Two Women (64 page)

‘We can only wait and see what Susan thinks of our plan. That’s all we can do at the moment. Leave it for now.’

He sat beside her.

‘You look tired.’

‘I’m half drunk! I never was much of a drinker.’

He grinned.

‘You don’t take after your father then? His reputation for putting Scotch away is legendary. Almost as legendary as the cases he fought and won.’

Geraldine didn’t answer him.

‘Do you miss him?’

She stared into her wine glass for a few moments.

‘No, actually, I don’t. I never really liked him.’

Colin was amazed at her words and it showed on his face.

‘Other people loved him. He was the typical Irishman made good. A brain like a computer coupled with a natural charm that made him everyone’s favourite paddy. But you see, Colin, at home with his wife and daughters he was a bully. A big, brash, drunken bully. So, no, I don’t miss him at all.’

‘I never realised . . .’

His words were faint and inadequate.

‘No one knew. We could hardly broadcast it to the nation. Even after his death we kept up the charade. It’s what people do, isn’t it? When he died he was actually with a seventeen-year-old prostitute. He had her in his chambers at Holborn. But friends rallied around, you know what the legal profession is like. That’s why Matty was put away, because her husband was one of us. A legal. Though I also have a sneaking feeling she killed Victor Enderby in cold blood.

‘Nothing in life is ever quite what it seems, is it? You thought my father was a saint like everyone else, champion of the underdog, the little man’s protector. Well, he didn’t give a toss about any of his clients. He cared about winning, though. That was everything to him.’

Colin was quiet. There was nothing to say and suddenly Geraldine felt sorry for him and for all she had laid at his feet.

She was drunk. She should never get drunk. It was dangerous, and she should know that better than anyone.

She placed a hand on his arm and smiled.

‘I’m sorry, Colin, I shouldn’t have said any of that.’

He smiled at her, a friendly smile. She knew her secrets were safe with him.

‘I think you had to say it one day. Everyone has to say these things at least once in their life.’

She nodded and sipped once more at her wine. Lying back, she relaxed into the soft cushions and sighed.

‘My family were boringly normal,’ he told her. ‘Nice mum, nice dad, nice sister. I still lived at home until two years ago.’

The last was said sheepishly.

She put a hand on his arm and said gently, ‘Then you were very, very lucky.’

He grinned again.

‘So it seems. I haven’t any hidden secrets like most people. My life was textbook really. Nice semi, nice holidays, nice everything. But crushingly boring.’

Geraldine finished her wine at a gulp.

‘Don’t knock boring, Colin. Some people would give everything they have for a nice, safe, boring life. Believe me.’

He looked into her eyes and said seriously, ‘I do, Geraldine. I believe you.’

Jamesie walked into the house with the usual scowl on his face. On the table in the kitchen was a large roast dinner and a trifle. He was hungry after a day’s work and looked at the food appreciatively.

Debbie piled his plate with roast beef and Yorkshire pudding, carrots and cabbage, roast potatoes and mash. She had even made him his favourite swede. He always came home on a Sunday. It was the only day she could ever really expect to see him, a ritual now. He worked overtime on Sundays. Getting himself a stake, was how he termed it. Debbie knew the money went to Carol and the boy. Now it would go to the new baby Carol was flaunting so proudly.

Debbie smiled at him as she tucked into her own food.

‘You look pleased with yourself?’ he grunted.

She smiled again.

‘I am, actually. I went to see Susan’s kids yesterday.’

‘Really? Well, make the most of it. You won’t be going again.’

He bit into a piece of beef and she saw his uneven teeth and wondered why she had never noticed them before. He ate with his mouth open as usual.

‘Is that right?’

Debbie sounded nonchalant.

Jamesie placed his knife and fork on his plate and looked directly at her.

‘Yeah, that’s right.’

She carried on eating as though he had never spoken.

‘Are you listening to me, Debbie? Taking on board what I’m saying, are you?’

‘They’re nice kids, Jamesie. She was a good mother, Sue. I never gave her credit for that before. Always felt it was unfair, her having kids like nobody’s business and me and you left without any. I hated her at times.’

Jamesie was staring at his wife as if she was about to be transported from the room by aliens.

‘She was a murdering cunt! That’s what she was. Going soft in the bleeding head, you are. You keep away from them kids. You can’t have any and that’s that.’

‘No, but you can, can’t you? I hear Carol’s expecting again. Sure it’s yours, are you? Only she’s been round the turf more times than Red Rum. Even me mum looks down on Carol and that’s saying something.’

He looked into his wife’s face and was not at all sure what to do before the change in her. Gone was Debbie, the little wife, grateful to see him. Trying her best to please him. In her place was a woman with stone hard eyes and a smile that did not quite reach them.

‘You’re asking for a fucking slap, Debbie. I’m warning you.’

She laughed then and carried on eating.

‘You ever slap me again and you’ll know all about it, Jamesie, believe that, mate.’

He pushed back his chair, the scraping noise loud in the small kitchen. Debbie was up before him. She had the meat knife in her hand.

‘Go on, you big fat bastard! I dare you. Then you’ll get some of what Barry Dalston got. I know me rights, mate. I can have this house all to meself and you can whistle for it. You ain’t got no claim on it. I have had advice, boy. I know me rights now. Tell Carol the cunt she ain’t ever getting across this doorstep, her or her fucking kids.

‘I have had enough of you and your whoring. I’ve had enough of you and what
you
want. What about me, eh? What about me, your wife? What about what I want for a change?’

She still held the knife above her head as if ready to plunge it into him at any second.

‘Put the knife down, Debbie, I’m warning you.’

She shook her head.

‘Get out, you prat, and go back to that thing you spend all your time with. I have had enough. At last I have had enough. I wouldn’t have you now if your dick was dripping in diamonds and you farted perfume. So piss off.’

Everything he had ever done to her was written on her face, there in the words she used.

He looked down at his dinner. He was starving and knowing Carol all he would get there was a sandwich. Suddenly his home comforts seemed rather attractive.

Debbie walked slowly round the table.

‘Get out, Jamesie. Piss off back to her. I don’t want you any more. I will not have you and all you stand for in my kitchen. This is
my
house. I cleaned it, decorated it, and kept it for you. Now it’s mine.’

As she took another step towards him he backed away from her. Finally he walked from the house.

Debbie bolted the door behind him and sighed heavily.

She had done it, really done it.

He was gone.

Chapter Twenty-Nine

Rhianna watched as Matty sat by herself, face drawn and white, eyes listless. She looked terrible. Even her hair was lifeless.

Rhianna crossed the large rec room to talk to her. As she approached Matty said loudly, ‘Not today, Rhianna. I’m not in the mood.’

Rhianna sat down beside her anyway.

The rec room was noisy. A TV blared out and a radio tried to compete. A nature programme was on,
Survival
. Polar bears chased one another around a frozen ice cap trying to mate. The women shouted out lewd and obscene remarks. The radio played pop music. It was bedlam.

At the far side of the room other women played cards, drank coffee and smoked. A hazy fug hung in the air giving the place a look of squalor.

Still Matty ignored her, and still Rhianna sat there waiting for the other woman to talk.

Sarah cruised over to them, her pupils dilated, mouth moving in time to a song no one could distinguish.

‘Any chance of a drink, Rhianna? On tick so to speak. Until I get me next share out?’

Rhianna shook her head.

‘No chance. You’re too out of it, Sarah. If you’re not careful you’ll fall asleep and that will be it. You’ll be finished.’

Sarah sighed.

‘Sounds pretty good to me.’

Matty wiped one hand across her face. It showed her anger.

‘Everything sounds good to you, you stupid little bitch.’

Matty’s voice was heavy with menace.

‘What are you complaining for? You’re on remand for a piddling offence. You’ll walk from court on time served so why don’t you leave us alone and keep your stupid druggy ramblings to yourself?’

She stood up and pushed the girl none too gently from her.

‘Go on, piss off before I lose my temper. You’re a spoiled little overgrown schoolgirl. Stop whining and keep away from me. If you know what’s good for your fucking face.’

The punch was as hard as it was unexpected. No one would have credited Sarah with the nous to have done it.

Women went quiet.

Sarah stood there unsteadily, her fists clenched.

On the TV David Attenborough’s voice extolled the merits of the polar ice cap and on the radio the Sister Sledge sang ‘We Are Family’.

‘Come on then, hard nut! Hit me back.’

Sarah was up for a fight. Matty stared into her unfocussed eyes and pushed her away once more.

‘You’re too out of it to hit. Can’t you see that, you silly bitch?’

Sarah slapped her this time, a ringing slap.

Matty’s cheek was stinging from it.

Picking up her thick white coffee mug she hit the girl with as much force as she could across her cheekbone. It collapsed beneath the blow and the girl, watched by everyone including the POs, dropped first to her knees and then to the hard floor. Then it was bedlam.

POs were everywhere. Rhianna was kneeling by the girl, trying to see the damage, and Matty was hustled from the room to the block.

There was pandemonium. Matty merely smiled demurely as she walked out. The PO in charge would have bet a month’s wages that Enderby would never get physical. It just proved how wrong you could be.

Rhianna stayed with the unconscious girl until the doctor arrived then went back to her cell. Sitting on the bed with her head in her hands, she wondered at a system that put the Mattys of this world inside with Sarah and the other young girls.

Susan burst in.

‘Is that right, Matty done poor little Sarah?’

Rhianna nodded.

‘She’s not right - something happened to her last week. On her visit,’ Susan explained.

Rhianna shook her head.

‘Don’t make excuses for her, Susan. She’d have hurt someone some time. It’s the way things are in here.’

She looked into her friend’s face.

‘If you ain’t like it when you arrive, you’re like it when you leave. Remember that.’

Susan left and went back to her own cell.

She looked at the enclosed space, at Matty’s hair products and make up. Saw her hairbrushes and conditioners and felt a terrible sadness sweep over her. Was this going to be the next phase of her own life? Violent episodes and unbalanced people? Different cell mates, different faces?

She felt the walls close in on her and willed herself to swallow down the panic inside her.

Matty had just fucked her appeal.

If she was nicked she was finished.

But Susan wondered deep inside if that was what the other woman wanted.

 

Roselle liked the club during the week. It was quieter, soothing. Even the strippers didn’t bother much week nights. Just went through the motions, sure in the knowledge the men watching didn’t want too much from them. It was all very relaxed.

She walked through to the main dance floor and saw Denise going through her act. She liked Denise, a large girl with tits that hit her waist and thighs that could crack walnuts. The men always liked her too; she was attainable for some of them, which was basically what they were after. Men paid for women they could not get unless they were prostitutes. They knew a woman like her would blank them if they asked for a date.

The thought made Roselle smile and Mad Mary, one of the older girls, cackled with her. Mad Mary worked week nights because she knew that at her age and with her looks she wouldn’t stand a cat in hell’s chance come the weekend.

Mary actually drank the club champagne. She drank anything.

Roselle looked at her then, as if for the first time. The lines around the eyes and mouth, the hard glint in her eye. The professional smile.

‘Any chance of a sub, Roselle?’

She shook her head.

‘Not a hope in fuck, Mary. If I give you a sub you’ll piss off and go somewhere else until you owe them money then you’ll come back. I’ve sussed you out.’

Mary wasn’t at all put out by this bit of logic. In fact it made her laugh harder.

‘True, but I’m gasping for a drink.’

Roselle walked past her without talking but at the bar she told the barman to take Mad Mary a large vodka and Coke.

She wasn’t as hard as she made out.

In the foyer she glanced around her professionally. All was in order. Linette, a tall Spanish-looking girl with masses of curly hair and large doe eyes, was on reception. She had hips like a battleship and small hard tits. Staying put behind a counter was her best hope. She was used when it got packed and all the other girls were gone case. Linette also had a rather noticeable speech impediment.