Two Women

by Martina Cole

  ‘Well, I’m here to tell you we know what you’re doing and we’re watching you. The big mistake you made was going after my little friend, my good friend, Wendy Dalston. You see, unlike you, Wendy has us behind her.

  ‘So where does that leave you now? I can’t let you get away with it, can I? I have to make sure you understand exactly what you’ve done. Make sure you never want to do anything remotely like it again. So that means pain, I’m afraid, extreme pain.’

  He dropped to his knees in the undergrowth. Could feel sticks digging into his knees and dirt collecting on his shins.

  ‘Please, please, don’t hurt me! I’m begging you. Please, I have a bad heart . . .’ He was crying. Really crying.

  Roselle was enjoying herself.

  ‘Oh, the joy of hearing a man beg. Any man. Well, beg away, wanker. You’ve been found out.’

  She walked slowly back to the car and left him with Danny. What Danny did next was up to him, that was always the deal. He gave out the punishment he felt befitted the crime.

  She had a feeling he was going to mete out rather a harsh punishment and tonight could not find it in herself to be sorry for Alfred Potter.

  Colin was nervous. As he sat in the visiting room with the children’s social worker, Miss Beacham, he was sorely reminded of Susan’s behaviour on his last visit and smiled sheepishly at the other woman who nodded to him, as if to reassure him everything was going to be fine.

  He liked Miss Beacham. She had a nice way about her. She was a calming influence with the kids in her care and impressed him. It was a shame she was so ugly. With her personality she would have been much in demand if God had seen fit to give her a face to match her temperament.

  He realised as the thought flashed through his mind that if he voiced it to Geraldine O’Hara she would demolish him in a second. But it was easy for the Geraldines of this world to be feminists. They were never judged on anything but their looks so they didn’t have to go through the angst of mere mortals like himself and Miss Beacham.

  The thought made him smile and Miss Beacham, assuming he was smiling at her, grinned back at him.

  ‘I’m glad we both had visits booked at the same time, Colin. Maybe we could have a bite afterwards and I can fill you in on the latest developments with the children?’

  He nodded.

  Another thing he liked about her was that she ate like people should eat. In huge quantities, and always food that was classed as bad for you. He knew from Susan’s children that she often took them for Wimpys, giving them large milkshakes and doughnuts as well as bender burgers and chips.

  They all loved her, especially the eldest girl.

  He had found Wendy an anomaly, though all the younger children had been there on the night in question and all argued that they’d seen and heard nothing.

  It bothered him, because who exactly was supposed to be looking after them? He could not see Susan leaving them with Alana in charge, no matter what anyone said. Even Susan.

  Rosie obviously could not have known anything, but even little Barry had only ever said, ‘Daddy is gone and we are glad.’

  Alana always said she knew nothing, saw nothing, heard nothing.

  But, as he was beginning to realise, there was much more to all this than met the eye. People rarely listened to children or asked their opinion. It was as if adults automatically believed they had no thoughts on anything save what the adults wanted them to think. But these were shrewd, streetwise kids who missed nothing, no matter how trivial. The more he thought about it all, the more suspicious he was yet still he didn’t really know what it was that was making him doubt Susan’s story.

  She came into the room then, all smiles and apologies. She looked at Colin sheepishly and put her hand up to her own neck instinctively.

  ‘Hello, Colin, Miss Beacham.’ Her niceness was back in place and he felt himself relax.

  ‘How are the kids, and when can I see them?’

  The raw longing in her voice was awful.

  ‘Are they doing all right like?’

  Miss Beacham held out her large bony hand and smiled.

  ‘Hello, Susan, you look well, have you lost weight?’

  She nodded, happy for it to be noticed.

  ‘I have actually. It’s the nosh. Fucking awful it is.’ She rubbed her belly. ‘Even me spare tyres - spare tyre - is panicking, I can tell you.’

  The two women laughed together and Colin felt an outsider in this conversation.

  ‘Maybe I should get myself a stint in here, I could do with losing a bit of weight,’ Miss Beacham joked.

  They both laughed again, and the atmosphere was relaxed once more. Colin, despite himself, was impressed. They all sat down. Susan lit a cigarette from a pack on the table which Miss Beacham had brought with her.

  ‘Thanks, Miss Beacham, this is going down a treat. I’m sick of smoking roll ups.’

  Colin was annoyed with himself. Why hadn’t he thought of doing that? Miss Beacham cleared her throat and sighed.

  ‘I have something to tell you, Susan, about Wendy. Now before you start, she’s fine, really fine.’

  Colin was watching from the window, smirking. That was exactly what he had said before the strangling episode. He decided to stay by the window for a while just in case Susan lost it again. Even the PO was on red alert now.

  ‘It seems, Susan, that Wendy has picked up some kind of disease.’ Miss Beacham looked straight into her eyes. ‘I’m very much afraid it is a venereal disease. Now I know how powerless you must feel but as she is under sixteen we thought you should be informed, even though she is under the care of the courts.

  ‘Can you shed any light on it for us? Have you any idea where she might have picked it up? Only, you see, she has not been in a position to get herself into any mischief at the home. If you understand me?’

  The social worker sighed.

  ‘Jesus, Sue, but this is the hardest thing I have ever had to tell a parent.’

  She was nearly crying and Susan grabbed her hand across the table sympathetically.

  ‘I know, mate. I understand, really I do.’

  Colin was amazed. Amazed and astounded. If he had told Susan that, she would have been on a second murder charge. What the hell was it with women?

  ‘So what has she got then?’

  Susan’s voice was dull and resigned.

  ‘She has a thing called herpes. It’s like a chicken pox virus, believe it or not. It came over from the States, I understand.’

  Susan shrugged.

  ‘Trust her to get something American. Good old British diseases not enough for kids these days, eh?’

  Colin couldn’t believe how well she was taking it and made a mental note to bring Miss Beacham with him on every visit in future.

  ‘Can it be treated then? Is it dangerous?’

  The social worker shook her head sadly,

  ‘It seems no one really knows much about it yet. But they’re doing all sorts of research into it. So hopefully something will happen soon, eh? But it can’t kill so don’t worry too much. She’s fine now. Probably more worried about you finding out than anything.’

  Susan nodded, her face blank.

  ‘Can I see her soon?’

  Miss Beacham nodded.

  ‘Of course you can, they’ll all be in on Friday as usual.’

  ‘What’s happening about this adoption malarkey then? Only I’m going to fight it, as Colin will tell you after I’ve talked with him today.’

  Susan looked over at him and half smiled.

  ‘I refuse to give up my kids to anyone, even the nice Simpsons. I’ll get someone to have her, I swear that much. So you are forewarned. And I hope, Miss Beacham, that will not make you forearmed.’

  ‘Oh, Susan, I wish you could be with them, they think the world of you, I know that. I also know you were a wonderful mother to those children.’

  Susan sighed.

  ‘You’re a good woman, Miss Beacham. The kids all like you, and to me th
at says it all. If kids don’t take to a person, I always feel they have inside knowledge that we don’t have. They suss people out much easier.’

  She smiled.

  Miss Beacham stood up and shook hands with her again.

  ‘I’ll wait outside for you, Colin. I’ll leave you two to talk in private now.’

  She walked from the room after summoning a PO to escort her from the premises.

  Susan and Colin looked into each other’s eyes.

  ‘If I had told you that, Susan, you’d have tried to murder me,’ he reproached her. She laughed at his aggrieved tone.

  ‘Ain’t you sussed it out yet, Colin? You’re a man. Of course you’d be killed. It’s the law.’

  She said it deadpan and with a half smile. Against his better judgement Colin laughed. So did Susan and the PO on duty. The smile barely reached her eyes and he guessed she was playing the part of hardened con once more.

  But the news she had heard about her daughter must have been tearing her up inside. She chain smoked throughout the entire visit.

  Mrs Eappen was not sure how to deal with the woman in front of her. Well dressed, well shod and oozing money, her voice didn’t fit and it was this that threw the care assistant off track.

  Roselle smiled at her as best she could and fought to be polite.

  ‘I understand that Wendy is ill, but I’m sure she will see me.’

  Mrs Eappen was nonplussed and it was not a feeling she enjoyed. In fact, this visitor was the last thing she needed today.

  ‘Her mother and I are very close, have been for years. If Susan were here, she would have no hesitation in allowing me to see the child. Whatever was wrong with her.’

  Mrs Eappen knew that this woman had Wendy overnight and sometimes for weekends. She also knew there was something fishy about her, though she could not put her finger on it exactly.

  ‘Would you care to talk to my solicitors, Eversham and Hope in Great Russell Street? I’m sure they can find a precedent of some sort. I am, after all, here at the request of the mother. Now I’m aware the children are in care, but I wasn’t aware they had become your sole responsibility just yet.’

  Roselle was bullshitting, but she did it with such conviction Mrs Eappen saw no other course but to let her see Wendy Dalston.

  Wendy’s face lit up as Roselle was shown into her bedroom. They hugged then Roselle looked at the glowering woman in front of her and said cheerfully, ‘Tea would be wonderful.’

  As she left the room with a face like thunder Roselle sat on the girl’s bed and laughed with her.

  ‘Miserable old hag! Christ, but I should be up for an Oscar after that performance. Now then, how are you? The old trouble, is it?’

  Wendy nodded. They never said the word unless they had to but skirted around it, both aware of the enormity of what had happened to her.

  ‘The worst yet, Roselle. Honestly it’s so painful.’

  The pain showed in her words and in her face. Roselle hugged her again.

  ‘I heard about Mr Potter, or whatever his name is, and the blade. You are a girl, you know. Pity your mother never had your spunk, eh?’

  She laughed and Wendy answered her truthfully, ‘I think she did once but me dad knocked it out of her. I was thinking about him today. I can’t help it when I’m like this. It’s as if he’s in the room again and I can smell him . . .’

  She looked out of the window to hide the tears and Roselle swallowed down the lump forming in her own throat.

  ‘Well, I have some good news for you.’

  Wendy stared at her hopefully.

  ‘Mr Potter is no more. He has ceased to be, climbed up the curtain to meet his maker as John Cleese would say. He is an ex-social worker.’

  Wendy’s eyes were like saucers.

  ‘You’re joking?’

  Roselle shook her head.

  ‘Remember Danny, the big black man I introduced you to that time?’

  Wendy nodded.

  ‘Well, he had a word in Alfred’s shell-like and talked him into resigning. It seems Mr Potter has had an accident, a bad accident, and can’t work any more anyway. What a touch, eh?’

  Wendy bit her lip and shook her head.

  ‘Honestly?’

  Roselle nodded. ‘Honestly, I swear, cross me heart and hope to die!’

  Wendy, grinning, finished off the playground rhyme.

  ‘Stick a needle in me eye!’

  The door burst open then and the other children bowled in. Alana had Rosie on her hip. She was laughing until they all saw Roselle.

  ‘Oh, hello, Miss.’

  Wendy laughed.

  ‘This ain’t a miss, this is Roselle, Alana, you know that.’

  Barry grinned up at her and he looked so like his father that Roselle felt her heart lurch. She opened her bag for something to do and took out some sweets.

  Plonking Rosie on the bed, they all dived in without a second’s thought. Roselle picked up Rosie, who was clean and sweet-smelling, and watched them. Watched them just being children. Enjoying a few sweets, a treat. She felt so sad she wanted to cry for them and their wasted lives. Rosie, deciding she liked the visitor, gave her a wet kiss and they all laughed.

  Then Mrs Jane Simpson came into the room and introduced herself. She was a pretty woman. As she took Rosie from her, Roselle saw the need for a child in the other woman’s face and had to turn away.

  ‘Rosie’s going home now, children.’ Jane’s voice was loud and firm.

  Barry, all innocence, looked at her and said, ‘Is me mum back then?’

  There was hope in his voice, longing even, and Roselle felt an urge to pick up her handbag and run. Run away from these children who were not her responsibility.

  Jane Simpson sighed.

  ‘No, Barry, your mother is not back home and won’t be for a long time.’

  Barry, ever the optimist, shrugged.

  ‘She might break out and come and get us, like in the Westerns.’ His voice said he was convinced she was capable of it. Whatever Mrs Simpson might think. ‘She might get a gun, or a rifle . . .’

  Alana interrupted his dreaming.

  ‘Al right, Barry, I think we get the picture.’

  He wasn’t to be shut up that quickly. He cried out loudly, ‘Well, she might!’ with all the conviction he could muster.

  Mrs Simpson left the room with a crying Rosie and they were all quiet then.

  ‘I miss Rosie, even though all she does is eat and shit.’

  Alana smacked Barry this time, hard across his legs.

  ‘Stop it, you. Like we ain’t got enough trouble without you swearing all the time and causing more hag.’

  Alana looked at Roselle and shrugged.

  ‘I wish someone wanted to adopt him. I’d sign the bleeding papers meself.’

  Wendy and Roselle laughed out loud.

  ‘So would I.’ Wendy’s voice was high with pretend humour.

  Barry looked shrewd. His eyes half closed, he said seriously, ‘I wonder if Steve Austin needs a little boy? I’d love to go with him. I’d become bionic and eat nothing but Angel Delight and Twixes.’

  He looked closely at Roselle.

  ‘When you’re bionic you don’t need to eat proper food because you’re not human any more.’

  She nodded as if she understood what he was talking about.

  ‘I see.’

  Alana grinned. ‘You’re not human anyway, you’re a boy!’

  But Barry was above all the piss taking.

  ‘Then, when me mum came home, so would I. And I’d bring her presents and stuff to make her feel happy.’

  Roselle ruffled his hair.

  ‘I’m sure you would as well. You’re a nice little boy, Barry.’

  He liked the attention but acted disgusted to make everyone laugh again. Warming to his theme, and with an attentive audience, he shouted, ‘Then do you know what I’d do? I’d go and steal Rosie back so me mum had her when she came home. Like an extra surprise.’

  Pl
eased with himself, he wandered from the room. He knew to leave an audience wanting more did Barry Dalston, it was part of his charm.

  ‘He’s a complete nut is our Barry,’ Alana said with pride in her voice. She looked at Roselle.

  ‘He has a reading age of eleven and he’s just had his ninth birthday. That’s where he gets his imagination from.’

  Hearing the motherly tones Roselle hugged the girl to her. It was a spontaneous act but it made her a friend for life. Alana hugged her back, and the little bit of attention made her start to cry, and her crying made Wendy cry.

  Alana was so upset she could barely talk.

  ‘I miss me mum so much, and they’re taking Rosie away, and no one knows what she really likes. They give her what they want her to like. What they think she should like. But she likes Mars bars, not Milky bars, and she likes you to pretend to drop her on her head, and she likes to sleep with me and Barry. It’s not fair, it’s just not fair! We ain’t done nothing. Rosie’s three now and she loves us. How can they take her away?’

  Roselle hugged the two girls to her tightly, the tears pouring from her own eyes. The three females hugged and cried together and it was like this that Mrs Eappen found them. She had finally decided to make her guest some tea. Satisfied that her first impressions had been correct she left the tray and with a self-satisfied smile walked from the room.

  Let that terrible woman sort it out this time. She had caused it.

  But the crying had done the two girls and Roselle the world of good. It had unleashed their emotions and brought them all relief.

  Alana went off to find Barry and share her spoils with him: a five-pound note from Roselle. Alone again, Wendy looked into Roselle’s face and shook her head.

  ‘It’s all so sad, ain’t it? None of them have done anything. Yet they’re the ones who are suffering. I wish that night had never happened.’

  Roselle took the girl in her arms once more.

  ‘Bad things happen to us all in life. I mean, I never dreamed I’d end up doing what I do. But you just have to get on with it, don’t you, love? Like we all do.’

  ‘What about Rosie, though? Me mum will go mad if they adopt her. She’ll never sleep another night in peace as long as she lives. Rosie was the baby, everyone’s baby, even me dad’s. He adored her.