by Patsy Whyte
I told her to think it over. I was catching the bus to Dundee on Friday night and would look out for her. With that, she turned and walked away, disappearing a few seconds later among the crowds of shoppers.
Friday arrived all too quickly. I hated saying goodbye. It was so hard. I'd miss my sister and the boys. But I was excited at the prospect of seeing Mick again. I was also wondering if Doreen would turn up at the bus station.
"Hello Pat!"
I turned around sharply. It was Doreen. She had been to the hairdresser and now looked all pretty with her hair cut and styled. What a transformation as she stood in front of me, wearing a white raincoat and carrying a small brown bag. She was so much brighter now and talked enthusiastically about starting a new job and getting on with her life. When we got back to the flat, Mick was happy to see me. But there was a puzzled look on his face as he held the front door open.
"This is a friend from Aberdeen", I explained, introducing Doreen. "She's nowhere to live so I said she could stay with us, if that's all right? Just until she gets herself sorted."
I didn't tell Mick anything about Doreen's past or he would have thrown her out into the street. Doreen said she didn't mind sleeping on the settee as I handed her a pillow and a couple of spare blankets. After we all had something to eat, I said goodnight and Mick and I went through to our bedroom. I was exhausted and quickly fell asleep.
In the early hours of the morning, I suddenly awoke for no good reason, expecting Mick to be lying next to me. Still half asleep, I lifted my head from the pillow, looking around the bedroom. But there was no sign of him. So I got out of bed to check where he was. I switched on the light and opened the bedroom door and gasped. The light from the bedroom flooded across the living room floor, illuminating two naked bodies locked together. Mick turned his head, startled, transfixed, and leapt off. I flew at him.
I screamed, "How could you!".
"She led me on", he squirmed, trying to push the blame away.
Doreen sat up and grabbed a blanket and quickly wrapped it around herself. She said nothing, offering up no defence, and just stared at the floor to avoid looking me in the eye.
"Pack your bags and get out. We're finished. No more excuses!"
Mick knew I meant it. It was the first time he saw such a rage in me. I never knew such fury existed inside me either. He fumbled at his shirt buttons and pulled up his trousers. Then he beat a hasty retreat out the door, mumbling something about picking up the rest of his clothes in the morning. I was glad to see the back of him. Doreen sat dumbly on the settee, still clutching the blanket.
"I suppose you want me to leave, too?"
"No, Doreen. It's him I don't trust", I replied with a heavy sigh. "If it wasn't you, it would be someone else."
I explained my relationship with Mick was not the kind I wanted. I was never enough for him. After calming down, I told Doreen we would have to get jobs because Mick paid the rent for the flat and bought all the food.
"Look, Pat, what I did was wrong. I don't know why it happened. He just came through and that was it."
I cut Doreen off.
"I don't want to hear any more. What's done is done. That's it, finished."
We never spoke about it again. The following morning, Doreen didn't seem worried about the dire situation we were now in. She seemed confident of finding a job. I couldn't face seeing anyone because I still felt too angry and hurt inside. So I sat about the flat, moping, waiting for Doreen to return, replaying all the events of the last few days and weeks in my head. I still wasn't sure whether I'd acted in haste throwing Mick out.
The day passed and Mick hadn't yet picked up his clothes. The key turned in the front door and Doreen walked through carrying bags of shopping. She sounded excited, telling me she managed to get a job in a small shop. The shop was desperate for someone, so she got started right away. She also convinced the boss to give her a sub out of her wages to buy some food.
I was over the moon knowing we would have something to eat. Doreen left each day to go to work and brought back some food each night. Then she started coming home later and later. Sometimes it was 9 o'clock before she appeared. I started to become suspicious. She was keeping some very odd hours for working in a shop. So I asked her where she worked. But she never answered me, always changing the subject. One night, I asked her straight out.
"Are you working as a prostitute?"
There was no answer.
"I'm not stupid. You're not working in a shop, are you? Just tell me the truth", I demanded.
"No. I'm getting paid sleeping with an old man. He just lives up the road."
I was angry again. The thought of Doreen using her body to buy us food turned my stomach. It wasn't right and I realised she'd no intentions of changing her life. My efforts to help her were in vain. All she was interested in was easy money and I couldn't have that on my conscience.
"I think it's best if you leave, Doreen. It's not going to work out."
She didn't look too happy.
"No worries", she snapped back. "Just as well I've got somewhere to go."
She packed her belongings and stormed off in a huff, leaving me feeling very sad. I wanted so much for things to work out because she told me at the YWCA how she hadn't had it easy. Her mum died and her dad, a policeman, remarried. There were fierce arguments with her step mum who kicked her out of the house when she was 16. Doreen slipped into prostitution without realising it. It wasn't something she planned.
Now with Doreen and Mick both gone, the silence in the flat was deafening. The worries felt overwhelming. How was I going to pay the rent? There was hardly any food left in the cupboards. I would have to find some kind of job very quickly and it still probably wouldn't cover everything. As I sat worrying, trying to work things out, there was a sharp knock on the door.
I opened it and Mick barged through, knocking me clean of my feet and into the wall. He demanded the clothes back he bought me and stormed through to the bedroom, frantically opening the chest of drawers I kept them in.
"I bought that!", he shouted, holding up a blouse.
Then he ripped it down the middle and threw it to the floor.
"Get out!", I yelled back. "I'm going to call the police."
"Call the fucking police. Think I care?".
Holding up my skirts, he tore them to shreds, one by one. He was like a mad demented animal. Everything he ever bought me, he said, he was going to destroy. When he was satisfied there was nothing left, he went over to the mirror above the fireplace and took the photographs of us in happier times and ripped them up. The tiny pieces lay scattered all around the living room carpet. He surveyed the flat for a moment or two, pleased by his handiwork, and then brushed me aside.
"Who wants to live with a cow like you anyway", he sneered, before slamming the front door behind him.
The bedroom looked like the aftermath of a battle. Ripped up clothes lay scattered between the upturned drawers which were lying at odd angles. I broke down and wept. Could my life get any worse? I knew I had to get myself out of this mess. Checking my purse, I counted out the little money I had and figured it was enough to pay for my bus fare into town to the employment exchange. Tomorrow, I would have to get myself some kind of a job.
* * *
The bus drew slowly up to the bus stop. As I got up from my seat to get off, I felt my coat being grabbed from behind. Before I could react, I heard a loud tearing sound and caught a fleeting glimpse of Mick dashing past. He jumped off the bus and ran into the distance. The only coat I possessed was now in tatters.
I had no idea he followed me on to the bus, waiting for this opportunity to strike. The passengers stared at me in disbelief. Some old dears asked me if I was all right, saying how shocking it all was. It was pointless now going to the employment exchange. I wouldn't make the right impression with my coat hanging off my back.
Mick's antics were starting to really upset me now as I made my way home to the flat. All the clothes I had
in the world were the ones I was wearing. My situation was now so desperate I started stealing packets of soup from the local corner shop. It was the only way I could feed myself. I'm sure the lady behind the counter suspected something, but for some strange reason, she never let on. Two or three times a week, I walked out the shop hiding the packets of soup under my jumper, never actually buying anything.
Bella, my next door neighbour, invited me in to her flat one evening, telling me how sorry she was things hadn't worked out between Mick and me. But I was better off without him. She said I could do much better than living with someone with such violence in him. I knew she was right. She made me a cup of tea and offered me a fresh baked roll her brother just collected from the all night bakery up the road. It felt so good having something more than just soup to eat.
I liked Bella a lot. She had a warm Irish accent and took great pride in her personal appearance. I knew she didn't have much in the way of money. Most of her time was taken up with looking after her brother who had mental problems. She felt sorry for me having so little clothes to wear because of Mick and his carry on and asked if I wanted a pair of blue trousers she no longer wore. I gratefully accepted her kind offer and went next door to my flat and tried them on. They were a perfect fit.
The door knocked and I was surprised to see Doreen standing there. It was just a short visit, she said. She was now living with a divorced man many years older than herself. He worked as a brickie and was very good to her.
"I've got a real sugar daddy", she winked.
I couldn't help smiling back. Doreen could never resist the lure of money.
"He'd better have plenty of money then, to keep you going."
"Don't worry. I made sure of that before I moved in with him", she laughed.
"Good luck with him. Hope it all works out for you. Knowing you, I'm sure it will."
I was about to make Doreen another cup of tea when there was a knock on the door again. Who else could it be, I wondered, because I didn't exactly have many friends. As I pulled the door back, my whole body froze. It was Mick, screaming something about the trousers I was wearing.
"Who have you been whoring it with?", he roared out, his face contorted in rage.
Everything went into slow motion. I remember the cold menacing look in his eyes and lying out in the damp dark street, fending off kicks and punches, hearing screams from Doreen and Bella from somewhere far away in the distance. Then everything went black. I woke up in hospital. There was hardly a part of my body that didn't hurt. Miraculously, the x-rays showed nothing was broken. My injuries were superficial. A few hours later, I was discharged and sitting back in my flat.
The landlord paid me a visit the following morning with an ultimatum. Pay the rent or get out at the end of the week. Although he found it difficult looking at my bruised and battered face, there was no pity in his voice as he turned and walked out the door. Who was going to employ me looking like this, I thought? My situation was hopeless. I had no job, no clothes, no food and now it looked like I'd have nowhere to stay in a few days time. The heels on my one and only pair of shoes were so run down I felt like a tramp.
The police turned up later that day, asking me if I wanted to press charges. It was difficult to talk because my jaw and lip hurt so much, but I managed to whisper yes. I knew the police would find Mick now and lift him. It wasn't a day too soon as far as I was concerned. He had just about destroyed my confidence, leaving me feeling like a little frightened mouse, scared to go out the door in case I bumped into him.
A couple of days later, the police returned. They told me Mick had been charged and bailed and warned not to come anywhere near me or he would be lifted again. So I felt it was safe enough to visit Doreen. She lived only a short distance away. When she opened the door, she let out a gasp, hardly able to believe the mess my face was in. We talked about the events of that night. I could see she felt really bad she wasn't able to do more for me.
"You did well, Doreen. No one could have stopped him", I reassured her. "He was possessed, crazy."
Doreen led me through to the living room, telling me to make myself at home. Her sugar daddy was nowhere to be seen. I explained my predicament and asked her for help.
"I can't even afford a pair of new shoes", I moaned. "Look at the state of them."
"Yes, you do need new shoes."
Doreen said if it was down to her, she would have no problem putting me up. But her fancy man would never warm to the idea. She had a thought, though. He was always too tired to clean up the flat.
"The kitchen is an absolute mess, and you know me, I hate cleaning. I can't get into housework. I'm sure he would give you money for a new pair of shoes if you cleaned up the kitchen. He's always complaining about it."
Doreen promised to try to sort something out and would call around in a couple of days time to let me know one way or the other. So I left her flat feeling a little happier and a lot more hopeful. I didn't expect her to turn up the next morning.
"Does that mean I've got the job?"
"If you still want it", she said.
"And he'll pay me?"
"Of course he will! Do you want to start now?"
We went back to her flat. Doreen told me to take a deep breath. The kitchen was a real mess and hadn't been touched in days. Piles of plates covered in greasy fat lay everywhere in lop-sided stacks. They were welded together by the remnants of brown and red sauce. After wading through them and wiping the cupboards and bunkers down and scrubbing the floor, it had the feel of a brand new kitchen. I called Doreen through. Her face lit up as she admired my hard work.
"He'll be really pleased", she said. "If you come back tomorrow evening, there'll be a new pair of shoes waiting for you."
I can't say I was too happy at that. I was expecting the money in my hand and now her fancy man was buying the shoes for me. But I didn't want to seem ungrateful. Beggars couldn't be choosers. When I came back the following day to collect them, he was waiting for me, standing next to a plain black pair of flat shoes neatly placed beside him on the carpet. He smiled.
"I've got the shoes", he said, pausing. "How bad do you want them? You know, you're a really pretty girl."
I felt uncomfortable, puzzled, as he eyed me slowly up and down. Doreen let out a smirk, enjoying my discomfort.
"I've cleaned the kitchen. They're my shoes now."
He picked the shoes up and dangled them in front of me.
"How bad do you want them?", he repeated once more.
I realised he had other ideas, obviously knowing how desperate my situation was. I almost knew what was coming next.
"If you let me have sex with you, I'll let you have the new shoes."
"No way I'm sleeping with you. What do you think I am", I shouted. "We had an agreement."
He was gross, repulsive, dirty, old enough to be my father. A big fat stomach hung over his trousers. His shirt was covered in stains. Doreen laughed. I leapt forward, snatching the shoes from his hands and bolted out the door before he could react. You're not having me, I thought to myself.
I wasn't proud of what I did but the shoes were promised me. I worked hard for them. When I got back to the flat, I tried them on and the heel flipped up and down walking across the carpet. The shoes were far too big. Never mind, I thought. Anything was better than wearing my old shoes. I stuffed them with newspaper to stop the heels slipping out and went to the shop to steal a packet of soup. I was starving. But I was stopped by a police car moments after stepping out the door. Doreen and her fancy man reported me for stealing the shoes.
Sitting in the car, I tried to explain to the policeman how I worked hard for the shoes. They were mine. But he asked me to produce a receipt to prove it. Of course, I couldn't. I think he felt sorry for me, realising the state I was in. He said he wouldn't take the matter further provided I gave them back. He drove me over to Doreen's flat and I grudgingly handed them over without saying a word. What else could I do? The policeman was satisfied and le
t me off with a warning. He also advised me to go and see a social worker to get some help.