Two Women (68 page)

‘No one needs to know all about that, darlin’.’

Wendy looked her mother full in the face.

‘That night he told me I wasn’t his. He said me granddad was me father. I asked you about that once and you never answered me. I need to know, Mum. I need to know what I am and where I come from. No matter how bad it is. Nothing could be worse than what I feel now. Every day when I get up, every morning when I lie there trying to get meself together to face another fucking day full of guilt and hatred.’

Susan shook her head. Her voice was dragged from the depths of her being as she answered her daughter.

‘Barry was your father all right. I wish I could tell you differently, believe me.’

Wendy nodded.

‘I thought so. But I had to be sure. You can see why, can’t you?’

Susan nodded sadly.

‘Of course I can, love. This is why I want it all over. So you don’t have to think about it ever again. Won’t have to face any consequences except the knowledge of what happened. And even that will fade in time, I promise you. I’ll make it right, I promise, heartcake.’

Wendy sighed heavily.

‘You can try but nothing can change the truth, Mum. You can dress it up, rearrange it, but the truth is still the truth whatever you say.’

She looked steadily at Roselle.

‘I killed me dad. Not her. It was me. I killed him with the brandy bottle. He was already dead before she got home. Weren’t he, Mum?’

Susan stared at her cold cup of coffee and didn’t answer.

There was nothing else to say.

Chapter Thirty-One

Roselle sat in her flat and sipped a large brandy. She was still in a state of extreme shock. Why had she never sussed it out? Why had she never guessed it was Wendy who’d killed Barry?

But then, why would she think that? Why would anyone think that? Wendy was a child, a victim.

Now it left them with a dilemma of Olympian proportions.

If Wendy let the truth out, and it seemed that was what she wanted, the girl could be left in a much worse position than she seemed to realise. She would be put away, as her mother was, but in her case detained at Her Majesty’s pleasure. She was too young for a trial and too young for prison so it would be a secure unit somewhere.

Detained indefinitely.

Roselle walked through to the bedroom and stared down at the sleeping girl. It was as if admitting what had happened had taken the weight of the world off Wendy’s shoulders. She was visibly more relaxed now.

Even Mrs Eappen had sensed something and allowed her to spend the night at the flat without too much aggravation. For the first time in what seemed like years Mrs Eappen had no Dalstons on her premises. The other three were spending the night with their aunt. Roselle had heard the relief in her voice at that and had smiled knowingly.

The old bitch would be talking about them all now, it seemed they gave her the only topic of conversation she had these days.

The murderer’s children.

What if she found out that the daughter was the real perpetrator of the crime? She’d love that.

Roselle sipped at her brandy again.

Poor Susan, innocent all that time. Sitting in prison, listening to all that shit and knowing she shouldn’t even be there.

Did Wendy really know what her mother had done for her? What she had prevented from happening to her child? Roselle would have done the same for her son, she knew that. But she couldn’t believe Susan had never once hinted at it to her.

Then, Susan was shrewd. She knew that a secret once divulged lost its mystery, making it easier to reveal again and again and again.

Which was what they feared now from Wendy. Now the truth was finally out, would the girl feel the urge to shout it from the rooftops?

Roselle went back to the lounge and phoned Ivan.

‘I need a number, as soon as possible.’

She smiled into the phone and said politely, ‘Of course I know what time it is, Ivan. But fuck it, this is an emergency!’

When she replaced the receiver she settled herself on the sofa and lit a cigarette. This was going to be a hell of a long night.

 

Susan lay on her bunk. She was in turmoil. Wendy had blown everything wide open. Even though she trusted Roselle the fact was the story was out now. The truth once told could be a terrifying thing. At times it could do far more damage than lies.

She’d known that all her life. Her mother and father had taught her well. She rested an arm across her eyes and sighed.

Matty slipped from her bunk and knelt beside her.

‘I thought you wasn’t talking to me, Matty. You’ve hardly said a word, have you, since I came back from me visit?’

Matty didn’t answer her at once and in the half light Susan could see her eyes, bright and luminescent.

‘So, not content with taking my friends from me, you also want my barrister? That’s what I get for being nice to you, for being your friend.’

Matty’s voice was so low and sweet, Susan wondered if she had heard her correctly.

‘When I think of what I have to put up with in here, sharing a cell with someone I wouldn’t even employ to clean my house. Yet I’m expected to help you, be nice to you. So I take you under my wing. I try to help you and you’re just like all the others - a user, an ignorant user.’

‘You what? What you on about?’

This was the last thing Susan Dalston needed tonight.

Matty grinned.

‘Oh, I know your game all right. I know people like you, Susan. You’re the takers of this world. I give you my friendship and then, like everyone else, you abuse it. Use it for your own ends. But you won’t get away with it this time. This time I’m going to nip it in the bud. I’ll kill you before I let you take everything from me.’

Susan didn’t answer her. She could feel something cold against her throat and guessed it was some kind of weapon.

Matty seemed to be talking to herself now.

‘All the time . . . I have to do everything. Otherwise nothing ever gets done, does it? You’re like Angela, like my mother, like Victor. Without me you’re all
nothing
.’

Susan listened. In the distance she could hear footsteps as a PO did the night round. Soon the peephole would be opened and an eye would look in, making sure all was as it should be.

Only it wasn’t but Susan wasn’t going to be able to tell her that, was she?

‘Victor made the same mistake . . . Talking about me to people. Telling them how I’d changed. But I hadn’t changed, not a bit . . . just stopped pretending. Pretending everything was so great, that I loved him. I cared about him.

‘Can you imagine how hard that was, Sue? Pretending to care about a tall, ugly boring man? A man whose conversation was so dull I had trouble keeping awake. I’d yawn in his face sometimes. Yawn, right in his face, and he’d pretend not to notice.

‘Now I have you to deal with. The woman I made my friend or the nearest to one I ever had. I was going to speak to Geraldine for you but you went behind my back, didn’t you? You went behind my back and took her away from me. She doesn’t like me any more because of you. I could tell today, could feel it off her. I make her uncomfortable, you see, because she sees herself in me. Like you all do.’

The peephole slid open and a voice called softly, ‘All right in there?’

Matty smiled brilliantly.

‘Just chatting. Can’t sleep.’

The peephole was closed and the heavy tread moved on.

Susan couldn’t breathe. She was frightened to make a sound in case she set Matty off again.

The other woman was still, still and quiet. After long moments she spoke again in the same quiet sing-song voice.

‘Now Angela’s come back and stuck in here I can do nothing. She wants everything from me as usual. Everything I have. She always wanted it all. People see me as their means of getting on in the world. Even as a child people saw me as someone to be reckoned with. So I’ll deal with Angela, I’ve already planned how to deal with her. Which just leaves you, doesn’t it?’

Susan was terrified. She knew Matty was capable of anything.

‘What are you going to do?’

Matty smiled, a wide friendly smile that even in the dimness lit up her pretty face.

‘I’m going to kill you, of course. Isn’t that what I always do?’

 

Geraldine was roused from sleep by the persistent ringing of her phone. Picking up the receiver, she breathed a tired hello into it. Hearing Roselle’s voice, wide awake and excited, she sat up in bed.

‘How the hell did you get my home number?’

Roselle laughed gently.

‘You’d be surprised what I can get if I want it. Now I’ll give you my address - you’d better come to my flat straight away. And before you start, this can’t wait till morning and when you find out what it is, you’ll be glad I rang when I did. Believe me.’

Ten minutes later Geraldine was making her way across London. She was intrigued, she was tired, and more than anything she was annoyed.

Wendy stepped out of the bedroom. She looked so adult standing in the light of the hallway, and so like her father, that Roselle was stunned into silence.

‘Was that the brief? Me mum’s brief?’

She nodded.

‘Good. Can I make meself a cup of coffee, please?’

Roselle nodded again.

The girl was a woman now, in every sense of the word. Could any of them control her? Could they stop her from doing whatever she wanted?

Somehow Roselle doubted that.

 

Jamesie came into the house via the cat flap. If he forced his arm through and up he could unlock the back door. It was something he had never told Debbie because he’d always had a feeling it was something he might one day have to use. He was right as usual.

As he shut the door quietly he smiled to himself. This should give her something to shout about. Turning, he saw a boy standing by the kitchen door.

Jamesie shook his head in consternation. She wouldn’t dare . . .

Striding across the kitchen, too angry to care about the noise, he snapped on the light.

‘Hello, do you live here?’

Barry had forgotten him, forgotten who he was.

‘Where’s your Aunt Debbie?’

A deep voice answered him and the sound of it made him wince.

‘She is in here with me, mate. We heard you coming round the back. Got up a welcome party to greet you.’

June’s voice was as strident as ever.

Jamesie closed his eyes in distress.

As he walked into the lounge he thought he had walked into the wrong house. The place looked like a tip. Or the nearest to a tip Debbie would allow it to be. It actually looked lived in. The three kids were in there, little Barry now ensconced on his aunt’s lap.

‘So what brings you back here then? Carol dinged you out, has she?’ June enquired.

He didn’t answer and Debbie laughed out loud.

‘You hit the nail on the head there, Mother. Well, Jamesie, I’m afraid you lucked out, mate. This place is full up and will be for quite a while.’

‘This is my house, Debbie. I say who comes in and who goes out.’

June’s voice was low.

‘Well, my husband, her father, might have a different opinion on that. I’d better warn you about that straight off. Well upset Joey is at the treatment you’ve meted out to his baby. Always his favourite was my Debbie. She kept a lot from him, but not any more.’

Jamesie felt the icy fingers of fear at his throat. He looked at his wife and she stared back all innocence.

‘I haven’t told him everything, stop worrying. You’d have heard from him by now if I had, don’t you think?’

Jamesie turned on his heel and walked from the house. Everyone knew he would never come back.

June looked at her daughter and laughed.

‘About time your father came in handy, ain’t it? Even if it is only for frightening cowards, old people and small children.’

They all laughed.

Even Rosie.

Alana, always with an eye to the main chance, said loudly, ‘Any chance of hot chocolate to make us all tired again?’

‘Just like you were, that one. Doesn’t miss a trick,’ said June fondly.

Debbie grinned.

‘I hope she has more sense, Mother. I really, really do.’

June looked at her granddaughter and felt a spark of affection.

‘She will. She’s her mother’s daughter that one. Susan was a lot of things but she wasn’t stupid.’

Debbie looked at her seriously.

‘Oh, but she was, Mum, that’s the trouble. We both were. But not these kids. I’ll tell them what to look out for in life so they never make the same mistakes.’

June didn’t answer for a while. Then she said softly, ‘Yes, love. That’s a good idea.’

 

Susan was aching. She had been in the same position for over an hour and was too frightened to move. Matty held the blade to her throat and kept talking.

Susan felt she would go mad if she didn’t stretch herself soon.

‘Geraldine came to me through Roselle, Matty. I swear that to you.’

She shook her head.

‘Don’t lie to me. You went through my things, I checked. You’ve been reading my letters. You two-faced bastard.’

Susan shook her head gently.

‘I wouldn’t do that, Matty, you know I wouldn’t.’

She felt a trickle of sweat as it dripped from her forehead on to the hard pillow.

Matty laughed again.

‘But you would, Susan, you wouldn’t be able to resist it. Who could? I’ve been through your stuff loads of times. Even after Rhianna told me off. But then, Rhianna prefers you now, doesn’t she? All the women prefer you to me. I wonder why that is?’

She sounded forlorn.

Susan hastened to reassure her.

‘No, they don’t. They all take the piss out of me, you know they do.’