by Martina Cole
‘There goes the new lamp - that’ll send Muvver off her trolley.’
Debbie was right. June McNamara screamed at the top of her voice: ‘You fucker! You rotten bastard. Why must you always destroy everything?’
The fight was in full swing now and they knew their mother was holding her own. They could hear their father saying, ‘Give over, you stupid cow, for fuck’s sake.’
He was laughing now, and his laughter was infuriating his wife even more. Which was exactly what he wanted.
The girls sat up in bed, eyes wide.
They knew the next step would be Joey McNamara beginning the real hammering that would blacken his wife’s eyes and possibly break some bones.
Debbie leaped from the bed. At nine she was tall for her age and very pretty. In these scruffy surroundings she looked too beautiful for the life she lived. Opening the bedroom door gingerly, she stepped out into the hallway.
June was on the floor of the lounge, her face a bloody wreck. Her husband was leaning over her, his breath coming in deep gulps as he ripped clumps of hair from her head. Susan followed her sister nervously. They both breathed a deep sigh of relief as the police banged on the front door.
‘Come on, Joey. Open up, mate. We know you’re in there.’
Susan ran down the hallway and opened the door. Sergeant Simpson bowled in with two other uniforms, knocking the child out of their way. She watched as they pulled her father off her mother while he tried unsuccessfully to kick her in the head.
‘Calm down, man. You’re already nicked for a D and D. Do you want to add assaulting a police officer to that as well?’
‘She’s a whore . . . an old whore! Shagging the fucking landlord of the Victory now, if you don’t mind. And him as black as nookie’s fucking knockers. You bastard!’
Once more he tried to attack his wife.
‘Making a laughing stock of me she is, everyone knows about it.’
June vomited on to the orange and green shag-pile and one of the younger PCs heaved with her.
‘Come on, Joey, you’re on an overnight. It’ll all sort itself out in the morning. Sleep it off, lad, come on.’
He nodded then but as they walked him from the room he took back his booted foot and crashed the heel down on his wife’s hand.
June screamed. Getting rapidly up off the floor, she attacked him once more.
The two girls watched it all round-eyed.
Sergeant Simpson looked at Susan and shrugged.
‘Get your arse round your granny’s. Tell her the score and come back with her. Your mother needs to go to the Old London, he’s hammered her senseless.’
She nodded and went back into her bedroom. She pulled on her wellies and an old coat. Because she was heavier than Debbie and not as pretty she got all the shit jobs. Everyone always assumed she was the eldest too.
When she came out of the bedroom her mother was sitting on the sofa, nursing her injured hand, and Debbie had one arm around her shoulders trying to comfort her. Susan saw her mother shrug the arm off and sighed.
Debbie never learned to leave things well alone.
She slipped out of the front door into the coldness of the winter night and began the walk along Commercial Road to her grandmother’s.
It was four in the morning and Ivy McNamara was not going to be pleased to be dragged from her warm bed. Quite frankly Susan didn’t blame her.
Her feet were numb by the time she arrived at her granny’s and tapped on the front door gently. Hopping from foot to foot, she waited for the inevitable shriek.
‘Who’s that at this time of night?’
Susan didn’t like Granny McNamara. No one did. Ivy was a vindictive, mouthy old bitch - and that was what people said when they were being nice about her.
The front door was thrown open and she stood before her granddaughter in all her splendour. Bright yellow rollers surrounded her head like a crash helmet and her toothless mouth had spittle in its corners. She had lines of age and sleep in abundance and her hands were dirty claws, hygiene never being one of her virtues.
She was only fifty-seven years old.
‘Come on in then. You’re letting out all the heat!’
Susan followed her into her bedroom where Ivy pulled an old fur coat from the wardrobe and slipped it on.
‘Find me teeth, I can’t go without them.’
Susan looked around the bedroom until she saw the teeth in a glass by the bed.
‘Here you are, Gran.’
Ivy slipped the teeth into her mouth and immediately years dropped off that caved in face.
‘What’s happened now?’
‘The police took me dad. He was belting me mum.’
Ivy laughed loudly and broke wind at the same time.
‘Found out about her and the macaroon from the Victory, ’as he?’
Susan nodded.
‘Fucking whore she is! I don’t know why he married it, but he wouldn’t listen to me, would he? Oh, no. Had to have her - the biggest slapper this side of the water. You’ll rue the day you poked that, I told him. And he did.’
Susan went on to autopilot. Her granny ripped her mother to pieces regularly and she had heard it all before. As her grandmother ranted the girl stood by the bedroom door and watched her.
Ivy put on her stockings then a pair of socks and her fur-lined ankle boots. A large knitted hat finished off the ensemble. Picking up a huge black leather handbag stuffed with everything from old ration books to her children’s birth certificates and special offer vouchers, Ivy nodded to let her granddaughter know she was ready.
And without a warm drink, a decent jumper or a scarf, Susan walked all the way back home in the crippling cold of an icy London winter.
Back at the house Debbie was making tea. Their mother’s face was destroyed and both girls avoided looking at it. Granny McNamara immediately took over and that made them feel even worse. She gripped her daughter-in-law’s face tightly and moved it from side to side.
‘You’ll live. Though one of these days he’ll fucking do for you, and who could blame him? Everyone’s talking about you and that black mushy from the pub.’
The two little girls made faces at each other. Mr Omomuru, as they called him, was nice. He gave them lemonade and crisps and made them smile by telling them about Africa and his family.
Once the blood was washed away June’s face didn’t look so bad but it was still very battered. Getting up unsteadily, she walked to the mirror propped up on the windowsill and groaned.
‘That rotten bastard! Look what he’s done.’
Ivy laughed raucously.
‘Your soot won’t want to see you for a while - not with a boat like that. Anyway Joey will finish you when he gets back.’
She seemed to relish this thought and, fortified with tea and brandy, June turned to face her and shouted, ‘Bollocks to you, you dried up old bag!’
Her hand was swollen to three times its usual size. Emptying the bowl, Susan refilled it with icy cold water. Her mother plunged in her hand and sighed.
‘That feels better. Time you fucked off, ain’t it, Ivy? Or will you hang around for your darling son to be released and see the end of the drama?’
Ivy shut up. She knew when she’d pushed things too far. June was quite capable of slinging her out of the house so Ivy kept her own counsel for a while. There was no way she was missing her son’s return from prison; it would give her something to talk about at bingo.
‘You in, Junie?’
Maud Granger’s voice was loud as she walked into the tiny flat later that morning. She stepped into the kitchen and, seeing Ivy, nodded in her direction.
‘I seen the Old Bill taking him - it’s a fucking disgrace the way that man treats you. Look at the state of your face.’
June put the kettle on once more and winced as her hand throbbed.
‘He’ll be home soon, they normally kick him out about lunchtime, then it’ll all start again. He’s convinced I’m having an affair. As usual.’
> ‘And as usual you are,’ Ivy chipped in.
June turned to her and sighed heavily, trying hard to keep her temper. ‘I am not having an affair. If you must know he pays me, Ivy, and without the money I couldn’t survive as your darling son drinks anything that comes into this house. So now you fucking know, don’t you?’
June quickly wished she had not been so outspoken because her friend Maud’s mouth was like the Blackwall tunnel and that remark would be all over the estate by two o’clock.
Maud’s eyes were like saucers as she breathed, ‘Oh, Junie, you are a one.’
Ivy mimicked her.
‘Yeah, and a right one at that, eh, Junie? My boy will boil your eyes, love, when I tell him this.’
June sat at the kitchen table and felt the sting of tears. Her face was decimated, swollen and black. It would take weeks before she looked even remotely like her usual self. Her hand was killing her and her back felt as if it was going to break. Her whole body was sore. But she was used to that. It was knowing that her husband was not going to let this one go for a good while that really bothered her. She liked her new man. He was lovely, gentle and kind, treated her with respect. He was generous as well.
June had been moonlighting as a prostitute for years, as did most of her neighbours. It was part and parcel of their lives. Kids needed new shoes? Off you went and no one was any the wiser.
What you didn’t do was mouth off about it, and you certainly didn’t open your trap when Maud was about. She could find gossip at a prayer meeting.
Susan and Debbie came into the kitchen as their grandmother started her tirade once more. According to her June was totally useless. Susan asked her mother if it was okay for them to go out and play.
Before June could answer, the front door nearly came off its hinges under a mighty banging.
She sighed.
‘Get that for me, will you?’
Susan opened the front door and saw the biggest black man she had ever laid eyes on standing there.
He smiled at her gently.
‘Is your mother there?’
Susan was nonplussed. She liked this man, he was nice. But she knew his presence would be like a red rag to a bull so far as Granny McNamara was concerned.
Debbie ran into the kitchen, squealing, ‘It’s the black man, Mum, he’s at the door.’
June rolled her eyes to the ceiling and stifled an urge to scream against the injustice of it all. Pulling herself from her seat she said sarcastically, ‘Close your mouth, Maudie, you might miss something juicy.’
As she walked out of the kitchen her heart was pounding. Jacob Omomuru was basically a very kind man as she well knew. That was what made it all so much harder. The chances were her old man was going to kill her over Jacob, and deep down she knew that if she had an iota of sense she’d run off with him. But she also knew she wouldn’t. She couldn’t cope with real life, couldn’t cope with Joey hot on her trail because that would be the upshot.
Jacob was standing on her doorstep in front of all the neighbours in a smart navy blue suit with toning shirt and tie. The gorgeous crinkly hair that she loved was cropped close to his head; his wide almond-shaped dark eyes were pleading with her. Jacob Omomuru loved her and secretly that knowledge made June a very happy woman. But her life was set and nothing would change it.
He was folding her in his arms, exclaiming over her face. She winced as he pulled her against him. She could smell his special scent of sandalwood soap and cigarillos. She pushed him away just as her mother-in-law came to the door, her face like a white mask, mouth set in a large and ugly O.
‘Leave her alone, you black bastard! My boy will cut your throat when he finds out about this lot.’
Jacob stood there, a large and intimidating figure among the women and girls. Maud was nearly wetting herself with nervous excitement. This was better than the telly, as she would inform people later in the day when she dropped in on anyone she could think of for a cup of tea and a fag. She had never heard of the expression ‘keeping mum’.
‘Come on, June. Come with me now, darling. Let me take good care of you and the girls.’
June looked up into his handsome face and shook her head.
‘You better go, Jacob. Joey’s home soon and if you’re here there’ll be hell to pay.’ Her voice was low, no emotion in it whatsoever.
Another neighbour walked past, a young mother of twenty-three with four kids, enough stretch marks to be used as a railway timetable and more mouth than a cow’s got udders.
‘Here, Junie, you bringing work home now or what?’
June ignored her.
Jacob stared down into the face he loved so much. He knew June McNamara’s reputation, everyone did. She was a ‘sort’ as the East Enders called it. June used the only asset she had. ‘Sitting on a goldmine’ was the way he had heard other women refer to their bodies. But nevertheless he had fallen for her heavy soft breasts and the accommodating moistness between her legs.
He was pussy whipped and he knew it.
He also knew that the chances of a mixed race relationship working out in 1960 were practically impossible. Especially in their neck of the woods.
But June had given him something he had never expected to find in the coldness of London. She had given him a little happiness. He took so much working in the Victory - he took their insults dressed up as jokes, and he took their money - but he knew that each and every day he walked a fine line. It was only his size and the fear factor that kept him alive and well in East London.
Jacob used his dark brooding looks to good effect in the pub and knew that was the edge he had over the white men. The women liked him. In London, especially the East End, powerful men were sought after. It was a trophy thing. ‘My man can batter your man’s brains out.’ It was almost tribal. He allowed himself a secret smile at the thought.
June was pushing him towards the stairs as her mother-in-law screamed at the top of her voice, making sure she called people to their doors.
Turning from Jacob, June screamed back at her, ‘Shut up, you dried up old bag! Will you shut your trap and give your fucking arse a chance for once?’
Then, turning back to Jacob, she pleaded with him.
‘Will you go? You’re just making things worse. He’ll swing for me when he finds out you’ve been round here. Just go away and leave me alone!’
Her voice was husky with emotion and Jacob felt the sinking sensation of a man who realises that he has not only lost the battle but the whole war as well. He looked down into her battered face.
‘You’re a fool, June. I’m offering you a way out. I’m offering you a life.’
She laughed nastily.
‘I’ve already got a life, Jacob, and it’s fuck all to do with you and your kind.’ She knew she had hurt him and whispered more kindly, ‘Let it go, mate, just let it go.’
He tried to put a hand around her waist. She shrugged him off.
‘Look at me, Jacob. This is it for me. It can’t be any other way. If my old man comes home and finds you here, one of you will be doing time, okay? And quite frankly I ain’t worth it. Now will you go?’
Before he could answer, a bucket of cold water hit the pair of them.
Ivy was in her element. All the neighbours were out and her boy was due home so she could really let her hair down now. If June slung her out she knew one of the neighbours would gladly take her in so she was guaranteed a cuppa and a ringside seat while she waited for her son’s return.
June turned on her mother-in-law like a demented cat.
‘You vicious old bitch! What did you have to do that for?’
She chased her back into the little flat, could hear laughter from the neighbours as Ivy screamed with fright and excitement. If her mother-in-law would just drop dead her life would be so much easier. Susan and Debbie watched wide-eyed as her mother set about their granny. June gave her a few resounding slaps around the mouth and head. Ivy dragged at her daughter-in-law’s hair.
&nbs
p; ‘You whore! He’ll fucking paste you round the estate when I tell him about this. A wog, is it? Bleeding coons now, is it? By Christ, you’re lower than the dock dollies you - you’d take on anything. Even they think twice about a black man.’
Dragging her mother-in-law by the hair and throwing her into a chair by the TV, June bellowed, ‘He’s a decent man! A bloody decent man. Too good for the likes of me. If I had half a brain I’d go on the trot with him, I would. But I know that between you and that ponce of mine we’d never know a day’s peace. Your son has taken everything from me - everything. Look around you, look what we are, then pat yourself on the back, Ivy. You did a fucking great job with your boys. A really great job. We’ve got nothing, even less than you.’
Both women were worn out now, by the fighting and the screaming. The room went quiet, the two protagonists staring at one another like trapped vixens.
‘Shall I make another cup of tea?’
June turned to her friend and neighbour and barked, ‘Oh, fuck off, Maudie. Ain’t you seen enough today? Go home and look after your kids. You’ll hear it all through the wall, love, you normally do.’
‘I’ll make the tea, Mum.’ Susan’s voice was low and her mother stared into her daughter’s face sadly.
‘I’ll put a drop of Scotch in it, shall I? Clear your head.’
She closed the front door after Maud had left then put the kettle on. Five minutes later she took two large steaming mugs of tea in to her mother and her granny.
Both women were whacked out though neither would admit it. Now that Joey was due home even his mother had gone quiet. No one ever knew what mood he would be in. He swung from laughter one minute to searing anger the next.
The flat was so quiet they could all hear the ticking of the clock on the Belling cooker in the kitchen.
Chapter Two
It was an hour later when Joey put his key in the front door. As they heard him fumbling, Ivy looked at her daughter-in-law and whispered, ‘Now don’t wind him up, right? Just agree with him. Whatever he says, just agree.’
June didn’t even bother to answer her.
Joey walked through the door quietly, his narrow dark face closed and impassive. Picking up Debbie, he kissed her on the lips.