Goodnight Lady

by Martina Cole

  Briony ignored the tirade and sighed gently.

  ‘Look, lass, I don’t know what happened with you and your man, but he’s sent a message for his bags to be ready to be picked up first thing tomorrow morning. Now I know you’ve had a fight, but this is your sister’s wedding day and you’ve got to show willing. You and him have always fought like cat and dog. But he’ll be around with his tail between his legs as usual, and everything will be all right.’

  Briony shook her head. ‘No, he won’t, Mrs H. This is the finish.’

  ‘Oh, Briony girl. Listen to me. Whatever has happened with you and your man, it’ll all be resolved before you know it ...’

  ‘No, that’s just it, Mrs H. Things were said last night that can never be retracted. Can never be forgotten. I blew it with Tommy. I pushed him too far this time.’

  Briony started talking again, babbling, her words running into one another as she tried to make sense of them herself. ‘It was seeing my boy, it was seeing him. Being near him. I couldn’t get the thought from my head that if things had been different we would have been together. I could have looked at him every day. I hate the thought of him with them. It grieves me, it kills me. It should be me, not her. Then Tommy said we could have children and I said ... I said no. Never. And I meant it. I realise now I really meant it because I only want my boy! Benedict. My son. Any other child would be like second best, you know?

  ‘Tommy deserves better than that. And knowing all that, I still want him. I would have fifty children if it kept Tommy here, but now it’s all too late. Too fucking late to try and make any sense of it all.’

  ‘Then don’t. Don’t try and make sense of it. Try and pull yourself together, child, for God’s sake. There’s a whole army arriving here in a few hours and you’ve got to greet them with your sister. It’s her day, not yours. It’s Eileen’s day. And let’s face it, Briony, she deserves some happiness, doesn’t she? Think of Eileen and your sisters and your mother. Everyone will be expecting you to be the life and soul of this gathering.’

  Briony looked into the lined face and before her and sighed heavily.

  ‘That’s been the trouble, hasn’t it? It’s all always been for everyone else. Never for me. For me mum, me family. I even frightened Joshua into marrying Eileen. What about me? What about what I want?’

  As she walked down the stairs forty-five minutes later, she was a semblance of her old self, a veneer of the old Briony that pleased everyone. They all looked at her and she could read in their eyes the same thought.

  Briony was here, she would take over, and everything would be fine.

  Only she knew that nothing would ever be the same again.

  But Briony, being Briony, played the game she had started so long ago, the game where she set the rules and never told anyone else what they were. Least of all Tommy Lane.

  Chapter Twenty

  Briony stood in Saint Vincent’s church with her mother and sisters, waiting for Eileen to walk down the aisle. She knelt down and made the sign of the cross, giving an offering prayer of two Hail Marys and an Our Father. As she kissed the cross of Christ on her rosary beads she noticed Kerry staring at her and dropped her eyes. Only Kerry had noticed something wrong with her, only Kerry had realised she wasn’t her usual self. Kerry was to sing today, at her sister’s wedding. It was a family day all right, and even though Joshua was giving Eileen his name, O’Malley, it was still a Cavanagh day.

  Rosalee, dressed in a silver-grey dress and coat, looked at her and clapped her hands together. Briony smiled at her. Rosie was enormous now. Her flat face, so adorable to Briony, still made people stare at her. She trotted alongside her mother wherever she went, and was well known to all the shopkeepers. Her vocabulary was still limited to ‘Bri, Bri’. It was the only word she had ever spoken, though Briony guessed she would talk more if she really wanted to. Briony straightened up the black silk headscarf Rosalee wore and gave her a little kiss. Bernie was tapping her foot against the wooden floor. She looked agitated and Briony didn’t bother acknowledging her. She couldn’t bring herself to have a whispered conversation, just wanted to take Rosalee and walk from the church, from all this pretence, but knew she couldn’t. Instead she smiled wanly at her mother.

  No one as yet had asked after Tommy, Briony’s demeanour had made sure of that. The fact he had ordered his clothes to be packed was common knowledge, though, thanks to Cissy. Dressed in an outrageous red silk suit, she was already crying before Eileen even walked down the aisle.

  Kerry slipped from her pew and walked up to the altar. She knelt and blessed herself before taking up position at the side, ready to sing. Eileen had let her choose the hymns herself.

  Joshua waited patiently for his bride. His new suit looked and felt incongruous. He had never owned anything so fine in all his life. He was frightened of all this sitting down because he didn’t want to crease it. It had been provided by Briony, which he hated, but he consoled himself with the thought it would last him the next thirty years if he watched his weight. It was of good material and fully lined, a fact that had him swinging between pride and a kind of shocked wonderment. It was a suit you could take to Uncle’s and get a good price for, and as it was no shame to pawn things, he was actually looking forward to doing so. It would only get damp or smoke-damaged hanging up in the house, depending on what time of year it was, and where the hell would he wear it, except maybe to weddings and funerals.

  He bit his thumbnail, and quickly chastised himself. No biting nails in church, no crossing of legs or arms in church, and never, ever was one to think a bad word or thought in church. He concentrated on the pink roses on the altar. The church looked lovely. His mother and Eileen had dressed it early that morning. It looked a picture.

  He smiled nervously at his friend Harry Higgins, and Harry patted his pocket to let him know he had the ring safe. The news Joshua was marrying Eileen, one of the Cavanaghs, had spread through the East End like wild fire. For the first time in his life he was treated with the utmost respect. Yet he wasn’t sure he even wanted to be here. At first Briony getting the better of his mother had pleased him. He had been forced into this marriage, and being a weak man, there was a kind of pleasure in that fact. Always living by his mother’s lights, he had exchanged that for living by Briony Cavanagh’s. But Eileen now, she was a different kettle of fish. With Eileen he would rule the roost and she would let him. That fact pleased him enormously. He had a fleeting vision of her naked before him and squeezed his eyes closed. After this day, he could take her any time he wanted to. He would be master in his own house, and master of her.

  Everyone looked towards the back of the church when Eileen began the walk down the aisle on Abel’s arm. Kerry began to sing, low at first, her voice rising as she picked up the organist’s tempo:

  ‘Amazing grace, how sweet the sound.

  To save a wretch like me.’

  People sighed with contentment as she sang. Eileen looked at Joshua, and even the stem old priest, Father MacNama, smiled, shaking his head in wonder at the sound of her voice. As he thought to himself, the way some of the eejits in his parish murdered the good God’s hymns, it was a breath of fresh air to hear that one sing them.

  He opened his bible and blessed it. He was ready to begin.

  An hour later Joshua kissed his bride and they went through to sign the register, everyone following, happy now the deed was done and all that was left was the merry making.

  The sun had come out, and Briony was pleased. She was sorry for her churlish thoughts of the early morning. The heavens had not opened and the garden was jam packed with people.

  As Joshua stood with a jar of ale in his hand he was more than pleased with the reception. There was a large four-tier wedding cake, and food the like of which he had only dreamed of. A large ham, turkey, chicken, beef. There were all sorts of salads and cold vegetables. He had even eaten curry for the first time, amazed at the skill of Briony’s cook, Mrs Horlock.

  He watched as his f
riends relaxed in the grand surroundings and sampled the fine foods and the plentiful drink. All the children had little cakes thrust into their hands and one of the men had made a swing on a large tree at the end of the garden. He looked over to where his wife was talking to her sisters and suddenly felt an enormous burst of pride. She was actually his, now, his wife. She looked beautiful and he knew this was being remarked on.

  A normal East End Irish wedding reception consisted of some currant cake and a barrel of holy water. This was home-made scotch, or poteen as they called it. Then the next day there would either be a big joke, such as, ‘Someone forgot to book the fight!’ Or the talk would be of an actual fight that had ensued at some point in the drunken proceedings. Not on his wedding day, though. People were enjoying tasting a bit of the high life, as they would put it to themselves. They’d talk for years about this day, the only chance many would ever get to stand in a garden like this, with drinks and food, and not be either working there or watching from a vantage point. Joshua knew that the general consensus was he had done well for himself, and basked in his newfound status.

  Eileen smiled at him tremulously, and he smiled back. Her tiny waist was emphasised by her ivory satin wedding gown, and he told himself that soon she’d be sporting a belly full of arms and legs. He couldn’t wait to start the ball rolling. Tonight couldn’t come quick enough for him. He’d drive her hard, by Christ, because after all, she was his wife, wasn’t she? And a man was allowed to be a man in his own home, surely?

  Eileen and Joshua were in their small terraced house in Bow. It had been presented to them a week earlier by Briony and now Eileen stared around her in wonder. It was hers entirely. In her name, in fact. She didn’t even have to pay rent.

  She had been all for refusing the place, her horror of how Briony accumulated her money still fresh. But Joshua had said it would be churlish to refuse such a magnificent gift, so she had acquiesced. Now she stood in the kitchen, with the freshly leaded range and the smell of lavender polish and coal, and gazed about her in wonder. It was fully equipped, she didn’t even have to supply a tablecloth or a tea towel. Everything was already there.

  Joshua put his arm around her waist and she pulled away from him as if she’d been burnt.

  ‘Shall I make a cup of tea?’

  Joshua smiled. ‘It’s not tea I want, Eileen love. You just get yourself upstairs and get into bed. I’ll sit here for a while and have a smoke. I’ll be up soon.’

  The words were heavy with emphasis and innuendo and Eileen licked dry lips and nodded.

  Upstairs she stared around her at the bedroom. The bed looked very big all of a sudden, and the lights from outside seemed to give the room shadows and dark corners previously unnoticed. She didn’t want to turn on the light though, the thought of Joshua seeing her in the light frightened her. She sat on the bed and bit her lip. Unsure now why she had been so keen to get married. She liked the thought of having her own home, and cooking meals and looking after children, but that was all daytime stuff. She had not allowed herself to think of the nights. They were like her times with Henry Dumas, to be pushed into the furthest recesses of her mind. Only now, here she was married, and the night was here, black and ominous and threatening to go on forever.

  She started to unhook her dress, unable to reach the tiny pearl buttons with her trembling fingers. She covered her face with her hands, seeing another bedroom, warm and pretty, and herself lying in bed terrified in case Henry came in and woke her. It was the fear of the unknown that frightened her so. Would Joshua want what he’d wanted? Would he want her to put her hands and lips in secret places that made her feel faint just thinking about them? Would he want her naked and open, kneeling on the bed, her tears seeming to spur him on. Was that what the priest meant when he said children were born through pain? The pain of rough hands and humiliation and fear?

  She searched the room with wild eyes, as if expecting a doorway to appear so she could run through it and escape. She closed her eyes tightly and tried to stem the burning tears that were filling up her eyes. Tried to stop the erratic beating of her heart. She could smell her own fear and it spurred her terror on to new heights.

  She heard him tapping out his pipe in the fireplace, the rat-tat-tat like an explosion in the silence. She held her breath, ears straining to pick up the sounds as he shut the kitchen door and made his way up the stairs. His tread was heavy, new shoes creaking with each movement of his feet. The breath was hurting her chest and she let it out noisily. A fine layer of sweat was covering her body. The armpits of the dress were wet now. As the bedroom door swung open she groaned in fright. Her whole body seemed to be stiff and unyielding, her legs rooted to the floor.

  ‘Come on, Ei, aren’t you undressed yet?’ The words were low, spoken in a cajoling whisper.

  Her face, strained and white, devoid of colour, stared at him in dumb terror. He unbuckled his trousers, a loud belch escaping from his lips. The trousers dropped to the floor and he stepped from them.

  ‘Let’s get some light in here.’

  As he turned to put the light on she croaked out through stiff lips: ‘No ... No, please, Joshua. I’m frightened.’

  He turned to her, a smile on his lips.

  ‘I’m sorry, Ei, I’m forgetting it’s your first time.’ He sat beside her on the bed, taking hold of her hand. ‘Stop your shivering, girl, we’ll soon warm each other up.’

  Eileen saw his face in the dimness. He had drunk too much and his face was ruddy. His thick lips gleamed and his eyes looked empty. Like vacant sockets. She pulled her hand from his and stood up.

  ‘I can’t, Joshua, I can’t ...’

  He pulled her down on to the bed. Lying on top of her, he began pulling up her wedding dress. Feeling for her underclothes, he kissed her - wet, tobacco-tainted kisses that made her whole body shrink. She pushed his chest, feeling the roughness of his shirt on her palms. He laughed. Hitching himself up, he pulled off her drawers, tearing them with the force he used. Dragging them down her legs while his mouth sought her again. She tried to put her head on to her shoulder, the panic welling up inside her. Wanting to be anywhere but in this room. She saw her father trying to take her mother, Henry taking first herself and then Briony. All the pictures ran through her mind and merged, until all she could see was Henry, her father and Joshua, all naked, all trying to pull at her, touch her. With one almighty push, she forced him from her.

  She heard his muffled curse as he landed on the floor. Before she could pull herself from the bed, he was up, dragging at her dress. She could hear the material tearing, the pearl buttons coming apart with ease. She hooked her hands and tried to tear at his face, arms flailing in the darkness. He grabbed her wrists and a searing pain shot through her arms. Then he slapped her hard, across the face, knocking her head sideways with the blow. She lay then, stock still, looking at the man who loomed over her.

  He pulled her clothes from her then in silence, meeting no resistance, his hands rough, his mouth spewing out reprimands and curses. He looked down on her nakedness, her heavy breasts and tiny waist, and felt the full force of his want. Kicking her legs open with his knees, he held on to her waist and roughly entered her, jabbing himself into her, careless now of her pain, of her fear. Enjoying the sensation of being the master of the situation. As he entered her he suddenly stayed still. Buried inside her, he looked down at her in confusion. There had been no resistance in her at all. He had slipped inside her, even as she was, dry and terrified, and had met nothing. He took her hair in his great fist, pulling it hard.

  ‘You’ve been busted.’ The words came out low and deep.

  Eileen stared up at him, her mouth moving in prayer. She wasn’t aware that he had spoken. She lay there staring up at him in terror, her mind blank except for the prayers that were crowding into her mind.

  Joshua began to lose his erection, all desire for his virgin wife leaving him. In his drink-clouded brain he saw her as she had been when he met her. Never a real kiss, never a t
ouch, nothing. And all the time she was busted, had been used. No wonder that sister of hers had been so quick to marry her off. Had threatened him. Some other man had known her, had touched her. They must all be laughing up their sleeves at him, like it was one big joke.

  Eileen, realising that he had stopped, assuming it was all over, tried to rise. It was as if this action, the way she tried to get up, get away from him, finally finished him. Shoving her down by her shoulders he pinned her to the bed and began to ride her hard, thrusting himself inside her with every ounce of energy and strength he possessed.

  He wanted to kill her, wanted to slip his hands around that slim white throat and squeeze the breath from her body. But he couldn’t. Even in his rage he remembered she was the sister of Briony Cavanagh. Well, he decided, there were other ways to skin a cat, and by Christ he’d use everyone of them. Eileen O’Malley, as she now was, would never know another day’s peace.

  Chapter Twenty-one

  Mariah looked at Tommy with shock tinged with well-concealed annoyance. She put her hands together and tapped her two forefingers against her lips. ‘And what has Briony to say about this?’

  Tommy shrugged nonchalantly.

  ‘They’re my halves of the businesses, I can dispose of them where I want.’

  Mariah shook her platinum blonde head, a smile playing on her lips as she answered him.

  ‘I don’t see it that way, Tommy, and I have a feeling on me that Briony won’t see it like that either. Now then, I don’t know what has brought all this on, what’s transpired between you, but I know this much. You’re not using me to get a sly dig in. Me and Briony get along very well, we’re going into business together on a house actually, and I have no interest in making an enemy of her. Not now, not ever.’

  Tommy was surprised to hear about their business deal and looked at his hands, clasped together in his lap, while he digested the news. Briony had said nothing about it to him. Nothing.