Two Women

by Martina Cole

  Matty seemed to be talking to herself now.

  ‘All the time . . . I have to do everything. Otherwise nothing ever gets done, does it? You’re like Angela, like my mother, like Victor. Without me you’re all nothing.’

  Susan listened. In the distance she could hear footsteps as a PO did the night round. Soon the peephole would be opened and an eye would look in, making sure all was as it should be.

  Only it wasn’t but Susan wasn’t going to be able to tell her that, was she?

  ‘Victor made the same mistake . . . Talking about me to people. Telling them how I’d changed. But I hadn’t changed, not a bit . . . just stopped pretending. Pretending everything was so great, that I loved him. I cared about him.

  ‘Can you imagine how hard that was, Sue? Pretending to care about a tall, ugly boring man? A man whose conversation was so dull I had trouble keeping awake. I’d yawn in his face sometimes. Yawn, right in his face, and he’d pretend not to notice.

  ‘Now I have you to deal with. The woman I made my friend or the nearest to one I ever had. I was going to speak to Geraldine for you but you went behind my back, didn’t you? You went behind my back and took her away from me. She doesn’t like me any more because of you. I could tell today, could feel it off her. I make her uncomfortable, you see, because she sees herself in me. Like you all do.’

  The peephole slid open and a voice called softly, ‘All right in there?’

  Matty smiled brilliantly.

  ‘Just chatting. Can’t sleep.’

  The peephole was closed and the heavy tread moved on.

  Susan couldn’t breathe. She was frightened to make a sound in case she set Matty off again.

  The other woman was still, still and quiet. After long moments she spoke again in the same quiet sing-song voice.

  ‘Now Angela’s come back and stuck in here I can do nothing. She wants everything from me as usual. Everything I have. She always wanted it all. People see me as their means of getting on in the world. Even as a child people saw me as someone to be reckoned with. So I’ll deal with Angela, I’ve already planned how to deal with her. Which just leaves you, doesn’t it?’

  Susan was terrified. She knew Matty was capable of anything.

  ‘What are you going to do?’

  Matty smiled, a wide friendly smile that even in the dimness lit up her pretty face.

  ‘I’m going to kill you, of course. Isn’t that what I always do?’

  Geraldine was roused from sleep by the persistent ringing of her phone. Picking up the receiver, she breathed a tired hello into it. Hearing Roselle’s voice, wide awake and excited, she sat up in bed.

  ‘How the hell did you get my home number?’

  Roselle laughed gently.

  ‘You’d be surprised what I can get if I want it. Now I’ll give you my address - you’d better come to my flat straight away. And before you start, this can’t wait till morning and when you find out what it is, you’ll be glad I rang when I did. Believe me.’

  Ten minutes later Geraldine was making her way across London. She was intrigued, she was tired, and more than anything she was annoyed.

  Wendy stepped out of the bedroom. She looked so adult standing in the light of the hallway, and so like her father, that Roselle was stunned into silence.

  ‘Was that the brief? Me mum’s brief?’

  She nodded.

  ‘Good. Can I make meself a cup of coffee, please?’

  Roselle nodded again.

  The girl was a woman now, in every sense of the word. Could any of them control her? Could they stop her from doing whatever she wanted?

  Somehow Roselle doubted that.

  Jamesie came into the house via the cat flap. If he forced his arm through and up he could unlock the back door. It was something he had never told Debbie because he’d always had a feeling it was something he might one day have to use. He was right as usual.

  As he shut the door quietly he smiled to himself. This should give her something to shout about. Turning, he saw a boy standing by the kitchen door.

  Jamesie shook his head in consternation. She wouldn’t dare . . .

  Striding across the kitchen, too angry to care about the noise, he snapped on the light.

  ‘Hello, do you live here?’

  Barry had forgotten him, forgotten who he was.

  ‘Where’s your Aunt Debbie?’

  A deep voice answered him and the sound of it made him wince.

  ‘She is in here with me, mate. We heard you coming round the back. Got up a welcome party to greet you.’

  June’s voice was as strident as ever.

  Jamesie closed his eyes in distress.

  As he walked into the lounge he thought he had walked into the wrong house. The place looked like a tip. Or the nearest to a tip Debbie would allow it to be. It actually looked lived in. The three kids were in there, little Barry now ensconced on his aunt’s lap.

  ‘So what brings you back here then? Carol dinged you out, has she?’ June enquired.

  He didn’t answer and Debbie laughed out loud.

  ‘You hit the nail on the head there, Mother. Well, Jamesie, I’m afraid you lucked out, mate. This place is full up and will be for quite a while.’

  ‘This is my house, Debbie. I say who comes in and who goes out.’

  June’s voice was low.

  ‘Well, my husband, her father, might have a different opinion on that. I’d better warn you about that straight off. Well upset Joey is at the treatment you’ve meted out to his baby. Always his favourite was my Debbie. She kept a lot from him, but not any more.’

  Jamesie felt the icy fingers of fear at his throat. He looked at his wife and she stared back all innocence.

  ‘I haven’t told him everything, stop worrying. You’d have heard from him by now if I had, don’t you think?’

  Jamesie turned on his heel and walked from the house. Everyone knew he would never come back.

  June looked at her daughter and laughed.

  ‘About time your father came in handy, ain’t it? Even if it is only for frightening cowards, old people and small children.’

  They all laughed.

  Even Rosie.

  Alana, always with an eye to the main chance, said loudly, ‘Any chance of hot chocolate to make us all tired again?’

  ‘Just like you were, that one. Doesn’t miss a trick,’ said June fondly.

  Debbie grinned.

  ‘I hope she has more sense, Mother. I really, really do.’

  June looked at her granddaughter and felt a spark of affection.

  ‘She will. She’s her mother’s daughter that one. Susan was a lot of things but she wasn’t stupid.’

  Debbie looked at her seriously.

  ‘Oh, but she was, Mum, that’s the trouble. We both were. But not these kids. I’ll tell them what to look out for in life so they never make the same mistakes.’

  June didn’t answer for a while. Then she said softly, ‘Yes, love. That’s a good idea.’

  Susan was aching. She had been in the same position for over an hour and was too frightened to move. Matty held the blade to her throat and kept talking.

  Susan felt she would go mad if she didn’t stretch herself soon.

  ‘Geraldine came to me through Roselle, Matty. I swear that to you.’

  She shook her head.

  ‘Don’t lie to me. You went through my things, I checked. You’ve been reading my letters. You two-faced bastard.’

  Susan shook her head gently.

  ‘I wouldn’t do that, Matty, you know I wouldn’t.’

  She felt a trickle of sweat as it dripped from her forehead on to the hard pillow.

  Matty laughed again.

  ‘But you would, Susan, you wouldn’t be able to resist it. Who could? I’ve been through your stuff loads of times. Even after Rhianna told me off. But then, Rhianna prefers you now, doesn’t she? All the women prefer you to me. I wonder why that is?’

  She sounded forlorn.

 
; Susan hastened to reassure her.

  ‘No, they don’t. They all take the piss out of me, you know they do.’

  She felt the blade slide into her skin and swallowed hard.

  ‘You’re cutting me, Matty. I can feel it, feel the blood.’

  And she could. It was dribbling down her neck mixing with the sweat. Surely her life wasn’t going to end in a cell in Holloway prison, another victim of Matty Enderby and her psychotic fantasies?

  Geraldine listened to what Roselle had to say and was silent. Every time she looked at Wendy she felt the pain and the horror of what the girl had done. To keep that secret for so long and then to let it out must have been so hard.

  Raped by her father then responsible for killing him. Watching her mother take the can. And all the time she was crying inside, unable to be normal, unable to be a girl again.

  Geraldine knew how that felt.

  Hadn’t her own father been the same? Over friendly with his daughters. So friendly their mother wouldn’t leave them in a room with him on their own. But still she wouldn’t leave him and the good life he provided.

  So she stayed and they had to learn to deal with him themselves as they grew older and wiser and stopped seeing it all as a big game their father played with them. It was the only time he’d shown them affection, during those awful games.

  What he’d had left anyway.

  Now one daughter was married to a man much like him and another was left with a hatred of men that was pathological at times. Geraldine knew she would never lose it.

  ‘What do you want to do, Wendy?’

  She sighed heavily, her lovely young face careworn.

  ‘What do you think I should do?’

  Geraldine took a deep draught of her brandy and coffee and shook her head.

  ‘I really don’t know. From a legal angle, your mother could come out tomorrow. But then, you know that. They’d take you and lock you up in her place. And you and I both know your mother didn’t go to all the trouble she did just to see that happen. I think you should go with half the truth, tell them what he did to you. I think even your mother will compromise on that now, don’t you? But are you ready to tell the world, that’s the question?’

  Wendy nodded sadly.

  ‘All the time she’s stuck in there, I feel it. Every day, every hour, every minute. I watched them decimate us as a family. I took everything Mrs Eappen and her lot could throw at me. I tried to look out for the others but inside I wanted to lie down and die. I can’t take much more of this. Every kind act made me feel worse, every kind word made me feel a fraud, want to tell everyone to stop it. Stop being so nice because I was a terrible person. A terrible person who murdered her father with an empty bottle then let her mother take the blame. The mother of four kids who were left without her, needing her more than anything because she was all they had ever had.’

  The words were spoken simply and without emotion. They were the truth.

  ‘If you talk, you’ll throw it all back in her face, Wendy. You know that’s true. Do what Geraldine says. Tell them what led to the murder and leave the rest,’ Roselle pleaded.

  ‘Mum’s sentence was because of the severity of the attack. She took Dad’s head away because I’d bitten and scratched him, that was the only reason. Because of the forensics. No other reason. If she’d phoned Old Bill there and then, none of the other stuff would have happened. I know that and you both know it.’

  Geraldine was getting annoyed and it showed.

  ‘Listen, Wendy, your mother did it to stop you being put away and I’m inclined to agree with what she did. I think she was acting on instinct, looking out for you as she always had. You can’t throw that back at her now, not after it’s gone this far.’

  Wendy looked at the floor. She moved her big toe in agitation and Geraldine and Roselle were reminded she was still a child, however much she’d had to grow up.

  They were quiet, each collecting their thoughts.

  Finally Roselle spoke.

  ‘Come on, love. Just enough to get your mother out and leave it at that. For Susan’s sake.’

  Susan felt the steel sliding deeper into her skin. Swinging back one fist she knocked Matty from her with all the force she could muster. Which, in the confines of the cell, wasn’t very far.

  Matty hit the dresser heavily, making the doors open and everything inside fall to the floor. It acted as wardrobe, dressing table and shelving. As it collapsed, she disappeared under books, clothes and eating utensils.

  Susan dragged herself off the bunk. She saw Matty get up at the same time, heard footsteps on the landing as the POs scrambled to get to the source of the noise.

  A fight in a cell might be left if the women weren’t likely to use blades. POs were reluctant to get involved in personal disputes. But if an incident occurred where someone was seriously hurt then an inquiry would be called for. So hearing the crash from Enderby’s cell made them move faster than usual.

  Matty was up on her feet and swaying heavily. She was lashing out with a blade. Rushing towards Susan, she brought it up to Susan’s face and attempted to hack at her with all the force she could muster.

  ‘I’ll kill you, Dalston. I’ll rip your face off and watch you die. Like I watched Victor die.’

  Susan was terrified. Matty looked demented in the half light - quite capable of doing what she’d threatened.

  Susan grappled at Matty’s throat and half dragged, half pushed her up against the bunks, kicking out as the blade moved dangerously close to her eyes and neck. She brought her head back and butted the screaming woman with all her might.

  Even as Matty’s nose collapsed under the blow, Susan felt her fingers scratching at her, and the blade in her right hand slicing by Susan’s ear giving her even more strength and adrenalin. Susan realised that Matty was gone, completely gone.

  Her eyes looked red now but it was the blood pouring into them that made her look like the devil. ‘I’ll kill you, Dalston, you watch me.’

  Matty brought the blade up once more in line with Susan’s face and neck. She was laughing now. ‘You’re dead, Dalston.’

  Susan head-butted her again. And this time had the satisfaction of seeing Matilda Enderby drop to the floor.

  As the cell door was opened Susan felt a great surge of relief. But Matty was getting up again. The blade had sliced into Matty’s hand and still she felt nothing, no pain. As she threw herself at Susan she had her teeth bared like an animal. She was a mass of blood and energy.

  The POs watched in amazement as Susan drew back a meaty fist and slammed it into Enderby’s grinning face.

  Finally, after what seemed an age, Matilda Enderby was out for the count. Yet she still managed to keep on her feet for a good ten seconds before she crumpled on to the floor. Nobody went near her. Fear was apparent in every face.

  Susan looked at the POs and said heavily, ‘You took your fucking time.’

  June helped settle the children back into their beds. Little Barry put his arms up for a kiss and June hesitated, then smiling, she hugged him, feeling his sturdy little body against hers. It was a wonderful feeling.

  ‘I love you, Nan.’

  June’s eyes filled with tears. She finally understood the appeal of children. Maybe she should have had sons. She’d always preferred males.

  ‘I love you, little man.’ The words came out instinctively.

  ‘I love me mum best, though.’

  June smiled. ‘Of course you do, mate. Now go to sleep.’

  As she walked from the room, Debbie was outside. ‘Lovely, ain’t they, Mum?’

  June nodded but didn’t answer. She was too choked to say anything.

  ‘If Susan gets out all this will stop, you realise that, don’t you?’

  Debbie sighed tiredly.

  ‘I know that, Mum. But even if I don’t have them long at least they’ll know me. Know they have a second home here when they want it.’

  June stared at her.

  ‘You know somethi
ng, Debbie?’

  She shook her head.

  ‘Tell me?’

  ‘You’re a nice person really.’

  This was said in amazement. Debbie laughed but June was quick to notice she didn’t return the compliment.

  Susan sat on her bunk and shivered. It was freezing with the door wide open. The night PO, Lesley Gardiner, brought Susan in a hot cup of tea. She also placed a blanket across Susan’s shoulders.

  ‘You’re shivering. The medics will be here in a minute, they still have Matty to deal with.’

  Susan nodded.

  ‘Did you hit her hard?’

  She looked into the other woman’s face and said tartly, ‘Of course I hit her bloody hard! She had a knife to me Gregory, didn’t she?’

  The PO sighed and started again.

  ‘How many times did you hit her?’

  ‘Well, you know, it’s funny but I wasn’t counting. I was too busy trying to stop her from doing me permanent damage. Why?’

  The PO raised her eyebrows.

  ‘Remind me never to upset you, Susan Dalston.’

  ‘Is she bad then?’

  Gardiner smiled sadly.

  ‘Put it this way, she was unconscious and none of us could find a pulse. I’d say she was in a bad way, wouldn’t you?’

  Susan swallowed down her fear.

  ‘Listen, she was at my throat, ranting and raving a load of old cod’s. She ain’t all the ticket, you know that.’

  Gardiner drank her own tea and they shared a cigarette.

  ‘Well, you get my vote. But after they’ve given you the once over you’re for the block. At least until they hold a proper investigation.’

  Susan was terrified. This was all she needed.

  Roselle went into the bedroom and hugged Wendy through the bedclothes.

  ‘Are you all right now?’

  She nodded. Her face seemed easier, she looked like a girl again.

  ‘I feel much better just getting it off me chest. I’ve been lying awake nights for so long, just seeing him. Then I see meself hitting him with the bottle. The noise, Roselle, it was such an awful noise. Like a crunch. Every time I think of it, I feel sick. Then I think of Nanny Kate and her face when she realised what he’d done to me. Such disgust in every movement of her hands and in her eyes. I felt terrible. She gave me whisky to drink and she bathed me. Scrubbed me from head to foot. Then you came, much later, when I was falling asleep and took me home with you. I was glad to go. It was awful for her seeing me and being reminded what she had brought into the world.