Walking My Baby Back Home

by Joan Jonker

  Dot pushed herself away from the wall. ‘I have never in my life met anyone who is as rotten to the core as Tom Campbell is.’ She quickly related all that had been said, ending with a deep sigh as she told him, ‘He said he could take the baby away from her, and yer don’t need much intelligence to know what he means by that. And d’yer know what, John? I’ve got a terrible feeling in me heart that he’ll carry out his threat.’

  ‘We mustn’t let him. Somehow we’ve got to put a stop to his shenanigans.’

  ‘I intend to, believe me. I have no intention of sitting back and letting him harm Mary or her baby. But the biggest stumbling block is Mary herself. She’s so terrified of him she gives in to him all the time. If he told her to stick her head in the gas oven, she’d do it. There’s times when I could shake her, she’s so docile. She wants this baby badly, so why the hell doesn’t she start putting her foot down with him?’

  ‘From what I’ve seen of Mary,’ John said quietly, ‘I would say she’s given up on life.’

  ‘Oh, aye? Well, we’ll see about that. We’ve all felt like that at some time in our lives, and nobody knows that better than me. But we pick ourselves up and do something about it, and it’s time she did the same. I’m blowed if I’m going to stand by and see an innocent, unborn baby suffer, because of its mother’s weakness and its father’s wickedness.’

  ‘What do you propose to do?’

  There was the ghost of a smile on Dot’s face. ‘I’m going to rally the troops. As soon as our Colin’s in bed, I’m going to send for the O’Connors and Betty Mason. Between the lot of us we should be able to keep an eye on Mary. Betty and Maggie can see she gets a good dinner every day during the week while he’s at work, and I’ll take over at the weekend. Perhaps we can talk some sense into her at the same time.’

  ‘Would you permit me to sit in on this council of war?’

  ‘If you agree to certain conditions.’

  ‘What might they be?’

  ‘That yer don’t talk posh and use big words that none of us understand.’

  John lowered his head and ran a hand through his sandy hair. When he looked up, there was a twinkle in his blue eyes. ‘OK, girl, I promise to keep me bleedin’ gob shut.’

  His thick Liverpool accent brought forth a peal of laughter from Dot. It was just what she needed after coming out of a house full of doom and gloom. ‘There’s no need to get carried away,’ she chortled. ‘Just don’t use any words that have got more than five letters in them.’

  Betty rested her elbows on the table and her eyes went from one to another. ‘Bleedin’ marvellous, isn’t it? All this because of a jumped-up little no-good swine like him. If he was mine I’d have brained him long ago.’

  Her husband, Alec, grinned. ‘Ah, but you would never have married someone like him, would yer? Ye’re too clever for that. You knew what yer were doing when yer married a soft touch like me. A gift from heaven, I was.’

  ‘Huh!’ Betty rolled her eyes as she pinched at the fat on her arm. ‘Seeing as I make two of you, you got double yer money’s worth.’

  ‘Can we get back to the matter in hand?’ Dot asked patiently. ‘Are we all agreed to help Mary, or is there anyone present who would prefer to keep out of it?’

  ‘Sure, it’s glad I’ll be to help,’ Maggie said. ‘I’m heartily sorry for the poor creature and Paddy feels the same, so he does. You can count us in, Dot.’

  ‘Yer’ve no need to ask me ’cos I’d already made up me mind when I saw the state of Mary’s face. Yer can put my name down with pleasure.’ Betty clenched her fist and held it up. ‘I just wish his face was at the receiving end of this – that would give me the greatest pleasure. But as my husband, my gift from heaven, thinks that any woman what fights is as common as muck, I’ll leave the fisticuffs to the men.’

  ‘Sure, my hands have been itching to have a go at Mr Campbell, so they have.’ Paddy, the quiet man, surprised them all with the emotion in his voice. ‘There’s been nights when I had to cover my ears so I couldn’t hear the violence coming from next door, it was so bad. I’ve been afraid to interfere, and that’s the truth of it. But now there’s a baby’s life in danger I couldn’t live with meself if I stood by and did nothing to help.’

  ‘You can count me in, Dot,’ Alec Mason said. ‘I’m no good at making dinners or offering words of sympathy, but if yer need a pair of hands, then mine are available.’

  ‘That’s it, then.’ Dot sat back and gave a sigh of relief. ‘We women can sort out some sort of rota to make sure Mary gets fed properly, and we’ll have the men to back us up if it ever becomes necessary.’

  ‘What about John, here?’ Betty asked. ‘He hasn’t opened his flipping mouth. Doesn’t he get a look-in?’

  ‘John’s done more in one day than any of us have done,’ Dot said, before gazing at the big man through narrowed eyes. ‘Betty’s right, yer haven’t opened yer mouth. Don’t yer agree with what we’re doing?’

  ‘Oh yes, wholeheartedly. And I’ll give you any help you need, I’m sure you know that.’

  ‘Then why have yer been so flamin’ quiet?’

  John’s eyes were laughing at her. ‘Because I couldn’t string a sentence together using only words containing five letters or under.’

  Dot’s body shook with laughter. ‘Oh, yer daft nit, yer knew I was only joking.’

  When Betty leaned forward her folded arms completely disappeared under her ample bosom. ‘Ay, girl, let us all in on the joke, will yer?’

  ‘I was only acting daft! I told him he was too posh for us.’

  ‘Oh, yer did, did yer? Well, he might be too posh for you, but not for me. I’ll have you know I was brought up proper, I was, not like some I could mention.’

  ‘I knew that the first time I set eyes on you, Betty,’ John said, tongue in cheek. ‘Good breeding always shows.’

  The big woman’s reply was not very ladylike but it had them all laughing. And with the help of John she kept them amused until it was time to call it a day.

  Tom Campbell waited until the hands on the clock told him it was midnight. She’d be fast asleep by now, away to the world. He struck a match and held it to the wick of the candle standing in a saucer on the table. When the flame took hold, he blew out the match and threw it in the grate before reaching up and pulling the chain to extinguish the gas light. Excitement was building up inside of him as he climbed the stairs, and on his face was a look of pure malice. It was time for retribution and the very thought had his heartbeat racing.

  After setting the saucer down on a chest of drawers, Tom walked to the bed and for a few seconds he gazed down on the sleeping form of his wife. Then he gripped the bedclothes and jerked them back. ‘Get up.’

  Mary blinked rapidly. She’d been in a deep sleep and for a while she couldn’t make out what day it was. Had she overslept? Was Tom late for work? ‘What time is it?’

  ‘Time for yer to attend to yer husband needs.’

  Mary reached for the clothes he’d pulled from her. ‘Not tonight, Tom, I’m too tired.’

  ‘I said get out of that bed now! You had yer pleasure this afternoon with yer pal from next door, now it’s my turn. Get out of that bleedin’ bed before I drag yer out by yer hair.’

  An icy hand gripped Mary’s heart at the threat in his voice. She knew he’d drag her out without a qualm, so she slipped her legs over the side of the bed and stood up. All she was wearing was a vest and knickers, both bought from a secondhand stall and now so worn out they offered no protection from the cold. She clasped her hands together and dropped her head in shame.

  ‘Lift yer bleedin’ head and look at me, or else.’

  The tone of his voice brought Mary’s head up. There was no one to help her now. She couldn’t knock on the wall at this time of night, and besides she’d be too ashamed. And her husband knew that. He had her where he wanted her, at his mercy.

  His eyes on her all the time to make sure she was watching, Tom slipped the braces from his shoulders
and began to undo the buttons on his trousers. He let them fall to the floor then kicked them to one side. He was in no hurry as he discarded his underpants; he wanted to make her sweat with fear. Then he slowly lifted his shirt. ‘Take a good look at that, it’s all for you.’

  When Mary continued to look straight ahead, he became enraged. He grabbed her by the hair and pulled her head down. ‘I said take a good look. Yer don’t know how lucky yer are. That cow from next door would think it was her birthday if she had that to go inside her.’

  In the flickering light given out by the candle, Mary could see the gloating on his face. He was really enjoying the power he had over her. She made one last try. ‘Not tonight, Tom, please? In the morning, when I’m not so tired.’

  ‘Get hold of it. Go on, do as I bleedin’ tell yer or yer’ll be sorry.’

  Sick with revulsion, Mary stretched out her hand and touched him, in the hope that if she humoured him he wouldn’t be so hard on her. But she didn’t know the depth of his wish for revenge.

  ‘Turn around and put yer hands flat on the bed.’

  ‘Oh no, Tom, please! Not like that, yer’ll hurt the baby.’

  ‘Baby! What baby? I don’t want no bleedin’ kid! Now if yer don’t want a bloody good hidin’, do as ye’re told and turn around.’

  Sighing, and hating him with every fibre of her being, Mary turned and put her hands on the bed. But her position didn’t satisfy Tom and he took hold of the back of her neck and pushed her down until her face was buried in the clothes. Then he slipped an arm under her tummy and lifted her bottom from the bed. And as he did so a series of pictures flashed before his eyes. He was about eight years of age and he was standing outside the partly-open door of his parents’ bedroom. His curiosity had got the better of him that night; he had to find out why almost every night he could hear sounds coming from the room next door. Low moans from his mother, as though she was in pain, and grunts from his father. So he had slipped out of bed and silently crept to stand outside the door next to his. There was a candle burning and he was able to make out the form of his mother, bent over the bed. His father was standing behind her, and he seemed to be holding her legs up off the bed as his body jerked and his grunts became louder. The boy was too young to understand what was happening, and afraid of being caught he’d crept back to bed. But he was excited by what he’d seen, and there were many nights he forced himself to stay awake just to spy and enjoy the sight of his father proving his dominance over his mother.

  Mary was biting on the bedclothes waiting for the pain she knew was to come. This was one night she wished she had a weapon handy – a poker, iron, or rolling pin – anything that she could hit him with to stop him hurting and humiliating her and harming the baby she was carrying. But why was he waiting? Why prolong the agony for her? She turned her head slightly to the side and peered through lowered lids. He was just standing there with a silly smirk on his face, his eyes staring into space. For a brief moment she thought perhaps he wasn’t going to go through with the act, then fear took over as she imagined him thinking of other ways he could hurt and degrade her. This would be the last time, she vowed. In future she would make sure she had a weapon within reach.

  Tom’s mind was miles away, reliving certain events in his life. His mother had died when he was fourteen, but he didn’t know why. She just took to her bed one day and no amount of shouting and bullying would get her out. She refused to eat and eventually wasted away, lacking the heart to carry on with the life she was being forced to lead. Neither he nor his father mourned her; in fact Tom was glad she was gone. It meant he had his father, his hero, all to himself.

  There were many women brought to the house from the pub his father frequented, and each one seemed more than willing to mount the stairs to the bedroom. The boy would sit downstairs, excited at what he knew would be another conquest for his father, another woman satisfying his appetite for sex. It was when Tom was sixteen that two women were brought back from the pub, both women of the streets, and that night all four climbed the stairs. From that night on he had his father’s appetite for sex and his need to control and dominate. He was nineteen when his father was killed in an accident at work but he’d never forgotten his words. ‘Never marry a dominant woman, get one who’s good in bed and who’ll do as she’s told. Always keep a firm hand on her and show her who’s boss.’

  Tom shook his head as his mind came back to the present and he looked down on Mary’s body. ‘I remembered, Dad, I did as yer said.’ His voice was high as he thrust himself inside Mary with such force she had to stuff the blanket in her mouth to muffle a scream.

  With each thrust and groan, Tom’s excitement mounted to fever pitch. He was master, he had the power in his hands. He had his eyes closed and there was a maniacal smile on his face. He’d lost all sense of reason, for in his warped mind the woman he was hurting, humiliating and degrading wasn’t his wife, it was the Baker woman, the bitch from next door.

  For years she’d been asking for this, and at last he was getting his revenge and gasping from the pleasure of it.

  Chapter Eight

  Katy couldn’t hold back the grin when Billy came into the shop on the Saturday afternoon. She’d seen him a few times since Christmas Day but still couldn’t get used to the sight of him in long trousers. She had to admit that they suited him though, and made him look older than his fourteen years. He wasn’t bad-looking, either, now she came to think about it. ‘Work until one on a Saturday, do yer, Billy?’

  ‘No, it’s eight until half-twelve. I’ve been home and had me dinner.’

  Molly walked along the counter to smile at him. ‘How did yer first week’s work go? D’yer think yer’ll like it?’

  ‘Yeah, it’s all right. Mind you, it’ll take me a while to get to know the difference between a valve, a washer and a ballcock. It’s a good job they’ve put me with me dad, otherwise I’d have had me block knocked off by now, the questions I ask.’

  ‘Yer’ll soon get the hang of it, son, and it’s only to be expected that yer’ll ask questions. How else would yer learn?’ Molly turned her head at the sound of the doorbell tinkling. ‘I’ll serve Mrs Roberts, Katy – you see to Billy.’

  ‘Me dad wants twenty Woodbines and a box of matches.’ Billy put half-a-crown on the counter. ‘He wanted an Echo, too, but yer haven’t got them in yet, have yer?’

  ‘Not for another hour.’ Katy put the cigarettes and matches on the counter and picked up the half-crown. ‘I could put one through yer letter box on me way home, if yer like, save yer coming out again.’

  ‘Nah, I’ll come for it.’ Billy changed feet while a blush started to creep up from his neck. ‘Any chance of a game of cards in yours tonight, Katy?’

  ‘None whatsoever.’ Katy’s tone was very definite. ‘We’re starting to strip the walls in the living room tonight.’ Her pretty face was lit up by a beaming smile. ‘Me mam’s buying the paper and paint this afternoon and I can’t wait to see what the wallpaper’s like.’

  ‘Who’s decoratin’ it for yer?’

  ‘We’re doing it ourselves, of course! We can’t afford to have a man in to do it for us, we haven’t got that sort of money.’

  Billy stuck out his bottom lip, a look of doubt on his face. ‘Has yer mam ever done any decoratin’ before?’

  ‘No, but as she says, there’s a first time for everything.’

  ‘Well, it’s to be hoped she doesn’t buy paper with a pattern on that yer’ve got to match, ’cos that’s a bugger to put up.’

  ‘Billy! You swore!’

  ‘Sorry, it just slipped out. All the men in work swear like troopers, yer see.’ He looked suitably reprimanded. ‘It’s no good me saying I’ll give yer a hand ’cos I’d only make a mess of it, but I could help yer scrape the old paper off and wash the woodwork down. An extra pair of hands and yer’d probably have it done in one night.’

  ‘Ooh, yeah!’ Katy’s mind was working overtime. ‘You could get on the ladder and reach the high-up bi
ts, couldn’t yer?’

  ‘Yeah, I could do that, easy-peasy. I know I sound as thick as two short planks sometimes, but I’m not as soft as I make out. And scraping paper off a wall is child’s play.’

  ‘Good, ye’re hired then. Yer wages will be a cup of tea and a biscuit. Does that sound fair enough to yer?’

  Billy was over the moon. ‘I’ll be outside when the shop shuts an’ walk home with yer.’

  Katy nodded. ‘OK, Billy, but will yer go now ’cos there’s a few customers want serving and ye’re holding me up.’

  Molly had a smile on her face as she watched the boy walk to the door. He was definitely smitten with Katy, but it was hard to tell if the girl realised it, or even felt the same way. She certainly didn’t treat him any different to anyone else. To her he was just a schoolfriend, one of the gang.

  Molly screwed the top back on the sweet jar and reached up to put it back on the shelf. It would be interesting to see how that friendship developed, she thought. Still, only time would tell and that was something of which they had plenty.

  Dot sighed as she put her shopping bags down on the kitchen floor. Her arms were tired from the weight of them and both hands had red weals across the palms where the handles of the bags had dug into them. Anyway, that was the food seen to. Now she had to go out again to buy the wallpaper and paint. ‘Colin, will yer put all this stuff away while I’m out, please? And it’ll be the chippy again tonight, I’ve no time to make a dinner.’

  Colin rubbed his hands together in glee. ‘That’s the gear, Mam, me mouth’s watering at the thought.’

  ‘It’ll have to water for another couple of hours, son ’cos we’ve got to wait for Katy to get in from work. I’m not putting cold chips down in front of her after she’s been on her feet all day.’

  ‘Can I make meself a buttie, then? Me tummy’s not half rumbling.’

  ‘Oh, all right, seven bellies, but don’t eat the whole loaf and don’t plaster the margarine on.’ Dot stretched her shoulders. ‘I’d better get cracking in case the shop in Hawthorne Road hasn’t got any paper in that I like and I’ve got to traipse down to Stanley Road.’