by Martina Cole
‘Leave it out, Mum. Save it for your baby.’
They sat in silence for a moment before Jeanette said, ‘Wanna drink?’
‘Yeah, go on then, love.’
It was the nearest Jeanette would come to an outright apology. Joanie knew that and accepted it. One daughter knew too much, and the other daughter would never know enough. God played jokes, she was convinced of that. She only wished she could laugh at her own life.
Kira called out in her sleep then and she was catapulted from her seat, but Jeanette had got there first and was settling her down gently.
Joanie watched from the doorway and felt her heart lighten.
She realised she was close to tears as she watched the little tableau before her. She had really had enough of this life. It was hard to keep up a happy front when inside you were slowly dying.
Little Tommy was happy, or as near to happy as he had ever been. It was wonderful to wake up in the morning with an agenda. He had an actual appointment, not with the doctor or some other specialist but with another person. He hugged the knowledge to himself.
‘What are you grinning about?’
His father broke into his reverie and he shrugged.
‘Nothing, just enjoying the day.’
His father laughed at him as usual.
‘What the fuck have you got to look forward to? More food?’
Tommy was crushed, but he didn’t rise to the bait.
‘Do you want another cuppa, Dad?’
‘Go on then, son.’
For once Joseph felt a twinge of guilt. He was hard on the boy, but then living with Tommy was hard on him. His son was so weird, nothing to brag about, and Joseph needed to brag, it was in his nature. No one at work knew about Tommy, he had made sure of that.
Joseph had a girlfriend of sorts and now she wanted him full-time. It was such a bind. The fact he loathed his own son didn’t help matters either. But this morning he didn’t get in any more digs. When he left the atmosphere was neutral for once.
Tommy watched his father from the balcony until he disappeared round the corner and then he made his plans. Shower first, then he was going to put on his best clothes and at ten-thirty exactly he was going to walk over to visit his new friends. Oh, he was so happy! This was his first ever engagement and he didn’t want it to go wrong.
He wished his mother was alive. She would have been so proud of him. The Brewers seemed like such nice people.
‘Stop it, Jon Jon, please!’
Kira was terrified as her brother dragged Jeanette from her bed by the hair.
‘Just keep out of it, Kira, OK?’
Jeanette was trying to prise her brother’s fingers from her hair. She was already crying. He dragged her bodily into the front room then, throwing her roughly on the sofa, bellowed, ‘What have you been told, eh?’
He was so angry his eyes were nearly popping out of his head. He was obviously on something and it wasn’t cannabis.
‘What have you been fucking told! You never, and I mean never, leave our Kira on her Jack Jones.’
Kira was terrified as she watched the scene unfold before her eyes.
‘I didn’t mind, Jon Jon, I had a lovely time! Tommy let me play with his Barbies, and I had lovely cups of tea and that.’
Jon Jon grabbed at his own dreads in anger and frustration.
‘Can you hear her, Jen? Just listen to her. She spent the evening with a bloke who plays with fucking Barbies!’
‘He’s all right, Jon Jon. I think he’s queer to be honest.’
Joanie was the voice of reason as usual. She knew her son was more than capable of half-killing the frightened girl before him.
He poked his face into his sister’s as he shouted again: ‘Fucking Barbies? What next? You’d leave her with Fred West if it got you out for a couple of hours.’
He was spitting with rage now.
‘Do you realise she could have been taken away last night, spent the next few weeks in a fucking foster home? You know what the filth is capable of. It would make them laugh, knowing the aggravation they had wrought on us. And where was you, eh, while the house was getting torn apart? Come on, I want to know who he is so I can rip his fucking head off.’
‘But she wasn’t taken, was she? So get a fucking grip.’
Jon Jon took a step closer and Kira screamed. It was only this that stopped him from attacking the crying girl.
‘Well, that’s it now, Mum. She is grounded for the duration.’
He poked a finger at Jeanette.
‘You ain’t going out till the Second fucking Coming now.’
She jumped up and screamed, all fear gone at the thought of not being allowed out.
‘It ain’t up to you, it’s up to Mum! Tell her to stop working for once. Selling her crump to all and sundry while I look after her kid. Or better still, if you’re the man of the house, why don’t you keep us then?’
Joanie answered her.
‘I ain’t took a penny off any of you and I won’t, you know that. To all intents and purposes this is my house and I’ll say what happens in it.’
Jeanette laughed nastily.
‘You better tell him that then, because he thinks this is his house.’
She stormed into her bedroom, shouting, ‘I have to get ready for school.’
Jon Jon laughed despite himself.
‘That’s a first, ain’t it? You going to school?’
‘Leave her, Jon Jon, she got the message. Come on, Kira. Stop crying, love. What do you want for breakfast?’
‘Can I have anything I like?’
‘Within reason!’
Kira grinned through her tears and Jon Jon closed his eyes in distress. She was beautiful. Blonde and blue-eyed, she was going to be absolutely stunning - and she would probably never be any older in her mind than she was now. It was such a frightening thought.
Even after this rigmarole all she was interested in was getting a bowl of Coco Pops. Her attention span was so short this upset would be forgotten after the first spoonful.
He followed them into the kitchen.
‘Jeanette’s right, Mum. Maybe you should quit working. I can see us through.’
Joanie poured out the bowl of Coco Pops without answering him. He knew how she felt about his drugs, and she knew how he felt about her own particular way of dealing. It was a no-win situation.
‘She had a fright, she’ll be OK now.’ Joanie grinned suddenly. ‘He ain’t half a funny bloke. Nice enough, but so fat! I mean, honestly.’
Kira laughed.
‘Can’t I stay with Tommy, Mum? He has lovely things at his house, Barbies and treats.’
‘What did you do last night, Kira?’
Jon Jon seemed genuinely interested.
She thought earnestly for a few moments, her little face screwed up in concentration.
‘Er . . . we played Barbies, like I said, and then we watched Sleeping Beauty. Tommy has all the films - he loves princesses like I do. It was lovely. We had drinks of Coca-Cola and sandwiches and sweeties. It was fun.’
Joanie ruffled the child’s hair.
‘He seemed nice enough, bless him. And be fair, Jon Jon, he done us a right favour.’
‘I suppose so. But we don’t know anything about him, do we?’
Joanie shrugged.
‘What’s to know? He came up trumps for us and that’s enough for me. He’s a bit slow.’ She nodded towards her daughter. ‘That’s why they get on so well, I think.’
Jon Jon nodded sadly.
‘I see what you mean, Mum. Well, you suss him out, see what you think. He might be a touch with Miss Unreliable on the prowl.’
Joanie slipped an arm round her son’s waist.
‘Did you hurt Carty, son?’
He nodded.
‘I had to, Mum, he’s a fucking crack head. Caused me no end of grief.’
Joanie pushed her hair from her eyes and smiled.
‘I heard he was really damaged.’
&nbs
p; She kept her voice neutral.
Jon Jon shrugged.
‘Should have thought of that, shouldn’t he? I ain’t got time for wasters, Mum. ’Specially not crack-head wasters.’
The subject was closed and Joanie wondered at a son who could be so caring and compassionate with his sisters and family and yet could physically maim a close personal friend.
She didn’t want to think about any of it too much, so she did what she always did. She smiled and laughed and joked. Kira was in stitches as she left for school with her big brother. Then Joanie went straight for the Valium.
Just to take the edge off life. That’s what she had been telling herself for years.
Chapter Four
Monika was staring at the huge man before her in absolute awe. He was bloody big. He was also a nice fella who tried so hard to be accommodating it was painful to watch him.
Being on the large side herself she knew the battle he faced daily, not just inside himself but with the outside world. Though she laughed about him with Joanie, they liked him a lot. Tommy was kind and compassionate.
Yet, for all his size, she saw that he was surprisingly light on his feet. That was another thing she had noticed about him: he managed to get about all right. Far better than you would think when you looked at him, though he did huff and puff more than most.
Tommy for his part was having the time of his life. Two women were sitting talking to him as if he was a real person. Someone who mattered, someone who actually belonged in their world. This was his third visit now and he felt welcome and respected. It was the latter that pleased him most. Joanie was a goddess to him now, and since she had welcomed him into her home, the neighbours had started to show him new respect, especially since Jon Jon too now gave him the time of day. Like his mother, he didn’t judge books by their covers. Tommy had decided early on that he liked the boy. He certainly had his priorities right where his family was concerned. He was like a father to his sisters, watching them like a hawk.
Nowadays, thanks to the Brewers, people called out to Tommy as he sat on his balcony, and he had even started to take the long trek to the shops on a daily basis. That alone was hard work, but it was worth it because people spoke to him now. Were actually interested in him. He had his own niche in the life of the estate.
He also had unlimited access to Kira, which was the idea after all. He loved her, loved being with her. She was everything to him, and she loved him back. She had told him she did. She had also said she felt stifled by her family, but he had explained how lucky she was to have people who actually cared about her and he thought she had understood what he meant. He hoped so anyway.
Joanie grinned at him; she had a lovely face. She also had a dignity that wasn’t apparent on first meeting her but which shone out like a beacon after a while. She had had a hard life, he knew that and could sympathise with it. More than most people, in fact.
‘So do you want the job then?’
Tommy grinned from ear to ear.
‘Oh, please. It would be my pleasure.’
He flapped one hand and sent Monika into gales of laughter once more. But it was friendly laughter, not vicious and at the expense of his pride. It was laughter to be shared, by him as well as everyone nearby. He was in his element, even camping it up a bit to please them all.
‘Now all we need to sort out is the money.’
Tommy’s face fell.
‘Please, Joanie. I couldn’t take money from a friend.’
She smiled at him. She knew he meant what he said and appreciated the fact, but he had to be paid. Fair dues.
‘Listen to me - you will get a few quid, son. Now I don’t want to hear no more about it, OK?’
He smiled and nodded, pleased that the decision had been taken out of his hands. Wait until he told his father he had a job! A real job. Not like the ones he had done before. Homework, boring soul-destroying homework. Hours and hours spent making boxes.
That would give his dad something to think about.
‘Well, if you’re sure, Joanie.’
He was thrilled with the way things had turned out.
Joanie let him make the tea because she knew it pleased him so much. He wasn’t a bad fella, just lonely. And if anyone knew about loneliness it was her.
Tommy’s face clouded over then. Suppose his father put a block on the babysitting? So he said quietly, ‘The only fly in the ointment is me dad.’
Monika laughed that hearty laugh of hers and said loudly, ‘Fuck him, Tommy. Jon Jon will have a word if necessary. So stop worrying, mate.’
But even as he smiled they could see the fear on his open face. Then it vanished, as quickly as if a curtain had been lifted. Jon Jon would sort it out. Even his father wouldn’t dare cross Jon Jon Brewer.
The two women saw his expression change and then happiness was glowing from him once more.
‘I’ll talk to him. Don’t worry, Tommy.’
As she spoke Joanie made a face at Monika that sent her into stitches once more.
‘Fucking miserable old bastard he is. Here, Joanie, tell you what - we’ll Godfather him. He looks senile so we’ll just make him an offer he can’t remember!’
They all laughed again, except Tommy was laughing at the sheer scandalous audacity of the words and not because he thought they were funny.
If his father only knew he was the object of ridicule for a change! He broke into a cold sweat just thinking about it. But for all that it felt good to laugh at him, about him.
Tommy had friends, and his father could do nothing about it. Not without letting the cat out of the bag anyway.
He pushed that thought away as quickly as it had come into his head. That was all in the past now, like his father said. It was wonderful just to be in this kitchen with people who accepted him whatever he was and whatever he looked like.
For the first time since his mother had died Tommy felt valued, needed.
It was certainly a heady feeling.
Paulie was at home finishing his breakfast. He always ate a late breakfast and it was always served to him by his wife Sylvia.
She was a big girl, fleshy and raw-boned. She had a lovely face and no dress sense whatsoever, which suited Paulie down to the ground. She never stood out at Masonic dos and was a pillar of the local church. She was also an exemplary mother.
His two daughters, Pauline aged eleven and Jacqueline aged nine, were perfect little middle-class misses with the right hairstyles and suitably demure clothing and personalities. No chance of them going into the family business, not with the amount he was weighing out for their school fees anyway.
He liked his home life, it suited him. In fact he was loath to leave the bosom of his household today because he was dog-tired and fancied a bit of the other with old Sylvia. She was due a good seeing to and they both knew it.
Paulie felt lucky in his life. He was totally in control of everything and everyone around him. He poured himself another coffee and smiled at his wife.
Sylvia watched her husband and stifled the laughter that was spiralling up inside her body and threatening to burst out. He had to be the most smug, self-satisfied and ignorant man on the planet. She knew all about him, but wasn’t going to let on, and if he thought he was going to touch her at any point today or in the future he had a big shock coming. She had loved him once, many years ago. Now she wasn’t sure how she felt about him.
What she did know, though, was that he was a good provider and that was more important to her than anything. She was not going to end up like her own mother, living on past glories while scraping out her life in genteel poverty.
So Sylvia had made a separate life for herself, and Paulie had no idea that she was gradually manoeuvring him away from herself and their daughters.
She was spending more and more time at their ‘country retreat’. This was actually a four-bedroomed mock-Georgian house in Kent, but it did the job as far as she was concerned. It kept her and the girls away from this cretin she called a h
usband, and that, as far as she was concerned, was a touch.
Nowadays they were like strangers who just happened to reside under the same roof. The roof he had paid for admittedly. She attended functions with him where she stood beside him like the good wife she was. And she was a good wife, even though he had not always been a good husband. In short, Sylvia knew which side her bread was buttered.