Lip curling, like a dog that was about to bite, Billy spat in her face. Then, losing it completely, he head-butted her as hard as he could. As his spittle ran down her chin, Debbie sank to the ground.
‘Billy, don’t!’ she screamed, as he repeatedly kicked her. Lost in a red mist, Billy was unable to control himself. Thoughts of his childhood and his mother overwhelmed him, as he drew back his foot again and again.
‘The baby, Billy! You’re hurting our baby … ’
It was the mention of his unborn child that brought Billy to his senses. Sinking down onto his knees, he cuddled Debbie’s battered body to him.
‘I’m so sorry, hen. Please, don’t leave me! I swear to you, I’ll get help. I’ll go for counselling, I’ll do whatever you want me to. I love you, Debs, I really do.’
Debbie had taken such a beating she could barely speak. ‘Go next door,’ she muttered. ‘Use Sharon’s phone … ring for an ambulance.’
‘You can’t go to hospital,’ he pleaded. ‘I’ll get nicked. They’ll put me away.’
‘I have to, Bill, I can’t feel the baby moving. Go and ring one, quick! I promise I won’t grass you up. I’ll tell them I fell down the stairs or something.’
Panicking, he pummelled on the neighbour’s door. ‘Sharon, for fuck’s sake, open up! Debbie’s had an accident,’ he screamed. He didn’t even feel drunk anymore. He just felt sick with fear.
Sharon leaped out of bed and opened her front door. ‘What’s the matter? What happened to her?’
‘Just call a fucking ambulance, will yer?’ Billy was agitated now. He was in Shit Street and he knew it.
Sharon dialled 999. ‘What are her injuries, Billy? They’re asking me what’s happened to her.’ Receiving no reply, she handed the receiver to him.
‘Just fucking hurry up, will yer?’ he told the ambulance service. ‘She’s over eight months pregnant.’
Putting on her dressing gown, Sharon ran next door to help her friend. As soon as she saw Debbie, she put her hand over her mouth in shock. The poor little cow looked like she’d gone ten rounds with Mike Tyson.
‘You bastard, how could you do this to her?’ Sharon screamed at Billy.
‘I didnae do nothing! She was putting the rubbish out … she slipped and fell down the stairs.’
‘You lying fucking cunt,’ Sharon said, through gritted teeth. ‘You keep away from her, Billy McDaid, do you hear me? I’ll go to the hospital with Debs. She needs you like she needs a hole in the head.’
Billy put his head in his hands then sobbed like a baby. ‘I’m so sorry, Debs,’ he said, stroking her bloodied hand.
Debbie was in too much shock to speak. Instead, she nodded dumbly.
Sharon carried her sleeping children into Donna’s, who lived the other side of Debbie. Donna was only too glad to look after the kids and be of help. She liked Debbie, she really did, and couldn’t believe what she was being told.
Sharon ran back into Debs’s flat and pressed the release button on the buzzer to let the ambulance men in downstairs.
‘Get away from her,’ she said vehemently as she noticed Billy stroking her friend’s battered face.
Knowing when he was beaten, and not wanting to face the wrath of the ambulance men, Billy took her advice. Still sobbing, he grabbed his fags and lighter and bolted down the stairs to spill his guts to Andy.
The ambulance men took one look at Debbie and glanced knowingly at one another.
‘I fell down the stairs,’ she managed to mumble.
Yeah, right, they each thought.
Inside the ambulance, Sharon held Debbie’s hand and assured her that everything was going to be okay. ‘You’re going to be just fine, Debs, and so is that little baby of yours.’
Debbie was given some oxygen to help with her breathing. Sharon felt so sorry for her friend as she noticed her tears dripping on to the stretcher.
Once at the hospital, Debbie was classed as an emergency.
‘You’ll have to wait here,’ Sharon was told as her friend was rushed off surrounded by doctors.
As she sat down on an uncomfortable plastic chair, Sharon wished she had asked Debs if there was anyone she could contact for her. She knew Debs had a mum and a brother but didn’t have a clue where they lived. Debbie rarely spoke about either of them. Sharon had only known Debs a matter of months but liked her immensely. She was funny, genuine and honest and certainly deserved a lot more from life than the no-good-bastard she had got herself entangled with. She had been looking forward so much to the birth of her baby and had spoken of little else over the past couple of months. Sharon prayed the opportunity of becoming a mother wasn’t about to be cruelly taken away from her.
Meanwhile, Doctor Agomonga pulled his colleague to one side and explained that there was something wrong with Debbie’s breathing, possibly due to damage to her lungs. The baby was also a major concern as they could only detect a faint heartbeat.
‘Miss Dawson is adamant we put the baby first. I think we must perform a caesarean section, deliver the child, and sort the patient’s breathing out afterwards.’
Debbie asked to speak to her friend alone for a few seconds, before they wheeled her to theatre.
Sharon put on a gown, washed her hands in some surgical disinfectant and went in to face Debbie. She spoke faintly, her breathing laboured.
‘I’ve told the doctors that I’ve no next-of-kin, so if they need anything signed, I’ve given permission for you to do it. If anything happens to me, I want you to contact my brother Mickey. His number’s in my purse. You’ve still got my bag, haven’t you?’
Sharon nodded, unable to stop the tears from streaming down her face. ‘You’ll be fine, Debs. I’ve gotta go now … the doctors are waiting to operate.’
‘And,’ Debbie whispered, grabbing her arm, ‘promise me, Sharon? If I die and my baby survives, look after it for me. Tell my brother and everyone what Billy did to me. Make sure he doesn’t get his hands on the baby. If I’m okay, keep quiet, and say nothing to no one, apart from Donna.’
‘I promise,’ Sharon said.
Debbie’s last thoughts, as the anesthetic took hold, were of her own funeral. She could visualise her mother, shoulders hunched, being supported by Peter. She could see her brother Mickey sobbing at the graveside.
Overcome by tiredness, she closed her eyes.
SEVEN
BILLY MCDAID SAT ON a wooden bench, trying to muster up the courage to walk through the glass doors ahead of him. It was over forty-eight hours since the birth of his son, and he was desperate to visit both Debbie and the boy.
He’d been constantly ringing the hospital since the morning after Debs had been admitted, but getting any information out of the bastards had been like extracting blood from a stone. Today, however, he’d decided to try a different tactic and, amazingly, it had worked.
Albert, one of the old regulars who drank in the Hope and Anchor, had made the phone call for him, pretending to be Debbie’s uncle. Glad to be rid of the suspected abuser with the Glaswegian accent who kept ringing up, the hospital had swallowed old Albert’s yarn and told him the facts. Hence Billy’s arrival at the hospital, armed with a bunch of flowers and a teddy bear, waiting for the right moment to go in.
Deciding that after what he’d done to Debbie there was never gonna be a right moment, he took a deep breath and marched through the glass doors. Shit or bust, he needed to be with his family.
Debbie took a sip of lukewarm tea and looked lovingly into the cot beside her bed. He was gorgeous, her son, tiny but perfect. She was amazed that she had actually created such a beautiful creature. The nurses had only allowed him to be in the same room as her since this morning. They’d said she wasn’t well enough before that. Her injuries were bad, but not as serious as the doctors had first suspected.
A collapsed lung, two fractured ribs and a broken nose were the result of Billy’s frenzied attack on her. The staff had been pleased with her progress, though, and Debbie no longer cared about her injuries. She was
alive, her baby was okay, and that was all that mattered. The only distressing thing for her now was that she’d been advised not to breast-feed.
Not wanting to dwell on what she couldn’t do, Debbie had decided it was time to think positively. At one point in the ambulance, her breathing had been so bad she’d thought she was dying and wouldn’t be around to see her precious baby.
Her friends Sharon and Donna had both been fantastic, absolute stars. Sharon had turned up with a bag full of night clothes and underwear, and had also offered her a place to stay when she was discharged.
‘I’ve made room already,’ she told Debbie. ‘You’ll be fine, living with me, until the council sort you somewhere out. I know it’s not ideal living next-door to that bastard, but don’t worry, I’ll look after you, I promise.’
Debbie was especially grateful that Sharon had kept her word and told no one about what had happened.
‘Wendy and Jenny asked me round the shops and I just told them you’d gone into labour early. They’re like the News of the fucking World them two. Good job I never slipped up or everyone in Barking would have been told by now,’ Sharon had laughed.
Debbie prayed her Mickey didn’t turn up again soon. She just hoped that, because she hadn’t rung him with the promised landline number, he wouldn’t call in at the flat unexpectedly. If he did turn up when she got back, she would just make the excuse that the baby had arrived early and, with a bit of luck, by then her injuries would probably be healed.
In all honesty, though, her brother was the least of her problems. Billy was her main concern and she’d been thinking about him all day. Her head told her that she hated him, despised him, and was well rid. Trouble was, her heart told her differently. She knew he had problems of his own and was worried that, without her in his life, he’d do something stupid. Part of her would always love him, always care for him, and she couldn’t just switch off her feelings. She hadn’t told Sharon and Donna how she felt, nor would she tell anyone else. People would think she was mental and deserved all she got.
Her thoughts were broken by the sound of her son crying. Debbie buzzed the nurse and waited patiently for her to arrive. She hated having to buzz for help just to attend to her baby, but was under strict orders from the doctor to stay in bed and take things slowly.
‘What are you going to call him?’ the nurses kept asking her. She and Billy had both agreed on Charlie for a boy. It was Billy’s idea really; he’d wanted to name him after his dead brother. Debbie hadn’t mentioned this to the nurses, but had just told them she was undecided. This was true. If she wasn’t with Billy anymore, she might as well name him after her own brother, or pick a completely different name which suited the baby more.
Debbie took her son from the nurse and fed him his bottle. He looked nothing like her, he was more like Billy. As she studied him, she racked her brains for a name that would suit him. For some strange reason, she couldn’t think of one.
* * *
Billy ducked out of the way of an oncoming doctor and stood at the entrance to the obstetric ward. He knew that Debs was in a side room, as the nurse had told old Albert so, but he was frightened to ask any of the medical staff for directions. His accent would definitely give him away.
Feeling more and more like a dickhead, with a teddy in one arm and a wilting bouquet in the other, Billy was quite relieved when a young girl pushing a tea trolley stopped and asked him if he was looking for anyone in particular.
‘I’m looking for my sister, Debbie Dawson,’ he lied, imitating a cockney accent to the best of his ability.
The girl smiled. She liked her new job and wanted to be helpful. ‘Debbie’s in that room over there,’ she pointed, ‘last door on the right.’
So far, so good, Billy thought to himself. He’d expected it to be an ordeal just to get to Debs, but it had been an absolute doddle. Feeling nervous as hell, he opened the door and walked in.
‘Hiya, Debs. Please don’t chuck me out. Can we talk?’ he pleaded.
Shocked by his unexpected appearance, Debbie felt nervous and awkward. ‘Sit down over there if you want,’ she said.
Seeing her lying in bed, bruised, fragile and with his son in her arms, brought a lump to Billy’s throat. He hadn’t come prepared with a speech and was stumped as to what to say to her next.
‘I’m lost for words, Debs,’ he finally admitted. ‘I cannae explain why I did what I did. All I can say is that I am so, so sorry. I cannae believe how badly I’ve treated you. I know you must hate me and I’ll understand if you never wannae see me again, but I’m begging you, please, give me just one more chance. I’ll get help for my temper, I’ll do anything you say. I love you, Debs and I want us to be a proper family. I’ll do whatever it takes. I’m nae talking shit, I really do love you. Please say you’ll give me another chance. I’ll make it up to you, I swear I will.’
With tears dropping on to her baby’s face, Debbie held the child as close as her sore ribs would allow. Annoyed with herself for getting all emotional, she stopped crying, cleared her throat and spoke the truth.
‘I don’t know if I can forgive you, Bill. I nearly lost the baby because of you. In fact, I nearly died. At one point the doctors said it was touch and go because my breathing was that bad. How can I give you another chance? I’ll be treading on eggshells for the rest of my life in case I say or do something to set you off again. I can’t live like that, Billy, I really can’t. And, to be honest, I’d be petrified for the baby’s safety. When you lose it, Bill, you’re like a madman. There’s no reasoning with you. What is wrong with you? Why do you do it?’
Billy knew that what she was saying was true. Unable to take his gaze off the little bundle in her arms, he walked towards her. ‘Can I hold him for a minute, Debs, so I can have a proper look at him?’
‘No, you can’t,’ she said, clinging on to her son for dear life. ‘I’ve just asked you a question, Billy. Don’t change the bloody subject! Why did you beat me up? What is it that triggers you off? Is there something in your past that you haven’t told me about?’
Her words and questions struck a nerve. Billy flopped down into his chair, held his head in his hands and began to sob. ‘Yes,’ he managed to mutter. ‘Something really bad happened to me … but I’ve never told anyone, Debs, only my brother. It’s so bad, I cannae tell yer.’
Debbie looked deep into his eyes and could see nothing but fear there.
‘Move your chair nearer,’ she urged him. Then, squeezing his hand comfortingly, she spoke kindly to him. ‘You have to tell me, Billy. Whatever it is, I need to know. If you don’t, I can’t help you.’
Billy held his hands over his face and kept them there. He was too embarrassed to look at her. Feeling thoroughly ashamed, he told her all the horrors of his childhood. As he finished spilling his guts, Debbie was stunned. She’d guessed he had some secret in his past, but never this. Poor Billy. Her heart went out to him.
‘Look at me, Billy, please,’ she said gently.
Getting up off the chair, he ignored her and walked over to the window. He couldn’t look at her in case he saw a look of disgust in her eyes. He was used to seeing it in his own. He saw it every day of every week, and every week of every year, whenever he glanced in the mirror. Opening the dirty window, he gulped in the fresh air. Unlike him, it felt clean and unspoiled.
As Debbie lay there in her hospital bed she felt completely lost for words. She knew from the past odd comment he’d muttered about his mother, that he’d had a shit childhood. But never in a million years would she have thought him the victim of sexual abuse. The signs just hadn’t been there.
Desperate to comfort him but not knowing what to say, she was almost relieved when the baby started to cry.
‘Come on, Bill, don’t stand over there. What happened to you wasn’t your fault. I’ll help you get through this, I promise. Now come over here. Our son’s crying and he needs his daddy.’
Shoulders slumped, Billy walked towards her, managed a half-smile
and took his baby in his arms for the very first time. As he rocked him to and fro, he studied the baby intently and was pleased to see that he had the same colour hair and sharp features as himself. Smiling for the first time in days, he looked at Debs.
‘He’s a bonny lad, eh? Looks just like his daddy.’
Glad to see his mood had lifted, Debbie smiled back. ‘He’s your double, Billy, he’s a ringer for you. Now we must decide on a name. Do you still want to call him Charlie, after your brother?’
‘Can we?’ he asked, surprised. After what had happened, he hadn’t expected any choice in the matter. ‘Can he still have my surname?’
‘Of course he can.’
After kissing his son gently on the forehead, Billy handed him back to her.
‘Can I stay a bit longer, Debs, or would you rather I go now and pop back tomorrow?’
She took a deep breath. ‘I’m a bit tired now, Bill. I could do with some sleep. Why don’t you come back then, eh?’
‘Okay.’ He stood up. ‘Are we still an item, Debs, me and you?’
A nurse entering the room then saved Debbie from replying to his question when she didn’t know the answer. ‘We’ll talk tomorrow, Bill,’ she said softly as she took her medication.
As she watched the nurse put the giant teddy bear on the chair and take the flowers away, Debbie lay deep in thought. She knew in her heart that she still loved Billy, but she was worried about putting her and her son’s safety at risk. She knew Billy needed her and that she couldn’t walk away from that. How could she leave him after what he’d told her earlier? She might be stubborn and hard on the outside, but underneath her tough exterior she was kind and gentle and would do her utmost to help him.
Debbie gently guided the bottle into Charlie’s mouth. As she watched him feed, she knew she couldn’t deny him the chance of having his father around. Boys needed a daddy, and she was damned if she was going to let her son miss out, for the sake of her pride.
Perhaps now that Billy had told her everything, his evil temper would cease to be a problem. He had someone to talk to now, to discuss his problems with. Maybe that would calm him down, stop him losing his rag. Hoping against hope that she was making the right decision, Debbie smiled at her little bundle of joy.
Born Evil Page 5
