Goodnight Lady

by Martina Cole

  Kerry stared across the table at him. She saw his hair like coiled watch springs, his chocolate-coloured complexion. She wanted him so badly she could almost taste it.

  ‘What are you trying to do? Why are you telling me this? You think I don’t know about poverty, is that it? Believe me, Evander, I grew up in a slum, the worst kind of slum. We’re Irish trash, we’re paddys, even though me and my sisters were born here. Why are you trying to scare me, make me listen to such stories? If you don’t want me, Evander, just come out and say it, because if you’re waiting for me to finish with you, don’t hold your bleeding breath, mate.’

  Her voice was high, scared. The depth of feeling for him in it made him want to cry out at the injustice of it all. He went to her and knelt before her. Framing her face in his big hands, he tried to reason with her.

  ‘I love you, girl. God help me, I worship you. But you don’t understand what I’m trying to say! If anyone ever found out about us, you can’t even begin to guess what trouble it would cause. I’m scared. Not for me, for you! You!’

  Kerry tried to pull her face from his hands and he held her hard, digging his fingers into the white flesh.

  ‘Listen to me. You think that love conquers all. Well, it don’t. When me and you were living hand to mouth, you’d hate me, and if we had children, eventually you’d hate them too. We can’t ever believe, either of us, that this is forever, because it’s not, it can’t be.’

  Kerry began to cry then, her eyes filling with tears, blurring his face as she stared at him. Her whole body ached with the want of him, and the harshness of what had happened to them. He held her close, smelling her perfume, her hair. The gentleness of his touch was her undoing, and she cried bitter tears. Hard sobs that made her shudder, and soaked his shirt

  ‘I should never have let it go so far, girl. I was wrong. But believe me when I say I love you, all of you, and I’d do anything at all so we could be together always. But, Kerry, there’s just no way. I’ve lain awake night after night, trying to think of a solution to our problems, and there ain’t one.

  ‘I’m going back to the States. I know a guy who can give me a job, I’ll go and you’ll forget all about me.’

  ‘No ... I won’t, I’ll never forget you. I’ll follow you ...’

  Her voice was thick with tears. She knew she was babbling and couldn’t stop herself.

  ‘We’ll find a way, I know we will.’

  He held her away from him and looked into her face. Shaking his head, he said: ‘I’m gonna leave you, baby, but I’m leaving my heart right here. You gotta accept that, Kerry. This ain’t about what we want, it’s about what we can and can’t have, and we can’t have our love. Not now, not ever. Maybe one day, who knows? Maybe one day it’ll be different. But not in our lifetime, you can be sure about that.’

  ‘But I love you so much, so much!’

  He smiled, grateful for her undying love, even though he knew he should never have sought it.

  ‘I love you too, baby, more than you’d ever dream. I want you so much. I’ve never had anyone like you before and I never will again. But let’s be strong now. It’s time for us to grow up and be big people. Big enough to finish what should never have been started and can only end in heartbreak. I’m going, girl, I’m finishing out my contract and then I’m off.’

  ‘So all we have left is a month right? Just four weeks?’

  He nodded, sorry to the heart for the sadness in her face, her voice, her whole being, but at the same time he was proud to know that she did love him, really love him. It was like a soothing balm to his wounds. It was sweet to know that he was the one finishing it with her, and he could finish with her for all the right reasons and come out of it with his dignity and his pride intact. He was, for the first time in his life, in charge of a white person’s destiny. He was telling this lovely white girl enough was enough. It was a heady feeling.

  Kerry sniffed loudly, her face still streaming with tears. ‘Then we’d better make these four weeks the best of our lives.’

  Evander kissed her then, pulling her face down softly on to his lips.

  ‘We will, baby. Now that, I can promise you.’

  Chapter Twenty-two

  Briony watched the flickering screen with interest. Despite herself she was impressed with the way Rupert had made use of the girl and the camera angles. Jonathan’s face was always obscured in some way, which was good, because the men who watched these films would want a faceless man. It stood to reason.

  The girl was typical, which disappointed Briony. She had platinum hair, huge breasts, and a tiny waist. Briony detected an air of boredom emanating from her, but she knew that only she would notice that, and maybe the girls who worked for her. The men couldn’t see it in the flesh and blood girls they bought and paid for, so a screen beauty would be no different.

  The sex on the screen was hot and heavy, the girl’s face expressing faked wonderment and lust. At one point she looked at the upright phallus in front of her and, staring directly into the camera, put a well-manicured hand over her mouth and opened her eyes to their utmost. It was what the punters would want, and exactly what Briony had invested in. As the girl turned over on to her stomach and stuck a perfectly rounded bottom into the air, Briony actually laughed out loud. Jonathan, naked except for a cape, entered her roughly, holding on to her hips. Tommy would hate it...

  The thought brought Briony back to earth and her face clouded over. Tommy wouldn’t even see it. It was ten days now since he had left and she had heard nothing, nothing at all. Oh, she knew he’d been out and about, she had heard that much, but he had not even had the decency to get in touch. Well, she wasn’t going to get in touch with him again. He had ignored all her letters and messages, the ball was in his court now! Rage was getting the better of misery and she was glad. She preferred to be cross with him, it made his absence more tolerable. But she was getting worried. If they were still partners that meant she was still half-owner of the East End and she was acting accordingly. If Tommy didn’t come back soon, then the rift would be open, really open, and that left her dangerously exposed. At the moment she was still protected, but if he left her high and dry, she would have to fight to regain credibility, and fight she would. No one, but no one, was going to pull her down or take what was hers. Not even Tommy Lane.

  The two people on the screen began to flicker and dissolve. The film was coming to its conclusion and she forced her mind back on to the subject matter. She had to OK it with Rupert and Jonathan. She watched it end and then put the light back on.

  It was good enough for what they wanted, it would do. She stared around the room for a moment, taking in the furnishings which she hadn’t really looked at for a long time. A picture of Benedict stood in a silver frame on the mantelpiece. This was her private room. Only people who were specially invited ever came in here. It was her own private domain. Even her mother wasn’t allowed inside. It was where she did her thinking, where she and Tommy had once planned and schemed. That seemed so long ago now. It was as if he had always been gone.

  There was a photograph of her and Tommy too. It had been taken the day they had gone to see Charlie Chaplin in The Kid. They had loved little Jackie Coogan, loved the film. Both were smiling widely, her face partly obscured by a large hat. Briony picked up the photograph and stared at it, trying to remember everything about that day, every nuance, every moment. If only she had realised sooner how much they had meant to one another.

  But that was the trouble, she never did think. Tommy had been there for a long time, she had thought he always would be. She had not realised you had to keep people. She collected people like others collected luggage, and kept them with the minimum of trouble. Her family, for example. But Tommy had needed more and she had been too wrapped up in herself to notice that. She sighed heavily. If Tommy truly abandoned her now, she was back where she started: a madam, a club owner, nothing more and nothing less. If Tommy wasn’t there she would look after herself.

 
She placed the photograph back on the mantle, picking up the one of Benedict. He was grinning. Dressed in a dark suit, he leant against a pillar. It was a good photo, had caught his laughter. Sally had taken him to have it done, telling him it was for herself. He thought Sally looked at it in her room, never contemplating the fact it could be for someone else.

  Her face broke into a small smile. Ben looked like her. Even in the sepia-coloured photo where you couldn’t see the green of his eyes or the red tinge to his hair, he was wholly her child.

  She felt the familiar tug of him, the need of him, inside herself. Replacing the photograph carefully, she walked from the room. She had to go to her mother’s today. Another crisis in the family was beckoning. Sometimes she wished they’d all disappear down a big hole and leave her alone. She wasn’t in the mood for trouble, she had enough of her own. But no one was to know that, of course. Briony had to be strong, morning, noon and night. It was the law of the Cavanaghs, and she wished with all her heart she hadn’t been the instigator of that law.

  Molly waited in Eileen’s kitchen for Briony. She had left word for her to go straight there, threatening Mother Jones with death, pain, torture and destruction if she made her a cup of tea and delayed her. Elizabeth O’Malley sat wide-eyed, staring into the fire, her face swelling where Eileen had smacked her in the eye.

  ‘Briony was coming to see me today anyway, I was going to tell her that Eileen wasn’t right. I blame you and that son of yours, you bitch of hell! Torturing the poor girl out of her mind!’

  Elizabeth O’Malley shook her head slowly.

  ‘That girl is as mad as a March hare, you know that in your heart. You were here, you saw what happened. She attacked me for no reason at all. I only came to see how she was.’

  Molly made a grunting noise of disbelief.

  ‘That’s what you say! You come here day after day. Oh, don’t think I don’t know. Driving my girl to fecking distraction with your mawing and your jawing! You think you had a smack off our Eileen? Wait ’til my Briony gets here, she’ll wipe the fecking floor with you! And as for that great galloping eejit of a son of yours, my Eileen’s never known a minute’s peace since she walked down that aisle with him. Not two weeks wed and she’s like a poor distracted maniac. He’s like your husband, madam, one of them sex fiends! Everyone knew about O‘Malley. By Christ, as long as it was breathing, he’d bed it!’

  Elizabeth O‘Malley’s mouth stretched to its fullest. ‘YOU BITCH!’

  ‘Yeah, I’m a bitch, but you’re a vixen of the first order and my Briony will take the jump from your gallop, by Christ she will. She’ll maul the face off you!’

  Briony walked in at the back door just as they started fighting properly. Separating the two women, she looked at them both in disbelief and said: ‘What the hell is going on here?’

  Molly pushed her rival in the chest, sending her careering across the kitchen and into the dresser, the plates and mugs dropping to the floor with a resounding crash.

  ‘That whore of hell there, Bri, her, she’s the blame. Her and that boy of hers. Call himself a man! Huh! I’ve seen better men laid out in coffins!’

  ‘Where’s Eileen?’

  ‘She’s upstairs, and if you ask me she needs to see a doctor. She’s out of her mind and my boy ain’t responsible for a madwoman, no way. She’s your bad blood, not ours. Yours!’

  Briony looked into Elizabeth O‘Malley’s face and said low, ‘If I was you, old lady, I’d keep my trap shut. Only I ain’t in the mood for hag, and I’m that far from losing me temper.’

  She held out a finger and thumb to emphasise her point.

  ‘That’s it, Bri, rip the cheeks from her...’

  ‘MUM! Will you give it a rest and let me see Eileen? You two can fight and argue the day away, but for fuck’s sake take it out into the street. This is neither the time nor the place.’

  Both women shut up then, though both would fight ’til the cows came home left to themselves.

  ‘That’s better. Now make a cup of tea, I’m gasping, and keep it down. I’ll go on up and see what I can do.’

  She made her way up the stairs with a heavy tread. The two older women were still arguing, but softly now, in vicious whispers. Rolling her eyes at the ceiling, she went into Eileen’s room. What she found there shocked her to the core. Her sister was curled up on the floor, the quilt from the bed over her, a corner in her mouth pushed in as if to stop a scream from escaping.

  ‘Eileen, Eileen! Are you all right, love?’

  Briony knelt down beside her, her face and voice concerned. Eileen stared from pale blue eyes, as if unsure of who she was.

  ‘It’s me, love, Briony. Are you all right, what happened? Tell me what happened?’

  Eileen’s nose was running, and taking a hankie from her coat pocket, Briony wiped it gently. Then she pulled the quilt from Eileen’s mouth, wiping the spittle away.

  ‘I can’t take any more, Bri. They fight all the time, the two of them. Shouting at me and at each other. Joshua won’t leave me alone, see. He won’t ever leave me alone. Night after night. I don’t like it, Bri, I don’t like him. He’s nasty to me he is, makes me tell him things, and I can’t stand it.’

  Briony looked down at her sister, her elder sister, and shook her head, trying to comprehend what was going on.

  ‘What do you mean, tell him things? What things?’

  Eileen swallowed hard.

  ‘You won’t let on I told you? You mustn’t let him know I said anything, see. Because he said if I told anyone, he’d kill me.’

  Briony screwed her eyes up and said, ‘Oh, he did, did he? Well, I won’t let on, darling. You tell me and I’ll see what I can do. How’s that?’

  Eileen grabbed Briony’s hands in hers, relief flooding her face. Briony saw the fear there, and the worry. She felt an urge to take Joshua and throttle him with her bare hands for putting that terror there in the first place.

  ‘Come on, Eileen, you tell Briony. I’ll look after you.’

  ‘He made me tell him about us, Bri. About me dad, and Henry Dumas ... He knows everything. About the boy, about me dad, what I did to me dad. He says he’s going to tell the police. And he makes me do things to him. Awful things. I don’t know why he’s doing it. He was nice to me, Briony, always nice. He never hurt me before...’

  She started to cry harder. Briony stroked the fine dark hair gently.

  ‘Come on, up you get, I’ll help you undress and put you to bed, then we’ll sort all this out once and for all.’

  Eileen sniffed loudly and allowed Briony to help her up. As she slipped her dress off, Briony saw the bruises and scratches on her body and clenched her teeth. She made the bed and helped Eileen into it, smoothing the covers over her with kind hands. Eileen’s face, so white, so pinched, broke her heart. Briony felt responsible for all that had happened. Kissing her sister on the forehead, she left the room.

  In the kitchen Molly and Elizabeth O’Malley were sitting at the scrubbed table, tea cups in hand, mouths clamped shut. Briony walked in and shut the kitchen door behind her.

  ‘What’s been happening here?’

  Elizabeth O‘Malley shook her head. ‘I don’t know. I came today to see her like and then your ma arrived. We had a row and Eileen just went mad. Attacked me. And her language!’

  ‘She must have learnt that off your son, our Eileen never said a bad word to my knowledge all her life.’

  ‘My Joshua is a decent man, I’ll have you know ...’ Pride in her son overrode any fear of Briony Cavanagh.

  Briony poked her face into the older woman’s.

  ‘Your son is an animal, and that’s what’s turned our Eileen’s head. Now get up off your fat arse and go and get the doctor. Then go home, go anywhere, but get as far away from me as possible. Oh, and another thing. Your son won’t be living here after today, so expect him home at some point.’

  Molly grinned in anticipation of all that was to happen in the next few hours. Her Briony would sort it all out,
she knew that without a doubt. When Elizabeth O’Malley had left, she smirked and said:

  ‘That told her. If you’d have heard the carry on here today!’

  ‘Shut up, Mum! You’re as bloody bad, coming round here tormenting the life out of her. Eileen’s ill. She’s ill in the mind, Mum, and if you hadn’t got me round that ponce’s house to marry her, none of this would have happened. She should never have married anyone, not after what happened to her. Dad taking her to Dumas broke her; the day the old man died finished her. Remember when she used to wander off? How she couldn’t cope with anything? Well, I think now she’s gone over the edge and you can thank yourself for that, not the O’Malleys, mother or son. Yourself.

  ‘Now listen to me and listen good. In future you leave everything be, and keep that big galloping trap and hooked nose out of other people’s business, right? Because I blame you for all this today. You and myself. I should never have listened to you.’

  Molly’s mouth dropped open. That Briony could talk to her like this spoke volumes. Molly felt the first twinge of shame envelop her.

  ‘I’ll tell you something else, Mother, he knows all our business. About the old man, Dumas, my boy, everything. He made her tell him, been torturing the life out of her with it. How’s that for the icing on the fucking cake!’

  ‘NO! She told him? Dear God in heaven, the stupid, stupid girl.’

  ‘Not stupid. Frightened, terrified, mentally ill, lots of things, Mum, but not stupid. We were the stupid ones to countenance the marriage in the first place. I’ll see Joshua O’Malley meself, and shut his trap up once and for all if he ain’t careful. He needs knocking down a peg and I’ll see to it myself!’