by Martina Cole
Finally he saw June. She was standing at the back of the church. Even from that distance her eyes were condemning him and he knew that no matter what he did or said he would be blamed for this day all his life.
Wiping a hand across his eyes he realised he was still crying. June turned her back on him and walked from the church. Joey McNamara had never felt so alone in all his life.
Chapter Eleven
Barry was drunk but contrite. Everyone could see that much. Kate Dalston had made sure everyone had a drink and some food and had tried her hardest to make the day a success. The ceremony was not mentioned by anyone and that suited all concerned.
June and Ivy were in the bedroom at the new house, changing the sheets and tidying everything away. Ivy, for the first time ever, had a downer on her son.
‘Mind you, June, they was each as bad as the other.’
She nodded.
‘All that money, all that time and effort. Poor Susan, she really tried and all.’
Ivy shrugged.
‘Well, at least she understands now what she’s taken on. I never thought I’d say this, June, but that Barry is as bad as Joey in a lot of respects.’ She shuddered. ‘Every time I think of that scene in church I feel ill.’
June shook her head in consternation.
‘How do you think Susan feels? She’s a pain in the arse at times but even I have to admit that today’s antics were totally out of order. Did you see Bannerman’s face, him being religious and all?’
Ivy sniffed the sheets suspiciously and sighed.
‘They’ve had a shagging session in this bed and all, dirty pair of fuckers. Look at the colour of that lipstick, and it’ll never come off these sheets. Candy stripes are always fuckers for stains.’
June rolled her eyes to the ceiling. She heard Susan’s voice from the garden and walked to the window so she could see what was going on. Joey had come in at the back gate and she lifted the sash window as quietly as she could to hear what was being said.
He was trying to put his arm around Susan who was pushing him away, gently trying to make him leave.
‘Please, Dad, ain’t there been enough trouble today?’
Joey, it was evident, had stocked up on more drink for Dutch courage. June looked down on husband and daughter as if she were a stranger, watching them like an impartial onlooker. She could smell the heat of the day, the familiar odour of exhaust fumes, cooked food and grime that denoted the East End in the summer. She saw her husband place one hand on his daughter’s belly and try and rub it.
‘Come on, Susan, you know I didn’t mean it. I was drunk, just drunk.’
Susan pushed him now with greater force as if his touching her had clicked a switch inside her.
‘Keep your fucking hands off me! I ain’t nothing to you now. I’m a Dalston not a McNamara, okay? You can’t ever touch me again.’
June was aware of Ivy standing quietly beside her. Neither woman said a word.
‘I was trying to stick up for you, love. He knocked you over in front of everyone.’
Susan moved away from him once more, though in the narrow confines of the walled garden this was difficult.
‘You ruined my wedding. You got him pissed and into a fight. You ruined it all. I know what your game is. You’re fucking jealous. You need him because you’re so fucking useless you can’t even keep a job as a paid thug. Well, it all stops from here, Dad. I have had it up to my back teeth. Barry is my husband and I am his wife. You can’t touch me now, not ever again, because if you do I’ll tell him.
‘He knew what you did to me round me nan’s, and he knows what you really are. A nonce, a beast, whatever you want to call it.’
June and Ivy watched in stunned silence as Joey started crying again.
‘Please, Susan, I only did it because I love you. You’re my best girl, you always was.’
There was a pleading note in his voice that broke June, made her realise just what he was.
‘What’s going on? What’s this all about?’
Ivy’s voice was querulous.
June looked at her mother-in-law and shrugged.
‘What do you think it’s about, Ivy? Your golden boy has been shagging his daughter. Has been for years by all accounts.’
Ivy was shaking her head in denial.
‘No, no way. He ain’t like that. He might have a few strange habits but not that. Susan’s probably got him wrong, you know what she’s like. All that reading, a fucking drama queen her . . .’
June interrupted her.
‘You know what, Ivy? He takes after you in a lot of ways. Selfish, opinionated and thoroughly nasty. He first took her when she was twelve, and he’s been taking her ever since. I’ve known about it for ages.’
Ivy looked at her daughter-in-law in stunned silence.
‘You knew? You knew and you didn’t do anything?’
Even she found that difficult to believe.
June smiled thinly.
‘Don’t you think we all had enough problems without that getting out? Imagine Davey Davidson or the Bannermans finding out about that, eh? We’d have been run out of the East End, you know that as well as I do.’
Ivy was prevented from answering by a scream below them in the garden. Barry’s mother was pulling her son away from Joey and Susan was trying to push her father through the small gate out into the alley.
‘Just go, Dad. Will you just go? Please.’
Her voice was pleading now. She had had enough of the day, the heat and the company. All Susan wanted was to lie down and try and forget any of this had ever taken place. Joey left the garden and she sighed with relief.
‘What did he want then?’
Barry’s voice was hard.
‘What do you think he wanted, Bal? He wanted to come to the so-called reception.’
Kate Dalston left them to it. She thought it would be best for them to clear the air. Ivy and June watched from the bedroom, both quiet as they listened to what was being said.
Barry pushed Susan against the gate and tried to put his arms around her. She could smell vomit, whisky and red wine on his breath and turned her head away in disgust. He sensed what she was thinking and pushed her more forcefully against the wooden gate.
Susan could feel a nail digging into her back and tried to twist away from his grasp.
‘Let go of me, Barry, I’m sick of being forced to do what everyone wants.’
He grinned.
‘Oh, you’re sick of doing what you’re told, are you? Well, let me spell it out to you. When I married you today, I gave you respectability, mate. I took you from that pair of scumbags who raised you and turned you into my wife. So please do me the honour of remembering that at all times. If I tell you to jump, Susan Dalston, you jump and you jump as high as you can, lady, because I expect the best from you. Now, do I make myself clear?’
He was holding her face in his hand, squeezing her jaw until she winced with pain.
‘I can’t hear you, Susan, was that a yes?’
She nodded painfully and he released his grip. ‘You’re getting like your mother. You think I’m going to put up with all the crap your father put up with, don’t you? Well, listen to me. You are mine and no one else’s. Understand that now, Susan. And that includes your fucking father. If I hear he’s been sniffing round you, I’ll kill him.’
She nodded again, frightened now.
‘Then I’ll kill you. If that baby comes out even remotely resembling that cunt, I will rip you to shreds. You hear what I’m telling you, woman?’
Susan licked cracked and sore lips.
‘Please, Barry, not today, eh? The day’s been ruined enough as it is . . .’
He wasn’t listening to her. He was dragging her out into the alleyway and thrusting her against the opposite wall. He was pulling up her wedding dress, all the while biting her neck with vicious little nips that hurt and distressed her.
‘Leave it out, Barry, not out here. Not in front of everyone.’
He was ripping at her underwear now. She felt the cheap fabric tear in his hands and closed her eyes against the glare of the summer sun.
‘You’re me wife, Susan. I can do this when I like, love. It’s the reason people marry, see? I fuck you rigid, you let me. But I can also fuck other people rigid and you still have to let me do it. It’s the difference between men and women, see.’
He was lifting her off the ground with the force of his thrusts; it was excruciatingly painful. But Barry had got his rhythm now and was pounding away at her as if his life depended on it.
Susan looked up and saw her father watching from the garden alongside. He was partially hidden behind a broken down fence covered in weeds and accumulated rubbish. She saw his drawn face. His eyes were dark with emotion and his hair was plastered to his head with sweat.
A wasp was buzzing around. She could hear it loud in her mind. It seemed at odds with what was happening to her at that moment. The distant drone of traffic and the occasional tremor in the ground as a heavy lorry passed by were all normal events, yet nothing was normal about this time or place. She realised that Barry was Joey, even though her mind shrank before this notion.
Barry loved her, she was sure of that.
At sixteen, heavily pregnant and after a childhood most people would not believe, she had to believe that he loved her. She wanted him to love her.
Wanted somebody to love her.
All her girlish dreams dissolved then, and as she relaxed, just wanting the punishment of his assault on her body over with, she felt him ejaculate. His whole body tensed and then sagged and he held on to her buttocks for dear life. Then, as the lust left him and he realised how heavy she was, he lowered her to the ground and buried his head in her chest, cuddling her close, murmuring what to him were endearments.
‘That’s the best, Sue, the best it’s ever been. You’re mine now, love, all mine and no one else’s.’
She stroked his head and nodded, wanting it all to be over. She wanted it finished and done with, wanted to forget it had ever happened. Wanted to move away from her father’s gaze.
If Barry realised Joey was watching them he would be incensed, would go ballistic . . .
But turning from her, he looked over at her father and, zipping up his trousers, cried out: ‘Get a good look, Joey? See what your lovely daughter got for herself, eh? A real man.’
Susan closed her eyes in distress.
‘Oh, please God, make this fucking day be over.’
Joey stumbled out of the garden and started down the alleyway behind the mean houses. He looked defeated, and Susan felt a moment’s sorrow for him.
Then Barry was walking after him, pulling him round, and Susan felt the breath leave her body as she heard her husband’s words.
‘Come on, Joey, let’s have a drink to today, mate. We all know where we stand now, don’t we?’
Joey looked at his daughter and imperceptibly she nodded her head. There was nothing else she could do. Barry Dalston had spoken and now she had to do what he wanted.
Her life had not changed one iota. All that was different was the name of the person who now controlled her. What she did, what she thought, what she said.
As the men walked back into the garden together and made their peace in front of everyone she watched them, her heart breaking inside her at the unfairness of a life that replaced Joey with Barry.
Susan grew up in those fifteen minutes but it was too late. Barry Dalston now owned her lock, stock and barrel.
The wedding reception was going with a swing. It was eleven-thirty at night and the warm summer weather made it even better. The stars were glittering in the heavens and a cool breeze whistled among the guests as they spilled out of the kitchen into the garden and alleyway behind the house. Music was playing, and people were dancing inside and out.
Susan was absolutely shattered. Her belly felt as if it was hanging down to her knees and her head was thumping from all the noise and the tension of the day. She watched Debbie dancing with all the men, and flirting with them. She saw her mother and Ivy talking together, saw friends and relatives drunk and without inhibitions, dancing, kissing and disappearing with partners they had not arrived with.
Debbie danced over to her.
‘All right, Sue? Turned out a right blast in the end, eh?’
‘You taking the piss, Debbie? It’s been a fucking nightmare.’
Her sister shrugged.
‘I admit the church was heavy, but all in all I think it’s gone quite well. That was just Dad getting Barry pissed. Mum’s already had him over the coals about it and he’s suitably shamefaced as you can see. She bollocked the life out of him actually, I heard her.’
‘All that money and time, Debbie, getting everything right for today, and they ruined it. I’m a laughing stock now. I heard Auntie Violet telling Grace that it was because of me trying to be flash. Getting us all dressed up and pushing the boat out with a big white wedding. Her exact words, of course, were, “It all went wrong because God don’t like people getting above themselves. And who’s she think she is? The fucking Queen?”
Debbie laughed.
‘I can just hear her saying it. She asked me earlier if I was gonna be next. I told her to fuck off. I ain’t getting tied down, mate, there’s too many men and too little time. I never learned much off the old woman but I learned that. This ain’t for me, taking the first one to come along. I want to have a nose about, see what I want out of life before I commit meself.’
Her words depressed Susan even more.
‘Is that what you think I done then, took the first one that came along?’
Debbie looked at her sister and Susan realised she was being honest.
‘Ain’t that what happened then? Christ, Sue, you wanted him so much it was painful to watch you at times. The last couple of years you’ve been like an old married woman. Never going out, never doing anything, just waiting until your lord and master told you what you were allowed to do and what you weren’t. Name me one place you ever went without him? Come on. A club, a pub, even the pictures? You can’t, can you?’
Susan shook her head sadly.
‘Well, there you are then. You got what you wanted, Sue, you got him. So why ain’t you happy, eh? All right, I admit the wedding itself was a fucking shambles, but you got what you went to church for. You got Barry. What else did you expect? Instant happiness or what?’
Susan looked into her sister’s eyes. She saw the real sadness there as well as the little gleam of pleasure Debbie was deriving from the day. In a way Susan could understand that. Her wedding had been talked about and mulled over for months. It had overshadowed everything and everyone.
As she went back into the house to get a drink from the makeshift bar in the lounge she saw Barry trying to grab her cousin Frances’s breast as he sat beside her on the stairs. She noticed Frances only pushed him off because she saw her and Debbie walking towards them.
The worst of it was she knew Frances was more bothered about Debbie seeing it than Susan herself. Debbie was the one with the mouth, the one with the aggression. Not good old Susan who turned a blind eye or pretended to misunderstand everything because it made life easier.
Swallowing down a large gin and tonic she felt the alcohol as it hit her brain and relished the feeling of carefree abandon it gave her.
She was married, wasn’t she?
As Debbie had pointed out it was all she’d ever wanted. Now Susan Dalston had finally got what she’d wanted.
What was the old saying? ‘Be careful what you ask for, you just might get it.’
The words whirled around in her brain and she pushed them away. She was a married woman now, Mrs Susan Dalston. She had her whole life ahead of her.
She could make her marriage work, try and change Barry, make him more of a family man. The baby would fix everything, she was convinced of that. He was mad keen about it, convinced it would be a boy, just like him.
Perish the thought!
If it was a boy Susan would bring him up with respect for himself and the people around him, especially the women. She wondered what life would dole out next, then had another large drink and was soon dancing and singing as if this was a real wedding reception. Which it was.
And if Barry was dancing with her cousin instead of his wife Susan knew she would have to let it go, just this once. She did not want any more trouble today. There had already been too much as it was.
‘Fucking hell, Susan, it’s like being in bed with an elephant. Move over, you fat whore!’
Barry was laughing as he tried to shunt her across the bed and on to what would be her side in future. She rolled over to help him and he laughed again.
Then, looking down at her in the moonlight, his face softened.
‘I’m sorry about today, love, really I am. It was nerves. I drank the Scotch to calm me nerves, see. I wish I’d listened to me mother and left it till the reception.’
He was dragging her out of her dress as he spoke.
‘Life your arse off the bed, Susan, this is hard enough as it is.’
She allowed him to strip her naked. He knelt in front of her and rubbed her belly gently.
‘My little boy is in there, swimming about getting brains and everything, ready to face the world. Bless him, I want to give him everything a boy should have.’
‘It could be a girl, Bal, there are two sexes in the world.’
He laughed.
‘Nah, no way is it a split-arse. It’s a boy, I made sure of that.’
Susan smiled. She loved Barry when he was like this. This was the man she wanted, not the other Barry, the one she was ashamed of, scared of even.
‘I’ll take him up Upton Park, show him football at its best. And I’ll take him to the park and play with him, make him into a man. Teach him to fight, to defend himself, be his own person. Learn him not to take shit off no one without forcing it back down their fucking throats. I will do all that for my son, Susan, because I’ll love him and I know what the world is really like.’
‘I hope he’s a gentle person, Bal, a bookish person. I want him to have an education, be someone. Not like us. You know, taking what we can to survive. I want him or her to have a choice in their lives. Be a good person, better than us and what we come from.’