The Girl From Number 22

by Joan Jonker

  ‘Is me dad all right, Mam?’ Ben asked, his eyes going to the couch. ‘He’s never slept like that before. He’ll be late for work.’

  ‘That’s his worry,’ Jenny said. ‘He’s still breathing, so there’s nothing wrong with him. Even if there was I wouldn’t feel sorry for him. He got himself drunk, so let him suffer for it.’

  Ben was uneasy, though. ‘He’ll be blazing when he wakes, Mam. You’ll get the blame for not waking him up.’

  ‘Don’t you worry about that, sweetheart, I can look after meself. I’m not going to back away from him ever again, I’ve made up me mind on that. His days of ruling the roost are over, and the sooner he realises it the better.’ Annie glanced towards the couch before lowering her voice. ‘I went in his pockets for the first time in me married life. And I’ve taken a couple of bob out. He’ll have enough for his fare to work and back, but not enough to get drunk on.’

  This confession caused Jenny to raise her brows. ‘Mam, d’yer think that’s wise? Yer could be asking for trouble, ’cos I can’t see him letting yer get away with that.’

  ‘I might be asking for trouble, sweetheart, but it’ll be the first time in twenty years. Yer father’s got away with murder over those years, because I’ve been too frightened to stop him. But when I told yer I wasn’t backing away from him ever again, I meant it.’

  ‘I’ll take the day off, Mam,’ Jenny said, fearful for her mother. ‘I can say I was sick or something. I won’t get into trouble, ’cos I’m never late clocking on, and I’ve never taken time off. I’d rather tell a lie than worry meself sick all day, wondering how yer are. It’s all very well saying ye’re not backing away from me dad ever again, but when it comes to the push, yer couldn’t stand up to him, he’s too strong for yer. It would be different if me and Ben were here, we could help yer. We’ll always help yer, yer know that.’

  ‘I know yer would, sweetheart, but yer don’t need to take a day off on my behalf. You and Ben don’t have to worry yer heads about me. Ada gave me a good talking to last night, and I’ve made up me mind to be strong and not be afraid of yer father ever again.’ Annie lowered her eyes. ‘Did yer hear the goings-on last night, sweetheart?’

  Jenny shook her head. ‘No, why? What happened?’

  ‘I heard a bit of commotion,’ Ben told them, ‘but it didn’t last long, and I soon fell asleep.’

  ‘There wasn’t much commotion, even though yer father was rotten drunk again. Danny Fenwick gave him a punch and knocked him out for the count. If he hadn’t, the street would have been up again.’

  Jenny gasped. ‘Danny knocked me dad out? Oh, my God, what are we coming to, Mam? What are the neighbours going to think of us?’ While she was speaking, Jenny was shivering inside. She could still feel her father’s hands touching her, and the sensation made her feel sick. And it also made her feel dirty. Twice he’d caught her unawares, but it wouldn’t happen again for she would never stay in the house alone with him. She’d never forget what he did, and she would never forgive him. ‘I don’t know why Danny knocked him out, but I’m glad he did. And I hope he hurt him.’

  Three pair of eyes turned to the couch. The sounds were still coming, and Tom Phillips’s chest was going up and down, so they knew he was still alive. But he hadn’t moved an inch. ‘You two get yerselves off to work, and don’t give him another thought. Once yer’ve gone, I’ll wake him up and he can please himself whether he goes back to sleep or goes to work. He’ll get into trouble for being late, but that’s his lookout, not ours.’

  As Jenny was putting her coat on, she said, ‘Yer will run over to Mrs Fenwick’s if me dad starts on yer, won’t yer, Mam? Promise yer won’t try and tackle him on yer own? Never let him catch yer on the hop, for heaven’s sake. Remember, he’s wicked, and he’d think nothing of beating yer to pulp.’

  ‘He’ll not catch me out, sweetheart, yer can rest assured on that point.’ Annie followed her children to the front door. ‘What I can’t understand is why he’s still asleep. I raked the ashes out, lit the fire, made yer breakfast, and he’s never so much as stirred. And I haven’t tiptoed around, I’ve made the same noise raking the grate out as I always do. I don’t know whether Danny packs a powerful punch, or whether it was the amount of beer yer father had.’

  Ben, who was a few inches taller than his sister, looked down at her. ‘Haven’t yer noticed this is the front door, Jenny? This is the first time yer’ve ever come out this way.’

  Jenny smiled. ‘Yer’ve heard the expression about the worm turning? Well, if me mam can turn, so can I. No more running down the entry for me. It’s the front door in future, with me head held high and a smile on me face.’

  Annie patted her cheek. ‘Good for you, sweetheart. If we stick together and let him see we’re no longer afraid of him, perhaps he’ll turn into a worm as well.’

  ‘Mam, the worms you and me are talking about are just a figure of speech. But with me dad, well, he’s a real worm. Always has been, and always will be.’

  It was half past eight when Tom Phillips stirred. Annie had washed up, made the beds, dusted the living room, and had just sat down with a fresh cup of tea. She stayed in her chair and watched as he looked up at the ceiling for a few seconds before turning his head. He did it with a groan, for his whole body ached through lying in one position for so long. He seemed disorientated for a while, as though he couldn’t make out where he was.

  ‘Awake then, are yer?’ Annie held the cup to her mouth and sipped the hot tea. ‘I was beginning to think yer were dead.’

  Tom tried to sit up, but the cramp in his back and legs was painful and he laid his head down again. ‘What’s the bleeding time?’

  Annie couldn’t believe she was so calm, but she relished the feeling. ‘It’s twenty-five to nine.’

  The words were enough to bring Tom Phillips to a sitting position. He was so shocked, he forgot the pain and stared at his wife as though she was mental. ‘I said what’s the time, so don’t try and be funny, yer stupid cow. What’s the bleeding time?’

  Amazed at her lack of fear, Annie said, ‘Stupid cows can’t tell the time, so why don’t yer look at the clock yerself?’

  The next five minutes, however, were to test Annie’s new-found strength. For Tom Phillips was off the couch like a shot out of a gun. He peered at the clock to make sure he wasn’t imagining things, then he turned on his wife. ‘Yer stupid bleeding mare! Why the bleeding hell didn’t yer wake me up? Ye’re sitting there like a stuffed dummy, which yer are, while I’ve lost half a day’s pay!’ He was beside himself with rage. ‘Get off that fat bleeding arse of yours, and see to me breakfast while I get washed. I’ll pay yer back for this tonight, mark my words. I’ll bloody skin yer alive.’ And when Annie didn’t move, he stood over her and ranted, ‘Are yer bloody deaf as well as daft, yer stupid cow!’

  Annie swivelled in her chair to face him. She was shaking inside, but kept telling herself that if she gave in now the rest of her life would be the same as the last twenty years. And she kept a picture of the two children in her mind so she wouldn’t weaken. ‘If yer want breakfast in this house, yer’ll be down at the right time for it. If not, then yer make yer own. I’ve finished running round after yer, so get that through yer thick skull. And if yer don’t want to lose a full day’s pay, then I suggest yer get yerself moving. Don’t look at me for help, ’cos yer won’t get it.’

  The veins on his temples standing out with anger, Tom grabbed a handful of Annie’s hair and pulled her to her feet. ‘Get me breakfast on, or yer’ll be sorry. And keep away from that nosy cow over the road, she’s filling yer head with nonsense.’ He shook his hand, causing Annie to grimace with pain. She thought he was going to pull her hair out by the roots. But the mental picture of her children helped her to stand firm.

  ‘Yer can kill me if yer like, Tom Phillips, but I’m not making yer any breakfast. I am not a slave, and I’ll not be treated like one.’

  Tom threw her from him with such force she pushed the table forwar
d and fell to her knees. But her mind was clear, and when she saw the foot coming towards her she was quick to roll away and scramble to her feet. And if Tom thought he could put the fear of God into her, he’d done just the opposite. It wasn’t fear Annie felt, but anger. Grinding her teeth together, she said, ‘I told yer I’m not making yer any breakfast, and I mean it. If ye’re hungry, then see to yerself. God knows ye’re old and ugly enough.’

  ‘I’ll deal with you tonight,’ Tom snarled. ‘And on top of what yer’ve done to me this morning, there’s the little matter of where yer sleep. Tonight yer get back in my bed, where yer belong. And don’t pretend to be tired, for I’m going to keep yer very busy. Yer’ve been out of me bed for a few nights now, so yer can spend the day thinking of ways to make up for lost time. Ways to make yer husband happy.’ His sinister laugh sent a cold shiver down Annie’s spine. ‘Pretend ye’re a whore, they know how to send a man to heaven and back. But why should I pay when I’ve got one of me own? I’ve got you well trained now on what to do to please me, so why should I throw good money away when all I have to do is lift me finger and you jump?’

  Annie faced him, her eyes filled with the contempt she felt for him. But that didn’t worry Tom Phillips, who didn’t care what anyone thought of him. He just laughed in her face before turning towards the kitchen feeling cocky. While he was having a swill, she’d make his breakfast, he was sure of that.

  But he was wrong. For while he was at the sink with the tap running, Annie picked up her purse, took her coat down off the hook and left the house by the front door. She’d be back when she’d done a bit of shopping, and given him time to get ready and leave for work. She never doubted he would go to work, for he looked forward to the few pints he had every night in the pub on the dock road. He was a creature of habit, was Tom Phillips. A few pints after work put him in the right mood to go home and throw his weight around. He was a nobody at work, not even liked by the rest of the gang. But at home he was the lord and master, and this made him feel powerful.

  All these things were going through Annie’s mind as she stood in the doorway of the sweet shop. It was a handy spot, for she’d be able to see her husband when he turned the corner of the street and headed towards the tram stop. And once he was on the tram she could go home, make herself a hot drink and calm down. And when her head was clear, she could decide what action to take when it came to bedtime. For nothing on God’s earth would make her get into Tom Phillips’s bed ever again.

  ‘Fares please.’ The conductor walked down the aisle of the tram clicking his ticket machine. ‘Have the right money ready if yer can.’ He stopped by Tom’s seat. ‘If yer’ve got a ticket, mister, can I see it?’

  Tom’s mind had been miles away. He was trying to think of an excuse for being late. One his boss would believe. Without looking at the conductor, he put his hand in his pocket for the tuppence he needed for his fare. A puzzled expression crossed his face as he twisted to one side and put a hand in his other pocket. He sensed the conductor was getting impatient, and passed over a silver sixpence. ‘A tuppenny one.’

  The conductor jerked his head in disgust as he turned the handle on his ticket machine and caught the ticket as it came out. There are some miserable buggers in this world, he thought. Never a please, a thank you, or even a kiss me backside. So for spite, he held on to the ticket until Tom held out his hand for it, and the change from his sixpence. And because his mind was elsewhere, Tom didn’t hear the muttered, ‘Miserable bugger. I bet he’s never the life and soul of a party.’ Then came a chuckle as the conductor made his way to the front of the tram to tell the driver, ‘There’s a bloke back there who would be perfect as one of those professional mourners what yer see walking in front of a hearse.’

  Even if he had heard, it wouldn’t have penetrated Tom’s brain, for he was too busy wondering what he’d done with his money. All he could find in his pocket was the sixpence and a threepenny piece. And he should have more than that. But no matter how hard he racked his brains, he couldn’t remember how much he had with him when he went to the pub last night. Or how much he spent in the pub. In fact he didn’t remember anything at all about last night. Not even leaving the pub, or getting home. He mustn’t have gone to bed, because he was wearing his working clothes when he woke up. It was all the fault of that stupid cow he was married to. She should have made sure he was up in time to go to work, and had a breakfast ready for him. She was slipping, and he’d have to sort that out before things got out of hand. The cow what lived opposite, she was feeding his wife’s mind with all sorts of rubbish, and it had to stop.

  With the tram swaying from side to side, Tom pushed thoughts of his wife aside to concentrate on what was important to him. Where was he going to get the money from for the three or four pints of beer he had every night? All the money he had on him was the fourpence change out of the sixpence, and the threepenny bit. Keeping tuppence back for his tram fare home, that would leave him with the paltry sum of fivepence. That was like a drop in the ocean. He needed at least four bob to add to it, for his beer on the way home, and for going to the pub later. None of the lads would have that much money to lend him, but if he could scrounge a shilling off someone, that would see him right for a few pints on his way home. And he’d get money off his wife and kids to go to the pub with. If they didn’t want to part with the money, he’d belt them until they handed it over.

  Annie’s head was splitting as she sat at the table, her fingers nervously picking at the chenille cloth. Tom’s words were going round and round in her head, until she felt like screaming. She had made up her mind she would never again get into bed with him, but had known him long enough now to know that when he said something, he meant it. And if she refused point blank to go into the front bedroom, there would be holy murder. She wasn’t so much afraid for herself, it was the children she worried about. Ben was fifteen, Jenny seventeen. Both far too young to hear the filth that would pour from his mouth. She didn’t want them to hear words no decent man would use in front of children. Words used only by the lowest of the low.

  Annie pushed her chair back so quickly, it toppled over. And as she bent to pick it up, she told the empty room, ‘I’ve been weak, and my kids have suffered for it. But no more. For all I care, Tom Phillips can rot in hell. Let him go to the whores he likes to talk about, that’s all he’s fit for. They wouldn’t worry about his coarse language, or filthy habits, not when they were taking his money.’ She stood for a while with her hands on the chair back, her mind seeking an answer to her problem. There had to be a way, but it was finding it. She had nowhere to go, no place of safety for herself and the children, and no money. Her parents were still alive, but they were too old and frail now to take her troubles to. Besides, it was so long since she’d been to see them, she felt ashamed.

  Taking a deep breath, Annie let out a long sigh. Her eyes looked through the window to the house opposite. Ada had told her she could go to her any time with her problems. But was this one problem Ada couldn’t help her with? Annie knew if she was going to act, she had to do it quickly, before she lost her nerve. So she pulled her coat from the hook, slipped her arms into the sleeves, and made sure the front door key was in the pocket. Then, without giving herself time to think, she crossed the cobbles.

  ‘In the name of God, woman, yer must have the keenest nose in the neighbourhood,’ Ada said when she opened the door. ‘I’m just pouring tea out for me and me mate. Come in quick, before yer let the cold in.’

  Annie was wishing she hadn’t come now. ‘I won’t bother yer if ye’re just going to have a drink, sweetheart. I’ll come back later.’

  Ada leaned forward and pulled on her arm. ‘In yer come, sunshine, there’s no need to waste shoe leather by coming back later. It’s only me and Hetty, we haven’t got two fancy men here as well. And even if we did, we’re not selfish, we’d share them with yer.’

  Hetty called, ‘Will yer come in and shut the flaming door! I’m getting blown off the chair here.�
�

  Annie was losing her nerve. To face one woman with her problem was bad enough, but two she just couldn’t cope with. ‘No, I’ll not come in, sweetheart. You and Hetty have yer cup of tea in peace, and I’ll come over later.’

  ‘Yer’ll do as ye’re told and come in now.’ One sharp tug had Annie standing in the tiny hall, facing her neighbour. ‘We’re mates now, sunshine, and we never begrudge a mate a cup of tea.’ Ada pushed her forward. ‘Move, before Hetty starts moaning again.’

  Hetty greeted Annie with a smile. ‘You must be like my feller, girl. He can smell tea from a mile off.’

  ‘We’ll let you be mother, Hetty,’ Ada said, ‘seeing as ye’re nearest to the teapot. And as I’ve mentioned to yer before, the tea always tastes nicer when you’ve poured it out.’

  Her neighbour grinned. ‘Don’t be trying to soft-soap me, girl, I know yer too well. But if it makes yer happy, I’ll pour the tea while you go to the larder for the biscuits. I never enjoy a cuppa if I haven’t got a biscuit to dunk.’

  While Hetty was busy pouring the tea, and complaining about how difficult it was to dry the washing in this cold weather, Ada pretended to be listening by nodding her head now and again. But out of the corner of her eye she was watching Annie, clasping and unclasping her hands, her chest heaving with sighs she tried to smother. Trouble again, Ada told herself. I couldn’t live like that. I’d either leave the bugger, or poison him.

  Hetty didn’t notice anything amiss, and she kept the conversation going through the first cup of tea and two Nice biscuits. The fact that Annie was so quiet was lost on her. But it wasn’t lost on Ada, and after she’d finished her tea, she put the cup back on the saucer and ran the back of a hand across her mouth. ‘Well, sunshine, out with it. What’s up?’