by Martina Cole
He helped Joanie into the back of his car and then, turning to the assembled women, said in a jokey manner, ‘Call an ambulance for the girl. As for him, call a hearse. He’ll fucking well be praying for one before the week’s out.’
Monika was dropped back to the beat just as his car pulled away. She looked at Todd McArthur and then listened to the story, her big dark eyes as wide as they would go.
Wonders would never cease.
But she was gutted she had missed the spectacle. It would certainly have been worth more than a tenner to her to have seen something so extraordinary it would be the talk of the pavement for years to come.
Tommy was shocked to see Joanie home so soon, especially with Jon Jon and a strange man in tow. Her obvious injuries made him very upset.
‘Are you OK?’
Joanie smiled as best she could.
‘Yeah, just a little accident.’
Paulie looked at the huge man in morbid fascination.
As usual Jon Jon went straight into Kira’s room to check on her. She was soundo, tucked in and contented. He smiled as he leaned over and kissed her gently on her silky hair.
Then he pushed twenty pounds into Little Tommy’s hand and he left quickly. He knew when he was not wanted.
‘Who the fuck was that?’ asked Paulie.
Joanie looked at him and started to laugh. It was a quiet giggle at first and then it gradually became a real rip-roarer of a laugh. Eventually Paulie joined in.
It was the light relief they all needed. In their world the worse things were, the more you laughed about them. It was the only way to survive.
Paulie sat on the sofa beside her. With his arm around Joanie’s shoulders, they laughed together so hard they had tears in their eyes. Jon Jon watched them, knowing there was a private joke here of some sort and not understanding it.
What he did understand, though, was that his mother and this man had a relationship of sorts and whatever it was it excluded him. He made them all a drink and busied himself in the small kitchen.
As Kira walked into the room in her Tinkerbell pyjamas Joanie opened her arms to her, then remembering her face, said to her daughter, ‘It’s all right, sweetie, Mummy fell over in her high heels.’
Kira jumped on to her lap and gently kissed her mother’s sore cheek.
Paulie watched in fascination as Jon Jon brought first a drink, then a cold compress, and finally some painkillers. He pushed the cushions behind Joanie and made her comfortable then took his little sister and put her back to bed, all the time talking to her gently and calming her fears before making her laugh.
Paulie was impressed despite himself. He also remembered the good times he had had in this flat over the years. It was still scruffy, but it was spotlessly clean.
‘Here, Joanie, you still got all your old crap in the cupboards?’
She smiled even though it hurt and said: ‘Yeah. Still buying it.’
‘Are you all right, Joanie? Really?’
She could hear true concern in his voice and it made her happy. She had loved this man for so long. Now he had her son in his pay and it was this that made him give her the respect she needed, indeed craved, to get her through her harsh existence.
‘’Course I am. I just hope that little girl is OK. She was too young - much too fucking young.’
Jon Jon listened to them talking. His mother and Paulie spoke together naturally, like old friends, and he supposed in a funny sort of way that was what they were. He remembered waking up and seeing Paulie in his mum’s bed years ago; remembered too how happy she had been when that happened. Paulie would cook them all big breakfasts and make them laugh. He was the only man who had ever acted like a father to them in any way.
But the visits to Joanie dwindled and then they had stopped happening altogether. In their own way they had all missed him, but not so much as their mother. Something inside her had died then. Now he saw them together again and knew that his mother still adored this man who had sold her to anyone with a tenner, and even took a percentage of that from her.
The world was mad but Jon Jon felt lucky to have known that from a very young age.
Like his mother, he made what he could out of life.
Paulie found that he was comfortable being back once more with Joanie, enjoying her funny talk and even funnier foibles. He remembered her and the kids all planning fantasy dinner parties with guests ranging from Batman to Elizabeth Taylor. He had gladly joined in the fun; could not in fact recall ever laughing so much at home.
She was kind was Joanie, had a big heart, and suddenly he missed the solace he had found between her legs and in her happy household. Her kids, unlike his own, found happiness in silly things and adored this woman who sold her arse to put food on the table and clothes on their backs.
He missed that feeling of belonging, and as mad as it seemed, he had belonged here once. Unlike in his own home where he had to take off his shoes and creep about like a fucking burglar in case he made any untoward noise or mess. He had loved that cup of tea in bed in the morning, the sound of the kids playing and arguing and Joanie’s voice as she shouted at them good-naturedly. She could distribute a wallop across the arse or a kiss quite impartially. He missed the smell of this place: of children, of Joanie. His own house smelled sterile, of pot pourri and bleach, a bit like his wife.
He also missed the way Joanie used to hold him to her breasts and soothe him, the way he could relax safe in the knowledge that she would always be there for him, no matter what. He looked into her eyes and felt the pull of her once more. It was her kindness, the bigness of her, that had attracted him all those years ago and which he realised now still had the power to move him. She had offered him her whole life for the taking, and he had taken from her: he had taken her kids, her home, had taken what he wanted from her and then discarded her. And she really had not deserved that. She had given him far more than he had ever given her. Far, far more.
There had been other Joanies, younger, firmer, but none of them had had that definitive something she had always had. Whatever it was, it had rung his bells and it still did. And that had been the bug bear: because she was a brass when all was said and done, and Paulie was a man to be reckoned with. So why did he feel like this about someone who had been laid more times than a second-hand carpet? What was this attraction that was so strong he only felt complete while in her company, inside her, even enjoying being with her children who were a Heinz 57-variety pack.
Whatever it was, it still had the power to make him want her even though she was looking older these days, a little haggard. But her smile still had that crinkle at the sides and her eyes still sparkled even though one was closing rapidly from the blow she had taken earlier. Joanie grabbed what she could from life and took whatever it threw at her. It was her heightened survival instincts that made her seem doubly alive.
Could it be that he actually admired her? He didn’t know, didn’t want to know. It was suddenly too painful to contemplate.
He put his arm around her shoulders and pulled her gently towards him. She settled herself into his body and savoured listening to the beating of his heart. He held her to him tightly, enjoying the feel of her. He kissed her gently on the top of her head and then Jon Jon crept from the room, leaving them together.
He had his own agenda tonight and now that Paulie was here no one would question his departure. He wondered if they would even notice he was gone.
As the front door closed behind him, he wondered what was going to be the upshot of this night’s work.
He hoped whatever it was it made his mother happy. She deserved to be happy, truly happy, for once in her life. And if her happiness revolved around Paulie, then so be it. He hoped she got what she wanted for once. Who was he to tell her what to do or how to live her life?
She had so little to make her happy, why would her son deny her this night with the man she craved? He only hoped Paulie didn’t hurt her any more than she had been hurt in the past.
As Jon Jon walked through the chill night air he concentrated on the score he had to settle tonight.
A banging on the front door woke Jeanette and Jasper. They lay side by side, listening to his mother swearing and cursing as she went to answer the frantic knocking. Jasper was already pulling on his trousers when the bedroom door burst open and he and Jeanette saw her brother standing there.
‘Fucking push your way in here, would you? You black bastard!’
Karen Copes’s voice was loud and gravelly. Last night had obviously been spent in the pub and her son was actually ashamed of her.
Jasper closed his eyes as he bellowed, ‘Get the fuck away, Mum!’
Then he pushed her from the room, sending her sprawling in the hallway. He stared into Jon Jon’s eyes.
‘So now you know, don’t you?’
Jon Jon looked at his sister. She was naked and he shook his head sadly as he said: ‘Get up and get dressed.’
He was embarrassed and so was she. It was excruciating for them both. He turned his back and went out into the hallway.
Jasper watched her scramble out of bed in terror. He threw her clothes at her and followed Jon Jon.
‘Outside, now!’
He and Jon Jon walked from the flat, Jasper following the intruder down the stairs and out the back. The darkness outside was broken only by the bulkhead lights over the lobby doors. These were flickering and dim, but they could see each other perfectly, the same anger and animosity mirrored in each man’s eyes.
Jasper had his cropped head signed; he actually had ‘BNP’ razored into one side. He looked like a reject from the Third Reich. Then there was Jon Jon with his soft dreads and coffee-coloured skin. The only thing they had in common at this moment was their mutual hatred.
‘She is fourteen years old and you are one dead ponce.’
Jasper shook his head.
‘I care about her and there’s nothing you can do about it. You don’t own her.’
The arrogance in his voice was like a red rag to a bull.
‘She is my sister, my flesh and blood, and scum like you will never get near her again.’
As Jon Jon raised his fist to take Jasper down once and for all, Jeanette came outside. Bursting through the door, she cried, ‘Please, Jon Jon! Please . . . I’m sorry. Let’s just go home.’
She was hanging on her brother’s arm and Jasper watched her, feeling strangely detached. Devoid of her usual makeup, Jeanette looked what she was: a little girl. And a terrified little girl at that.
Jon Jon thought of his mother, how she had looked earlier, thought of her life and knew that if he didn’t do something now this girl’s would eventually run along the same lines. He fingered the knife in his pocket once more, caressed it gently before pulling it out.
Jeanette saw it and screamed.
Jon Jon grabbed Jasper quickly and efficiently. He felt the heat of shame as Jon Jon held the blade to his throat.
‘I could take you out now but you ain’t worth it. A fucking bullyboy ain’t worth a life sentence. But I will tell you this much. Take a good look at my sister - her father was a Turk. He stayed around for a few weeks and then he went on the trot. So, Golden Boy, remember that when you pass her in the street. But don’t talk to her, don’t even acknowledge her existence, or I swear I will kill you stone fucking dead!’
Then Jon Jon threw him aside as if he was nothing. His strength lay in that contemptuous dismissal and they both knew it.
Jeanette was devastated that her own brother would make her sound like nothing.
‘You bastard, Jon Jon! You’d do that to me?’
The hurt in her voice didn’t affect him one iota.
‘A fucking bullyboy. Look at him, Jen. Take a good fucking look at what you’re throwing your life away on. He ain’t even stuck up for you, girl! His life is talking shit and toy-fighting with the police. Get a grip before I murder over you - and I will, girl. I will cut this cunt into pieces before he uses you again. A bullyboy and a Turkish girl? He’s laughing at you, him and all his mates, you stupid prat!’
Jeanette was mortified in case Jon Jon was telling the truth. She looked at Jasper and her heart sank. He couldn’t even meet her eyes.
Jon Jon laughed.
‘Fucking bullyboy! Go on, touch my sister again, I dare you.’
He grinned nastily.
‘You smoke black weed, listen to reggae, and still you want to punch our heads in - you stupid sick fuck!’
Then he proceeded to give Jasper the biggest hiding he had ever had in his life and, without all his friends as back up, Jasper covered his head and took it. There was nothing else he could do. He knew in a one to one Jon Jon would always be the victor.
The beating was quick, brutal and humiliating. Afterwards Jon Jon dragged Jeanette away and she cried like she had never cried before.
Jasper lay on the ground, feeling he had actually got off lightly. He had expected Jon Jon to use the knife at any moment and the fear had been suffocating. He was in dire pain, felt as if his body was on fire, and knew his face would be unrecognisable by the morning. But he was alive.
In the darkness he lit a cigarette and felt the sting of tears. He was alive and completely humiliated.
Joanie lay in bed with Paulie and still couldn’t believe he was actually beside her once more. The sex had been all she had remembered: he was the only man she had ever really enjoyed the act with, and she knew that would never change. The feel of him asleep on her breasts was so familiar, it felt like the last few years of neglect had never been.
She was holding him to her gently, savouring his deep snoring and making the most of the time he would allot her because she knew that this was a one off.
In the dimness she could make out his face. It still had the power to move her. She loved him so much; had once actually harboured dreams of being with him full-time. Had seen herself as his girl, of course, not his wife - she was not completely delusional. But still perhaps his number one bird. His main squeeze.
She smiled at the thought now. Once it had seemed possible, anything had. There was something she wanted to tell him but now, after all these years, she wondered if she should. It might make him stay around, see more of her, but it could also make him walk away from her for good.
But no. She had missed her chance years ago. She had to accept that, just take what she could from this man asleep beside her. Savour whatever crumbs he threw her way. Her trouble was she knew her own worth down to the last insult.
She hugged him to her once more and kissed the soft skin of his forehead, grateful for this time because in truth she had never thought to feel him this close ever again. She heard the kids come in, and heard their respective doors shut. Now she could try and sleep herself.
It was funny, but even though the kids lived their own lives and she was useless in her efforts to help them any more, she still couldn’t sleep until they were all in. Safe and sound. That was how she liked to think of them, tucked up in their little beds. Safe and sound. And so was she tonight, safe in the arms of the man she had loved since she’d first clapped eyes on him all those years ago.
She savoured every memory of them together, enjoying the bittersweet recollections even though some of them made her want to cry.
Finally, after what seemed like hours, she slept.
Chapter Six
Karen Copes was still shouting when the hospital staff asked her to leave at five-thirty in the morning. She had been creating since they had reached the A & E unit, and her shouting, swearing and crying was wearing a bit thin now. She had so far threatened two nurses, a doctor and the hospital receptionist with physical harm. Even though everything possible was being done for her son, she didn’t feel they were bothering enough. Finally it was decided she had to go and Karen declared she was not going without a fight.
The fact that it was her own son who had requested her removal only made her more angry. Her foul language could be heard all over the unit. It took three doc
tors, a security guard, and eventually her own son’s wrath to finally remove her from the premises.
She only went home because she needed to get a drink inside her, even though she would never admit that out loud. Her drinking was getting to such a level even she was noticing it. Mornings were the worst; trying to get a quick snifter in when she was being watched like a hawk was difficult. She still argued that she was only a social drinker, but that argument was sounding hollow even to herself.
Now, with Jasper’s injuries, she was convinced no one could say a bad word about her having a few drinks to take the edge off her concern for him. But she was still disgruntled about being made to leave. It rankled that her own son wanted nothing to do with her, and she was shrewd enough to know that he would have that calf-eyed child there before he would have her.