Читать книгу Before You Were Mine: the breathtaking USA Today Bestseller - Em Muslin - Страница 17

CHAPTER 11

It didn’t take long into our marriage before Tommy and I slotted into each other’s routines. Like two new pennies at the arcade, we were glistening and full of great anticipation. Whilst Tommy went to the garage, I prepared the house for his return. He made it pretty clear from the offset he didn’t want me going out to work, which suited me just fine.

I would awaken at six a.m. and prepare his and his Mama’s breakfast, just like my Ma did for my Pa. I’d let the smell of bacon waft upstairs before opening the window. My Ma always said if you fill a man’s stomach, he’d fill the house with goodness. I’d run his bath for him, a little before frying the bacon, so that it had cooled a touch, by the time he soaked himself. Just the way he liked it.

My Pa only ever had a bath in the evening and thought that as he was going to get himself dirty by mid morn, there were no point in cleaning yourself again. But my Tommy, he liked things precise. That would change in the years to come. He liked his bacon with the fat on but crispy, his coffee sweet and black, his biscuits buttered to the edges, and so I’d run his bath, fry the bacon, pour him some coffee, and check the water was just so.

As soon as I heard him splashing about in the big ol’ tub, I’d set to on clearing the dishes and making his lunch. Tommy’s a meat and two veg man, so there was no point in making him a cheese sub or nothing. I did that once and it broke my heart to see the lunch untouched when he got on home. He didn’t say anything, don’t get me wrong, but he just passed me back the Tupperware box, still full. He hadn’t even touched the cake I’d baked, sliced and wrapped in there. So ham, beef, chicken, or pork it was.

On a Sunday I’d fry us some chicken and, depending on what was left over, I’d wrap up it and pop it in the fridge before the afternoon heat had a chance of eating away at it, so there’d be enough for his lunch for a couple of days. I’d hear him getting dressed upstairs and be pleased to know he was putting on the clean pair of overalls I had pressed the previous evening. I know Bert and the others laughed at him at first, but I wasn’t gonna let their jibes get in the way of me being a good wife. If word got back to my Ma I was sending my husband out to work looking like a new pin, then that was good enough for me.

When Tommy came down the stairs carrying his Ma – who would sit content day after day in her seat looking out onto the front yard – his hair combed, smelling of soap, I’d have the dishes washed, the floor swept, and his lunch in my hand, ready to kiss him goodbye. I knew my Ma still brought the boys iced soda over and I know she would take Tommy one too. It niggled away at me though, so every now and again when I got up the nerve to walk to the garage, I’d pop over in the afternoon – when the heat was at its highest – and bring Tommy a large bottle of iced cola, just so he knew I cared.

Once I had kissed him goodbye, I’d take his Ma her breakfast and tea, pluck some flowers from the yard to place in her favourite vase, and begin my chores upstairs. I’d work my way down, so that by the time he came back, the place would be shining like a medal. I’d strip the bedding and replace it with newly pressed sheets. I pulled back the dresser and swept up the dust – the same with the bed and the closet, making sure I polished the legs of the furniture as I went along.

I remember once, not long after we were married, I had picked up a bug and had to stay in bed for the day. My fever was high and the stomach cramps were so intense, I thought my legs would buckle under me. I was amazed when I ran my finger across the mantelpiece a day later and noticed how much dust had collected.

Tommy had a habit of leaving the bath water in and never pulling the plug, so I’d empty it out, pick up his towels that lay on the floor, and scrub the porcelain until it was shiny and new. I’d get a dry cloth and polish the faucets so you could see your reflection in them. I’d wash the bath out every night, after we’d bathed his Ma. Later I’d lie in bed, whenever I couldn’t sleep, and think about the dust mites that would jump out at night, ready and waiting for the very next day.

It’d be mid morn before I’d finished, so all I had to do was clean upstairs. The heat would beat down on the dusty roads. I kept the shutters closed to keep the cool in as long as possible, except the one at the front, so Eloise could look out at the passers-by.

By midday it’d get unbearable. I’d be sweating buckets cleaning those cupboards and no matter how much iced water I’d drink, I’d still need some more. Once I’d finished one glass, I’d be pouring myself another, so that the water never got time to cool and the only option was to drink the lukewarm water straight from the faucet, which had been heated by that morning’s sun. I guess I could’ve helped myself to an iced soda, but they were Tommy’s and I didn’t want him thinking I was frittering away his hard-earned money, lounging around the house, sipping on expensive cola.

I’d have a system whereby when the whole house was clean and all that was left to do was to rotationally scrub and sort out the cupboards, I’d prepare Tommy’s supper so it was ready to cook before he got on home. I’d then clean myself up and head out to the store. Although it was the hottest time of day to be sitting in your car, I had worked out that just after lunch the roads were quieter and I could get to Mallory and back within an hour and a half.

I loathed having to shop at the local store and I’d write list after list of all the things I needed, so I wouldn’t forget a thing and have to face the withered expression that permanently sat on Mrs Tomlinson’s brow. I’d often take my make-up with me and doll myself up a little when I got out of town, so that I could buy Tommy’s beer without someone staring at me with their accusatory beady eyes and ask me for my ID. Even now, after all those years had gone by, I didn’t set foot once across that store door. Mrs Tomlinson may have since retired, and I’d long passed my twenty-first, but the shadow of her blackened heart still prevailed.

My Ma had never learned to drive and I think having to depend on the boys to take her up town got her down sometimes. When I moved out and borrowed Tommy’s car to pay the bills and get the groceries, I’d pass by her house, when I knew my brothers had gone to work, and offer her a lift. However, she never took it up and even though I could see the groceries needed restocking, she insisted it was all in hand.

The heat beat down hard and the air was thick, so I liked getting in the car to feel a little breeze as you passed the world by. When the engine ticked over, I’d settle into my seat, switch on the radio and enjoy the ride to town. When I turned onto the main drag, I’d always see Georgina Williams dangling her feet as she sat on the bench in her Ma’s front garden. Every day from dawn ’til dusk she’d sit there, watching the cars pass by, muttering to herself. Repeating the same ol’ words over and over again.

No one was quite sure whether she had actually been born that way, or if it was the passing of her Pa that rendered her slow. She was only three years old, when the so-called Lord saw fit to take him away. I recall I could have only been four years old myself, when one night the town fell quiet. I think I must have been lying in bed, when I heard my Pa get up from downstairs and switch off the television to listen to the eerie quiet of the night.

I remember I looked out of the window and people had come out of their houses to listen to the silence. It was the first time they had closed the mill down since it had begun, but when Joe Williams found himself caught under the pounder, the owners had no choice but to send everyone home. By all accounts his death had been quick and once his shirt had gotten caught, he was gone.