The Wives’ Revenge

by Lindsey Hutchinson

  Violet. Kath wondered how she could make life easier for her daughter. Violet never confided in her, never told her anything. She had no idea what went on in that girl’s brain. She loved her daughter with all her heart, but Violet could make it so difficult for her to show it. Violet was unhappy, and Kath knew she was to blame for that. Her husband and her daughter were always at odds, and Kath was stuck in the middle, constantly refereeing their disagreements. She made up her mind to try to make Violet’s life a happier one somehow.

  Speak of the devil, Kath thought as Violet walked in through the kitchen door.

  ‘Hello, love, how are you?’

  ‘All right, what’s for tea? I’m starving!’

  Kath watched as Violet snatched a piece of carrot from the chopping board.

  ‘Pie and vegetables… roast potatoes.’ Kath gave her a smile. She watched her daughter as she skipped from the room, returning shortly afterward having changed out of her school clothes.

  Kath tried to instigate a conversation by asking about her day at school and watched the darkness settle on the young features as Violet mumbled something then disappeared into the back yard.

  So, school today had not gone well… Something had happened, but what? Kath sighed, she felt sure she’d find out soon enough.

  As John, Violet and Kath sat eating their meal later that evening, the front door knocker rapped three times. John threw Kath a look as she stood to go and answer the door. Violet kept her head down.

  Mrs Berry stood before Kath on the front step, holding Primrose by the hand.

  ‘Mrs Sligo,’ she began, ‘look at what your daughter has done to my Primrose!’

  Kath watched Mrs Berry turn the child this way and that, revealing cuts and grazes. She saw the bump on Primrose’s head and her eye beginning to turn a nasty shade of blue.

  ‘Mrs Berry…’ But before Kath could continue, the woman interrupted.

  ‘Don’t you “Mrs Berry” me!’ The cadence in her voice would no doubt be alerting the neighbours that a ‘show’ was in the offing. ‘Look at the state of my Primrose and it’s all your daughter’s fault!’

  ‘Mrs Berry…’ Kath tried again, ‘won’t you step inside?’

  ‘I’m not stepping inside that pig sty you call home,’ the woman rasped, ‘and my Primrose will have nothing more to do with your Violet! That girl should be ashamed of herself, and you also as her mother!’ Mrs Berry turned on her heel and stalked away dragging Primrose behind her.

  Kath stood and watched them walk away before closing the door quietly. Waiting a moment, she tried to gather her thoughts. If John hears about this, he won’t be happy, she conceded. It would cause yet another row between them. Feeling sure God had deserted her, Kath walked back to the kitchen table and sat down to finish her meal, her appetite now had all but vanished.

  John was not at the table when Kath returned and she raised her eyebrows in question.

  ‘He’s in the privy,’ Violet tilted her head towards the back yard.

  Just then he walked back into the kitchen.

  ‘Who was that?’ John asked.

  Violet’s eyes looked up with pleading in them. She’d heard who had been at the door… and why.

  ‘Mrs Berry,’ Kath said, looking at Violet. She saw the crushed feeling settle over Violet as the girl pushed her empty plate away.

  ‘Oh aye? What did that stuck-up bitch want?’ John asked, piling more food into his already full mouth.

  ‘Nothing much.’ Kath’s mind worked fast to find an excuse to avoid John getting angry. John looked at her his fork halfway to his mouth, questions in his eyes. ‘She just wondered if Violet wanted to go and play with Primrose. I said she couldn’t as I wanted her to do a few chores.’

  John harrumphed and continued to eat.

  Violet and Kath watched each other over the table, warning showing in Kath’s eyes, grateful thanks in Violet’s.

  Washed and changed after dinner, John took off for the Old Barrel Inn on the Holyhead Road and Kath decided now was the time to approach the subject of Primrose.

  Sitting Violet at the table after the dishes were washed and put away, she said, ‘You know why Mrs Berry came calling don’t you?’

  Violet nodded.

  ‘Did you give Primrose a hiding today?’

  Violet nodded again.

  ‘Why?’ Trying to keep her voice calm and quiet, Kath looked at her daughter across the table.

  Looking back, Violet’s eyes blazed their anger. ‘She hurt that cat, Mum, then blamed me for it!’

  ‘Violet…’ Kath started, but Violet cut her off.

  ‘Oh I know you don’t believe me, but it’s the truth! She stabbed the cat in the eye with a stick! What a wicked, cruel thing to do!’

  Kath watched Violet’s eyes brim with tears and suddenly the thought struck her that Violet might actually be telling the truth.

  ‘Why did you not tell me this before?’ Kath asked.

  ‘I did, but you and he,’ Violet spat out the last word, ‘didn’t give me much of a chance!’

  Kath saw the anger building in the small body of her young daughter and said, ‘I’m sorry. Violet, but…’

  ‘No, Mum!’ Violet spat vehemently, ‘I don’t want to hear it! I always get the blame for everything that goes wrong. I’ve had enough of it!’

  Reaching her hand across the table, Kath said, ‘What do you mean, Violet?’

  Anger swelling in her, Violet shouted at her mother as she stood, pushing the chair back with her legs. ‘You two! The pair of you! You never believe anything I say, that’s supposing you give me time to speak! Well, I’ve had enough of you smacking me and his…’ Stopping herself, Violet looked at her mother, and clamped her hand over her mouth in an effort to prevent any more words spilling out.

  ‘His what…?’ Kath asked calmly, but her heart was beating so fast it threatened to burst from her chest.

  ‘Nothing,’ Violet sat again at the table, her eyes cast down.

  ‘His what… Violet?’ Kath’s voice commanding, she asked the question again.

  ‘Mum… please…’ Violet’s eyes begged her mother not to ask further.

  But ask she did. ‘Violet… tell me!’ Kath shouted.

  Tears coursed down her face as Violet shouted, ‘I’m sick to death of him making me do things – horrible things!’

  Shock took her breath away as she Kath saw the distress on Violet’s face. What was Violet trying to say? What had John done to her daughter? Had he taken his belt to her again after he’d promised not to? Had he done something more… something terrible? A sudden dreadful thought had her holding her breath. Please God, not that! she thought.

  Kath stammered, ‘I thought maybe he’d used his belt again.’

  ‘Yes,’ Violet said, her anger still bubbling, ‘he used his belt first!’

  Violet suddenly dissolved into a flood of tears.

  Staring at Violet, the awful truth hit her like a tram. Rushing to the scullery sink, Kath threw up, retching until her stomach ached. How could she have known? How could she have let a man into their house that would do such a thing to her daughter?!

  Cleaning up the mess she swilled her mouth. Taking a deep breath she tried to calm herself down then she returned to the table and looked her daughter square in the eyes.

  ‘Now then, I want to know exactly what’s happened,’ Kath said, feeling the bile rise at the back of her throat.

  Violet shook her head, her eyes tightly shut. Kath’s horror threatened to overwhelm her as she saw her daughter so troubled by her memories.

  ‘Sweetheart, you have to tell me. If I’m to tackle John, I need to know what’s gone on.’ Kath’s voice trembled.

  ‘I didn’t… want to,’ Violet sobbed, ‘he forced me, Mum – he made me do things. He… he put his thing in me and…’ She burst into tears; she could say no more.

  Dashing around the table, Kath wrapped Violet in her arms and hugged her tight as the long-held emotions poured from her daughter
’s young body. Holding Violet tightly, Kath thought about Violet being violated in the most despicable way by her husband.

  ‘Violet, I swear to you I had no idea, may the Lord strike me dead! Oh my sweetheart, my lovely girl…! Violet, I promise you this… he will never hurt you again!’ Kath’s blood was up.

  ‘Mum, I tried to stop him, I did but…’ Violet sobbed, her tears rolling down her face and soaking into Kath’s cardigan.

  Kath whispered, ‘I know, bab, you are in no way responsible. John bloody Sligo carries the blame for this, and as God’s my witness he won’t get away with it. Cry it out, sweetheart, cry it out, because it’s the last time you’ll cry in this house, I’ll make damned sure of that!’ Then pushing Violet to arm’s length, she looked into her distraught face. Lifting Violet’s chin with her finger, she said, ‘Now, the next time Primrose Berry blames you for something you haven’t done, you have my permission to paste her good and proper! Is that clear?’

  Violet nodded and Kath could see they had reached an understanding as they watched each other. Both stood ramrod straight as Violet’s tears slowly evaporated, leaving in their wake a dogged determination.

  Kath continued, ‘As for John Sligo… you leave him to me!’

  Three

  Walking down Holyhead Road to the Old Barrel Inn dressed in his Sunday best, John Sligo had to admit he cut a dashing figure.

  Marrying Kath Clancy some years earlier couldn’t have come at a better time. Unbeknown to her, he had, today, put in his notice at the colliery – no more coal mining for him! Harry Clancy had left Kath very well off financially and on John’s marriage to Kath that money had come to him by law. He congratulated himself for the thousandth time. He had been keeping an ear open for a business up for sale. He had made up his mind to get out of the dirty coal industry; he wanted to be the boss of his own firm.

  Working at the pit and not saving any money had been a foolhardy thing, but then along had come Kath. Thinking about his wife, he swung jauntily down the road. She’s not a bad-looking woman, a bit thin, but then you don’t look at the mantelpiece when you poke the fire! John chuckled to himself. Kath was a good cook, she kept the house clean, washed and ironed his clothes, did all the things a good wife should do. She warmed his bed and kept his ‘old man’ happy. And then there was her daughter.

  John’s smile spread into a grin as he thought of Violet. The brat! Always in trouble that one, but, he felt, as the head of the household, he had free rein to discipline her… now that he did enjoy! He could have mother and daughter whenever he wanted with no one to stop him. He loved the feeling of power; it was so heady.

  Walking into the public bar, John Sligo saw some of the blokes he worked with and made his way across to them. Oh he knew they didn’t much care for him, but that was no loss to him. His having money – being wealthy, you might say – didn’t sit well with them. Jealousy is a terrible thing, John thought as he sat at the table with a few of the ‘lads’.

  A pint of ale appeared before him as if by magic and he clinked glasses with the man who’d bought it, the man’s smile of deference obvious to all. John gloated.

  ‘Ah hear your lass has been in trouble agen, Jack.’ The voice belonged to Geordie Slater, the nickname given to him on account of his hailing from Newcastle upon Tyne in the North East of England. Strange how people always referred to those called John as ‘Jack’, but Sligo didn’t mind, he was used to it.

  ‘She ain’t “my lass”, as you put it, Geordie. What’s she supposed to have done now?’ John asked, rather miffed they obviously knew something he didn’t.

  John watched with disdain as the smiles appeared on the faces around the table one after the other. Geordie caught a nudge to the ribs from the man next to him, daring him to reveal all.

  ‘Aye well, I heard summat about young Violet havin’ a set-to with Mrs Berry’s kid,’ the melodious cadence in his voice began to irritate John.

  He watched the grins broaden. That kid will be the death of me, he thought but said instead, ‘Oh that, you know what kids are, fighting one minute, best of friends the next. It’ll all be forgotten by tomorrow, you’ll see.’

  A murmur of agreement ran round the table. Good, that subject was closed… for now… until he got home. The thought warmed him; Violet would get his belt… then she would get him!

  Conversation moved to the coal pit, as usual, about working conditions being so bad, the money being worse, and management not being any better. The threat of closure hung over them and every day they dreaded the thought of being out of work if that should come to pass.

  Sensing an opportunity to drop his bombshell, John emptied his glass as he stood to head for the privy outside. ‘Won’t be affecting me for much longer,’ he said and strode off imperiously.

  Minutes later, he returned to his place at the table and John saw his glass had been filled once more. ‘Cheers lads,’ he said, lifting his ale to his lips. He wallowed in the power he held over these men by the fact he never had to put his hand in his pocket for drinks.

  Geordie asked, ‘You gonna tell us what’s occurring then?’ Obviously elected spokesman for the evening, Geordie Slater was the only one amongst them with any balls.

  ‘I’m leaving the pit!’ John watched as mouths opened and glances were exchanged. He revelled in the mystery until Geordie spoke again.

  ‘How come like?’

  ‘Geordie, I’m one of the richest people in the town as you know, so I’ve made up my mind - I don’t need to work in the pit anymore.’

  Nods affirmed his statement as true and Geordie said, ‘Eeh man, what’ll ya be doin’ with your time then?’

  ‘I’m thinking about going into business, although as yet I haven’t quite decided what business.’

  A quiet chuckle spurred him on.

  ‘I can afford to take some time to find and buy a going concern. Then, I can build it up and eventually expand. Money begets money they say.’

  The men at the table sat quietly, each in his own pool of jealousy and John watched them, a big grin spanning his face as he leaned back in his chair.

  After another few pints John Sligo staggered out of the Old Barrel Inn to make his way home. Singing to himself, he felt immensely pleased he had not only stuck a craw in the throats of his work colleagues, but they had paid for that privilege by buying all the beer!

  He must have superior intellect over those dunderheads, John thought as he swayed along the cobbles of Holyhead Road. He was feeling good and when he got home he knew he was going to feel a bloody sight better!

  *

  Kath sat in her chair knitting as usual when he walked in, and the girl was abed. Good, that was where John liked her. He felt a grin spread as Kath looked up.

  ‘Had a good time in the pub, I see,’ she said.

  John tried to decide whether she was being sarcastic.

  ‘I have indeed,’ he slurred, ‘told the lads the news, you should ’ave seen their faces.’ John felt the silly grin cross his face but was powerless to do anything about it.

  ‘And what news would that be?’ Kath asked, looking at him, her knitting needles seeming to have a life of their own.

  ‘Told ’em I was leaving the pit, didn’t I? Told ’em I was going into business for myself.’ The silly grin remained in place as John swayed from side to side.

  Kath’s needles stopped their clicking as she watched him. ‘Is that right?’ she asked scornfully. ‘And just when were you going to tell me about this?’

  Feeling the anger rise in him, John yelled, ‘I’m tellin’ you now, ain’t I?’

  ‘Don’t you yell at me, John Sligo! Don’t you bloody dare!’

  Kath’s outburst took him a little by surprise; normally she was so acquiescent.

  Leaning forward, he shouted into her face, ‘I’ll yell all I want woman, and don’t you forget it!’ Trying to straighten up, he felt himself begin to totter before falling into the chair. ‘Where’s my supper, woman?’ he asked when he managed
to sit up.

  ‘Supper you say?’ Kath asked caustically. ‘Make your own bloody supper, I’m off to bed! Oh and John… you’ll be sleeping on the sofa tonight!’

  John felt his mouth drop open as Kath disappeared through the door to the stairs, slamming it behind her. How dare she speak to him in that manner! Who did this woman think she was?

  Getting to his feet unsteadily, John carefully dragged himself up the stairs to find the bedroom door locked. Going across to Violet’s room, he opened the door. John was set to have a little fun and Violet was going to provide it if her mother wouldn’t.

  Moving across to the bed, he discovered it was empty. ‘What the…?’ he muttered.

  Two steps back to the other bedroom door, John hammered on it as he shouted, ‘Open this door, woman, I want my congimicaal rights!’ He tittered as he tottered by the door waiting for it to open.

  Instead he heard Kath say, ‘You’ll be getting no more of that from me… or from Violet!’

  Like a slap in the face, John felt the sting of her words. That bloody brat had told her mother then!

  Christ! he thought. I’ll deny everything… she always believes me and that kid of hers is forever lying through her teeth. Well, Violet Clancy would have no teeth left to lie through when he got hold of her. Seeing Kath was not in the best of moods he decided to let sleeping dogs lie – for now.

  Trying to make his way back downstairs, John tripped and reached the bottom quicker than he had anticipated. Staggering to the sofa, groaning, he lay down and promptly fell asleep.

  Waking the following morning with the hangover from hell and to no breakfast, John washed and changed into his work clothes he’d left in the scullery and set off to work his last week at the Monway Colliery. The thought lightened his mood until a grumble in his stomach reminded him he was hungry. No breakfast ready, no lunch tin provided… it was going to be a long day.

  Kath and her brat of a daughter were going to suffer for this – even more so if his tea wasn’t on the table when he got home from work!