by Annie Murray
Maryann agreed gladly. She enjoyed soaping the boys in the warm water, the feel of Billy’s soft little body. He was nearly five now, still small, with shoulder blades like little angels’ wings.
While she was pouring in a last kettle of water, Norman arrived home, bustling through the front door. Maryann felt herself tense as if there were pins pricking her skin. He was not a man who could move quietly. He was always a noisy, disturbing presence about the place. She hated the way he came and looked in when they were bathing, especially after last night. Sal refused ever to have a bath in the house now: she went down to the public bathhouse.
He came and stood at the kitchen door, hat in hand. ‘Oh-ho, bath night, eh?’
Well, it’s not as if we only do it every hundred years, Maryann thought. She didn’t look up at him or answer, but she could feel him staring at her.
‘Your tea’s nearly done, Norman,’ Flo said. ‘Yer might as well come and sit down.’
‘I’ll just wash my hands.’ He came and leaned over the bath opposite Maryann, took the bar of soap and rubbed his stubby white hands, using the nails of one hand to dig out the grime from under the nails of the other. She watched, repulsed. For a moment he looked into her face and she could feel his breath on her cheek. Maryann got up abruptly and moved away to call Tony and Billy.
She bathed the two of them while Norman sat at the table eating his mutton stew, Flo sitting opposite him. He ate up quickly, then sat back and lit a cigarette, watching them lazily, his eyes narrowed a little.
‘I can do myself,’ Tony said, so Maryann concentrated on Billy, splashing about to make as much noise as she could and drown out the sounds Norman made when he was eating. Billy laughed, pouring water energetically over his fair hair.
‘Go easy,’ Flo snapped. ‘You’ll soak the whole floor else. Where’s Sal got to, Norman?’
‘She said she ’ad to go to the shop for yer.’
‘For me? I never asked ’er.’
Maryann rubbed Billy dry on a strip of cloth and he put his clothes on again.
‘You go in next,’ Flo said. ‘Use the water ’fore it gets cold.’
Maryann felt her body go stiff. Not with him sitting there, she thought. ‘When tea’s finished,’ she said.
‘Oh, that’s awright – you can carry on,’ Norman said.
Maryann looked at her mom mutinously. ‘I’ll wait till you’ve finished.’ And she walked off upstairs, knowing Flo was too idle to follow. When she was certain Norman was ensconced in the front room with his paper, she crept down, closing the kitchen door. Flo was in there, tutting about how long Sal was going to be. Maryann could hear the boys playing out with some other lads at the back.
She slipped her brown skirt off and her cream blouse, wishing she had the room to herself, without even her mom there. She felt suddenly curious about her body and would have liked to be alone to have a good look. Lately she had sensed it changing, little swellings on her chest when it used to be quite flat. But there never seemed to be a place where you could be on your own without a brother or sister or someone gawping at you.
She dipped one foot in the water.
‘Can I ’ave one more kettle, Mom?’
Flo sighed. ‘Oh, go on then. As it’s boiled.’
She topped up the bath with hot water and it felt lovely as she sank down into it, even though it was scummy from Tony and Billy going in it before. She couldn’t quite lie down full stretch any more, she had to keep her legs a bit bent up and in the winter you could feel the cold nibbling round whichever bit of you was sticking out of the water. But today it was warm and she relaxed, then sat up and began soaping herself. She was just rubbing suds over her shoulders and arms when the door opened and Norman came in. Maryann instinctively crossed her arms over her chest and tucked her head down.
Get out! she felt her whole being scream. Just get out of here and don’t look at me.
He had his hands pushed down in his trouser pockets. Maryann turned away, trying to block him out.
‘That looks nice in there,’ he said. ‘’Ere – let me put some of that soap on your back for you.’
‘No!’ she almost shouted. ‘I can do it myself.’
‘Oh, don’t talk so silly, Maryann,’ Flo said irritably. ‘Norman won’t bite yer – ’e’s just trying to give yer a hand. You can’t reach yer back, can you?’
He was kneeling down, rolling up his sleeves and grinning at her. She cringed away from him.
‘There you go—’ Round and round he rubbed the soap in his hands until they were frothy with it. Her back was rigid. She wanted to jump out of the bath and run away from him, but she couldn’t move.
Flo went to the back door. ‘Billy? Billy! Get in ’ere now. It’s time you was getting to bed.’
He was kneeling on her left, she could smell him. Death, he smelled of. He began to soap her back, his right hand circling round and round, caressingly.
‘There,’ he said. ‘Nowt wrong with that, is there?’ The soap slid from his left hand into the bath with a plop. ‘Oops. Now where’s that gone then?’
He was pretending to look for the soap, but she saw his eyes were on her breasts, his hand still circling on her back.
‘That’s the trouble with soap . . .’ His breathing was louder. ‘Slippery blooming stuff . . .’
‘Billy!’ Flo was shouting, furiously.
Maryann couldn’t believe at first what she was feeling: a hard poking between her legs which for a second she couldn’t connect with anything but then knew it was Norman’s finger or thumb, jabbing, forcing up into her.
‘Youch!’ she cried, pulling away with a splash. ‘What the ’ell ’re yer doing?’
‘Ah – ’ere it is!’ A quick sweep of the bath and he brought up his hand, triumphantly holding the soap. They looked into each other’s eyes and his were as icy as pebbles. Maryann turned cold all over.
‘Sorry – did I catch yer by mistake?’
Flo, oblivious to all this, was bringing Billy crossly in through the back door. ‘Look at the state of yer – you’ll need to go back in the bleedin’ bath!’
‘Language, love!’ Norman stood up. ‘There we go – another one all fresh as a daisy.’
‘Out you get then, Maryann,’ Flo said. ‘Billy’s dipping back in.’
Maryann sat quite still. She couldn’t look at Norman, at any of them. Shame seemed to burn up from her chest to the top of her head. Was this what Sal meant, this, and more, things Maryann could not even imagine? After a moment, Norman went out again, closing the door.
‘It’s nice the way ’e tries to be a dad to yer,’ Flo commented.
Two days later, when she went up to their room, Maryann found Sal sitting on the bed. Her left arm was held out, underside upwards in front of her. In her other fist was a kitchen knife with which she was stabbing at her outstretched arm, making jerky little digs into her flesh, some not breaking the skin, others harder. There was a thin trail of blood running down over her fingers.
For a second, Maryann couldn’t believe the sight in front of her.
‘Sal! What ’re yer doing!’ She seized the knife, stopped its jabbing motions which seemed to be happening almost independently of Sal’s will. She opened her sister’s fingers and prised the knife away from her. Sal looked round mildly as if woken from a dream.
‘Blimey, Sal – what’ve yer done to yerself? Look, I’ll go and get summat to wipe yer.’
She bound her sister’s arm with a rag then sat beside her, half afraid to touch her. Sal looked so beautiful sitting there, pale and still, the evening light catching her hair.
‘Is it him, Sal? What’s ’e done to yer, eh?’
Sal just shook her head, seeming unable to speak.
‘Is ’e . . . is ’e . . .’ Maryann could barely say it, like when she had wanted to talk to Nance and no words would come, not for something like that, that couldn’t really be going on, not in real life. She sensed that whatever had happened to Sal was much worse than anything he had do
ne to her, but she didn’t know about anything, couldn’t imagine what it could be. ‘Is Norman dirty with yer?’
To her enormous vexation Sal suddenly started laughing, head back, until the tears ran down her cheeks.
‘Well, what?’ Maryann said furiously. She was trying to help and this was what she got. ‘What’s so bloody funny then, eh?’
‘Dirty! Oh, Maryann!’ Still laughing away.
‘Well, I meant like the other night – touching yer and stuff.’ She couldn’t go on.
Sal turned to her, solemn again. ‘Don’t let ’im near yer, Maryann, that’s all.’
Thirteen
Cathleen Black had her new baby. Nance had been allowed to help out with the birth and there was great celebration when it turned out to be a girl.
‘I tell yer, Maryann,’ Nance said after, ‘I never want to go through that in my life. Our mom says it’s like passing a pig’s bladder. She was on the go till right the last minute an’ all. I kept telling ’er, “Mom, just go and ’ave yerself a lie down,” but she says, “No, Nance – I’ve got to see the lads ’ave ’ad their tea. Any’ow, the longer I’m on my feet, the quicker the babby’ll come.” ’
Maryann had her first peek at baby Lizzie when she was only one day old, with her mop of black hair, scrumpled up face, closed eyes and tight little fists. She was allowed to go up into Cathleen and Blackie’s room where Cathleen lay in a motley mess of bedding consisting of what looked like rags and coats. The room was bare except for the metal bedstead and a chamber pot, and though the window was open there was a sickening miasma of sweat and blood. Cathleen looked hollow-cheeked but she raised a smile when Maryann said, ‘Oh, ain’t she lovely!’
‘Makes a change from all them lads, don’t she?’ Cathleen said. ‘’Bout time we ’ad a wench to finish off with, ’cos I’m buggered if I want to go through all that again.’
Billy was also captivated by Lizzie, by her sheer smallness. He stood for ages stroking her waxy hands, trying to get her to straighten her fingers.
‘Why don’t our mom ’ave any babbies?’ he asked.
‘Well, you was a babby not so long ago,’ Cathleen said, adding as an aside, ‘She’s got more bloody sense, that’s why.’
Outside, when the boys had gone off, Maryann asked Nance, ‘What’s yer dad been like over ’er?’
‘Oh, ’e’s soft as anything with ’er. ’E’s always wanted another girl. Said she were ’is life’s work or summat – and that were before ’e’d been down the pub!’
‘Nance—’
‘What?’
‘How do – I mean, how does the babby get in there – d’yer know?’
‘All I know is it’s got summat to do with a man’s – yer know – thing. ’Is willy.’
‘Oh.’ Maryann’s brow puckered. ‘Has it? You sure?’
‘’Course,’ Nance said, all worldly-wise, though she wasn’t really sure at all.
Maryann had never seen a man naked, except for her brothers. When she was younger she’d wondered whether their little willies grew with them when they got bigger, or did they stay the same size?
But she knew the answer to that now, for certain. On Sunday afternoon, Sal had gone out, and Flo was with her brother Danny and her sister-in-law Margie who had come on with her babby and she’d promised to help if she could. Norman was in the front room. Maryann was just about to call the boys to go up to the Blacks’.
‘Maryann—’ She heard his voice calling softly through to the kitchen where she was clearing up.
‘What?’ She stuck her head round the door.
‘Come ’ere a minute, pet.’ His voice was wheedling. It didn’t quite sound like him.
She went and stood beside the chair. He was lolling back, feet up on a stool, and his face was flushed even though there was no fire in the grate.
‘Fancy going to the pictures?’
‘What, now? All of us?’ She had had other plans, but she did love the pictures. There were the talkies now, too, people really speaking instead of just the piano banging away while you tried to read the words off the screen.
‘I’ll give yer a shilling and you and that Nance can go with the lads. Treat yerselves.’
‘Oh – ta,’ Maryann said awkwardly. Was this him ‘trying to act like a dad’ again? Anyway, if he was in a good mood she might as well make the most of it.
‘C’m’ere first.’ He beckoned her closer. ‘Part of the treat for yer. There’s a couple of tanners in ’ere – you come and get ’em.’
He held his pocket open, shifting in his seat.
‘Go on, Maryann, I won’t bite!’ He was grinning, showing his yellow teeth, sweat on his forehead.
She slid her hand into the open pocket, expecting her fingers to find the two sixpences tucked in the soft material. But as soon as her hand was in there Norman slapped his own hand over it and pulled hers over, pressing it down on to his hard willy, waiting down there. She yanked away, managing to pull free and run to the door.
‘Tony! Billy! Come on, quick – I’m going now.’
He was laughing. ‘Don’t you want your shilling then, eh?’
He wouldn’t leave her alone these days. Watching her all the time, so the feel of his eyes on her made her feel dirty. Once or twice, when he got the chance, he’d rub against her, or feel her round her chest. She could never relax when he was about and she stayed out all the time she could. Outside, at school or with Nance it was all right. She could shrug it off because these disgusting things weren’t happening away from the house. It wasn’t real out there, and she could forget. She dreaded being at home. Sometimes Maryann thought about trying to tell her mom. But any little thing she criticized about Norman and Flo was down on her like a ton of bricks. She’d never believe Maryann. She was always on his side. He seem to infect everything. Even when he wasn’t in there were reminders of his presence: the oily dent in the chair where his head went, the paper thrown on the floor where he left it, the smell of his fags hanging about the place. Always there. Always.
It was well into June and the weather was warm now. Thin shafts of evening sunlight had found their way in through the back windows, dust motes swirling in them. Maryann smiled, remembering how Tiger used to jump up and biff at them when he was a kitten.
Sal had come in with Norman from work, had eaten her tea and the last Maryann had heard from her was the slam of the front door as she took off out again. Huh, Maryann thought, covering Tony up in bed. But she couldn’t really blame Sal. She really seemed to be sweet on Charlie Black and if Maryann could have thought of a place to go she’d have gone out as well. She was beginning to get the hang of when the Esther Jane might be likely to be in town from the run to Stoke. She left messages at the toll offices and ran down to ask. But she didn’t hang around the cut any more, waiting. She’d seen Joel, Darius and Ada once since her night on the boat, but they’d been held up along the cut and were pressed for time, so Maryann just walked along a bit of the way with Ada and Bessie and Jep, and left them to get on. They all seemed pleased to see her though, and Joel waved.
‘See yer next time!’ she yelled as they headed into the gloomiest part of the cut.
She’d sung Billy a lullaby and was coming downstairs again when she heard a knock at the front door, then Flo’s voice, ‘Danny – what’re you doing ’ere? Oh my God, what’s up?’ Danny’s wife Margie had also given birth to a little girl, Cissie, who was now four days old.
Maryann heard her uncle panting. He must have run all the way over.
‘It’s the babby, Flo, ’er’s bad and Margie’s in a right state over ’er. Can yer come over and ’elp us, right quick? ’Er breathing’s terrible.’
‘Well, I don’t know as there’s much I can do,’ Flo was saying. ‘You’d be better fetching the doctor out.’
‘We ’ave, but she wants you there – please, Flo—’ Maryann came down into the front room and saw her Uncle Danny looking as if he was going to burst into tears. ‘We’d feel better if you w
as there. You know what to do with babbies – we don’t know ’ow to go on!’
‘You go, Flo,’ Norman said. ‘Yer brother needs yer – there’ll be summat you can do, with all your know-’ow, I’m sure.’
‘Awright,’ Flo agreed reluctantly.
Maryann watched her mother disappearing out through the front door, and it was only then it dawned on her. If Flo went out she’d be all alone in the house with Norman, except for the boys sleeping upstairs. She tore out behind her mom as if she was on springs.
‘I’m coming with yer! I might be able to ’elp.’
‘Oh, don’t be daft, Maryann!’ Flo was all flustered. ‘Go on in with yer. Danny and Margie’ve got enough on their plate without you getting under all our feet.’
‘Please, Mom, let me come!’
‘Maryann, go back inside.’ Danny spoke roughly in his anxiety. ‘Do as yer mom says. We need ’er for now.’
Maryann knew she couldn’t argue. She stood on the step watching them disappear along Anderson Street. The sun was sinking now. Martins’ huckster’s shop was still open of course, along the way. She felt like going and standing in there, amid all the mixed smells of rubber and soap and sweets until her mom got back, but she had no money and whatever could she say to Mrs Martin?
‘Come in and shut that door, Maryann,’ Norman Griffin ordered her.
Her heart was thudding. The idea of being left alone with Norman Griffin now alarmed her so much that the hairs on the back of her neck were standing up and her hands shook as she closed the door. But how could she refuse?
There he was, sat in his chair as normal, she told herself, clasping her hands together so that he should not see the tremor in them. What was there to worry about? He was just sitting, looking across at her. And she knew better than ever to put her hand in his pocket again.
‘So, then,’ he said.
‘I think—’ Maryann swallowed. She was straining to keep her voice casual. ‘I’ll go up to bed now.’
‘Oh, it’s too early for that, ain’t it? Why don’t yer come over ’ere and sit with me for a bit?’
