Faith

by Lesley Pearse

  Jackie wasn’t quite such a pushover. When Laura met her to take Barney for a day out to Southend, she grilled Laura remorselessly, not just about what she was doing for a living, but who she was staying with in London. As Barney had mentioned Meggie and Ivy several times, Laura passed them off as two friends she’d made at the casino, who had now moved to London. It felt like the very worst kind of betrayal of her generous, hard-working sisters, for in her heart Laura wanted to boast about how clever and resourceful they were.

  She told Jackie the same story she’d told Meggie and Ivy, that she worked part-time in a dress shop, but she did admit that the modelling she did on the side was the glamour kind. Yet that was only because she felt that her friend might possibly see her pictures in one of the pin-up magazines as men on building sites were likely to leave them lying around.

  To be fair to Jackie she was amused by this, certainly not horrified. But then she was in a very mellow mood because Barney was with them. He was five now, and a real boy, boisterous, funny and full of enthusiasm for everything from football to creepy-crawlies. But he was loving and demonstrative, still happy to be cuddled by anyone, and as he was so well and happy Jackie had no reason to be concerned about him.

  Jackie hardly mentioned Stuart, apart from to say he was her best worker, and she didn’t divulge if he was seeing anyone, whether he ever spoke about Laura, or even where he lived. But then, she didn’t ask whether Laura had anyone special in her life either, and Laura got the idea that was because she’d rather not know, out of loyalty to Stuart.

  By Christmas of that year Laura had moved out of Caledonian Crescent and into a spacious two-bedroom flat in Albany Street. The house was built in Georgian times, just like the old tenement, but that was the only similarity. Albany Street was one of the wide, gracious streets in the New Town, the houses built for wealthy people who had the whole house, with servants in the attic rooms and their horses in the mews at the back. Laura’s first-floor flat had a beautiful marble fireplace, elaborate plaster cornices, high ceilings and shiny walnut doors. The carpets and curtains came with the lease, but there was no furniture, and the day she and Barney moved in they danced around the empty flat laughing and singing at the joy of having so much space.

  Yet on Christmas Day she did have a really bad stab of guilt at what she had to do to be able to meet the high rent, furnish the flat, and shower Barney with presents. It came when she was helping him set up his new electric train set on his bedroom floor.

  It was the afternoon, already getting dark, and Barney had insisted on putting on the new pyjamas Jackie had sent him. They were dark blue and fleecy lined, with a picture of Bert and Ernie from Sesame Street across the chest.

  ‘This train is the best present ever, Mummy,’ he said, crawling round the track to her to give her a hug. ‘I wish Stuie was here to play with it too. Does he know we’ve moved? If he doesn’t he won’t know where to find us when he comes back.’

  Up till then she’d been so happy. They had a big Christmas tree in the lounge, all decked out in red and gold decorations and lights, and the heady smell of pine was everywhere. She’d hung Barney’s stocking on the mantelpiece, and although they had the luxury of central heating, she’d even lit a real fire before he woke to make everything extra special and cosy. They hadn’t got much furniture yet, but that hadn’t mattered; their beds, a settee and the television were enough for now.

  But Barney’s innocent remark cut her to the quick. He hadn’t mentioned Stuart for weeks and she thought he’d forgotten all about him.

  She hugged him tightly so he wouldn’t see the tears welling up in her eyes. Last Christmas Stuart had played with him most of the day, and all the neighbours on the stair had come in for a drink or two and the flat had been noisy and crowded. This year Barney had twice as many presents, and although there had been no visitors, and no one but her to share his excitement as he opened his stocking, she had thought that was enough to make a five-year-old completely happy and he wouldn’t remember how it had been the previous year.

  ‘Stuie’s working for Auntie Jackie in London now,’ she said, the lump in her throat making it hard to speak. ‘Maybe you’ll see him again when you’re big enough to go and stay with her. I don’t think he’ll ever come back to Edinburgh.’

  Barney looked up at her, his big dark eyes sad and thoughtful. ‘I should have asked Father Christmas to make him come back. That would have been an even better present than the train set. He could have done it, couldn’t he?’

  ‘I don’t think so, Barney,’ she said softly. ‘Even all the elves that work for Father Christmas couldn’t make Stuie love Mummy enough to come and visit.’

  ‘Could Auntie Jackie make him come back?’

  ‘No, Barney. Besides, she needs him to fix up her houses. But when you can write really well, you can write a letter to Stuie yourself. I’ll put it in with my letter to Auntie Jackie.’

  Jackie had sent a Christmas parcel to them at their old address in Caledonian Crescent. Luckily it arrived the day before they moved out. There was a big box of Lego for Barney, along with the pyjamas, and there had been a letter for Laura enclosed in the parcel.

  I expect Barney will think pyjamas are a boring present, but I saw them while in the States and I thought they’d keep him cosy through the winter. I know things must be tougher for you than you let on in the summer, so I’m enclosing a cheque rather than sending a present for you. I worry about you, especially as I hardly ever hear from you. I expect that is because you don’t want to admit how bad things are in case I tell Stuart. But I promise I’d never divulge anything you tell me, and you must promise me that you will come to me if you ever need help. You will always be my dearest friend, no matter what. Spend at least part of the money on something nice for yourself, and my wish for the New Year for you is that you find happiness again. Hug Barney for me. I couldn’t believe how grown up he’d become, and it made me feel quite tearful to think he’s beginning to read and do sums. I so much want to see him again soon. Please write or phone, I miss you both so much.

  My love, Jackie

  The cheque was for £500, and it made Laura feel ashamed that her old friend imagined they were sitting in a cold, miserable flat with no Christmas cheer, and no prospects either. She hadn’t rung Jackie or written to her since the holiday in London during the summer.

  She knew she must write back now and thank her for the money, but she was worried that Jackie might tell Stuart she’d moved, and if she mentioned where the new flat was, he’d be suspicious about how she could afford to live in such a smart area.

  Soon after Christmas, she did write, but once again she lied to her friend. She used the excuse of working full-time at the dress shop as why she hadn’t been in touch, and said a friend helped her out by collecting Barney from school. Thanking her for the cheque, she said it couldn’t have come at a better time as she’d been offered a new flat with a bedroom for Barney but until the cheque came, she couldn’t raise the deposit for it. Now, thanks to her friend’s generosity, they had moved in, and she hoped Jackie would come and see her next time she came up to Scotland. She added truthfully that it had been a very difficult year, but she thought that things were finally improving.

  She wished she hadn’t been forced to tell Jackie more lies, but if she was to admit the whole truth about how she was living, Jackie would be afraid for Barney and she might even think he’d be better off with his father.

  For a short while after Christmas Laura did seriously study the Situations Vacant column in the newspaper with the intention of getting a job so she could stop the photographic work. But although she thought perhaps she could become a company rep, or go back to promotions work, any jobs offered didn’t pay enough.

  Sometimes when she was alone in the early evening with Barney, helping him with his reading and sums, she’d look down at his earnest little face, see all that beautiful innocence, and feel very ashamed of the life she led when she was away from him.


  Yet she could always justify it.

  He was loved, well fed and clothed, she was there every day to collect him from school, and every weekend was spent with him alone. She didn’t ever have men friends around the flat. In fact she hadn’t got any, for apart from not going anywhere to meet a man she’d like to go out with, she saw enough of male bodies at work to put her off the idea. Robbie had lost interest in her now he had her where he wanted her. She only saw him occasionally if he came to the studio. All in all, she believed Barney wasn’t affected in any way by how she made the money to keep them both.

  But by the spring of ’76 when Barney turned six, he was affected. It began by her being occasionally late to collect him from school. Once or twice it was because she was held up in traffic, but more often it was because she’d gone for a drink with Katy or one of the other girls after a session, and she’d been having such a good time she forgot about her son.

  After she’d been severely reprimanded by his teacher, and warned that it wasn’t to happen again, Laura paid Fiona, the mother of one of her son’s classmates, to take him home with her if she didn’t arrive in time. Fiona had three small children and her husband was away in Birmingham working, and sometimes didn’t send any money home for them, so she was glad of the money Laura paid her.

  But as spring turned to summer, what began as an occasional hour or two after school gradually stepped up to almost every time she worked in Glasgow.

  Laura had told Fiona that she did modelling for a catalogue company. Fiona believed this implicitly, for she was a real ‘wee wifie’; short, plump and plain, with no knowledge about anything beyond the perimeters of her home and family. To her, tall, slender Laura from London, who always dressed in the height of fashion and had her own car, was as exotic as a film star. If Laura told her she was late because they’d done a fashion shoot in Dumfries or even the Highlands she got excited about it and said one more child in the house made no difference at all to her.

  One Friday at the start of July, Laura arrived at the studio in the morning to find she and Katy were to work with Craig and Pete that day. Pete, a big hunky blond guy from Manchester, was a good sort, a little thick, but good-natured. Craig, however, a redheaded Glaswegian, she found completely repellent. He was short and very muscular, but he had flaky skin, bad breath and he always smelled sweaty.

  His only attribute was his large penis, and he would strut around naked, even when they were having a coffee break, as if waving it in front of the girls’ faces would make them fancy him.

  Laura had never actually had to do a photo session with him before, but she knew from the other girls that like many of the men who had large penises, Craig sometimes couldn’t get it up. And as Don the photographer used to say, ‘A man with a flaccid cock in pornography is about as useless as a chocolate fireguard.’

  Dressed in just a suspender belt and black stockings and stilettos, Laura did some shots with Pete, and then Katy was called in to join in for a three-in-the-bed scene. It was all very easy, because Pete had the unusual knack of being able to pose with a hard-on and maul them both around as if he was about to really ravage them, yet not make them feel threatened at all. Don was being his usual inventive self, once again coming up with variations on the basic theme of two girls and one man. At one point Laura got the giggles, something that often happened, and Pete smacked her bottom playfully, which was applauded by Don.

  Then Craig was called in.

  ‘Katy, I want you doggie fashion, arse towards me,’ Don said in his usual straight-to-the-point manner. ‘Pete, you sit on the edge of the bed with Laura astride you, real close to Katy, like you’re getting turned on even more by Katy about to get it. Craig, get that dong up and hold Katy’s arse open so we can see where it’s supposed to go.’

  Craig strutted towards Katy, jerking away at his penis. He got a semi lob-on, but the harder he worked at it, the weaker it became.

  ‘Fer fuck’s sake, Craig,’ Don yelled at him. ‘Katy’s arse would make a blind man see!’

  Laura had to bury her face in Pete’s shoulder to suppress her laughter, and she heard a little snort from Katy which told her she was in the same predicament.

  After a few more minutes, with Craig getting redder and redder in the face, and still no erection, Don grew impatient. ‘Katy, help the poor sod,’ he ordered. ‘Or we’ll be here all day.’

  Katy did as she was asked, because like Laura she was anxious for the session to be over so they could go home. Laura slid off Pete’s lap on to the bed, and tried to avert her eyes diplomatically. But she couldn’t resist peeping, and when she saw Katy’s pained expression, and that huge flaccid penis that looked like a pork steak flapping around in her hand, she just couldn’t control her laughter.

  Pete was shaking, clearly fighting against laughing out loud too, but he reached out and touched Laura’s hand as if warning her to do likewise. But all at once Craig flew at her, and punched her in the face so she fell back on the bed.

  ‘You evil bitch,’ he yelled at her, his Glaswegian accent so thick she could barely understand what he was saying. ‘Who the fuck do you think you are?’

  ‘You bastard,’ Katy yelled, jumping to claw Craig’s face with her nails. ‘She didn’t mean any harm.’

  Pete intervened, trying to get Katy off Craig, who in turn was trying to get to Laura to hit her again. Laura glanced around for Don, expecting him to put a stop to it, but to her further shock he was clicking away, clearly thinking a fight scene with naked people might be interesting and saleable.

  Craig continued to scream obscenities as Pete dragged him struggling out of the room.

  ‘Guess that’s it for the day,’ Don said with an air of disappointment. ‘You’d better get some cold water on your face, Laura; you’ll have a shiner tomorrow.’

  They heard Don ordering Craig to leave the building as Katy bathed Laura’s face in the toilet.

  ‘Do you think he’ll lie in wait for me?’ Laura asked, afraid now, for her face was throbbing and fiery.

  ‘Don will have told him you’re too valuable to Robbie to mess with,’ Katy reassured her. ‘But we’ll get Pete to come and have a drink with us. Just in case.’

  Laura fully intended to have just one drink and then go home. Her face hurt and she felt weepy. But Pete and Katy both wanted her to stay, and by the time she’d had a couple of drinks they were all laughing about Craig and discussing whether Don would ever use him again.

  Before Laura knew it, the pub was closing for the afternoon and she was too drunk to drive, but still wanted more.

  When she came to the next morning and found herself on Katy’s settee, she couldn’t remember anything more than that they had gone on to a drinking club in central Glasgow. She knew it was a rough place, the carpet sticky with spilled drink, but they were playing soul music from the sixties and she and Katy danced. After that it was all a blank.

  Katy’s flat was squalid. It was on the third floor of a high-rise block built in the sixties. The four rooms were all small, her children were cramped up in bunk beds and they could barely get into bed for the toys and clothes strewn everywhere. The living room was larger, but with no order, and a vast three-piece suite which had seen better days meant there was no room to move. The carpet was worn and stained; Katy never cleaned the windows, and makeup, used plates and overloaded ashtrays filled every available surface. Amazingly Katy was always well groomed. How she managed it living in such conditions Laura didn’t know.

  It was another hot day, as it had been since the start of June, but whereas the house in Albany Street was built of thick stone and remained cool in the summer, Katy’s flat was not well insulated, and with such large windows it was already like an inferno.

  Laura’s head was throbbing and her mouth felt like the bottom of a bird cage, but Cheryl, Katy’s daughter, came in to the room with a cup of coffee and some painkillers.

  ‘You didn’t come in till two,’ she said, passing over the coffee. ‘Mum was really sick,
but you just fell on the settee and passed out.’

  Cheryl was only thirteen, a pretty girl with her mother’s sharp cheekbones and dusky skin, and when Laura realized that she’d been left alone with the two younger children for so long, it reminded her about Barney and that she’d given Fiona no warning she might not be coming home.

  Pausing only to splash some water on her face in the kitchen and gulp down the coffee and painkillers, she rushed out, leaving Cheryl to say goodbye to Katy for her.

  Fiona lived just two streets away from her old home in Caledonian Crescent, and Laura drove straight there without going home first to change or put some makeup over her bruised cheek.

  A big burly man in a checked work shirt came to the door, and just the way he glowered at her was enough to tell her this was Roy, Fiona’s husband, and he hadn’t been pleased to come home and find another child in his house.

  Laura tried the charm offensive, apologized profusely for not coming to collect Barney, but said she was on an assignment and hadn’t been able to get home.

  ‘What sort of mother are you?’ he snarled at her. ‘You leave your wean with a stranger all night! I had to take him to the hospital.’

  Laura was horrified, asking what had happened and where Fiona was. She came forward then, fluttering her hands in anxiety. It was clear she hadn’t told her husband she’d been taking care of Barney for some time and that she got paid for it, and Laura realized she was afraid it was going to come out now and get her into bother.

  ‘He fell off a wall while out playing,’ she said. ‘He’s fine now, just a couple of wee stitches in his knee. But Roy had to wait a very long time at the hospital with him. I had to stay here with the others.’

  ‘I am so sorry,’ was all Laura could say. ‘But you aren’t on the phone, and there was no way I could get a message to you. Can I see Barney now?’

  ‘Ach, yer lucky I dinnae call the poliss to you,’ Roy said angrily. ‘Look at the state of youse. Fee says you’re a model, but you look and smell like a jakey!’