Maybe This Time

by Anna King

  Biting back the words that hovered on her lips, she answered curtly, ‘I won’t know till I open it, will I?’

  Laying the tray on the hall table, she opened the door, the tightness of her lips softening when she saw who her visitor was.

  ‘Hello, Shaun,’ she said warmly, holding the door wide for him to enter. ‘This is a nice surprise. Come on into the kitchen, and I’ll make some tea.’

  ‘Josie! Josie! Who is it, girl?’

  Shaun closed the door behind him, his eyes darting warily upwards towards the fretful voice.

  ‘No one for you, Mum. Go back to sleep.’

  Turning to Shaun, Josie shook her head, her eyebrows arched in exasperation.

  ‘Don’t take any notice of her, Shaun. Come on through.’

  Again Shaun’s eyes darted up at the ceiling, as if expecting Mrs Guntrip suddenly to appear and order him out of the house. This was only the second time he had come to this house, as Josie’s mother hadn’t encouraged visitors. Over the years the Guntrips’ few friends had slowly drifted away. It was said around the street that the happiest day in George Guntrip’s life was the day he had died, freeing him from the hell that had been his marriage. He had been lucky. But for Josie his death couldn’t have come at a worse time, for her quiet, hen-pecked father had been her only source of comfort in the gloomy house she had been brought up in. George Guntrip’s demise had dealt Josie a double blow, for it was at that time that Cathy Meadows had appeared on the scene. With both her father and Rory taken from her, Josie had been left with only her mother for companionship; and nobody, especially someone like Josie, deserved that fate.

  Sitting in the kitchen, Shaun watched Josie’s every move, his eyes filled with love and pity. And for the first time in his life he felt a stirring of anger directed at his older brother for bringing her to this low state. In all the years he had known her, Josie had always carried her full, rounded figure well, with her shoulders straight, and her head held high. Without realising it, Shaun was thinking the same as Rory had done earlier: that the once proud body looked as if the weight of the world was resting on it. His gaze flickered around the room, silently comparing it to the kitchen back home. His family had always revolved around the warm, cheery kitchen, where they ate, exchanged news and jokes and occasionally argued. Josie’s kitchen seemed stark and drab in comparison. Everywhere he looked, from the walls to the linoleum, was all muddy browns and greys, with not even a vase of flowers to brighten the dismal room.

  ‘Give you a penny for them, Shaun. You look miles away.’ Josie pushed a mug of tea towards him and sat down opposite. Shaun looked across the table at the face he had loved for years and felt a jolt of compassion flood through him, for, like the room itself, Josie looked drab. In the short time since he had last been this close to her, she seemed to have aged, and the change in her shocked him to the core. She was only twenty-five, yet she looked like a woman in her forties.

  ‘You look tired, Josie,’ he said simply.

  Josie blinked, then shrugged.

  ‘Oh, I’m all right, Shaun. You’ve just caught me on a bad day, that’s all.’

  Shaun’s hands tightened around the hot mug of tea.

  ‘Seems to me like you’ve had a lot of bad days lately.’ For a brief moment he stared into her soft brown eyes, eyes that had once lit up at the sight of Rory, but that were now dull and without hope. She looked, Shaun thought sadly, as if the life had been sucked out of her.

  Josie was the first to lower her gaze. She hadn’t realised before just how alike Shaun and Rory were, but then she’d never really looked at any other man, not since Rory had left. Suddenly uneasy, she was for once grateful when her mother began banging on the ceiling with the walking cane she now used solely to summon Josie to her bedside.

  ‘I’m sorry, Shaun, I’ll have to see what she wants. I thought I’d get a bit of peace when I conveniently lost her bell. I should have known she’d find some other way to get me running about like a blue-arsed fly.’ She hesitated, then added, ‘You’re quite welcome to stay if you want.’

  But Shaun wasn’t as daft as people thought. Clumsily pushing back his chair, he took a long gulp of the hot tea.

  ‘That’s all right, Josie. I can see you’ve got your hands full. I’ll leave you to it.’

  They exchanged shy, uneasy smiles.

  ‘I can let meself out the back if you like.’

  Josie shook her head.

  ‘No you won’t. You’ll leave the same way you came in – and no argument,’ she added firmly as Shaun made to protest.

  They were at the front door when Josie, her hand on the doorknob, said, ‘You never did get round to telling me why you called. Not that you need a reason to drop by,’ she added quickly. ‘Only I just wondered…’

  When Shaun dropped his gaze, a flicker of alarm rippled through Josie’s body.

  ‘There’s nothing wrong at home, is there, Shaun? Your mum and dad are all right, ain’t they?’ When he began to shuffle from one foot to the other, her fear deepened. The last time – in fact the only time – Shaun had visited the house it had been to offer a shoulder to cry on after Rory had gone off with that… that hard-faced bitch.

  She wasn’t aware she was clutching Shaun’s arm until he cried out, ‘’Ere, leave off, Josie. You’re hurting me arm.’

  At his words, Josie’s fingers jumped as if they had come into contact with a hot iron. Her head lowered, she muttered, ‘Sorry, Shaun.’ She attempted a shaky laugh. ‘Like I said before, you’ve caught me on a bad day.’

  Rubbing his arm, Shaun ruefully pondered his next move. After that unpleasant scene at home, he had made his escape as soon as he could. It had taken a lot of courage on his part to come here, but he’d been so nervous and excited, he hadn’t stopped to think; hadn’t stopped to wonder if Josie knew Cathy Meadows was back. Yet how could she know? He and the rest of the family had only learned the news yesterday. Even Rory hadn’t known until that loud-mouthed cow had shouted the news in his brother’s face across the kitchen table. God! Rory was right about one thing. He, Shaun, was daft, soft in the head. Galloping round here like some sort of knight in shining armour to sweep Josie off her feet. Huh! He laughed inwardly. He couldn’t ask her out, not now. Not until she knew her rival was back and, according to his mother, out to cause trouble. What if the two women were to meet by accident? If Cathy was preparing to stay, it would only be a matter of time before that happened. And while that bitch would relish such a meeting, poor Josie would suffer further humiliation. It was best if she heard the news from a friend, and from where he was standing that dubious honour had landed right in his lap. There was no easy way to break the news, so, taking a deep breath, he simply blurted it out.

  ‘Cathy’s back, Josie. I’m sorry, love. I… I thought the news might be better coming from a friend.’

  As Shaun’s words sank in, Josie’s mind shut down as if in denial at what she’d heard.

  ‘Bloody ’ell, Josie, don’t look at me like that. Please, Josie! Say something, anything. Shout and scream, swear if it helps, only don’t bottle it up inside… ‘

  But Josie was no longer listening. She heard herself thanking Shaun for his thoughtfulness before closing the door on his anxious face. She didn’t remember walking back to the kitchen, she didn’t hear her mother’s fractious calls; her mind was still reeling in a state of shock. Cathy Meadows was back!

  Dropping down on the hard-backed chair that Shaun had recently vacated, Josie laid her arms on the table, dropped her head into their soft folds and let the tears rain unchecked down her cheeks. The only thing that had kept her going this past year was the hope that one day Rory would come back to her. How many times had that same hope stopped her from losing her mind, from going stark raving mad! And it would have been so easy to do, so easy to just let go and drift into a world where she would no longer have to bear the daily torment that was her life.

  The banging on the ceiling became fainter and finally stopped. Josi
e lifted her head and stared upwards, visualising the frail, wasted body that was her mother, and she felt nothing but anger and resentment against the woman who had given her life. If only she could remember some moment in time when her mother had held her close, or kissed her good night – shown her any sign of affection at all – then Josie would have felt some pity for her, but the fact was that Elsie Guntrip was, and had always been, a cold, spiteful woman without a good word to say for anyone. Many a time Josie had wondered what had made her kind, good-natured father fall in love with such a woman. But then who knew what made people fall in love? She of all people should know it wasn’t something anyone had control over; it just happened.

  Tired and drained by the bout of crying that had racked her body, Josie fell asleep. When she awoke, some time later, she realised with a start that it had grown dark. Quickly getting to her feet, she lit the gas lamps on the wall and table, then stopped, a puzzled expression on her face. Still sleepy, she felt something was wrong, but couldn’t put her finger on what it was. Then it came to her. The house was quiet; too quiet. Slowly raising her eyes, she stared at the ceiling, her heart beginning to thump wildly.

  She took the lamp from the table and walked through to the hall, stopping to light the gas brackets on the landing wall. Her steps hesitant, she climbed the stairs, her mind churning out the words she had repeated over and over this past year: Please God! Let her be gone. She stopped and squeezed her eyes tight shut. It was an awful thing to wish someone dead, especially her own mother, but she couldn’t help how she felt. For a long time now Josie had begun to fear she might even harm the bedridden woman herself, so worn out was she with the constant demands and cruel taunts hurled at her day and night.

  Outside her mother’s bedroom Josie paused, her fingers on the wooden handle, her ears listening for some sound coming from the room, but the house was as still as an empty church. Gathering her courage, she turned the handle and entered the darkened room and knew at once, even without approaching the bed, that her prayer had been answered; her mother was dead – and she felt nothing but a sense of relief at the knowledge that she was at last free.

  Holding the lamp in front of her, Josie walked slowly towards the bed. There, lying still, her eyes wide, her mouth slack, was Elsie Guntrip, looking even in death as if she had protested to the last.

  Josie backed from the room, closed the door, then leaned against the wooden frame, her body suddenly trembling as the enormity of the situation sank in.

  Her mother was dead. She was free. And Cathy Meadows was back!

  Not trusting her legs to carry her downstairs, she went to her own room and lay down on the bed. She should fetch one of her neighbours, her mother would need laying out, but she was reluctant to move. She needed some time to herself before announcing her mother’s death, because once the news was out, her neighbours would start pouring into the house, and she wasn’t ready for that yet.

  It was another hour before she moved, but she had used that time well.

  Her initial reaction at hearing that Cathy Meadows was home had passed. She no longer felt sorry for herself. Everyone would expect her to fall apart, or stay hidden away once that slut started making her presence known, but they would be disappointed. Getting to her feet, Josie’s body straightened, her head held high once more. Let the gossipmongers do their worst; they couldn’t hurt her any more. Once the funeral was out of the way she would make her plans for the future. She was still young enough to start her life over; and by God, she was going to make the best of it. There was a smile on her lips now as she left the house to fetch Annie Flynn.

  Chapter Four

  ‘You all right, Rory? Only you’ve been a bit off with me lately. It ain’t got nothing ter do with me seeing Josie, is it? ’Cos if it is, you ain’t got anything ter worry about; more’s the pity. She stills sees me like a mate.’ Shaun shrugged, then grinned. ‘Still, I don’t mind too much, I’m happy just being with her.’

  Rory looked sideways at his brother, his teeth clenched with irritation. He’d heard nothing but Josie this and Josie that for the past week. It didn’t help matters that he hadn’t yet seen Cathy. His pride wouldn’t allow him to go cap in hand to her house. But every time he left for work, or on the journey home, he’d hoped and prayed he would run into her. This hope in turn created such a rage inside him that he truly feared what he might do if their paths were to cross. And if he hadn’t enough to contend with, he had to endure Shaun’s incessant ramblings.

  Not trusting himself to speak, Rory smeared a liberal coating of cement on to the brick he was holding, then slammed it on top of the steadily rising wall forming the side of the building he and Shaun were working on. But despite his brother’s obvious foul mood, Shaun, working alongside him, happily continued the one-sided conversation.

  ‘… and not only that, but she’s chucked nearly all the furniture out. Well, not exactly chucked out. She’s sold the lot ter the rag and bone man. Old ’Arry’s well chuffed. ’E must think Christmas ‘as come early, ’cos ’e’s got some good pieces for next ter nothing. The neighbours can’t believe the change that’s come over Josie, but as Mum says, good for ’er. It’s about time she stopped being a doormat. Honestly, Rory, you should see ’er now, yer wouldn’t recognise ’er. She’s—’

  It was too much for Rory’s frayed nerves. Throwing down his trowel he shouted, ‘For fuck’s sake, Shaun. Can’t yer give yer tongue a rest? You ain’t stopped rabbiting on about Josie all week. For the last time, I ain’t bothered about you and Josie, but d’yer have ter give me a blow-by-blow account of every bleeding minute of every bleeding day?’

  So engrossed was Rory in his own problems, he failed to notice the silence that had descended on the building site. He did, however, glance at Shaun, and the hurt etched on the normally happy face shamed Rory to the core of his being, for his brother looked as if he’d been kicked in the stomach. He swung his head from side to side, and each time his eyes met those of one of his workmates, he saw the look of disgust directed at him.

  Then Pat was striding towards him. His eyes darting over his crew, he barked, ‘I don’t remember telling yer to stop work. Now get yerselves moving if yer want paying at the end of the week… Not you, mate.’ He caught hold of Rory’s arm. ‘I want a word with yer, over here.’ Without looking to see if Rory intended obeying his order, Pat strode towards his work hut, his face and body stiff with anger. Rory wasn’t the kind of man to take orders lightly, but he followed Pat without a murmur, fully aware of the hostile eyes boring into his back.

  ‘Close the door, Rory.’ Pat was staring at his older brother, his face tight, his fists clenched at his sides.

  ‘Look, Pat, I know I—’

  Pat moved so quickly Rory didn’t have time to defend himself as his younger brother’s fist shot out, catching him squarely on the jaw.

  ‘That’s for Shaun, you bastard,’ Pat said grimly as he watched Rory stagger backwards from the unexpected blow. Rory, no stranger to fist fights, was soon back on his feet, but he made no move to retaliate until Pat raised his arm again, saying, ‘And this one’s for Freda…’ Before his fist could connect with Rory’s face once more, Rory thrust out his arm, his hand grasping Pat’s wrist.

  ‘Oh no, Pat. I took the first punch ’cos I deserved it, but I’ll be damned if I’m gonna stand ’ere and let you land another one on account of that spiteful old cow.’

  The two men glared at each other, their breath coming in short, ragged gasps, neither of them willing to give ground; then Pat cursed loudly and turned his back on Rory.

  ‘Go on, get out. I ain’t gonna risk losing me job over a big-’eaded sod like you. You’re bleeding lucky Dad ain’t working ’ere today, ’cos if ’e was, yer wouldn’t be getting off so lightly. But I’ll tell yer this; brother or no brother, you step outta line again and I’ll sack yer and give your job to Dad. He might not be as strong as you, but ’e could still put in a full week’s work given half the chance, instead of the odd day w
hen we’re behind schedule, or short-staffed. But if you ever hurt Shaun like that again, we’ll take up where we left off, and I swear the fight won’t be over till only one of us is left standing.’

  He paused breathlessly before continuing.

  ‘And one more thing before you go. You’ve got a bleeding nerve calling Freda spiteful. What d’yer call the way you treat Shaun?’ Rory, already halfway out the door, stopped in his tracks, but he had no words to defend himself. And still Pat hadn’t finished with him. ‘The poor sod worships the ground you walk on, just like our Jane. But one of these days they’re both gonna see you for the big-’eaded bastard you really are…’

  Rory couldn’t take any more. He left the hut, slamming the wooden door behind him with as much force as he could muster, but he couldn’t stop Pat’s words ringing in his ears.

  His torment wasn’t over yet. Walking back to the site he had been working on, he saw Bob Andrews busy at work at the spot where Shaun had been. He looked around and spotted Shaun, no laughter on his face now, working alongside Jim Wilson. Nipping his bottom lip, Rory set to work, but it was performed in a strained silence. Apart from one sideways glance from Bob, there was no friendly banter, no exchanging of the jokes that usually accompanied the daily grind of hard work. Not wanting to take the chance of being deliberately snubbed, Rory carried on without a word. It was the first time he had worked with this man, or any of the rest of the crew, without exchanging a word; their deafening silence leaving Rory in no doubt whose side they were on. And he didn’t like it, didn’t like it one bit.

  * * *

  The end of the day couldn’t come too soon for Rory, and when it did he was in for another shock. Usually he and Shaun would wait in the hut for Pat, along with their dad on the days he was working. If Pat was busy with paperwork, the others would go off home without him. Rory had been rehearsing his apology to Shaun all afternoon, but he didn’t get the opportunity to utter it. For, mingled with the building crew leaving the site, were Pat and Shaun, and the deliberate snub wasn’t lost on Rory. Jamming his cap on, he pulled the rim down hard, partially hiding his face, hoping he could avoid his mother before seeing for himself how badly bruised he was. Rubbing the left side of his jaw, he winced ruefully. It wasn’t the first time he and Pat had exchanged punches, but that had been back when they were boys. Even then Pat had possessed a powerful punch; and judging by the pain Rory was experiencing, his brother hadn’t lost his touch. He had no doubt today’s fracas would blow over given time. They’d fallen out before, all brothers did, though he had to admit that all the fights they’d had in the past had been childhood brawls, usually ending with a clout round the ear from their mother.