The Take

by Cole, Martina

  He was pushing his knee between her legs, opening them, and she was really crying now, sobbing and begging him to stop and leave her alone before it all went too far.

  ‘Ah, what’s the matter, then? You telling me you don’t want a bit of cock?’

  She could smell him, he stank and she knew instinctively that he had been with someone else already. He had the stink of a dirty woman on him, and she knew it was a deliberate ploy, he wanted her to feel like nothing, and he had achieved his objective.

  As he entered her, the burning sensation was like nothing she had ever felt before, it was like he was using an object. The hardness of him, the stench of him, was overpowering. He was above her, and as he tried to kiss her she kept pulling her face away, until he grabbed her hard by the chin and then he kissed her and forced his tongue into her mouth. It tasted horrible, of beer and brandy and dope. His spit was thick from the cocaine and it clung to her lips, making her gag.

  It was so invasive she started to retch and she knew he was finding it all hilarious, she knew he could not see what was wrong with her. To him this was just a quick fuck, a way to teach her a lesson. And he had planned it so he could use her and then walk away, knowing she could never tell her husband. Daren’t tell her husband, daren’t tell anyone.

  As he started to pummel into her, she could feel his arms tensing as he got ready to ejaculate, and she tried to force him off her, but he held her down and he talked filth into her ears as she felt the hot wetness of him inside her. She felt his rancid breath and, as his sweat mingled with her tears, she felt him shudder to a halt.

  He lay on top of her, he was panting and he was also making sure she could not move away from him just yet.

  Never in her life had she felt so disgusted or so used.

  ‘You needed that, didn’t you?’

  She could hear the laughter in his voice, could hear the triumph, and the complete and utter satisfaction as he kissed her on the tip of her nose before he spoke once again.

  ‘You’re not regretting this, are you, Maggie?’

  She tried to tip him from her, tried to get away from him, but he was too strong and he was also enjoying himself too much.

  ‘Anyone would think you’d been raped, the way you are carrying on.’

  He was goading her, and it was then she realised that she could not win, that he was far stronger than she would ever be. That Jimmy would not understand any of this, that Jimmy would never want her again, not really, no matter what he believed or what she told him.

  She knew that Freddie was completely aware of what he was doing, he was loving it, enjoying every second, and he was going to get away with it for no other reason than he sounded so reasonable. Even after what he had done to her, he was sounding like it was a game or something they had planned. He had been so nice to her for so long, they had a kind of truce, and now this would be used against her. She could not compete with that, and she knew it.

  This was payback time.

  He was staring down at her, and even in her distress she could see how good looking he was, how he would look sheepish and sorry as he blew her family apart. If Jackie ever found out about this, there would be a war.

  As if reading her mind he said gently, ‘Imagine what Jackie would do if she heard about this, eh?’

  He was kissing her forehead this time, as if she was a favoured child. He squeezed her breast hard, making her wince. Then he was pulling himself downwards, she could feel his tongue between her legs, and that was when the vomit finally found its way out of her mouth.

  She threw up all over him, all over the bed and all over the brand-new cream-coloured carpet.

  She saw him kneeling above her, saw his heavy body, his hairy legs and his yellow toenails and the vomit came up once more. Projectile vomiting. It was all over them both and he was laughing as if it was the funniest thing he had ever seen.

  He jumped off the bed. His nakedness made her feel ill, his complete maleness was so at odds with the way Jimmy made her feel. He had violated her, he had taken her strength and turned it against her. She sat on the bed in utter despair, every shred of decency taken from her, and then the phone rang.

  She stared at it as if she had never seen a phone before. She knew it was Jimmy, probably phoning her before his flight so he could tell her he loved her. Tell her how much he would miss her. And here she was in her own home, covered in her own vomit and looking at the only person in the world her husband loved as much as he loved her.

  ‘Shall I get that, Mags?’

  She was shaking her head in disbelief. He was mocking her, enjoying the fear she was feeling, and she knew there was nothing she could do about it. The phone was still ringing, and she watched as he went to answer it.

  Scrambling across the bed she picked it up first. The line was dead and she felt pure relief at knowing she would not have to try and talk to her husband.

  ‘You’re a funny little one, ain’t you, Maggie. I knew you’d be a good fuck, you had the makings of a fuck bird even when you were a kid. I used to fuck Jackie and think of you. Well, now I don’t have to fantasise, do I?’

  She caught sight of herself in the wardrobe opposite her bed and then realised that Freddie had watched himself as he had raped her.

  She was covered in sick, her breasts were bruised as were the tops of her legs. He had bitten her shoulder, and as she stared at herself she felt the humiliation wash over her once more.

  Freddie was sitting on the bedroom chair, the chair she had sat on with Jimmy, where they had made love and watched TV together.

  ‘You look like shit, Maggie. Jackie had a good shag today and she didn’t throw up, in fact she loved it. I was thinking of you, I often think of you when I am fucking Jackie, because you are a fucking flash little whore, a flash cunt. You thought you were better than me, didn’t you? Well, now you know you ain’t.’

  ‘Get out.’ It was so hard trying to talk to him, she was shaking inside. ‘Jimmy would kill you for this.’

  He was laughing again, fondling himself leisurely, shaking his head as if she was a comedian.

  The phone rang once more and the sound was loud in the room.

  ‘Shall I get that, then, tell Jimmy you and me had a bit of a drink and it all got out of hand?’

  She was shaking her head in terror, and he knew he had her then.

  ‘Please go. Just go.’

  She could smell herself, the vomit and the unmistakable smell of Freddie Jackson, a stench she knew would never leave her nostrils.

  The answerphone kicked in this time and they could hear Jimmy’s voice as it came up the stairs from the hallway.

  ‘Sleep well, my darling, I’ll ring tomorrow. Love you, babe.’

  Chapter Fourteen

  Jackie was fuming. She felt betrayed and the feelings of hatred were overpowering.

  ‘You stupid cow, I never said a fucking word.’ Freddie was sitting up in the bed smoking a cigarette, and his smirk was sending her off her head. He always thought things like this were funny.

  ‘You called me Maggie. How would you like it if I called you Jimmy?’

  He shook his head and stifled a yawn. ‘You know what’s wrong with that logic, don’t you, Jackie? You wouldn’t have a cat’s chance with Jimmy, but I reckon your little sister would be up for it with me. Ain’t you noticed the way she is always nice to me? Always polite and friendly. I married the wrong sister, I should have waited for Maggie to grow up, eh?’

  Jackie was temporarily speechless with rage and shock. In her heart she knew he was talking rubbish, but her jealousy was all-consuming and she felt the rot set inside her for ever.

  ‘She wouldn’t touch you with a barge pole.’

  It was said with all the confidence she could muster.

  He stubbed the cigarette out and said loudly, ‘If you say so, Jackie, but I have me moments, as you know very well. Women like me, always have. Still, while we are being so honest, I often go round there for Jimmy and think, how lovely to be
married to someone with firm tits, no stretchmarks, and a good little business head, because her salons make fortunes.’

  Jackie was as quiet as he knew she would be. Once he pointed out her failings she always shut up, because experience had taught her that he would get really personal and vindictive if she didn’t.

  ‘You bastard,’ was all she said.

  He grinned.

  After five minutes of painful silence he said conversationally, as if they were just two friends chatting together, ‘Jimmy said they are trying for a baby. Do you think they will get one after all this time?’ It was an olive branch, he was giving her the opportunity to let the conversation go. Even though he had deliberately called her by her sister’s name during sex, he knew the chances were she would shut up to keep the peace and try to talk normally with him. As always, she was more frightened of him walking out on her than of him staying and fighting.

  Jackie knew the middle ground and she grasped at it like a drowning man. ‘Maggie came off the pill ages ago, eighteen months now. Jimmy doesn’t know that, but she said the quack told her it can take a year to get it out of your system. I mean, she ain’t getting any younger, is she?’

  He smiled once more. Only Jackie would come out with a gem like that.

  ‘Where does that fucking leave you then, Jack? She is gorgeous, old Maggie, and from what Jimmy says she likes the old one-eyed snake.’

  ‘Stop it, Freddie, she is my sister.’

  He laughed. ‘I know that, mate, but I wish you had a bit of her nous, and a pair of Bristols that had not gone fucking south, and a tight little fanny that wasn’t like a fucking gaping wound.’

  She went for him then as he expected. He was too tired to wind her up any more, but he knew that now he had put the thought into her head, she would let it take root, and when it finally began to grow the jealousy would do his job for him.

  He would pop round to Maggie’s and then mention it in front of Jackie, make out like they were close, watch the two of them squirm. He was looking forward to it.

  He held Jackie at arm’s length until she calmed down and then he did what he always did, he cuddled her until she fell asleep.

  Maggie was going to learn the harsh facts of life and Jimmy was going to find out that his little wife was not as happy as he had thought. She wouldn’t tell, he knew she wouldn’t, she was too scared of the consequences.

  Unlike him of course, who would relish them.

  Jimmy had taken his crown, and he had taken the only thing Jimmy really cared about.

  Maggie looked at the clock. It was six thirty in the morning. She could hear the birds singing and see the light creeping across her bedroom floor. She was still in the bath, the water was stone cold but she could feel nothing. She was numb.

  She had changed the bed, disposed of all the bedding, cleaned up and remade it. Washed the carpet, cleaned the room, and scrubbed herself raw.

  She was in shock at what had happened.

  Freddie had forced one final act on her, and she knew that would haunt her dreams even more than the rape. She could still smell him on her. It was a cloying stench of hate and when the tears finally came, she couldn’t stop them.

  She knew in her heart she should report him, stop him from ever doing it again, should not collude in this secret. But she also knew that if she did that, her marriage would be over in no time.

  Anyone else, a stranger, an aquaintance, and Jimmy would have swallowed. But not Freddie. Jimmy would never be able to get over that. Forced or otherwise, it would cause a death and she was aware that that death could even be hers. Jackie would lose her mind, would never believe this of Freddie. She couldn’t, if she did her own life would also be over and there would be no going back for the sisters.

  Maggie felt beaten, demoralised and totally defeated, and she was shrewd enough to know that this was what Freddie wanted, and that she was in effect playing into his hands. He had won, and he had beaten her in more ways than one. She would have to play a clever game from now on, make sure she was never alone with him, and make sure he never got the opportunity even to talk to her without other people present.

  Her life had gone from pleasure and enjoyment to a fearful journey in a few hours, and she just did not know what she should do for the better. She could only try to save whatever dignity she could, and salvage her life in the aftermath of all this hate. And it was hate that had caused it all. Hate. She had felt it coming off him in waves.

  But it was her feeling of utter helplessness that was the worst thing, of knowing she had no way out of her problems, knowing she was in effect owned by someone she hated.

  She was still sobbing an hour later when the milkman delivered her milk.

  Jimmy was worried. He could not get Maggie on the phone.

  The Blacks were being stroppy, the chemist spoke little English and all in all he was fed up. But as always, he was trying to be positive.

  Being positive was another one of Ozzy’s lectures. He reckoned that the great thinkers had all debated whether positive thinking really worked, and it seemed it did.

  ‘Be serene. It is not what happens to you, it is how you deal with it.’ Now that was one of his Maggie’s old dear’s sayings. Her mother was full of shit, but he liked that one and when he had quoted it to Ozzy they had laughed together.

  He felt the rage subside then. He was trying so hard to stay positive while all the time he wanted to be at home with his wife and watch her face as she opened her anniversary present. He had left it for her in the garage, on the seat of her car.

  He pictured her going in there all smiling and smartly dressed - she always looked good, old Maggie - and seeing the leather box on the passenger seat of her Merc.

  He knew she would be over the moon.

  He wished now that he had got a mobile phone. A lot of people were getting them these days. Like Ozzy, he was worried about them since they were too much like evidence, but if he had one now he could phone his Mags and tell her he loved her. No court could hold that against him, surely.

  Maggie had a car phone, but he had never called it because it cost a fortune and also because he could never remember the fucking number.

  He was not really a gadget person, but he had a feeling that the sooner he became one the happier he would be.

  He had left messages on all the answerphones for Maggie, at his home and at the salons, with his number in Glasgow. She had still not rung and he knew she must have found her present by now.

  There was no way she wouldn’t like it. Maggie loved a bit of tomfoolery, and this was top-notch gear. Hatton Garden, nothing skanked or off a fence. He had never had a dodgy item in his home in his life. Another Ozzy warning: never, ever put skank in your house or your motor, always keep receipts for proof of purchase, and try to make a scene while purchasing anything, nicely if possible, so you were remembered if ever anything came on top.

  Also: never live beyond your means, always stash cash away from your drum unless you could prove where it came from, and never, ever get into any kind of dialogue with Old Bill or other lags you didn’t know personally or who had a wanker’s recommendation.

  It was sound advice, and he realised that now more than ever.

  If they raided his drum this morning there was nothing in there that could be used against him. Maggie’s salons justified their earnings, as did his rented properties and his legitimate businesses of fifteen court bailiffs and two separate security businesses. These were run by a couple of blokes who had come highly recommended, and who were as bent as a corkscrew but who had never in their lives had a serious capture. They were strictly small-time and he gave them a good living, a better living than they could ever have dreamed of, and they were seriously grateful to him because of that.

  Ozzy was a wealth of wisdom and he loved him and his sayings.

  Never have a dog and bark yourself - ergo, why threaten someone when you could get someone else to do it for you. Unless it was personal, of course.

&nbs
p; Never shit on your own doorstep, you only slipped in it and broke something eventually.

  And his favourite, like the Hollywood moguls always said, and which was true for the modern-day criminals, never get caught with a dead girl or a live boy.

  That one had made him roll up. Until of course Freddie had made the truth of that statement apparent.

  He just hoped this latest drama would all be sorted in the next few days so he could go home and have a nice night with his wife.

  He loved Maggie and he knew he was lucky to have her. But he wished she would ring so he could relax.

  The locksmith was leaving as Lena pulled up outside the house in a cab. She saw her daughter paying the man, and was surprised that she looked so haggard. Maggie wasn’t ill surely, she had looked great yesterday, and they were supposed to be going over Lakeside to do a bit of shopping.

  She hoped Maggie was OK. She fancied a day out, and she liked Lakeside. It pissed all over the high street as far as she was concerned.

  She paid the cab, miffed that Maggie had not come bowling out with the money as usual. In fact she could have sworn that her daughter had not even noticed her. She walked up the drive. This was a lovely place and she never failed to enjoy its splendour. Jackie was a lost cause, a pain in the ring, but Maggie, she was like something from a film, a celebrity or something. She had made such a success of her life and Lena never failed to remind herself that one child at least had managed to wash off the taint of the council house. It was glory by association for her, and she loved every second of it.

  She had to knock on the door, which showed her just how preoccupied her daughter must be.

  ‘Who is it?’

  Lena was perturbed. ‘Who do you think it is, you stupid mare? We had a date, remember. Open the fucking door and get the kettle on.’ She was laughing loudly as always, then she stopped, remembering she was in a nice street now and that Jimmy, even more than Maggie, frowned on the effing and blinding she was so used to. She looked around her and then relaxed. This place wasn’t overlooked so she was safe.