by Kitty Neale
‘Can I have a mirror please? I–I want to see what he’s done to me.’
The ambulance man paused before gently answering, ‘It’s best you don’t look just yet. Wait until the doctors have seen to you.’
Sandra could tell from the man’s voice that it was bad. She could see the pity in his eyes too and knew that Johnnie had seriously damaged her face. Strangely she couldn’t feel any pain. She just felt numb. She raised a shaking hand and went to feel her cheek but was quickly stopped by the ambulance man.
‘Please, Miss, just lie still and don’t try to touch anything.’
Sandra feared she would never model again; her life would change for ever. But she was a determined woman and would make sure that Johnnie Jenkins paid for doing this to her and to Dan. She’d see that he was locked up for a very, very long time.
The sofa wasn’t the most comfortable place to sleep and Toby rubbed his back, glad that it was Sunday and he didn’t have to go to work. He couldn’t hear any movement from Polly upstairs, but as he’d heard her crying into the early hours, she was probably still asleep.
The crisp autumn atmosphere didn’t do anything to change his feelings and Toby was resolute that he would be leaving today. Just the thought of that thing in her stomach turned his guts. As much as he loved Polly, he couldn’t stand by and watch her give birth to her brother’s baby, and if he was honest with himself, her brother or not, he didn’t want to bring up another man’s child.
He’d intended to surprise Polly with a proposal soon, but there was no way he was going to marry her now. As soon as she left the bedroom and came downstairs, he’d go up there to pack his things. He’d go back to his original plan and travel north to move in with his mother and aunt until he found his feet.
Toby’s mouth was dry and he went to the kitchen and poured himself a glass of water. It was going to be hard to leave, and he knew it would hurt her, but he just couldn’t stay. Moments later he heard Polly coming downstairs.
‘You’re going to leave me, aren’t you?’ she said as she walked into the room, her eyes red and swollen.
‘This isn’t easy for me, Polly, but yes, I’m leaving.’
‘No, Toby, don’t go. I can’t do this by myself and I need you now more than ever.’
‘Polly, I love you, but I’m sorry, I can’t stay to see your belly swelling with … with that thing.’
‘Thing!’ Sudden anger darkened Polly’s eyes. ‘Is that what you think you can call my baby, a thing? How dare you! Yes, it’s Johnnie’s baby, but it’s mine too, a part of me, and my baby is NOT a thing! Go on then, if you’re going, go! There’s no point hanging around.’
Her anger gave Toby the impetus to move and he hurried upstairs and shoved his clothes into a rucksack. As he did so, Polly walked into the room, contrite.
‘Toby, I’m sorry I lost my temper. Of course you’re upset, and that’s why you said those things, but we love each other and surely we can find a way to make this work. Can’t we?’
‘How, Polly? Even if I wanted to, which I don’t, that baby is going to be born white so, like you said, there’s no way we could pass it off as mine,’ he said coldly, brushing past her to go to the bathroom to grab his shaving kit and toothbrush. He stuffed them into a pocket in the rucksack and, closing his ears to Polly’s sobs, hurried back downstairs and threw his keys onto the hall table.
He heard Polly cry out to him, but walked out of the front door and quickly closed it behind him. He was leaving the woman he loved, but knew he was making the right decision, the only decision that he could live with. He hoped Polly would be all right, but her unborn child was not his responsibility, nor one that he wished to take on.
Unsure of how he would get there with only a Sunday train service, Toby tried to put all thoughts of Polly out of his head and concentrate on new beginnings in Manchester, but it proved to be harder than he thought.
A light tap on the front door woke Harry from his afternoon doze. Feeling irritated, he went to see who had disturbed him and was surprised to find PC Redman on his doorstep. The policeman and Harry had been at school together and, though Micky Redman had felt Harry’s collar a few times in their younger days, they had always had a quiet mutual respect.
‘Micky, what brings you here? I haven’t seen you for ages. You ain’t here to nick me for that bank job last week up the Junction, are you?’ Harry said with a laugh.
‘Hello, Harry. It’s been a while. No, we’ve already got the blokes who did that job, but I do need to have a word with you.’
‘You’d better come in then. Got time for a cuppa?’
‘Yeah, that would be nice, thanks.’
Micky removed his helmet and sat on the sofa while Harry went to make the tea.
‘Them bloody helmets you wear,’ Harry said when he came back with the brew, ‘every time I see one of you lot wearing them, I think to myself that it looks like you’ve got a bloody great tit on your head.’
Micky chuckled, ‘Well, believe it or not, Harry, it’s written in law that a pregnant woman can request to urinate in my helmet!’
‘Well, I’ll be buggered,’ said Harry. ‘You wouldn’t want to be wearing your helmet after that!’
Micky sipped his tea. ‘Harry, I shouldn’t be telling you this, but we go back a long way and you have a right to know. It’s your Johnnie, he’s down the nick. I’m sorry to say that it’s not looking too good for him. He could be facing a bit of a stretch.’
‘What’s he done? It ain’t like Johnnie to be getting into trouble with you lot, not since that incident with riding in a stolen car.’
‘I’m afraid this is a bit more serious than that. He’s been charged with GBH with intent.’
Harry sat back in the armchair, flabbergasted. ‘My Johnnie! Never!’
‘Sorry, but a young woman has been seriously injured and there’s a witness to prove he did it.’
Harry was sickened. First Johnnie had taken up with Polly, his half-sister, and now he’d beaten up a girl. Well, there was no doubt in his mind now. His son was a pervert and a coward, and as far as Harry was concerned the sick bastard could go to hell and rot in jail.
It had been a few days since Toby had left, and Polly was pining. She felt so alone, and very afraid of the future. The house felt so empty, just as it had when she first returned to Kent. On Wednesday, on her way home from work, she went to use the village telephone box to call Jackie, wanting to hear a reassuring voice telling her it would all be all right.
‘Why don’t you come and stay here for the weekend?’ Jackie offered sympathetically. ‘You know Katy would love to see you, we both would.’
‘I don’t know, Jackie. It’s really nice of you to offer, but you know how Ross is with me and I’m not sure I can take it at the moment.’
‘Don’t you worry, I’ll deal with him. You just get yourself on a train this weekend. Tell me what time it arrives and I’ll meet you at the station. I won’t take no for an answer.’
‘All right then, and thanks,’ she said, reassured. She needed to talk to someone and with Jackie being a nurse she would also have the opportunity to ask questions about childbirth, which she knew nothing about.
Back at home, Polly settled down in front of the telly and put her feet up on the sofa but her mind kept drifting to Johnnie and she wondered if she should tell him about the baby. It was such a mess. He was the baby’s father and, if nothing else, when she had to give up work she would need some financial support. She sighed. She hated the thought of seeing him again.
She looked down at her belly, sure that it was bulging, and pretty soon there would be no hiding her pregnancy. It would cause a lot of gossip in the village, worse than when Toby had moved in, and as an unmarried mother she’d probably be pilloried.
Polly’s thoughts continued to turn as she worried about her future. Not that she wanted one now, but no man would take on an unmarried mother and she would have to spend the rest of her life bringing this baby up alone. Once again
she wondered how she was going to manage for money when she had to stop working. She didn’t want her baby to go without, and it was then that Polly came to a decision. She would have to face seeing Johnnie again to tell him that he would have to share the financial burden.
On Thursday, Helen was just savouring the last mouthful of a thickly buttered toasted teacake when she picked up the local newspaper. She would normally flick straight to the horoscopes and then to the crossword but the headline on the front page caught her attention. The story was about a man charged with attacking a local model, and as Helen read on she almost spat out the last of her teacake when she saw Johnnie’s name in print.
It was there, as bold as brass in black and white. Johnnie Jenkins had been arrested after violently assaulting a young couple. Helen’s hands began to shake. She couldn’t believe it, not of Johnnie, but then again he had proved that he wasn’t the young man she’d thought he was. But to beat a woman! Surely he wasn’t capable of that.
Helen quickly pulled on her coat and wrapped her head in a scarf before heading up to Northcote Lane, where she knew Harry was working. She passed the market stalls where the costermongers were shouting out their bargains, but hardly heard a word as her mind was focused on the appalling story in the local paper. Just off the main road Helen came to the site and soon spotted Harry, grafting hard even though the wind was blowing a gale.
She called out his name but her voice got lost on the wind so she called again, more loudly this time. Harry didn’t hear but one of the builders did and caught Harry’s attention. He clambered over the construction area and came to speak to her. ‘I can guess what you’re doing here.’
‘I’ve seen it in the paper. Tell me it isn’t true,’ said Helen, hoping against all odds that Harry would say there had been a terrible mistake.
‘What can I say? I wish it wasn’t, but it is.’
‘But, Harry, Johnnie wouldn’t hit a girl. What he did with Polly was very wrong but this! Surely not!’
‘The evidence proves he did it and I’ve washed my hands of him. There’s nothing I can do for him and quite frankly I don’t wanna know him no more. I don’t hold with hitting women and by all accounts he did a right job on her, even stamped on her head.’
Helen could hardly believe her ears. Harry had obviously chosen to forget what he had done in the past. He had not only hit her, he’d hospitalised his wife. ‘Harry, if you think back, I took a hiding from you and look what you did to Glenda! Maybe that’s where Johnnie gets it from. He’s turning out to be just like you. It seems it took a while for it to come out in Johnnie, but it’s bad blood. You’ve both got bad blood and I’m just glad your mother didn’t live to see how Johnnie has turned out.’
There was a time when Helen wouldn’t have dared to talk to Harry like that, but he was a different man now and she was no longer afraid of him. She spun on her heel and marched back up the Northcote Road, saddened by what Johnnie had become, but pleased with herself for finally telling Harry a few home truths.
Harry went back to work, though as he laid bricks Helen’s words still stung, and what she had said made him think. He’d only hit Glenda because she wound him up so much, and all right, he’d once lost his rag with Helen, but what Johnnie had done was totally different.
It wasn’t as if Johnnie was a little boy any more. He was a grown man and responsible for his own actions and though Harry did feel a pang of guilt when he thought about Glenda, it wasn’t enough to change his mind about his son. The boy was still a pervert and now it appeared he beat women for fun. Harry wanted nothing to do with him.
The afternoon dragged on but eventually it was knocking-off time and Harry could at last get the beer that he found himself craving. He hadn’t been much of a drinker for years, but on this occasion he had a real thirst for a pint.
When Harry walked into the public bar at the Castle he found it hadn’t altered much since the last time he’d been in, over ten years ago, though there was a new landlord behind the bar. He ordered his drink and stood quietly supping his pint. The liquid felt good as it went down his throat and Harry was already looking forward to his next pint. He didn’t recognise any of the faces around him, but then the door opened and Harry frowned when he saw a familiar one. The man walked towards the bar.
‘Evening, Pete, a pint of your finest, please.’
‘Hello, Billy, how are you?’ asked the landlord.
‘All good, can’t complain.’
‘And the wife and kids?’
‘They’re all good. The missus has taken them up the Grand to see that Chitty Chitty Bang Bang film.’
‘I know the one,’ the landlord said, ‘with that flying car. Mind you, I wouldn’t fancy going to the Grand. It might sound posh but it’s a blinking fleapit!’
‘They ain’t fussy,’ Billy said with a laugh.
‘Well, she can’t be,’ the landlord quipped, ‘she married you!’
Harry put his pint down and turned towards Billy, saying, ‘Well now, fancy seeing you here.’
After a moment’s recognition, Billy Myers suddenly turned pale. ‘Harry Jenkins, well, I never,’ he said nervously and reached out to shake his hand.
Harry didn’t take it, and still looking nervous Billy drew the landlord in, saying, ‘This is Harry Jenkins. He used to be a regular in here but we ain’t seen him for bloody years.’
‘Is that right?’
When he didn’t answer, Billy filled the silence. ‘Well, Harry, it’s good to have you back. Can I get you a drink?’
Harry could tell that the Castle wasn’t the only thing that hadn’t changed. Billy was still his creepy little self and he still had no time for the man. ‘No, I’ll buy my own pint.’
‘Come on, let me get you a drink for old times’ sake.’
Typical of the man, thought Harry, he never knew when to stop. ‘I said no, Billy.’
‘What’s the matter with you? We used to be good mates. Go on, have a drink with me.’
Harry’s irritation was rising but he bit his tongue. ‘Don’t kid yourself, Bill. We were never good mates.’
‘I see, like that, is it?’ said Billy and added with a sneer on his face, ‘I’d have thought that with your Johnnie being banged up you could do with a mate, but suit yourself.’
That was it. Billy had gone too far and he shouted, ‘You little shit! Who the fuck do you think you are to mention my son to me?’
‘Calm down or I shall ask you to leave,’ the landlord said quietly over the bar.
‘No, it’s all right, it’s my fault,’ Billy said placatingly. ‘Sorry, Harry, I didn’t mean anything by it.’
‘Billy, I never liked you all those years ago,’ Harry snarled, ‘and I don’t like you now, so get the fuck out of my face, you mug!’
‘I’m no mug, Harry. I’ve still got my wife and kids, what about you?’ Billy sneered, appearing to suddenly grow a spine. ‘Oh, yeah, that’s right, your wife left you, she ran off with my brother. Your mother’s dead, your brothers don’t have any time for you and your son is just like you, a nasty piece of work. Oh, and by the way, I’ve known for years where Glenda and Frank have been living so if anyone’s a mug, you wanna be looking closer to home.’
Harry’s eyebrows rose. For once the little squirt was standing up to him, but he couldn’t let him get away with it. The trouble was, what Billy had said about Johnnie had deflated him, his words hitting home. He wouldn’t let Billy see it, though.
‘I admire your spunk, Billy, you ain’t as much of a wanker as I thought, but that will be the first and only time you talk to me like that. Watch your back from now on,’ Harry said menacingly. He picked up his glass, downed the last of his pint and snarled as he walked out, ‘One more thing, Billy – your brother Frank – he’s dead. Thought you might like to know.’
Billy’s hands were shaking as he picked up his drink. He couldn’t believe Harry hadn’t hit him, but he would’ve been ready for him if he had. A long time ago he’d joined a boxing
gym and had learned how to look after himself, so much so that it had given him the confidence to speak up to Harry.
Yet even so, Harry had still got the last words in, and they had left him stunned. He said Frank was dead, but how did he know? Had he found him? Billy’s blood suddenly ran cold. The only way that Harry could know that Frank was dead was if he’d killed him.
He shook even more now knowing that he’d just fronted out a man who’d probably murdered his brother. He couldn’t acknowledge feeling any grief at Frank’s loss, but he did fear Harry’s threat. ‘Watch your back,’ Harry had warned. Did that mean that the man was coming for him next?
Billy ordered a whisky, tossed it back and then straightened his shoulders. Let him come, he thought, knowing that Harry would never find him. He only had to work out the rest of the week then he and his family would be hundreds of miles away – living in Wales on his wife’s parents’ sheep farm.
Chapter 37
Polly followed Katy up the stairs and into her bedroom. She was glad that her best friend had chosen to stay at home and had forgotten all her dreams of moving to Australia. The smell of freshly baked scones wafted through the house, which made Polly feel even more welcome. She loved being back with Katy in Jackie’s house and in some ways she wished she still lived there.
‘I’m so sorry to hear that Toby left you,’ Katy said, her eyes soft with sympathy.
‘I miss him, but I’ve had time to think now, and I don’t think he really loved me. If he did, he wouldn’t have left me so easily.’
‘How are you coping?’
‘All right, I suppose, but I’m not sure how I’ll manage financially. I think I might have to tell Johnnie about the baby and see if he’ll help.’