More Careless Talk

by David Barry

  Tina sighed, leaned back, and sipped her wine. ‘And now it’s back to the waiting game again. So much time out of my life. It’s taking its toll.’

  ‘You stick with it, girl. You’ve come this far. Don’t give up now.’

  ‘I’ve no intention of doing that. Especially with you helping me, which I really appreciate, because I know how hard it must be. It’s very brave of you.’

  Pran shrugged and drained his wine glass. ‘I’d better make a move and catch my train.’

  Tina leant forward and stared at him earnestly. ‘Please don’t feel insulted, Pran. I want to pay your fare up here.’

  He frowned and shook his head, staring with embarrassment at his empty glass, which reminded him that he’d now got a taste for it, and might not be able to afford another bottle that evening. He began to make a token objection but made it sound deliberately weak.

  ‘Well, I don’t know if I can take money for this trip,,,’

  He was relieved to see Tina was already getting her purse out of her handbag.

  ‘You’re not. This is your train fare. You wouldn’t be coming up here if it wasn’t for the tribunal.’

  As she held out a twenty pound note, he said, ‘It’s not as much as that. And you also got the wine.’

  She became mockingly firm. ‘Do as you’re told and take it.’

  He gave her a small, regretful smile as he accepted the money. ‘OK. But next time I’ll get the wine.’

  ***

  Jackie came into the kitchen and gasped. The mess was worse than she had ever known. Tears of frustration sprang into her eyes. Nicky, who had been watching a DVD in the living room, came scurrying guiltily into the kitchen.

  ‘Hello, Mummy,’ she mumbled lamely.

  Jackie was staring goggle-eyed at the mountainous pile of washing-up stacked on the draining board. ‘Look at it!’ she moaned.

  ‘We were going to do it. You should have telephoned to say you were coming.’

  ‘I live here. I shouldn’t have to do that. I ought to be able to come home whenever I want, without...’ She gestured futilely at the mess.

  Nicky wore a sullen expression. ‘Since you came back from your honeymoon, you’ve been staying at Nigel’s house. We thought you were staying round there permanently. If we’d known you were coming home, we’d have tidied up.’

  Jackie shook her head vehemently. ‘How can you live like this? You make work for yourselves. If you did it as you went along...’

  Impatiently, Nicky interrupted. ‘Most people these days have a dishwasher.’

  Jackie gave a bark-like, humourless laugh. ‘Ha! Even if we had a dishwasher, you would never bother to load it. I’ve never known such laziness. And where’s Vanessa?’

  ‘How should I know?’

  Jackie glared at her daughter, as if she was finding it hard from physically attacking her. The telephone rang, and Jackie hurried out to the hall to answer it, relieved to break from the scene with Nicky. Jackie hated scenes.

  Nicky sighed, and reluctantly began to tackle the washing up. She was about to turn the tap on but was distracted by her mother’s telephone conversation. She stopped to listen.

  ‘Oh God!’ A pause. ‘Oh, that’s terrible.’ Another slightly longer pause. ‘How did he ... Yes, I see. Who found him? That must have been terrible. Why not? His two girls have every right...’

  A cold clammy feeling ran down Nicky’s body as she suspected the worst. She knew now what it was. She was deathly still as she listened to the rest of her mother’s telephone conversation, and waited for the inevitable bad news.

  ‘Oh no. That’s disgusting. Thank you for warning me. I’ll try ... I’ll have a think about it and try to sort something out.’

  When Jackie returned to the kitchen, Nicky saw the tears flooding down her cheeks, but they were almost on automatic pilot. There seemed to be no emotion behind them, other than a trace of anger perhaps.

  ‘I’m sorry, Nicky. It’s your father. He passed away.’

  Nicky felt numb, but no tears came. Her mother saw the frightened, confused expression on her daughter’s face, like a vulnerable animal being startled, and threw her arms around her and squeezed tight. After a while, Nicky drew back and calmly stared into her mother’s eyes.

  ‘Tell me about it.’

  ‘That was one of your dad’s drinking cronies in East Peckham. You know how he went to the pub every single night. Well, apparently he hadn’t been for four or five days, so someone went round to look for him. They knew something was wrong and had to break in. That’s when they found him. They think he’d had a heart attack. The chap from the pub wanted me to know before the police call. There’s something...’

  Frowning, Nicky waited for her mother to finish.

  ‘It’s too disgusting.’ Jackie shuddered hugely. ‘How could he? The filthy disgusting animal!’

  ***

  Mary wiped the top of the cooker hurriedly. She didn’t like letting the boys out on their own, but because Simon was older, and seemed very responsible for his age, she had agreed to them going off to the Grosvenor recreation ground, which was only a short walk from where they lived. She intended following them to the park after fifteen minutes had gone by. She wanted them to learn to be independent. It was a difficult balancing act to pull off these days, what with there being so many dangerous people around. Yet she knew she couldn’t wrap them in cotton wool either.

  So letting them go on their own, then following them a little later, seemed a perfect compromise. What could possibly go wrong in the space of ten or fifteen minutes?

  But when the jarring sound of the knocker made her jump, followed by the muffled cries of Simon calling her from outside the front door, she immediately knew she was going to regret it.

  She ran down the hall and threw open the door.

  ‘Mum!’ screamed Simon. ‘He’s got Thomas.’

  Mary grabbed Simon by the shoulders as she felt waves of panic beating her. ‘Who’s got him? Who?’

  ‘My dad, that’s who. He stopped his car just as we were about to go into the park across the little footpath over the railway bridge. I told Thomas not to go with him, but he wouldn’t listen. My dad offered to buy him an ice-cream and give him some pocket money. I told him! I told him not to go with him but he wouldn’t listen.’

  In the hallway, the telephone shrilled. Mary ran back and snatched at it.

  ‘Hi, babe. Don’t panic. Thomas’s here with me. Ain’t you, son.’

  Mary screamed down the telephone, ‘Ronnie! Bring him back now! You’ve no right to take him like that...’

  Ronnie’s voice was calm and businesslike when he interrupted her. There was a smooth coldness in his delivery, as if he’d rehearsed the speech. ‘Listen, sweetheart: I can get at my son whenever I like, and there’s nothing you nor anyone can do about it. So just listen up and I’ll tell you how it’s going to be. He’ll be back with you in less than five minutes. We’ve only gone round the corner to buy an ice-cream. But bear this in mind, sweetheart: I can, and will do this again, and put the shits up you. You know, don’t you, what I’m capable of. So here’s the thing: I want you, baby. Just once. One night with you. Then, I promise, I’ll leave you alone. I’ll be out of your life for good.’

  Mary’s breathing was shallow and she felt as if she was hyperventilating.

  Ronnie chuckled as he waited for her to speak.

  ‘Ronnie,’ she said, ‘if I thought you would be out of our lives for good...’

  Ronnie laughed louder. ‘You’d agree. Look, sweetheart, I just want one night with you. Think of it as lust ... a sort of magnificent obsession ... with you preying on my mind, I need one night. Then it’s closure, I promise you. I’ll bugger off back to the old US of A again. So how about it?’

  Mary drew in her breath before
answering. Then was surprised at how calm she sounded ‘OK. Come round tonight, after eleven-thirty, when the kids are sound asleep. I don’t want them to know.’

  ‘A wise decision, babe. I’ll drop young Thomas off in less than five.’

  Fifty

  As soon as Vanessa arrived home and went into the living room, she knew it was bad news. A bad atmosphere hung in the air like a repugnant odour, and she could see her mother had been crying. She sank into the sofa, next to Nicky.

  ‘What’s happened?’

  ‘It’s your father. He’s passed away.’

  ‘In other words,’ Nicky spat out bitterly, ‘he’s dead.’

  Vanessa sat with her hands clutched tight, examining her feelings. Neither of them had been close to their father. They saw him occasionally, maybe three times a year, but he always remembered their birthdays, sent them cards, usually with a fifty pound note inside. The same at Christmas. But he had been a remote man, taciturn and cold. Vanessa couldn’t ever remember a time when he had hugged her; or even pecked her on the cheek. He liked to keep a distance between himself and his family, as if he resented his own inadequacy as a parent.

  After a long silence, Vanessa cleared her throat lightly before speaking. ‘It’s a shame, I know, but we were never close - any of us. We had no relationship with him at all.’

  Nicky shuddered and began sobbing. Vanessa wondered why she was so upset.

  ‘I feel...’ Nicky began, between gulping and crying. ‘I feel guilty. I don’t even know what he did for a living.’

  ‘He didn’t like to talk about it,’ said Jackie. ‘He worked for British Aerospace, selling something. That’s why he travelled abroad so much before he took early retirement.’

  Vanessa frowned as she stared at her mother. ‘You mean he was an arms dealer?’

  ‘Components he said. Whatever he did, he was quite successful. When we split up he left us this house, and bought a small one for himself - the one in East Pekham. About a year ago he telephoned me and told me he’d had a minor heart attack. So it prompted him into making a will. He’s left everything to you two; whatever money he’s saved, plus the proceeds of the house. That should brighten up the tragic news.’

  This last statement, Vanessa noticed, was spoken with venom, and she wondered if her mother resented being excluded from the will.

  Nicky wiped her eyes, blew her nose, and composed herself. She spoke to her sister, with a nod in her mother’s direction.

  ‘There’s something she’s not telling us.’

  ‘What d’you mean?’

  ‘About our father - the way he died.’

  Vanessa stared at Jackie. ‘Well, come on: we’ve a right to know.’

  Jackie shuddered. ‘He suffocated himself.’

  ‘You mean he committed suicide?’ asked Vanessa.

  Jackie shook her head. ‘I’d sooner not...’

  ‘We’re going to find out eventually,’ yelled Nicky. ‘There’ll be an enquiry. So you might as well tell us what happened.’

  ‘Well,’ urged Vanessa, leaning forward on the sofa, ‘did he commit suicide or not?’

  Tears rolled down Jackie’s face. ‘It was an accident. It’s too disgusting for words. Oh, all right - if you must know - you’re going to find out sooner or later, anyway. He was watching a disgusting film on the video.’

  ‘You mean pornography?’ said Vanessa.

  Jackie nodded. ‘And he was ... he was doing it to himself ... while he watched it.’

  Vanessa shrugged. ‘I bet lots of men do. So what?’

  ‘He was using a belt which he tied around his throat. Apparently it does something ... I’m not sure what.’

  ‘It’s called something,’ said Nicky. ‘There’s a name for it.’

  Vanessa stared at the carpet, and held her hands level as she searched her memory. ‘Auto erotic asphyxiation.’

  ‘Whatever it is,’ snapped Jackie. ‘It’s brought disgrace on the family. The disgusting bastard.’

  Vanessa laughed, and Nicky and her mother stared at her, as if they couldn’t quite believe they had heard right.

  ‘Our father,’ she laughed. ‘A component salesman. Anyone’d think he was a rock singer.’

  ***

  Ted still slept in the spare room. He was on an early shift and was finding difficulty in getting to sleep. After a long struggle, with many voices in his head, tugging and pulling and keeping him restless, he eventually managed to drift off into a deep, dreamless sleep. He had been asleep less than ten minutes when a hand on his shoulder shook him awake.

  ‘Ted! Ted! Wake up!’ Marjorie hissed.

  He sat bolt upright, scared that something might be wrong with his daughter. ‘What’s happened?’

  Marjorie’s irritated voice came to him in the dark. ‘Nothing’s wrong. She just wants her feed. She’s crying. Didn’t you hear her?’

  ‘No, I’ve only just got to sleep.’

  ‘She wants feeding.’

  ‘Can’t you feed her?’

  ‘No I can’t. It’s your turn.’

  Ted’s voice whined from a feelings of tiredness and injustice. ‘But I’m on the early shift.’

  ‘Are you going to feed her or not?’

  Marjorie’s voice sounded ominous in the dark, as if she were capable of committing a heinous act if crossed.

  Ted sighed. ‘Yes. All right. But what about my early shift?’

  ‘What about it?’

  ‘It’s just that it’s not fair.’

  Marjorie snorted. ‘Life’s not fair. And I have to look after her all the time you’re at work. I need a break. A rest.’

  ‘She sleeps most of the time.’

  ‘Yes, well, she’s not sleeping now, is she?’

  Ted listened to the urgent crying, louder now, starting to choke with hunger and a craving attention. He sighed again as he swung his legs out from under the duvet.

  ‘OK. I’ll go,’ he relented.

  ‘That’s big of you,’ snapped Marjorie as she swept out to return to her own room.

  Ted struggled to find the sleeve of his dressing gown. ‘Don’t cry, poppet!’ he called. ‘Daddy’s coming. Daddy’s coming.’

  ***

  Ronnie tapped the door knocker softly. He could hear soft music coming from the back of the house, probably the kitchen. He waited, but no one came. He checked his watch to make sure it was the right time. It was a little after eleven-thirty, just like she’d said. He banged the knocker again, this time slightly louder.

  While he waited, he could feel anger growing inside him, rising to the surface. If the bitch had changed her mind...

  He checked the street, making certain no one was passing by, then went to the side of the house and clicked the latch on the gate. He expected to find it bolted but she had either forgotten to lock it or one of the children had. He pushed open the creaking gate, felt his way along the side wall of the house, then turned the corner. There was a light on in the kitchen and he peered through the stippled glass of the back door and couldn’t see any shadows or movement from within. Apart from the radio playing an old Carpenter’s number, the house was silent. Perhaps she had gone to bed, thinking he would give up and go away. Chance would be a fine thing! There was no way he was going to go away now, having come this far.

  Not expecting to break in as he had before, he had neglected to bring any tools with him, so he searched around the garden until he found a large stone. His anger was mounting now, and he couldn’t have cared less about the noise it would make. He hit the stone hard against the glass, smashing it over and over. It seemed to make a hell of a noise, but by now he was frantic and boiling with anger. He reached inside the door, found the large, old-fashioned key and turned it. Then he flung open the door and entered. He marched angrily thro
ugh the kitchen and into the hall, then swung round and took the stairs two at a time. There was a suspicion growing inside him, feeding his anger and desperation. As soon as he flung open the bedroom doors he knew. The bitch had crossed him. She had taken the children and gone out for the night.

  With no clear aim in mind, he ran downstairs and threw open the front door. He was confronted by two uniformed policemen.

  ‘Hold it right there,’ said one of them.

  Instinctively, he turned round, knowing he could get out the back door, but a figure appeared at the kitchen doorway. Plain clothes and holding out his ID to Ronnie.

  ‘You’re not going anywhere, sir. I’m arresting you for breaking and entering. If you are asked questions about the offence, you do not have to say anything, but it may harm your defence if you do not mention when questioned something which you later rely on in court. Anything you do say may be given in evidence.’

  Ronnie shrugged. He’d been caught bang to rights. She’d set him up and he’d walked into her trap. And for that the bitch would have to pay. Maybe not now, or tomorrow, or next year even. But eventually she would pay for it.

  Fifty - One

  Mandy lay on her side, a hand cupped under her chin, surveying Craig’s bedroom now that daylight furnished it with stark reality. She stared at the salmon pink wallpaper with yellow roses, wondering if the pink had once been brighter. She frowned thoughtfully as her eyes followed the line of peeling paper down to the hideous, dark oak chest of drawers with its top drawer permanently jammed open . And she scowled at the miserable alcove that served as Craig’s wardrobe, a curtain rail stretched across and a plastic shower curtain with an underwater theme.

  Craig grinned as he came into the room, stark naked, carrying two mugs of coffee. Reading her mind, he said, ‘I know it’s not much but at least it’s home.’

  Mandy smiled weakly and caught sight of her dress, carefully draped across the wash basin, the only place she could find to put it last night.

  ‘Does your tap drip?’ she said.

  Craig frowned uncomprehendingly. ‘Sorry?’