Читать книгу Born Bad - Josephine Cox - Страница 13

PHIL SAUNDERS WAS looking for trouble, but that was nothing new. ‘Who’s for a pint down the pub?’ Stripping off his overalls he scanned the room, his hard stare alighting on his work-mates who had yet to respond. ‘What? None of you fancies a pint? I don’t believe it!’

‘Looks like you’re on your own, matey.’ That was Jimmy Clayton, a stick-thin man in his late forties, with a straightforward, no-nonsense manner.

‘Oh, really?’ Incensed, Phil Saunders squared his broad shoulders. ‘And what’s that supposed to mean?’

‘It means what it says.’ The other man made a wide gesture with outstretched arms. ‘Look around. Do you see anybody rushing to join you?’

‘Oh, so now you speak for everybody else, do you? Anyway, what makes you think I give a sod whether any of you come or not? Matter o’ fact, it’s just as well, ’cos I’m a bit particular about my drinking partners.’

‘There you go then.’

Clayton’s attitude was riling Saunders, who took a step closer. ‘Seems to me like you’re itching for trouble, mate.’

‘You’re wrong. I don’t want trouble. The thing is, I’ve had to work alongside you all week. I’ve put up with your foul temper and constant complaining, because I’ve got no choice. But the last thing I need is to go drinking like we’re “mates”, because we’re not mates and we never will be.’

Saunders continued to goad him. ‘The truth is, you wouldn’t dare come down the pub in case you might have to dip into your wages; the little wife wouldn’t like that, would she, eh?’ He gave a sneering laugh. ‘I bet she waits at the door every Friday with her greedy little mitts held out, waiting for the wages you’ve sweated for.’ He sniggered. ‘I bet she even gives you pocket money.’

For what seemed an age the smaller man looked Saunders in the eye, his jaw working up and down and his fists clenched together.

‘Want to punch me, do you?’ Saunders stuck his face out. ‘Go on then, matey, you try it. We all know who would come off worse, don’t we, eh?’

‘Leave it, Phil.’ That was Arnie Reynolds, a big bumbling lump of a man. ‘There’s no need to rile him. If Jimmy doesn’t want to come for a drink, that’s his choice, and whatever his reason, it’s not for you or any of us to question.’

Taking a deep noisy breath through his nose, Saunders let it out through his mouth, together with a torrent of words. ‘You’re all the bloody same. Can’t stand on your own two feet. Lily-livered, the lot of you.’

‘Hey! That’s enough o’ that.’ Stuart McArthy was a Scot with an attitude, though unlike Saunders he was not a bully. ‘I for one happen to have a real thirst on me, so why don’t we stop the gabbing an’ make our way to the pub.’

He had a word of advice for Jimmy. ‘He’s right though, Jimmy lad. A man needs to show the little woman who’s boss. Otherwise she’ll run rings round you.’

Saunders laughed out loud. ‘That might be good advice for a real man, but y’see, our Jimmy wouldn’t know how to be a real man. He’s a coward through and through – ain’t that right, Jimmy Boy?’ A man in his prime, Phil Saunders considered himself to be a cut above the rest. ‘You won’t catch me pandering to no bloody female! Never in a million years. Anyway, what’s so different about your woman that you treat her so special, eh?’

‘She’s my wife … the mother of my children, and if that isn’t enough, I happen to love and respect her.’ Like every man jack there, Jimmy was well aware of the way Saunders treated his wife, Judy. ‘You might want to think about that,’ he added.

‘I think you’d best explain yourself!’ Saunders said dangerously.

‘I don’t have to explain anything. You asked me why I treat my wife so special and I’m telling you.’ Leaning forward, Jimmy lowered his voice. ‘I don’t treat my wife like a piece of rubbish. Nor do I take my temper out on her.’

With an animal-like growl, Saunders got him by the throat. ‘You bastard! What the hell are you insinuating, eh?’ He locked his fingers tighter, until Jimmy’s face felt like it was boiling. ‘Are you saying I don’t love my Judy … or that I don’t respect her? Is that what you’re saying?’ He squeezed his hands tighter. ‘I’ve a good mind to finish you here and now!’

Jimmy truly thought he would never see another day. He couldn’t breathe. His eyeballs felt as though they would pop right out of his head, and his tongue was clamped so hard between his teeth, he could feel the pain right through to his chest.

When in that moment, the other two men leaped forward and tore Saunders away, Jimmy fell to the ground, coughing and spluttering; thankful that he might live to tell the tale.

‘I thought you said you were off to the pub,’ intent on cooling the situation, McArthy asked of Saunders. ‘So, are you coming, or do I go without you?’

‘I said so, didn’t I?’ Glancing at Jimmy who was now up on his feet and smoothing down his hair, Saunders’ smile was pure evil. ‘It’s good to see there’s at least one man in the place besides me who knows how to spend his own hard-earned money.’

Jimmy did not rise to the bait a second time, although he managed to croak, ‘You’re a lucky man, Saunders, if you can afford to chuck your money about. As for me, I’ve got better things to do with mine. I’ve a family waiting for me, with a clutch of kids that need my every penny.’ He addressed the other two men. ‘See you.’

Saunders’ goading voice followed him. ‘Get going then, you pansy – unless you want me to help you through the door!’

‘See you tomorrow.’ The others had no axe to grind with Jimmy. If they had to choose out of him and Saunders, Jimmy was the better man.

‘What about you then, Bill?’ Saunders addressed the man next to him. Tall and willowy, Anderson was a reliable workmate who grafted tirelessly, though he kept his distance and never got caught up in heated arguments. ‘Gonna join us for a drink, are you?’

‘Nope.’ A man of few words, his conversations were short and to the point.

‘Why’s that?’ Saunders was still heated from his set-to with Jimmy.

‘Got my own reasons, and before you ask, I don’t discuss my business with anybody.’

Saunders gave a cynical laugh. ‘You’re a miserable bugger!’ But he said no more. He suspected Bill Anderson of having hidden depths; and that if he and the other man ever did have an affray, it might not be Anderson who came off worse. So, with that in mind, Saunders stayed true to form, by picking only on those weaker than himself.

Aware that Bill was growing impatient with Saunders, Arnie Reynolds moved towards the door. ‘Cheerio then, Bill, see you tomorrow.’ Turning to the others he called out, ‘Stuart! Phil! Are you two coming or what?’

With the three men gone, Bill Anderson walked over to the far end of the warehouse, where he found the worried foreman taking stock.

With a good three years to retirement, Joe Peters did not carry his age well. Having now shrivelled in size, he was permanently bent over. His spectacles were too large for his tiny face, and where he constantly screwed up his nose to keep them in place, the deep troughs of wrinkles had etched a pattern alongside his sunken cheekbones.

‘You’re like Will -o’-the-Wisp,’ Bill said, relieved to have found him. ‘One minute you’re there, the next you’re nowhere to be seen.’ Bill had always liked and respected Joe Peters, thinking him a fair-minded and honest sort.

‘I needed to check these rolls of canvas.’ Joe made a quick entry into his ledger. ‘We’re two rolls short. Whoever checked the delivery obviously didn’t do his job properly.’

‘Well, it weren’t me,’ Bill informed him abruptly.

‘Have the men gone?’

‘Yes … just now.’

‘Right, well, I’ll have to deal with it in the morning.’

‘Maybe the lorry driver had the two rolls away, thinking no one would notice,’ Bill suggested light-heartedly.

‘Maybe he did, and who could blame him, when the load isn’t properly checked as it comes off? This isn’t the first time, and if it’s not put a stop to, it won’t be the last, then we’ll all lose our jobs!’

Bill suddenly realised the implications. ‘What? Are you saying it’s one of us?’

‘I’m not sure, but you can rest easy, because you and Arnie are two men I would trust implicitly.’

‘So, you’re saying it’s either McArthy or Saunders who’s the thief?’

‘No! I am not saying that.’

Bill was persistent. ‘There is no way one man on his own could shift even one roll of that canvas.’

Looking thoughtful, the little man nodded. ‘I already thought of that. It would certainly be a difficult thing to do without anyone knowing or seeing.’ He fell into deep thought. ‘But if there was an arrangement of sorts …’

‘What kind of arrangement?’

The little man shook his head. ‘Like you said, it might be the lorry driver’s fault, after all. Or it could be that there was a mistake at the other end, and the rolls were never put on the lorry in the first place. The trouble is, there have been these other things of late …’ He lapsed into silence.

‘What things?’ Bill was curious.

‘Never you mind.’ Briskly now, the little man bade him good night.

Before he left, Bill asked the foreman, ‘Did you hear that skirmish between Phil and Jimmy?’

The little man grunted. ‘Saunders is a troublemaker. If he wasn’t a good worker, he’d be out that door so fast you wouldn’t see his heels for dust.’ He wagged a bony finger. ‘I’ll tell you this. He’s sailing very close to the wind. One more set-to like that and it’ll be his last under this roof.’

Bill nodded knowingly. He had no doubt but that the foreman was keeping a wary eye on Phil Saunders, and with every right.

‘Do you need any help finishing off here?’ Bill enquired.

‘What? You think I’m too old and frail to do my job, is that it?’ The fear of losing his work was a constant nightmare for old Joe.

‘Good God, man! I was only offering a helping hand so’s you could finish up and get away home.’ Bill was taken aback by Joe’s sharp response. ‘I’d do the same for any one of us.’

‘I know, and I didn’t mean to snap at you like that,’ Joe apologised. ‘It’s just that, well, three weeks ago I had to inform the manager about those boxes of spare machine parts that went missing, so he’s already on the alert. I did manage to sort that one out; it was a mix-up in the ordering – but he won’t be too pleased if I report that there are two rolls of top quality, heavy-gauge canvas missing, which will make us short for that big order on tents.’

‘So, d’you reckon you can get to the bottom of it, without him ever knowing?’ Bill was worried. Like Joe said, this was not the first instance of its kind, though it was the most serious.

‘I hope so. I intend following every avenue, until I do.’

After they parted and Bill was going through the door, Joe called after him. ‘BILL!’ He came scurrying towards him. ‘Don’t say a word to anyone about what you’ve been told here.’ He tapped his nose meaningfully. ‘Least said soonest mended, eh?’

‘I won’t say a word,’ Bill assured him, ‘and don’t you worry – I expect you’ll find that the driver overlooked the rolls when he loaded up at the other end.’

But as Bill walked to his car, the full impact of the incident suddenly hit him hard. Even if the driver had accidentally miscounted his load, whoever checked the rolls into the warehouse should have noticed.

It was a puzzle, and a worrying one at that. Big heavy rolls of canvas didn’t just disappear. Besides, you needed more than one man to move them. He recalled something Joe had said about an arrangement.

My God! Bill thought. Was there really a thief among them? Somebody who was willing to put all their livelihoods at risk? And if so, which one was the culprit?

Naw! he decided. I can’t believe that. I won’t! Besides, if we had a thief among us, I’m sure we’d know.

It’ll be a simple mistake, that’s what it’ll be.

But like Joe, he could not be certain.

It was a bad thing, and if it had to be dealt with by management, they’d all be under suspicion; each and every man jack of them.

After a process of elimination, his thoughts came to Phil Saunders. ‘I’d bet my life that Stuart and Arnie are as straight as the day’s long,’ he muttered. ‘But if I’m honest, I can’t be that sure of Saunders.’

He had not known Phil as long as he’d known the others, but even in their relatively short acquaintance, over two years, he had come to realise that Saunders had depths of wickedness in him.

‘Wickedness, bordering on evil!’ When he said it out loud like that, it seemed rather inconceivable but where Saunders was concerned, he should know by now, anything was possible.

He thought of Judy Saunders, the man’s wife. ‘He’s a damned bully,’ he muttered. ‘We all know that from Pauline at the Bedford Arms. There’s talk that he once beat Judy so badly, she was put in hospital for a week.’ His expression darkened. ‘Bastard! He should be hung, drawn and quartered!’

Ashamed, he glanced at himself in the rear-view mirror. That was just gossip though. Pauline herself had denied any knowledge of it, but who was to say what the truth was? As the old saying had it: there was no smoke without fire.

The pub had closed half an hour since, but two customers lingered.

‘Alan! Get him out of here!’ hissed Pauline, who had no time for Phil Saunders, and even less for the woman with him. ‘I’ve a damned good mind to turn the hosepipe on the pair of ’em!’

Pauline’s contempt was heightened by their lewd laughter and sniggering, and how the girl was whispering in Phil’s ear while he had his hand up her skirt. Phil Saunders was a married man with a spiteful side to him, while the girl was one of a shameless pack, got for two-a-penny in Bedford Town.

The one person Pauline cared about was Judy, who had to put up with this bastard.

‘Alan!’ She called her husband again. ‘Just look at them! Turn my stomach, they do. And there’s Judy waiting at home, wondering where the hell he is.’

‘Yes, all right, I can see for myself what they’re up to.’ Alan stopped wiping a table and emptied an ashtray into the bucket on the floor. Like Pauline, he was sickened to see what was going on. ‘You get off to bed, love. I’ll deal with this.’

‘I want him out NOW!’ Hands on hips, she was determined to make sure he put them both out on the pavement, with the door securely bolted behind them.

‘Listen to me, love, I’d rather you got out of the way. I’m not risking you getting involved in a skirmish. You know well enough what Phil can be like when he’s had a few. Now, go on, Pauline. Do as I ask.’ He gave her a gentle push. ‘Away upstairs with you. I’ll not be far behind.’

Bristling with anger, Pauline made her way across the room, passing Phil Saunders and the girl on the way. ‘You no-good rubbish!’ She glared down at him. ‘You should be ashamed. You don’t deserve a wife like Judy.’

‘Who the devil d’you think you’re talking to?’ Phil struggled to his feet, then fell back in the seat and was laughing out loud, one arm round the floozy and the other steadying himself on the chair. ‘Me and my friend here, we pay good money for our booze, and we don’t bother nobody. The thing is,’ he burped noisily, ‘we don’t want to be disturbed.’ He gave a lazy wink. ‘You know what I’m saying, don’t you, eh?’ He scowled. ‘So go on, bugger off and leave us to it, why don’t you?’

Before Pauline could reply, Alan was there to intervene. ‘You’d best go,’ he told Saunders. ‘And take your “friend” with you.’

‘Oh, dearie me!’ Hanging onto the woman, Saunders managed to stand up straight. ‘Want us out, do you?’

‘That’s the idea, yes.’

‘What if I said we’re not moving from here …’ he turned to grin at the girl ‘… not for a while anyway?’

‘I would not advise it.’

‘Well, we’re not going, so what d’you intend doing about that, eh?’

Alan’s answer was to take hold of the woman’s arm and lead her to the door, with Saunders tugging at her, cursing and swearing, and threatening all manner of punishment. ‘You’ll not get away with it!’ he warned the older man. ‘You know what I’m capable of when I set my mind to it.’

‘Oh yes – I know what you’re capable of all right, especially when it comes to beating up women. But you don’t know what I’m capable of. Up to now, I’ve been polite, but you wouldn’t want to push me too far!’

Handling the woman carefully, Alan prepared to usher her through the door. ‘You’d best make your way home,’ he instructed. ‘The pub’s shut and I’m about to lock up.’

‘She’s not going anywhere, and neither am I.’ Coming up behind him, Phil bumped Alan aside, grabbed the girl and yanked her backwards. The two of them lost their balance and began rolling about the floor laughing hysterically. ‘Shut up, woman!’ Saunders gave her a playful slap. ‘Come on, get me up.’

Grabbing the pair of them by the scruff of the neck, Alan pushed them out on the pavement. ‘I should shift a bit smartish if I were you,’ he advised them, ‘before the police happen along and lock you in the cells for a night.’

Addressing the girl, he gave her a piece of well-meant advice. ‘If you’ve got an ounce of common sense, you’ll stay well away from this fella. When he’s sober he’s nasty, and when he’s drunk, he’s even nastier than that.’

His meaning was clear. ‘It might be best if you didn’t hang around to find out.’

Some part of his message must have got through her drink-sozzled brain, because she fought Saunders off and began to walk unsteadily down the street on her own.

When she was far enough away, Alan hoisted Phil Saunders by the collar and slammed him against the wall. ‘You’ve got a lovely young wife at home,’ he reminded Saunders. ‘She’s worth ten of that little tart. I don’t know how you got your claws into Judy, but if I was her, I wouldn’t even let you through the door!’

Humiliated and angry, Saunders began blustering. ‘It’s none of your damned business. Judy is my woman and I’ll do as I please – have you got that?’

He then fell in a heap on the ground and lay there, burping and giggling, until suddenly his mood darkened. ‘That damned Judy! I know what she’s up to all right, and I’m telling you now – if she ever crosses me, I’ll snap her neck like a dry twig!’ He struggled to his feet, breathing heavily.

Alan snatched him by the shoulders and ground out: ‘You listen to me, sunshine.’ Shoving his face to within an inch of Saunders’s, he promised, ‘If I ever find out you’ve laid a finger on that girl, I swear to God, I’ll swing for you.’ When there came no response, he tightened his hold. ‘Did you hear what I said? Has it got through that thick mist of booze and arrogance – has it? ANSWER ME, YOU HEAP O’ RUBBISH!’

‘All right! All right! I won’t hurt her,’ came the sulky answer. Then he turned maudlin. ‘I love her, don’t you know that?’

‘You don’t love her,’ Alan said scornfully. He was aware of Judy’s story; not all of it, but enough to realise that she was as lonely and frightened as any young woman could be. ‘You wouldn’t know how to love anybody. You control her, that’s what you do. You use and defile her, then you demand her love and loyalty in return. You don’t even know her. You’ll only ever be satisfied if you bring her down to your own level, but you’ll never be able to do that, because for all her suffering and loneliness, she’s a cut above you, and always will be.’

Astonished to see tears in the other man’s eyes, he lowered his voice. ‘Let her go, Saunders!’ he urged. ‘You’re no good to her. Acting like this, you’re no good to her. The way you are now, you’re no good to anybody!’ Then, hardening his heart again, he thrust him aside. ‘Now get out of my sight. But remember what I said – Judy is a good friend to me and mine, and we’ll be watching. So you just think on that.’

‘Get off me!’ When the older man released him, Phil remained where he was, propped unsteadily against the wall, shoulders sagged and a look of defeat on his sorry face.

In his fogged mind, he did love Judy, but not with tenderness or joy. It was a spiteful love – of dictatorship, and unfounded suspicions. Deep down, he knew his wife had no feelings for him, and it drove him crazy.

Truth was, Phil Saunders had never known Judy’s love; not the kind that spoke from the heart or shone in a woman’s eyes when she looked at you. So he went on punishing her, because she could never give him what he craved – that elusive ‘forever love’ that comes only once in a lifetime.

Deep down, he knew it wasn’t her fault, because how could she give him that kind of love, when she had already given it to someone else; a boy of eighteen. A boy she had deceived when she was only a kid herself.

In all these years, she had never forgiven herself for what she had done; and Phil had never forgiven her for choosing another over him.

When he too was on the brink of manhood, Saunders had witnessed at first-hand the magic that was Judy and Harry. The memories were deeply ingrained, he could see them in his mind’s eye even now, the way they laughed together and looked at each other, the way they held hands as though they could never let go.

It was because of these memories that he knew in his heart, that however much he wanted it, Judy could never be his.

Yet he continued to chase the dream, until very slowly, the love he felt for her was turning into a frenzy of resentment darkening into hatred.

At number 16 Jackson Street in the backwaters of Bedford town, Judy lay in bed, her eyes closed – but she was not asleep, never asleep; especially not on a Friday when Phil was late home from work.

Every sound outside the house made her nervous, so nervous that she had to get out of her bed and go downstairs. When the wall clock in the hallway rang out the first hour of a new day, she almost leaped out of her skin.

Shivering, she grabbed a jacket from the coat stand and, throwing it about her shoulders, she crossed into the tiny kitchen. ‘One o’clock in the morning, and he’s still out there, drinking and carrying on,’ she said out loud, ‘working himself up to fever pitch for when he gets home.’

It wasn’t the cold that made her shiver. It was fear.

Unable to settle and reluctant to go back to bed, Judy prepared herself a cup of cocoa. She carried it to the table and there she sat, her eyes darting to the door at every sound. ‘I should leave him,’ she muttered. ‘I should go away and never come back.’ But where would she go, and how would she manage?

Maybe she could find work, but what kind of work? And if her last attempt was anything to go by, how long would she be able to hold it down before they sacked her for being useless? Her nerves were shattered. She couldn’t focus on anything for more than a few minutes at a time, and she was incredibly uncomfortable around people.

She was constantly afraid. Afraid of being in a crowd, afraid when people approached her, and panic-stricken when she felt cornered.

So what chance did she have in the big wide world? She had no money except what he gave her, and that was pitifully little. ‘I’ll ask Pauline to help me,’ she told herself. ‘She’ll get me my confidence back again. I’ll talk to her – yes, that’s it. She’ll help me, I know she will. When I took that factory work last time, I wasn’t ready. I wasn’t strong enough, but I’m stronger now. I can do it, I’m sure I can.’

Her sense of excitement wavered when she remembered. ‘Phil would never let me do it.’ She recalled the rows and upsets she had endured each time she mentioned going out to work. ‘It was because of him that I lost my job in the laundry that time,’ she recalled.

She had been so happy in that little job with the other girls, but then he had humiliated her. ‘He wouldn’t stay away, wouldn’t let me be. So they had to sack me. It wasn’t their fault.’

Time and again she had tried to break free, and each time he had ruined it for her. It was like a game to him – a nasty, spiteful cat and mouse game. At first, she had tried to fight him. In the end though, he always won.

‘I don’t love him. I never have, never will,’ she whispered. ‘So why do I stay with him?’ Once upon a time she had been strong. But he had drained all her strength away, until she just didn’t care any more.

Halfway down the street, Saunders was embroiled in a row with the taxi driver, who was glad to be rid of this particular fare. ‘Pay me what you owe me,’ he warned Saunders, ‘or I’ll go to the police!’

The man had never encountered a more miserable passenger. ‘I should charge you a damned sight more,’ he complained, ‘for all the earache and aggravation I’ve had to put up with, let alone having to stop twice and let you out to be sick.’

Sorting out the money, Saunders threw it at him. ‘It’s me who should be calling the police!’ he grumbled. ‘The fare you charge is out-and-out robbery!’

But before he could start another argument, the taxi driver swung his cab round in the street and raced off. Winding down his window, he yelled down the street, ‘Bloody drunks! Lunatic! Next time I see you looking for a cab, I’ll be off in the other direction.’

‘Good!’ Saunders waved his fist as the taxi sped away. ‘You robbing swine! If I never see you again, it’ll be too soon!’

One minute he was cursing and threatening, and the next he was roaring with laughter; loud, raucous laughter that actually unbalanced him and sent him careering against the front door. ‘Where’s that damned key?’ he slurred.

He fumbled about until he found it, but then he was having difficulty fitting it into the lock. His voice echoed down the street. ‘JUDY! LET ME IN, YOU DOZY BUGGER! JUDY! GET OUT HERE, WILL YOU, WOMAN!’

Judy made no move. Instead she remained seated at the table, cowering, her stomach churning as she waited for the inevitable.

It wasn’t long before the door was flung open and he was inside. The sound of his voice sent cold shivers down her spine. ‘Judy, where are you?’ He began laughing, a soft, evil sound that she knew so well. Sometimes she really thought he was out of his mind. ‘Come here, my pretty.’ He chuckled. ‘Your husband has need of you.’

As he stumbled down the passageway, Judy felt herself shrinking into the chair, and when he burst through the door, she wished she could be anywhere but there.

‘Oh, look! There’s my dear little mouse.’ Putting his fingers across his face he made the image of a mouse twitching its whiskers. ‘Little mouse,’ he sniggered. ‘Frightened, pretty little mouse.’

Judy looked away. ‘I’m not playing your games,’ she told him, pretending to drink her cocoa.

‘Ooo, so little mouse is not playing, eh?’ giggling childishly he swaggered towards her. ‘You’d best be nice to me.’ Drawing out a chair, he sat so close to her, she could hardly bear it.

‘So tell me, little mouse, what are you doing down here? Why aren’t you in bed?’

‘I couldn’t sleep.’

‘Oh, and why was that?’

She shrugged her shoulders. ‘I don’t know, but I’m feeling sleepy now, so I’ll get back up—’

‘We’ll go when I’m ready!’ As she stood to leave, he gripped her arm so tightly he made her cry out. ‘I said … sit!’ Putting force on her arm, he made her sit down. ‘Now then, I want to know what you’ve been up to.’

Assuming he’d found out about the man who thought she was a beggar, Judy was frantic. Taking a deep breath, she tried to explain. ‘The man made a mistake, that’s all. He thought I was begging, but I was only asking the time.’

‘What!’ He spun her round to face him. ‘Who thought you were begging? What the hell are you talking about?’

‘Nothing.’ Realising he didn’t know, Judy tried desperately to cover it up. ‘It was nothing – a mistake, that’s all. I was just there and he made a mistake.’

‘Who?’ Taking hold of her by the shoulders he shook her hard, until she cried out for him to stop. Then, throwing her aside as if she was nothing, he sneered, ‘That says it all, doesn’t it, eh? Phil Saunders’ wife … begging in the street!’

The laughter stopped. ‘Who else saw you, eh? Who else saw you asking for money in the streets? Damn you! I make sure you want for nothing, and that’s how you repay me. Bitch!’

Bringing his fist up, he caught her hard across the face and sent her reeling backwards. ‘I ASKED YOU A QUESTION!’ The trickle of blood from her temple seemed to enrage him. ‘ANSWER ME! WHO ELSE SAW YOU BEGGING?’

‘I was not begging.’ Dazed by the blow, she wiped away the blood with the back of her hand. ‘I was asking the time, and the man just thought I was begging.’

‘It doesn’t make sense. Why would he think you were begging?’

‘I don’t know. Ask Alan,’ she sobbed. ‘He was there. He took me back to Pauline. I would never beg, and why would I need to?’ She had to humour him, or pay the price. ‘Since I lost my job at the factory, you’ve always provided for me.’

Clinging to him, she appealed, ‘Listen to me, Phil. I was not begging. You ask Alan. He’ll tell you.’

He stared at her hard and long, before stretching out his arms and crushing her to him. ‘You’re right.’ He stroked her long fair hair. ‘You’ll never need to beg, while you’ve got me. Nor will you need to work in a place where men gawp at you all the time, itching to get their hands on you. I won’t have it, d’you hear?’

He had the look of madness. ‘I’ll take care of you. Me – Phil Saunders. I took care of you when nobody else would,’ his manner softened, ‘because I love you. I’ve always loved you.’

Holding her away from him, he said, ‘I’ll give you a few more pounds, then you can buy yourself some nice new clothes. The old ones are getting a bit tatty and folks might blame me. I can’t have that now, can I?’

He thrust his hands into his trouser-pocket. ‘Here.’ Shoving a fistful of money into her hand, he ordered, ‘Take it – it’s yours. Tomorrow morning, I want you to go out and get some decent-looking clothes, so nobody can ever say that Phil Saunders’ wife is a beggar!’

She looked at the wad of notes, realising they were the best part of his wages. ‘I can’t take this.’ She stuffed it back into his pocket. ‘We need it for more important things.’

He made no move to return the money to her. Instead, he continued to stare down on her, his eyes narrowed and his face set hard.

‘Honest, Phil, I’ll be fine.’ She saw the signs and began to panic. ‘All right then, I’ll just have a few pounds,’ she gabbled. ‘I’ve seen some really nice things in town. There’s a little skirt and top, and a really pretty jacket … blue with black trim. I could buy all of those things for just a few pounds. We don’t need to use all your hard-earned wages.’

For a long moment, it seemed as though he wasn’t even listening, but then he gave a begrudging half-smile. ‘Whatever my Judy wants is fine by me.’ When he raised his hand, she instinctively flinched. ‘Aw, poor little mouse, look what you made me do.’ With the cuff of his sleeve he dabbed at the line of blood trailing from her temple. ‘I didn’t mean to hurt you, but you just get me all riled up.’

Loudly tutting, he uprighted the cocoa cup which had been spilled over. Then, taking her by the hand, he switched out the light, and pushed her up the stairs.

Judy knew full well what was coming, but she said not a word. Instead she allowed herself to be led to the bedroom, where he roughly stripped off her nightgown and threw her bodily onto the bed.

‘Who do you belong to?’ It was a question he often asked of her.

‘You.’

‘Say it properly!’

‘I belong to you.’

‘That’s right. You need to remember that. They all need to remember that.’

Tearing off his clothes, he straddled her, his hands all over her, touching her face, fondling her small, pert breasts, and now he was running his hands over her smooth, bare thighs. ‘You’re very special to me,’ he murmured hoarsely. ‘There are men out there who would give their right arm to have you.’

He sniggered. ‘They can’t have you though, can they? Not when you belong to me!’

Judy thought it was a strange kind of love that wanted to hurt and dominate. There was a dark hatred in him that filled her with terror. But still, she said nothing, for if she dared to disagree, she would be made to pay the price. Sometimes, he was incredibly gentle. Sometimes, like now, he was the unforgiving enemy.

Cruel or gentle, he raised no feelings in her, other than fear and repugnance, and a deep-seated urge to tell him the truth: of how she cringed under his touch; of how her dearest wish was to find the courage to put a million miles between them.

At times like this though, when he was in this mood, Judy knew to keep her silence.

‘You’re the loveliest thing I’ve ever seen.’ He traced his finger over the hollow of her neck. ‘My dear, sweet little mouse.’ His passion so obviously aroused, he whispered harshly, ‘If any man ever tried to take you from me, I would have to hurt him. Really hurt him! You do understand that, don’t you?’

When again she gave no answer, he grabbed her by the mouth. ‘What was that? I didn’t hear what you said.’

When he gave her room to breathe, she whispered the answer he wanted. ‘Yes, Phil. I do see that, yes.’

Smiling, he bent to kiss her. ‘Good girl. Now then, you haven’t forgotten how to please your man, have you, because that would really upset me.’

She shook her head. ‘I haven’t forgotten.’

‘Good!’

His taking of her was self-gratifying and incredibly cruel, and when she cried out with pain, it only spurred him on.

Trapped beneath his considerable weight, Judy could almost taste the booze on his breath, and something else, heavy on his skin – a woman’s perfume. She felt defiled. She should confront him, she thought angrily, walk out on him, and not worry over what he might do to her.

Like a predator, he had swooped on her when she was at her lowest; over the years he had moulded her to his will, skilfully quashing all her resistance.

After Harry was gone, the family rejected her, and the nightmare worsened. For a while, she was totally lost, until Phil Saunders took her under his wing.

At first he was kind, sometimes funny and wonderful, always there, waiting, watching, ready to take care of her; a much-needed shoulder to cry on. But then slowly, subtly, almost without her realising it, he became her jailer.

He knew exactly how to torment her mind – about Harry having deserted her, and the callous way in which her family had kicked her onto the streets. He goaded her about the other, faceless men who had used and left her, and other bad things that still haunted her, so much so that she had no self-respect, no sense of identity.

Phil Saunders had drained her of ambition and purpose. He knew her past. He knew her fears, and for his own gratuitous ends, he had played on those fears until now, she truly believed that no one else would want her – that she was less than worthless.

Like a young fool she had gone to him – willingly, blindly. More and more she grew to depend on him.

He had succeeded in that, if nothing else.

There was a time, long ago, when she lived in hope that something, or somebody, would rescue her. But they never did.

And why would they?