Watching Over You

by Sherratt, Mel

  All the same, Jean did think it a little odd that she had shouted him over, too close to home even for Ella. She wondered if they’d met before, or if Ella had just seized the opportunity. It had been obvious from her stance that she was under the influence. Maybe she’d seen Jake walking up the avenue and fancied her chances. Strike while the iron is hot, so to speak.

  Jean picked up her new notebook, giving Tom a quick tickle on his head as he slept on her lap.

  ‘He was terrified, Tom, poor thing.’ She laughed again, remembering the look on Jake’s face. ‘I really wish I knew what had gone on.’

  Ella sat down on the settee and hugged herself, preparing for the onslaught. It started almost immediately.

  He didn’t want to screw you.

  She covered her ears.

  Are you listening? He didn’t want to screw you.

  As the voice inside her head grew louder, she took the rest of the whisky and went to hide in the closet. Afraid to turn on the light, she sat in the dark. But the voice became more insistent as she lost all sense of sight; her hearing heightened.

  You’re breaking down again, aren’t you? You’re a stupid cow!

  ‘Enough,’ she cried. ‘Leave me alone!’

  I will never leave you alone. Not until you do as you’re told.

  ‘No!’

  But you know what you have to do, don’t you?

  ‘I can’t,’ she sobbed.

  ‘You have to end this farce, once and for all.’

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  Ella drank well into the evening as she fought to block out the voice taking over her mind. Clenching and unclenching her hands, she sat down on the settee, and then she stood up, went to the window. Then she sat back down again. But the more she stared at the wall in front of her, the more she was convinced it was moving towards her, blocking her in, like a caged animal. She stood up again and paced the room.

  Jake had rejected her now – Jake, a young slip of a boy! He’d used her to have his fun and then fucked off and left her all alone. And after all the effort she’d put into letting him see her in the window – fucking pervert. She would get him for that. But first she needed to get out, rid herself of the resentment building up.

  Heading out on foot this time, she walked along Trentham Road. Even though it was dark, the night air felt pleasant, the sharp wind taking her breath away but failing to remove her drunkenness too. She wished it could blow away her building anger but she knew she was stuck with it.

  She continued until she came to the Hem Heath pub that marked the site of the former colliery of the same name. Here she turned off and walked on to Stanley Matthews Way. There was a pub down there, behind the Britannia Stadium, Neck End. Ella didn’t go there often as it was a dive, but it would be good enough for tonight.

  Normally she didn’t go out close to home. Picking up locally had its disadvantages in that most men weren’t out for sex – Jake being a perfect example of that this afternoon. Not that it usually stopped her from finding someone. You only had to ask the nosy cow across the road about that.

  She walked into the pub, luckily unable to focus on the stained wallpaper that had been there since the smoking ban came into force. Neck End was an old man’s pub, or at least it seemed that way with its seventies flock wallpaper, swirly Axminster carpeting, and dado rails around the middle of the room that had all seen better days.

  At the far end of the bar, Ella managed to hitch herself up onto a stool, ordered a double vodka. Glancing round the room, she began to look for a suitable target. Even at eight thirty, the place was two-thirds full, mostly groups of men without any dress sense. She noted a woman on her own at the other end of the bar and wondered whether to change her plans. But minutes later, disappointment made her shoulders sag as the blonde was greeted by a man, and they made a quick exit.

  She sat for what seemed like an age, topping up her glass with vodka, to the point that she wouldn’t be able to see if anyone was suitable for her, even if someone came and prodded her in the chest.

  Annoyed by the lack of prospects, she turned when she heard laughter. Straining her eyes, she noticed a group of young men huddled near the fruit machine. Then she saw them look in her direction before laughing again. What the hell was wrong with them?

  She needed to use the toilet and dropped from the stool as elegantly as she could muster, knowing she’d have to walk past them.

  One of them nudged another as she did so. ‘It is her!’

  Ella turned to them slowly, trying to focus on them now that she was closer. But no, she didn’t recognise any of their faces. Still, maybe one of them would be game.

  ‘Hello, boys,’ she slurred, giving her sexiest smile. ‘Whatcha up to?’

  ‘Thinking about you,’ one of them said. Another snorted; another hid a smirk behind his pint glass.

  She spoke to the nearest one. ‘What’s your name?’

  ‘Will.’

  ‘And what exactly are you thinking about doing to me?’ She stepped closer and, before he could react, pressed a hand to his crotch. ‘My, that is some bulge you have there, young one.’

  Intimidated by her openness, he pushed her hand away, causing her to lose her balance. She stepped back, knocking into someone behind her.

  ‘Watch out!’ the man said. ‘You nearly soaked me, you stupid cow.’

  Ella turned to him with a frown. ‘I’m not a stupid cow.’ She prodded a finger into his chest. ‘I stumbled.’

  The man flicked the spilt drink from his hands.

  ‘Don’t waste his beer, love,’ a man with trendy-styled greying hair said. ‘He’ll turn into a bear, if you’re not careful.’

  ‘With a sore head if he calls me stupid again,’ Ella replied, swaying slightly. They all laughed and she joined in, unsure if they were laughing at her or with her but not caring either way. She checked the group out. Six; all middle-aged. Maybe one of them would screw her. She turned back to the giggling teens, who weren’t giggling anymore.

  ‘Sorry, boys,’ Ella pouted. ‘I guess I’m going to stick with the men now. So, what’s your name?’ she asked the one she’d nearly drowned.

  But it was a bad idea. After a few minutes, they grew tired of her and moved away pointedly. She looked over at the fruit machine. The boys had gone too. In the middle of the room, she sighed loudly and pulled her watch up nearer to her face. Half past ten: she could take a chance and mingle some more or call it a night. Wiping her hair from her face, she headed for the exit. Fuck it, she was too drunk to care now.

  She walked a minute along the road, staggering slightly and taking moments to catch her breath while she moaned to herself along the way.

  ‘Waste of fucking space, the lot of them,’ she said. ‘Each as bad as the other.’

  ‘Cassie!’

  Ella stopped as she heard a name she’d buried a long time ago.

  ‘Cassie!’

  It had a sobering effect in an instant. More footsteps behind her, getting closer. Her heart began to palpitate, hurting her chest as it beat out a loud rhythm. Oh, please God, don’t let it be him.

  She turned slowly.

  ‘Hello, Cassie,’ he said, drawing level with her.

  Even after all this time, she’d recognise his face anywhere. Gaunt, beady eyes set too close together. Strong nose, stubble on his square chin. He had a tooth missing to the side of his mouth; Ella hoped someone had punched it out of him and it had hurt like hell. She recalled the stench of his breath as he’d pushed into her at such a tender age, bullied her into marrying him when she was seventeen and out of her brain on one drug or another, then chucked her out with little thought to her well-being.

  Even now, older and wiser, the anger she’d been holding back began to bubble at the surface again.

  ‘Hello, Brendan,’ Ella spoke eventually.

  ‘It is
you!’ Brendan Furnival shook his head in disbelief. ‘I can’t believe it. I saw you in the pub!’

  ‘I’ve never seen you in there before.’

  ‘I don’t come up this way often but it’s my mate’s birthday; he lives round the corner in Magdalen Road. You looked familiar as soon as I saw you but I couldn’t place you at first.’

  Ella glared at him. ‘I was your wife. Remember?’

  He sniggered. ‘It’s been a while, though.’

  ‘Not long enough.’

  He laughed now. ‘See you haven’t lost your sense of humour.’

  ‘That’s because I’m not joking. It wasn’t my face you were used to seeing, though, was it?’

  ‘No, I don’t suppose it was. And when I saw you with those lads back there, and then hitting on those men, I realised that you don’t seem to have changed.’ He looked at her pointedly.

  Ah. Ella understood now, the sneaky bastard.

  He wants to screw you! Fucking lowlife!

  Ella shook her head, as if she had a twitch. ‘So you thought you’d follow me when I left?’ she said.

  ‘Yeah.’ Brendan glanced up and down the road at the passing traffic. ‘I thought you might have headed home in a car but –’

  Loser.

  ‘In this state? I can’t see my feet, never mind a steering wheel.’

  Another smirk. ‘Then I saw you were walking, figured I could catch you up. Live around here now, do you?’

  ‘Yeah, over in Warwick Avenue – in a huge big house that I own.’

  ‘Really?’

  Ella could hear the doubt in his voice.

  He thinks you belong on the streets!

  She tried not to slap him. How dare he think she had no right to live anywhere respectable! Just because she’d been dragged up through the system didn’t mean she couldn’t make a better life for herself.

  She wasn’t going to tell him anyway. ‘Well, where’ve you been hiding then?’ she asked, hoping to steer him away from prying further.

  ‘Around.’

  ‘Around…’

  Brendan shrugged. ‘I’m settled now. Live over in Longton.’

  ‘Settled?’ Ella felt sick to the pit of her stomach. ‘As in another wife?’

  ‘Yeah.’ He puffed his chest out like a peacock. ‘And two boys – six and eight. Cool kids.’

  He’s remarried and had children while you have nothing?

  Ella drew in breath. She closed her eyes momentarily to stop herself from crying, trying not to think of their beautiful daughter, Amy. He hadn’t wanted her either! The fight they’d had, resulting in Brendan trying to kick her enough to miscarry, came flooding back. He hadn’t been successful, not that it had mattered much in the long run.

  But then again, Brendan had always been a selfish bastard, so why should this surprise her? And if he was so happily married, why had he come after her?

  He’s after something.

  Ella took a step towards him, stumbled. Brendan caught hold of her arm.

  ‘So why did you follow me?’ she asked, once upright again, trying not to react to his touch.

  He showed a row of nicotine-stained teeth. ‘After all this time, I couldn’t just let you walk away.’

  Give it to him.

  Although she knew what he was getting at, she still posed the question. ‘What do you mean?’

  ‘You know.’

  Give it to him!

  ‘Tell me. I want to hear you say it.’ Ella stepped closer, her mouth inches from his now.

  ‘You really need me to beg?’

  ‘I want to hear you talk dirty again. Tell me what you want.’

  No hesitation this time. ‘How about a fuck for old times’ sake?’

  Ella nodded her head.

  Bingo.

  As they walked back towards the pub, with every step Ella began to remember more. Memories flashed before her eyes – punches flying at her, black eyes, split lips, and bruised stomachs. Brendan had taken what was left of her sanity and trodden it into the ground. It made her want to lash out at him. She was stronger now.

  Everything is his fault.

  ‘I know.’

  ‘What?’ Brendan looked down at her.

  Ella realised she must have spoken aloud. ‘So how come I’ve never seen you around since you kicked me out and divorced me?’ she asked, hoping to keep her anger at bay.

  ‘I’ve been away for a while.’ Brendan’s tone was light, as if they were indeed old friends catching up. ‘Her Majesty’s pleasure at first – but then I had kids and, well…’

  All his fault. You do know that, don’t you?

  Ella tried to keep her cool.

  Just before they arrived back at the pub, they turned off down a muddy track. Ella knew it led onto an overnight car parking area for articulated lorries and would be perfect for what she was about to instigate. In the dim lighting she could see seven cabs, five with trailers, parked up for the evening. The curtains were drawn across the windows; Ella wondered if there was anyone sleeping inside or if the drivers would be having a late night tipple at Neck End or at the Hem Heath pub back there at the traffic lights. She hoped for the latter – the fewer people who saw her with Brendan, the better. Ella was going to enjoy herself tonight – for old times’ sake.

  She stopped for a moment.

  ‘What’s up?’ he asked.

  ‘I’m listening. I’m hoping no one will be in these cabs; no one to tell us to move on.’

  ‘More likely they’d want to join in.’ Brendan smiled lasciviously. ‘You remember that, Cassie? You used to join in lots of dirty things we’d get up to.’

  ‘I remember, all right,’ she muttered.

  They inched their way down between the sides of two trucks. Once at the back and out of view, Ella turned to face him.

  Brendan shook his head in disbelief. ‘Never thought I’d ever see you again, never mind screw you,’ he said.

  Before the rage shrouded her completely, Ella moved forward and kissed him. His rank breath mingled with the smell of stale ale; his tongue ran a line from her mouth to her neck and to her chest, his hands rough as they found their way into her blouse and underneath her bra. He pressed his mouth to her breast before thrusting his hand up her skirt. God, he was another eager bastard.

  Do it.

  She kissed him again, trying not to gag at that sour taste she remembered so well, all the time wondering about his wife waiting for him at home; his boys, tucked up in bed, oblivious to how their lives would change by morning after she’d finished with their father. In one move, she yanked down both sleeves of his jacket, leaving his hands inside at the cuffs to limit their use. She heard him moan but it didn’t heighten her passion. Nothing felt familiar to her, despite having spent four years at his mercy.

  Do it.

  Sober now from the reality of what she was about to do, she let him think she was game. Unbuckling the belt to her jeans, she slid down his zip and slipped her hand inside. She took him out, caressing him for a while before stooping down to take him in her mouth. Moments later, her breathing quickened, veins pumping ready to explode as she fought to control the urge.

  Do it!

  Finally, when she knew he couldn’t hold back much longer, Ella sank her teeth into him, biting down as hard as she could.

  His cry of distress encouraged her to bite down further.

  Brendan pawed at her face, urging her to release him. When she did, he grabbed his cock and dropped to his knees, rolling over onto his side.

  ‘You mad…fucking…’ he coughed, ‘bitch!’

  Ella stooped down beside him and punched him in the face, and again, and again, and again, relishing the sound her fist made when it connected each time.

  Brendan curled up into a ball. One hand covering his genitals, his trousers h
anging loose hindering his moves, he held up the other hand to protect himself. But it was no use.

  Feels good to get your own back?

  A fury in Ella burst forth, something she had held in for too long. For every man who had used her over the years, she kicked him. For every person who had badly treated her, she punched him. The anger and hurt of over twenty years came out in those few moments. She couldn’t – wouldn’t – hold it back. She wanted revenge.

  Afterwards, she sat beside him. The night was quiet – it seemed no one had heard a thing. No one had interrupted them, therefore no one was able to save Brendan from further humiliation and pain. She wondered if he was dead or alive – found she didn’t care.

  A minute passed before she pushed herself to her feet. Brendan wasn’t making a sound. She nudged him with the tip of her shoe but he didn’t stir. She kicked him swiftly in his back. Still he didn’t rouse.

  Her breath coming easier now, she stood over him for a while, wiping her mouth with the back of her hand. It came away with specks of his blood, mingled with hers. It made her retch.

  Leave him. He got what he deserved.

  She drew back her foot as far as it would go and gave him one final kick.

  ‘For old times’ sake, Brendan.’

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  It was nearing midnight when Jean noticed Ella running up the avenue. She was about to turn in, having spent a couple of hours dozing in the chair. Her knitting had fallen down by her side. She pulled it up quickly, hoping she hadn’t lost any stitches.

  As Ella drew closer and into the light of the lamp, Jean sat forward. What were those marks all over her dress? Had she fallen over – or worse, been in a fight? She shook her head. Why on earth would a woman of her age pick a fight? Ella should be in bed now, settled down with a husband by her side and one or two children asleep in the next room.