.

‘Are you coming up the pub tonight?’

Susan shook her head. ‘I doubt it, Mum. I can’t afford it really and the kids need me here.’

‘Leave them with Doreen’s boy or get that fucking Wendy to have them. Do her good to give you a hand now and again.’

June had a downer on Wendy that made Susan angry.

‘She’s turning into a beauty, Mum. You want to see the body on it!’

June shrugged. ‘No good to her if she don’t use it, girl.’

Susan looked into her mother’s eyes.

‘Like you did, you mean, Mum? Or should that be, let her body be used? There’s two ways to look at you and your life, you know.’

June shrugged.

‘Have it your own way, but she’ll end up looking down her nose at you lot, you mark my words.’

Susan laughed then, a loud vindictive sound.

‘I fucking well hope she does. I want much better for her and the rest of them than anything we had.’

June suddenly looked crushed.

‘I did the best I could for you and Debs.’

Susan laughed again.

‘That’s what I mean, Mum, that’s exactly what I mean.’

 

It was Doreen who finally talked Susan into going down the pub that night. They were having a big party with a live band. Susan plastered her face with make up and dressed in her one good outfit, a dress and jacket from Marks and Spencer’s. She and Doreen left Wendy in charge.

Susan’s ribs were still giving her gyp, but she wanted to get out, see people, have a good time. And Doreen convinced her the best way to do that was go to the pub with all her family and friends.

Susan was glad she’d gone. Even Debbie had turned up. Overweight and sad, she had a miserable-looking Jamesie in tow and the remains of a black eye was clearly visible in her pudgy face. The two sisters sat together and Susan listened as Debbie systematically pulled everyone to pieces. Especially the ones she knew Jamesie had been after over the years.

The pub was alive with people of all ages, the music was good, loud and danceable. The drink fast-flowing.

All in all, a typical East End night out.

The women sat together, the men stood at the bar. Younger children sat outside on the wall and drank Coke and ate crisps, played kiss chase and had fights.

It hadn’t changed much since Susan was a little girl.

It was where she felt safe.

After a few Bacardi and Cokes she felt herself relax. Felt the tension leave her body and the worry gradually lift from her mind. Doreen was acting the goat as usual and everyone was laughing. Even Debs relaxed and started to enjoy herself. As the band struck up yet another old Beatles number, Susan wished she was well enough to join in the dancing. But she clapped and sang along and made do with that. Then June and her father started to dance the twist and everyone watched them, geeing them up and egging them on.

Laughing like she had no care in the world, Susan joined in the clapping and the calling out. October the tenth, 1983 was a night she would remember for more reasons than one. For the first time since Barry’s return home, she felt light-hearted, girlish almost.

Then she spied Peter White and waved at him across the bar. He waved back, and she watched him make his way through the throng to talk to her.

‘He fancies you, Sue.’

She flapped her hand at her sister. ‘Don’t be silly. We go back years, to when we was all kids. He’s just being polite.’

Debs laughed, a low dirty sound.

‘He wants to be a bit more than polite, girl, you mark my words. He always asks about you.’

Sue raised her eyes to the ceiling.

‘He’s just being friendly, that’s all, Debs. Now for fuck’s sake give it a rest.’

Peter smiled at them both and nodded to the other women at the table. Susan loved the attention. Everyone was watching her talking to this very presentable, unmarried sailor who looked nice, was well dressed and seemed to have eyes only for her.

‘Long time no see, Susan, how’s life treating you then?’ Peter’s green eyes were twinkling and she laughed girlishly. ‘The same as usual, mate, and you? Found yourself a nice girl yet?’

Peter, a few drinks under his belt, felt reckless enough to say to Barry Dalston’s wife, ‘All the best ones are taken, yourself included, girl.’

She blushed then. Her face went a bright shade of pink and her mother shouted across the pub, ‘Oi, look, my Susan’s doing a cherry! What’s he asked you, girl, your bra size!’

Everyone started laughing, Peter included.

Susan shook her head and cried over the din, ‘Take no notice, Peter, she’s an animal.’

But the noise was too much now and they couldn’t hear one another. Miming that he was going for a drink he walked away from her. Flushed and happy, Susan looked at her sister and grinned.

‘My God, I think you’re right. He
does
fancy me!’

Debbie sipped her Pernod and blackcurrant and said waspishly, ‘Well, he must like your personality, that’s all I can say.’

Susan felt her euphoria disappear and answered her sister in similar fashion. ‘Well, there’s no fear of anyone liking
you
for that reason, is there, you nasty little bitch?’

Debbie stood up unsteadily.

‘You’re right there, Susan, but I wouldn’t want anyone to like me like that. ’Cos it means you’re too ugly to get them any other way, don’t it?’

She lurched off towards the bar and Susan saw her go up to Peter and put her arm around him. Give him a kiss and a cuddle. Watching it depressed her.

Doreen sat in the seat vacated by Debbie and said in Susan’s ear, ‘Look at her, the little fat bitch. Like anyone would fancy that without the help of hallucinogenic drugs!’

The two of them burst out laughing so loudly that everyone turned to stare at them. Debbie looked at them. Guessing the laughter was at her expense she sidled closer to Peter and poked her tongue out at her sister.

Susan gave her a wanker sign, and that made her and Doreen crack up again.

‘I bet he does a lot of that on his ship - wanking, I mean.’

‘Stop it, Dor, he’s a really nice man.’

Doreen nodded.

‘I know, mate, and why ain’t he your man, eh? Think of the life you’d have had with him. Away at sea, only seeing him now and again. Regular money, your own life while he was away. Fuck me, I think I’ll go after him meself!’

Susan grinned.

‘He don’t fancy me. He just likes me, that’s all. As a friend.’

Her voice was wistful now and they stopped talking for a while, both engrossed in their own thoughts. Both wondering what it would be like to be with someone who actually liked you.

Then they saw him push Debbie from him at the bar and her laughter as she nearly fell over, her little fat legs like cricket stumps in her impossibly high heels.

‘Do you know what? She looks just like me mother there, don’t you think, Doreen?’

She nodded sagely. ‘It
is
your mother, mate. Only a smaller, younger, more vindictive version. I wouldn’t want to be them for all the tea in China. They ain’t women, they’re parasites.’

Susan nodded in agreement, but once again it depressed her.

‘I want to go home now, she’s really pissed me off.’

Doreen picked up her empty glass and chided Susan.

‘Don’t let her see she’s bothering you, she’s just jealous. You’re a nice person, Susan, and they can’t ever take that away from you. Remember that, mate. Always bear it in mind. Now shut up and sit there and wait while I get us a couple more doubles.’

Susan, as usual, did as she was told.

 

Barry was angry and he was stoned. He had been round a little bird’s house in Manor Park. Christine Carvel was a thirty-year-old mother of five. She still had traces of her former beauty, a fat body but the best nature a woman had ever possessed.