“I’m not coming with you,” he said.
“Right so, I’ll get her to come here,” I said. Johnny walked out of the house.
“I’m going to drop Vinny home.” I knew he wouldn’t return. About an hour later I got a phone call. It was Vinny.
“We’re sitting here in the hotel bar and he wants to have a word with you.”
“About what?” I said.
“About your woman, Sarah.”
Before I could get a word in, Vinny added, “Now don’t start screaming, the truth is he was with her, but he never slept with her, he only ever slept on her couch.”
Of course I knew that wasn’t true. Vinny suggested that Johnny could come up to collect me in the car so that the three of us could go down to the hotel and have a chat about it. I agreed.
Johnny arrived and we drove to the hotel in silence. Then the three of us sat at the bar while Johnny denied he had ever slept with the woman.
“I swear on Caitríona’s eyesight that I never slept with her,” he tried to convince me. “When you first threw me out, I stayed in a mate’s house for a while but it wasn’t clean and I didn’t like it. Sarah offered me her couch and I accepted it a few times. That’s all I swear, I swear on my Caitríona’s life.”
I looked at him with complete disgust.
“What kind of fool do you think I am?” I said but he continued to deny the affair and by the time we left the hotel bar he was rotten drunk.
He begged me to stay that night and in the end I agreed. I’d had a long day and I was exhausted. I knew if I refused he’d beat me up, so I let him stay out of fear as long as he slept on the couch. All I wanted at that stage was to sleep. I felt completely gutted and lacking in energy.
I wasn’t in the bed two minutes however until I felt him climb in beside me and touch me on the arm. I was furious.
“Get out of the bed this minute because you’re making me sick,” I roared at him.
“Do you really expect me to have sex with you and you after sleeping with another woman? Are you out of your mind?”
He looked angry for a moment and I thought he might hit me, then his face fell and he climbed out of the bed and went downstairs. I remember lying there in the dark, praying for the dawn to come.
“As soon as it gets bright,” I thought to myself. “I’m throwing him out of the house once and for all.”
The next day I got up early. I was waiting for him when he came downstairs.
“Get out now,” I shouted at him. “Get out and don’t ever darken this door again.”
Oh, he put up a fight alright; blamed me, told me it was my fault, he said I drove him to it. If I had hadn’t thrown him out then he wouldn’t have been with the other woman. In the end, however, he left, taking his clothes and shoes with him. He knew there was no going back. I closed the front door and heaved a sigh of relief.
When I told the girls I’d thrown him out they thought I was crazy.
“Are you mad Ma? If you throw him out then she’s won,” said Molly referring to the other woman.
“No Molly,” I said, and there was conviction in my voice, “She’s done me a favour.”
Once I got over the initial shock, it dawned on me that it was actually a good thing. For years I’d wanted rid of Johnny Smith and for the last two I’d been trying to throw him out, but he always persuaded me to take him back. He was an ace emotional manipulator. He knew exactly which buttons to press. But not any more; there was no way Johnny could ever manipulate me again.
Mind you he kept phoning and he tried every emotion-tugging trick in the book.
“Please take me back, please forgive me. I don’t know what I was thinking. You know you’ve always been the only woman for me. You know I love you,” he’d say and he’d ring about ten times a day and often at night when he was drunk. You’d think the years of abuse had never happened. And then on other days he’d ring and abuse me, tear me to pieces with his tongue. But it didn’t affect me like it used to anymore. The tide had turned and I now had a new found strength.
Although I was glad to be free of Johnny I suddenly realised that I would to have to support myself.
“There’s only one thing for it Fran,” said Helen as we sat drinking tea in the kitchen one day. “You’re going to have to get yourself a job.”
“I know Helen but I haven’t had a job for years, not since I was 15-years-old. I don’t think I could do it Helen. I’m too shy,” I protested.
I was completely lacking in confidence. Years of being mentally and physically abused by Johnny had worn me down and made me into a nervous wreck. I used to walk along the street with my head bent back then and if someone said “boo” to me I’d jump. I never talked to strangers; I couldn’t even look them in the eye for God’s sake. I’ve never been a lazy person but I really thought I wasn’t capable of doing any type of job, least of all something that involved dealing with the public.
At the same time I knew there was nothing else for it; I had to go looking for work. A new shopping centre had been built near my home. Helen persuaded me to go there looking for a shop job and she promised she’d help me type up a CV in her house. She even came with me. We tried a few shops one day and eventually someone guided us towards a sandwich bar. “We don’t need help at the moment,” said a kindly looking woman in a kid’s boutique, “but I know where they’re crying out for someone to make sandwiches.”
It was one job I knew I’d be well able for and as luck would have it the manageress, a young woman in her 20s, seemed like a decent sort. She took me on immediately. All I had to do was stand in the back of the shop and make sandwiches. The wages were £5 an hour and it suited me perfectly. I was pleased but terribly nervous.
“What if I slip up and get the sandwiches wrong?” I thought to myself. “What if the other staff don’t like me?”
It seems ridiculous to think about now, but I had so little confidence that I questioned everything and got myself into knots over the simplest things.
Aoife agreed to look after Caitríona and I started work. I was sick with fright when I started. I felt like a school child on her first day at school but things ran smoothly. The other staff members were friendly towards me and the manageress was very patient. She trained me in and in no time I was happily smacking coleslaw and slices of ham into buttered rolls. I didn’t know myself. I remember walking home across the field, which was a shortcut to my house, after my first week of working. I’d just been given my first wages and I felt so proud of myself. That job liberated me. It made me realise that I didn’t need Johnny. I, Frances Smith, could stand my own two feet and the world was my oyster.
chapter thirty-one
DISASTER STRUCK ONE day however. After two weeks of making sandwiches Donna called me out to the till.
“Frances I need you to work the till for me,” she said. “We can’t have you stuck at the back of the shop all day.”
I froze. There was no way I could deal with customers; the thought terrified me. But Donna wasn’t taking no for an answer.
“Come on Frances,” she coaxed. “I’ll train you in after work and you’ll be fine. Just look straight ahead of you and key in the numbers. After a while you won’t even notice the customers.” I begged her to let me stay on at the sandwich counter but it was no good. The following lunchtime Donna turned to me.
“Frances we’re very busy would you mind going on the till?”
My heart skipped a beat at that moment. I would sooner have jumped off Liberty Hall than gone on that till but I knew it had to be done.
At first I was shaking with fright but after half an hour I stopped noticing who the customers were and I suddenly realised I wasn’t doing a bad job. What’s more I was so busy I didn’t even notice the people I served. Donna smiled at me.
“I’m proud of you Fran, you’re doing a great job.” For years no one had given me praise and I blushed when she said that. I felt brilliant and I loved my job. It wasn’t the most glamourous of
work but it meant everything to me. It started me on the road to building up my self-esteem and I’ll always be grateful to Donna for the encouragement she gave me. Things ran smoothly for a while. I felt comfortable in my new job and for the first time ever I had money to spend. It wasn’t much and it only bought the basics but the point was that I, and not Johnny, controlled the finances and that was a novelty to me.
Johnny had by now moved in with his girlfriend. He still continued to phone the house on a regular basis but he didn’t dare come near us anymore and even though I knew he could turn up at any moment I still felt relieved.
As it happens he did turn up but it wasn’t at the house. I was standing at the till in the sandwich shop one day when the phone rang. One of the young fellas in work answered it.
“It’s for you Frances,” he called out. I’d already warned Donna that I was separated from my husband and that he may cause trouble.
“Put Frances on,” Johnny roared down the phone.
“She’s not here,” said the young fella, he’d been warned that I didn’t want to take calls from a man.
“She is fuckin’ there, if you don’t put her on I’ll be waiting for you after work.”
The poor lad was so scared he handed me the receiver. I took it apprehensively.
“Is that you, Fran?” he said in the old familiar voice.
“What do you want Johnny? What are you doing ringing me in work?” I said.
“That’s exactly why I’m ringing,” he laughed that horrible, dirty laugh of his. “I can see you.”
I nearly had a heart attack on the spot. What kind of sick game was he playing now?
“What do mean? What are you talking about Johnny?” he could hear the fear in my voice and it pleased him no end.
“I’m sitting right in front of you and I can see everything.”
I dropped the phone on the ground and looked around me frantically. All I could see were other shops, people with shopping bags and buggies and bright lights. The noise in the shopping centre seemed to get louder at that moment—a mixture of pop music and voices, the sound of water from a distant fountain and a general white noise typical of most modern supermarkets. My head started to spin and I felt weak.
Then I saw him, sitting a few yards away at a café table. He had a perfect view of me and he was smiling as if to say, “I’ve got you now”.
I picked up the phone.
“Johnny, what are you doing? Would you ever leave me alone? I’m trying to work.”
He laughed.
“But you shouldn’t be working Frances. I’ve told the social welfare. They know all about you.”
I turned pale as a sheet. I’d been working for three weeks by then but I’d applied for the lone parent’s allowance before I got the job. I’d found out days before hand that I’d been breaking the rules, I wasn’t allowed to work until I’d been accepted for the scheme and then I could do 20 hours a week. There was no way however I could give up the job then. It was Christmas and I needed every penny I could get. I was due to be accepted for the allowance any day now and I thought if I could just hang in there I might get away with it.
How Johnny found about it I have no idea, but he was always a clever one and I suppose he put two and two together. Now he’d gone and reported me to the social welfare. I was shocked but more than that I was worried.
“How on earth am I going to manage over Christmas?” I thought.
I remember standing there, crying at the till as I panicked about money.
That was a typical of Johnny. He’d do anything to hurt me. He didn’t even care if his kids went hungry. That year I got £18 from the social welfare and my wages were £86 after tax. That had to do us all for Christmas. Somehow we managed. As it happens when I explained the situation to the social welfare they back-paid me after Christmas.
After that Johnny began to phone the shop on a regular basis. He’d tell them I’d stolen money from the till or nicked things. Of course I hadn’t; he was trying to get me fired. Thank God for my boss Donna. She trusted me implicitly and she knew about him because I’d told her the truth. I didn’t go into detail but I told her he was mad and she believed me.
“Don’t worry Frances,” she said. “I know you’d never steal from us.”
Johnny was furious. For once he had no control over me and it killed him.
chapter thirty-two
DESPITE THE FACT that we were separated, Johnny continued to plague me with phone calls at all hours of the day and night. I in turn, plagued the guards to do something about him.
Most of the time he was highly abusive on the phone.
“You think you’re rid of me, do you?” he’d say. “I’m not going anywhere without you, you know that? I’m going to slice you up, cut you into little ribbons before I go. I’m going to cut the gee out of you and slice off your breasts.”
Sometimes I’d be physically sick after I’d put down the receiver.
The guards instructed me to put a tap on the phone and to take note of every call. I did it for a few months but he’s so clever; he actually knew that the phone was tapped from the way I’d respond to his questions. If I talked too slowly he’d say, “Why are you talking like that? Is it because the phone is tapped?”
Then he’d laugh and hang up. On one occasion I was actually standing in the local garda station making a complaint about him when he rang me on the mobile. He was drunk and very belligerent.
There was female guard with me at the time and I held the phone up to her ear and let her listen to him rant. Johnny didn’t have conversations; he just talked at people.
The guards always promised me they’d arrest Johnny as soon as they found him, but other than the time when I’d filed for assault the only occasion he’s ever been taken into custody was one time when I was in the Mediterranean on holiday and he broke into my house.
A neighbour of mine had seen him break in and had phoned the station. They came and searched the house.
They finally found him, drunk out of his mind, hiding under the bed upstairs. He spent three weeks in prison for breaking the barring order.
He has never been arrested for threatening me since and to this day I have to wonder why. I’ve made hundreds of complaints to my local station. I even went to see the Superintendent on one occasion. He told me he’d look into the case for me. Still nothing was done.
Johnny Smith was never a difficult person to find. He drank in the same bar everyday and I even gave the guards the address of his new girlfriend. Still they’d say they couldn’t find him. Sometimes they’d make excuses about being short staffed. Or they’d fob me off by telling me they’d arrest him the following day. I’d tell them I’d be dead the following day but it didn’t seem to make a difference. Other people had been arrested for a lot less and it just didn’t make sense.
In the meantime I’ve had to endure years of abusive phone calls, never knowing when Johnny may turn up out of the blue.
I remember one evening when I was sitting watching television with the curtains open. Caitríona was in bed and there was no one else there. Suddenly I glanced at the window and I saw a figure staring in at me. Because it was dark however I couldn’t make their features. I got a terrible fright. At first I thought it was a burglar. I ran into the hall and lifted the phone to call the guards.
Then I stopped in my tracks. What would I say to them? I had to be sure there was someone out there and my imagination had not been playing tricks on me.
I tiptoed back into the sitting room and peered out into the darkness. I saw a familiar figure, hopping over the gate and running off down the road. He was wearing a long black coat that I recognised as Johnny’s.
That was typical of Johnny Smith. He’d turn up to try to scare me, knowing well that I wouldn’t let him into the house.
chapter thirty-three
JOHNNY AND MYSELF had been separated for three years when Fiona suggested that the two of us go on holiday. I had recently given up my job
in the sandwich bar and I was about to start a CEO scheme. I was going to be trained as a receptionist and I was looking forward to it. In the meantime, I had a few weeks free before it started.
“Come on Frances,” said Fiona while we were sitting in the kitchen. “I’ve found a great deal to the Mediterranean but it’s next week so we’d have to act quickly.”
I thought about it for all of two seconds and then I agreed. I didn’t have much money at the time but I decided to get a credit union loan. It was just what I needed at the time—a holiday in the sun with no worries and away from Johnny. We booked the tickets that day and Aoife agreed to look after Caitríona.
As it happens, that holiday was the best thing that happened me in years. While I was there I met a man called Mohammad. He was slightly younger then me but very charming. Mohammad owned the bar in the hotel where we were staying and I used to see him everyday. He’d smile at me and try to make conversation, but I didn’t want to talk to him.
I’d been so hurt over the years that I wanted nothing to do with any man. The only man I’d ever had a relationship with was Johnny and I presumed that all men were the same. I knocked back all of Mohammad’s advances and at times I was blatantly rude to him, but unlike most Irish men he kept on trying. Over the course of the week he slowly broke me down. I began to talk to him but still I didn’t trust him.
He told me he didn’t drink because he was a Muslim. He claimed to be single but I didn’t believe him. I was convinced he had a wife or a girlfriend and that he was lying to me.
“No my sweet,” he’d say when I’d ask him, “I don’t have a woman.”
Funnily enough the more I shunned his advances; the more he tried to get to know me.
Fiona turned to me one night and said, “Frances, that poor man has been trying to chat you up all week and you’ve been horrible to him. Would you ever relax a little and go for a drink with him? If he says he’s single then he must be.”
In Fear of Her Life: The true story of a violent marriage Page 15
