by Martina Cole
‘Get in the car, love, we’ll sort you out.’
She climbed into the police car then and she hated the feel of it.
‘You had better watch out in the future, mate. Jailbait can get you in a lot of trouble. Now piss off.’
Nick drove off in his van and Eileen watched him go with tears running down her face. She didn’t like all this growing-up lark, it was scary. Nick was the last in a long line of older men she seemed to gravitate to and she didn’t know why. This was the first time that she had been frightened though. She had only ever teased them in the pub before this, giving them the talk and acting older than she was. Now she knew how dangerous that could be. The two policemen were young and friendly. The chattier of the two was called Andy and he offered her a lift home when his shift finished. She accepted his offer readily, just wanting to get away from this place and the situation she had got herself into.
Pat was in bed with Ivana and she was lying in his arms, her slim legs wrapped around him. She was so tiny and Pat liked that. He liked the feel of her; she was fragile in comparison to his roughness. She felt so minute and so soft, that holding her was almost like taking her. She made him feel good inside and made him want to protect her and he knew that she liked the feeling as much as he did.
But she was a brass and brasses were not meant to be loved by anyone. It was hypocritical, he knew, considering his mother’s background. But he also knew she would be the first person warning him against letting his feelings get the better of him.
Ivana snuggled into his body once more and he held her tightly to him. She could feel his heart beating and smell his aftershave.
‘Is that your real name?’
She laughed. ‘Course not. No one is born with a name like that. It’s a work name, an exotic name that makes me sound interesting. My actual name is Denise.’
He laughed then and she laughed with him.
‘You are joking?’
She was still laughing, no shame at her own words, just honest humour.
‘I’m not. My name is Denise Jones, a boring and unattractive name for a girl who wanted to be interesting and beautiful.’ She was laughing at herself again, only this time it wasn’t as convincing.
Patrick hugged her once more, tighter, and her little laugh made him feel sorry for her. She was a nice girl, a really nice girl. He sighed, she was addictive.
He got out of the bed and relit the joint they had left in the ashtray. The sweet aroma of the grass filled the room and he looked down on Ivana and saw her lying there with her hair all around her face and her milky white skin smooth and soft against the bed sheets.
‘You all right?’ Her voice was soft and Pat sat back on the bed and smiled down at her.
‘Course I’m all right. How about you?’ She didn’t answer him, just smiled gently.
He knew she loved him. He knew she would hang around for years; he could marry, go to prison, anything and Ivana, as she liked to be called, would be there waiting for him. A constant in a world that was full of disappointments.
He felt sorry for her even as he wished he had met her as a civilian and not in a hostess club flashing her clout to whoever had the money. He knew that he would keep her on the side and he was ashamed that he wasn’t man enough to take her as she was. But it was hard for a man when the woman they were with was well-known. Eventually, it would cause trouble. Eventually he would use it against her. That was the way the world worked. She was sensible enough to know that herself. He wouldn’t have to explain himself to her, she would take whatever crumbs he threw her.
‘I’d better get back to work, mate.’
He nodded then and she saw the face that haunted her dreams and had grabbed her from the first time she had laid eyes on it. He had hit her like a bolt of lightning and the feeling had not decreased as it should have, it seemed to grow bigger by the day.
He dressed himself quickly and, kissing her gently on the brow, he left her.
Ivana lay there in the hotel room that was depressing now, with its scratched dressing table and dirty carpet, and she wondered what would be the outcome of this strange relationship they had.
The one thing she did know was that, no matter what happened, she would be there for him. She was caught up in him and needed him more than she had ever needed anyone or anything before in her life. She also knew that, without a doubt, he would break her heart.
Lance saw his little sister getting out of a car and he walked out of the house to see who had brought her home. He was surprised to see a young man in a police uniform driving an old Ford.
‘What the fuck is going on?’
Eileen wished she was dead but she knew she had to defuse this situation before that luxury could be afforded to her.
‘I got lost, Lance, and this man was kind enough to give me a lift home.’
Lance bent down and looked into the car, peering in the window at the man in the driver’s seat.
‘Where did you get lost then?’
‘I went to a party in Essex and lost me mates. I saw a police car and flagged it down.’
The young man could feel her fear and it was communicating itself to him. This was a man who, he knew, instinctively, was definitely not someone to cross.
‘Well, this ain’t a fucking police car, or is it? Are the filth cars in Essex different to the ones everywhere else? Only I thought they were supposed to be instantly recognisable? Wasn’t that the whole idea of them in the first place?’
‘Excuse me, sir, but I was just finishing my shift and the young lady was obviously in a bind. I offered to drop her off rather than leave her alone at a train station.’
Lance saw the logic of what the boy was saying and, with one of his lightning changes of mood, he smiled. This was something that was so rare it was more worrying to Eileen than his usual miserable demeanour.
‘Thanks. You’re right, of course. She is only young.’
The young policeman could feel the terror coming off her in waves now and he was sorry he wasn’t brave enough to stay around and see what the score was. He couldn’t wait to get going, in fact. And, starting up the engine, he waved quickly before driving off in case this man decided he was not going to be so nice about it all.
Eileen looked at Lance for a few moments and she wondered how someone who looked so much like Patrick could not be called good-looking. On Patrick the same features were blindingly good-looking, on Lance they made him look like a psychopath.
‘I know you don’t want to hear it, Eileen, but I worry about you. You’re a baby and there are men in the world who would take advantage of your youth and your inexperience.’
For the first time ever, Eileen was grateful to him for his overbearing and protective attitude.
‘Thanks, Lance. I know you’re right and I know you’re only trying to take care of me.’
He was surprised at her answer, she knew. Normally, she would be causing murders, accusing him of all sorts and making a drama out of his concern.
‘Is Nanny Annie in?’
Lance nodded and they walked amiably back into the house together.
‘Bloody hell, wonders will never cease,’ Annie said in undisguised surprise as she saw them coming in together.
Eileen didn’t bother to answer her. She walked through to the kitchen where her mother was making another one of her pots of tea.
‘Fancy a cup, love?’
Eileen smiled and kissed her gently. ‘I love you, Mum.’
Lil laughed then, a loud, knowing laugh. ‘Who hurt you, darling?’
She pulled her daughter into her arms and hugged her tightly.
‘Come on. Who was it and where do they live?’
‘Oh, Mum . . .’ Eileen was crying now; her mother’s astute observation at what had befallen her just made it all the more poignant.
‘Sssh. Stop it, darling. Don’t cry. Remember you have to kiss a lot of frogs before you find a prince.’
Eileen suddenly felt her mother’s body tense
up and she made a low groan.
‘The baby is on its way. I was having a cup of tea before I go off.’
Eileen couldn’t believe what she was hearing. ‘You’re really in labour?’
Lil laughed again, that deep-throated chuckle that was her trademark.
‘I’m having a baby, Eileen. It’s not that hard, love. It is going to come out no matter what. In fact, I think it is nearer than I thought. I can feel it bearing down.’ Lil sat back in the chair once more and took a few deep breaths. ‘Phone the doctor, love. He must be sick of this fucking house. But, first, pour me out another cuppa. Lots of sugar, darling, for energy.’
She bent double again and she knew the baby was well on its way now.
‘Oh, Eileen, I forgot how much it fucking hurts, darling.’ She was still laughing when the child arrived twenty minutes later.
Pat was with Mac and they walked into the Eagle together. After ordering a couple of drinks, they made their way over to the corner and Pat smiled down at the man sitting there with his pint of Guinness. Then, pulling up a chair, he sat down easily.
‘It’s a boy. I thought you might want to know that.’
Mac was standing behind Pat and Jambo was not sure what they expected from him so he just sat there and smiled gently as he always did.
‘She OK, your mother?’
Pat nodded. He was looking at the man intently and he understood his mother’s attraction to him. Jambo had a quietness about him that she must have found so refreshing after the other men in her life.
‘Yeah. You know her, takes everything in her stride.’
Jambo sipped his drink. ‘Not everything, boy, she feels a lot more than she lets on, you know.’
Patrick didn’t answer him. He didn’t know what to say. Now he was here, he felt as if he was intruding on his mother’s private life. She didn’t have much of her own, much that wasn’t about the kids or the family. Or the problems she had to deal with, and this man was her little bit of downtime, her escape from everything.
Pat had asked around about Jambo and knew his rep. Even though he wasn’t the man he would have chosen for her, he hadn’t heard anything detrimental about him.
‘How big is the baby? She named it yet?’ Jambo was surprised to find that he was genuinely interested.
‘Eight pound and no name as yet.’
Mackie was watching them closely and he decided they needed another drink. When he brought them back to the table he was not surprised to see the men chatting away together. He knew Jambo and he was all right. He liked his own company and women found him attractive; he was handsome in a masculine way. His skin was well-toned, not too dark, and he had the easy-going way that womanisers develop at an early age. But one thing in his favour was that he never promised anything he couldn’t deliver.
Similar thoughts were going through Patrick’s mind as he chatted with the man who had fathered the latest addition to his family. Jambo smiled at him and Patrick saw Lil’s attraction to him. When he smiled, he looked like he had the world in his pocket.
’A boy, eh? But she’s good, yeah? She is all right really, Lil?’ He was genuinely concerned, both for Lil and the baby.
‘She’s fine. Why don’t you come and see them? We can run you to the hospital. They took them in, just to be on the safe side, you know. She had it in the kitchen and gave my little sister a fright, I can tell you.’
It wasn’t a threat. Jambo knew that if he didn’t want to go, no one was going to force him. But suddenly he wanted to go. He wanted to see this son of his. In fact, he felt proud and excited about him. If he was anything like this young man, he was going to be worth knowing. He liked Pat, he remembered him as a child and knew his father much better than any of them realised. It was how he had become friends with Lil in the first place.
‘Eustace, why you not getting another drink, boy?’
Mac grinned. No one called him Eustace, most people didn’t even realise it was his name.
‘Wet the baby’s head, yeah?’
Pat walked back to the bar again and wondered what it would be like to have a new brother at his age.
Lance was holding the baby and Lil watched him with a tired resignation. He seemed to be overwhelmed with the night’s events. But then men always were, they were there at the conception and rarely there for the birth. Women, after the first baby, just got on with it. The miracle of life was actually just a fucking painful few hours when you came right down to it. The baby was the end result and that was all women were interested in.
For the first time in years, she was with Lance and they were alone and she didn’t have the heart to push him away, or the inclination. She was shattered.
Pat was over the moon. He was a good kid, they were all good kids. As she thought that, she glanced up at Lance and she still didn’t feel she could include him in that statement.
‘Give me the baby, will you?’
Lance smiled as he placed the bundle into her arms.
‘He’s a real bruiser, Mum. A real brahma.’
Lil nodded. She wished her mother would come back from the canteen so she didn’t have to make conversation with this huge man, a man who made her feel uneasy and inadequate.
The baby was looking up at her and she smiled with the pleasure of looking at him. He was handsome, and not just Mum handsome; she knew he would break some hearts before he was much older.
He started to cry, the high-pitched mewling of a new baby, the sound that she would hear through a hurricane and know it was her child. The crying caused the hormones to rampage through her tired body. She kissed him gently, smelling his newness and breathing in his very essence and enjoying his first few hours outside the womb. Already she felt like he had been there always, she felt as if she had never been without him and wondered how she could ever have coped without him. He was her baby, her last child, her redeemer.
Lance watched them together and the jealousy rose up inside him like a tidal wave. His mother had never looked at him like that. He knew she had never wanted him like she had wanted the others, that was clear to him. Watching her with the boy he felt the sheer loneliness of his life wash over him.
‘I’d better get back to Kathleen. At least this has cheered her up a bit.’
Lil nodded again. She felt all she ever did with Lance was make head movements or gestures, anything rather than talk to him for any length of time.
Kathleen had watched the birth with all the others and she had burst into tears; she was really affected by the power of it all. The little ones had been beside themselves with excitement. Even Shamus couldn’t hide his pride at his new brother, though it wasn’t cool to admit it. And she was so proud of them all, especially Eileen, bless her, who had more or less delivered her new brother.
The baby was mewling once more and, as Lil looked down at him, she knew the name she wanted. Looking at Lance, she said happily, ‘Shawn, his name is Shawn.’
As she said that she saw Jambo walking towards her and she placed the boy into his arms without a word being spoken.
Patrick and Mackie were both laughing and cooing over the baby, and Lil felt happier than she had in years.
‘It’s Shawn. I’ve named him Shawn.’
Jambo looked down at his son and felt a rush of love and protection. This boy was his flesh and blood.
Sitting on the bed beside Lil, he said happily, ‘You did good, Lil. You did really good.’
Chapter Twenty-Seven
Shawn was a big child and he was also a happy child, everyone in his orbit doted on him. Even Kathleen, who had finally been diagnosed as schizophrenic, enjoyed his company. In fact, he seemed to cheer her up and made her forget her voices for a few moments. It was hard dealing with her condition but with the help of drugs she kept it pretty much under control. Other than her occasionally outlandish thoughts on the world in general, she was much better than she had been for a long time.
It made life easier for everyone when she was happy; everyone in the h
ouse felt her depression when it descended on her. In fact, it affected them all in different ways, even little Shawn felt the difference; he was quieter somehow, more clingy.
Annie was enamoured of the boy and that was the most amazing thing as far as Lil was concerned. Lil knew her mother had a streak of racism running through her, as her husband had. The fact that Annie had not said a word was, to Lil, the most amazing thing of all. Shawn was not really black as such but he was dark enough so there would be no question of his parentage. His eyes alone were to die for, huge brown orbs, surrounded by long, silky black lashes. The girls were jealous of them, as they were of his coffee-coloured skin and his soft musical voice. Shawn was adored, and he knew it.
A friendly child by nature, he seemed to attract people wherever he went. And Lil and the others couldn’t imagine their lives without him in it. Even Patrick took him out in the car with him and Shawn loved it. He loved cars and he loved his big brothers. Colleen and Christy took him to the park, Shamus taught him to swear and Eileen and Kathleen fought over who was going to put him to bed.
Lil had gone back to work three weeks after his birth and now, two years on, she ran all the clubs and oversaw the debts. Jambo was a regular visitor and they all liked him and accepted the way he wandered in and out of their lives at will.
Lil believed that Shawn’s birth had been the catalyst for her luck turning. She knew it was stupid to even think it, but that was how it felt to her. Since his arrival, everything seemed to go smoothly for once. Everyone seemed to find a piece of happiness to call their own. He was her lucky charm, the child for her old age as Janie had once referred to him. All the bad things were behind them, she was convinced of that. In fact, she could go days without thinking of Patrick or Lenny. Somehow, when she thought of one she thought of the other. It tainted her memories of her husband and she knew she still harboured resentment at the way he had left them all with hardly a penny to call their own. She still found herself getting angry over it even though she knew it was completely irrational. The past was the past. It had happened and there was nothing she could do to change it.