by Anna King
Josie’s eyebrows rose, then she opened the door.
‘What are you doing here at this time of night?’ she demanded, her glance flitting from Jane to Barney.
Jane got to her feet.
‘Let him in, Josie. He’s come to see his son.’
Josie reeled back in surprise.
‘Barney Hobbs! He’s the mystery father?’
Jane nodded and looked at Barney.
‘Would you leave us for a while, Josie? We’ve got things we have to sort out, and I’d rather not have an audience, if you don’t mind.’
Did she mind! Well, yes, she did actually. But she kept quiet and stood aside to let Barney enter.
‘Thanks, Josie. Bet you’re surprised to see me, ain’t yer?’
‘Yeah, just a bit.’ She looked to where Jane was standing by the front room and asked, ‘You sure you’ll be all right?’
Jane smiled nervously.
‘I’m sure, Josie.’
Josie shrugged and was about to go upstairs when Barney caught her arm.
‘Look, I know it ain’t none of me business, but I went to Rory’s first. He’s in a bad way, Josie. To be honest, he frightened me. He seems to be trying to drink himself to death.’
Josie pulled away.
‘So? What you telling me for? I tried to help him once, and got the door slammed in me face.’
Barney rubbed his chin nervously.
‘Yeah, well, I was only saying. Anyway, thanks for letting me in, Josie. I appreciate it.’
‘You just treat her right, or you’ll ’ave me to answer to.’
Barney bowed his head, then followed Jane into the front room. When the door closed, Josie had a sudden, frightening feeling of loss that she couldn’t explain. Chiding herself for a fool, she ran upstairs and looked in on the sleeping baby. Then, like Jane had done only minutes earlier, she too looked out of the window. She stood there for a long time, biting her lip, while she tried to make up her mind to go over the road.
‘And get the door slammed in yer face again? You must be a glutton for punishment,’ her inner voice mocked her.
Quickly, before she could change her mind, Josie had her coat on and was out of the house and standing in the back yard of the Flynns’ house. Her breath coming in giant gasps, she forced herself to walk in the back door. Bracing herself for another load of abuse, she called out, ‘Rory! You there, Rory? It’s me, Josie.’
The house remained as silent as a tomb. Inching her way through the scullery, she made for the front room, and what she saw there shocked her to the very core of her being.
Rory was sprawled in the armchair, an empty whisky bottle hanging from tobacco-stained fingers, his mouth open and dribbling. Josie’s hand flew to her mouth. She’d had no idea he was this bad. Why on earth hadn’t Jane told her? She stepped nearer, then stopped as the stench emanating from Rory’s body hit her full in the face.
Dear God! He was lying in his own filth. Her first reaction to the awful sight was pity, then her mood changed quickly, and she felt a surge of rage flood through her. Not worrying about her reception now, she fetched a bucket of water from the kitchen and emptied it over the sleeping man’s head. Rory woke instantly, spluttering and coughing at his rude awakening.
‘What…!’
‘I’ll give you what, yer miserable, cowardly bastard. Is this what Shaun gave his life for? Just so as yer could drown yourself in self-pity? You make my blood boil, Rory Flynn. In case you’ve forgotten, you’ve got a sister and baby nephew over the road. Jane came back from Ireland ’cos she was worried about leaving yer on yer own; and she wanted to see her big brother. Her brave, afraid of nothing big brother. That’s a laugh. It’s a good job she had me to come to, ’cos if it’d been left up to you to look after them, they’d be lying in the gutter. Now get yourself up and out the back. You stink like a pig. What would your mum say if she could see yer in this state?’
Stung by the harsh words, Rory staggered to his feet.
‘What’s it gotta do with you, Josie? You ain’t a part of this family, even though you think you are. Now piss off, and take your sanctimonious preaching with yer, ’cos I don’t need it.’
Unperturbed by his outburst, Josie stood her ground, her fists resting on her hips.
‘I ain’t going nowhere till yer clean yourself up. Oh, not for you; you don’t deserve any pity, you’ve got enough of that to spare yourself. I may not be a member of this family by blood, but I am by friendship. And by God, I’m not gonna stand by and watch Annie and Paddy bury another son. ’Cos that’s what you’re trying to do, ain’t it? Only you ain’t got the nerve to do it properly. You’re taking the coward’s way out, in more ways than one. At least some people kill themselves for a reason, and they have the decency to do it quietly and quickly. But not you, oh no! You have to try and drink yourself to death, so as people will think it was just another tragic accident.’ She circled him, her nose wrinkling in disgust. ‘Now, you gonna get yourself washed and into some clean clothes, or do I have to get them off you meself?’
Rory was wide awake and sober now. He looked down at himself and felt waves of shame and humiliation flood through him. That Josie, of all people, should see him like this was unbearable. Brushing past her, he headed for the scullery.
‘Thanks for the concern, Josie. And now you’ve done your good deed for the day, you can bugger off back home.’
Josie faced him, her eyes unflinching.
‘I told you, I ain’t going nowhere till you’re cleaned up. Then you can help me get this place clean an’ all. If your mum came back unexpectedly and saw her beautiful home looking and smelling like a backstreet pub, she’d have a heart attack. Then you’d ’ave another death on your conscience. You’d like that, wouldn’t yer? It’d give yer another excuse to kill yourself—’
The door to the scullery banged shut, but Rory could still hear the scathing words, and he couldn’t bear it any more.
‘Shut up! D’yer hear me? Shut the fuck up!’
Rory stood in the scullery doorway, his face and hair dripping with water, wearing a pair of crumpled but clean trousers held up by braces. His eyes wild, he stared at Josie, and she held his gaze until he was forced to look away. Pushing her roughly aside, he staggered back into the front room and went to sit down in his chair, then he paused, his eyes staring down at the stained material. And suddenly he couldn’t take any more. Being forced to face what he had allowed himself to become was the final straw. He stumbled, then lowered himself gently on to the sofa and dropped his head in his hands.
Josie couldn’t bear to watch any longer. She had done all she could; the rest was up to him.
‘Don’t go, Josie, please. Stay awhile with me. I… I don’t want to be on me own any more.’
Josie’s eyes rested on his bowed head, and despite all her efforts she couldn’t hide the love she still felt for this man. Even if he didn’t feel the same, she would never stop loving him, no matter how many times he pushed her away. But he wasn’t pushing her away; he was asking… pleading with her to stay. Yet could she bear to go through all that hurt again?
‘He’s dead, Josie. Shaun’s dead, and… and it’s all… all my fault. I killed him, Josie. D’yer hear what I said? I… I killed him. Me own… brother. Help me, Josie… Please… please, help me. I… I don’t know what to do.’
His body heaved with dry sobs, and so fierce were they that Josie feared they would tear him in two. With a cry of pity, she was across the room and sitting beside him, holding his head in her lap as he continued to cry.
‘Oh, Josie. I should never have let yer go. I… I love yer, Josie. I know yer … yer probably won’t believe me, but… but I do. I always have. I’ve been such a fool, Josie. Will yer give me another chance? I… I won’t let yer down again, I… I promise. Shaun loved yer too, Josie. And I was jealous of him, ’cos he was a… a better man than I could ever be. And now… now he’s gone, and… and I never had the chance to tell him…’
Josie held him tight.
‘It’s all right, Rory, everything’s gonna be all right. And you mustn’t worry about Shaun. He knew you loved him, just like he loved you. It’s just that men don’t tell each other things like that. Most times, especially in families, they don’t have to; they just know. You sleep now, Rory. You sleep and let me look after you.’ Laying her head next to his, she whispered, ‘I love you, Rory. I always have and I always will.’ She felt his hand reach for hers and clasped it tightly.
Who knew what tomorrow might bring when Rory was sober? Would he still feel the same, or were his words of love simply another reaction to the whisky and self-pity? She hugged him closer. It didn’t matter. She had plenty of love for both of them; it would be enough. And as his body grew calmer and inched ever closer to hers, she felt his love reach out and touch her; and she held fast to his body and the love emanating from it. She was home at last.
And maybe this time it was for good.
Acknowledgements
My love and thanks to my niece, Hollie Masterson, for inspiring the title of this book. Keep singing, sweetheart, and don't forget your Auntie Anna when you're rich and famous.
I would also like to mention Mary Graham, a friend for over thirty years, and better known as the Hedda Hopper of the East End! Here's my latest effort, Mary, and all I can say is: 'Pick the bones out of this one!' Still love you lots anyway.
First published in the United Kingdom in 2003 by Time Warner Books
This edition published in the United Kingdom in 2018 by
Canelo Digital Publishing Limited
57 Shepherds Lane
Beaconsfield, Bucks HP9 2DU
United Kingdom
Copyright © Anna King, 2003
The moral right of Anna King to be identified as the author of this work has been asserted in accordance with the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act, 1988.
All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopy, recording, or any information storage and retrieval system, without permission in writing from the publisher.
A CIP catalogue record for this book is available from the British Library.
ISBN 9781788630603
This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, organizations, places and events are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events or locales is entirely coincidental.
Look for more great books at www.canelo.co
