Читать книгу Midnight - Josephine Cox - Страница 8
ОглавлениеBOWER STREET IN Blackburn was a quiet little street of ordinary homes and ordinary families. Like families everywhere, they all had their problems, but the mother and daughter at Number 20 had more than their fair share. On this fine brisk morning, Eileen Harrow was in an angry mood.
‘If I want him in my bed, that’s for me to decide – and you, my girl, should learn to mind your own business!’
The sixty-year-old woman had entertained many men in her bed these past years, and though her judgement was sadly misguided, her determination never wavered. ‘I’m sorry, Libby. I know your father did wrong by you, by going off when he did, but that’s all in the past – and if I can forgive him, why can’t you?’
While Libby frantically searched for an answer, the older woman jabbed a finger at her. ‘All right, then. Forgive him, don’t forgive him – it’s up to you. But I will not have my own daughter telling me what to do!’
‘I’m not trying to tell you what to do, Mum. I only want you to be safe.’
‘Why can’t you forgive him?’ Eileen persisted. ‘If I’m ready to forgive him, you should be too.’ Fired up and itching for an argument, she squared up to her daughter. ‘My man is home now, and this time I want him to stay. And if you don’t like it, you can clear off out of it!’
Libby remained silent, while her mother ranted on, sadly convinced that the stranger she had brought home in the small hours was actually the husband who had deserted her many long years ago.
‘Well?’ Eileen waited, hands on hips, for an apology. ‘Do you forgive him? Is he welcome to stay?’
Libby had seen it all before. Not for the first time, she had woken up that morning to find that her mother had taken a stranger into her bed. ‘Mum, please listen to me . . .’
‘No! I’ve heard enough. Pack your bags and leave, you ungrateful girl!’
‘You’ve got it all wrong.’ Libby gently persisted. ‘I don’t want to upset you. Trust me, Mum.’
But when Eileen was in this kind of mood, it was hard to calm her. ‘I’m only trying to help. I don’t want you getting all riled up.’
‘Then stop telling me I can’t sleep with my own husband! If my blood pressure goes through the roof, it’ll be your fault, not mine.’
‘Please, Mother, you need to trust me,’ Libby pleaded. ‘You’re not well.’
‘What d’you mean, I’m not well?’ The older woman rounded on her. ‘You think I’m off my head, don’t you? You think I’m incapable of making my own decisions. Well, you just listen to me for a minute, young lady. I know you were upset when your father left us, but now he’s back – and if you’re not happy with that, then you can pack your bags and bugger off!’
‘Please, Mother, don’t be like this.’ Libby knew she must calm the older woman before it got out of hand. ‘Please hear me out.’
‘No!’
With surprising suddenness Eileen became docile. She was no longer the angry woman who had threatened to throw her daughter out of house and home. ‘I’m sorry, dear,’ she said, looking bewildered. ‘What were you saying?’
Relieved that the moment had passed, Libby told her, ‘I’m about to make breakfast for us.’ She glanced cautiously up the stairs. ‘When he comes out of the bathroom, you need to send him on his way.’
Eileen followed her gaze. ‘Send who on his way?’
‘Your friend.’
‘What friend?’ Not for the first time, Eileen Harrow had somehow sneaked out of the house in the early hours, desperate to find the man who had deserted them so long ago. ‘Oh! You mean your father!’ In her fragmented mind she was young again, deliriously happy because her man was home. Clapping her hands together, she giggled like a child. ‘I told you I’d find him, and now I have. It was so dark, though. I got worried I might never see him again. But then I found him and I brought him home where he belongs.’
‘No, Mum.’ Libby’s heart sank. ‘You made a mistake. We don’t know this man. I’m sorry, but he doesn’t belong here.’ Libby hated being the one who shattered her mother’s hopes and dreams, but it was her lot in life to love and protect this darling woman. ‘I still can’t believe you managed to sneak out when I was sleeping.’ She had been extra meticulous in taking all the necessary precautions, but somehow her mother had fooled her yet again.
‘Ha!’ The older woman chuckled triumphantly. ‘I watched where you put the key.’
‘Really? Well, I shall have to be even more careful in the future.’ Libby made a mental note of it. ‘Right, Mum, we need to talk,’ she went on. ‘Once we’ve got rid of your new “friend” we’ll take a few minutes to enjoy our breakfast. After that, we’ll get you dressed and all spruced up, before Thomas runs us into town. We don’t want to keep him waiting, and besides, we want to have a good look round the shops. Last time we went out, we had to rush back for your hospital appointment. Remember you saw that lovely hat in British Home Stores? Well, if it’s still there, you can try it on and see if it suits you. It would be perfect for spring and summer outings.’
Reaching out, she took hold of her mother’s hand. ‘Would you like that?’
As with many things these past years, Eileen did not recall the hat, but she smiled at the thought. ‘Am I going somewhere special?’ she asked excitedly. ‘Do I need a new hat?’
Libby beamed at her. Sometimes her mother’s affliction reduced her to tears, but not this time, because once again she had a situation to deal with. ‘Yes,’ she answered brightly. ‘Thomas promised to take us to the park, the first really warm day we get. It’s too cold now – March winds and rain most days. But come April, we might take him up on his kind offer. So yes, you do need a new hat, and if that one suits you, it’ll be my treat.’
With her fickle mind shifting in all directions, the older woman remembered, ‘Oh, a fresh pot o’ tea, you say?’
‘That’s right.’ Libby was relieved. She went to put the kettle on.
‘And remember to put two tea-bags in it? Last time you only put in one, and it tasted like cats’ pee.’ She laughed out loud. ‘Not that I’ve ever drunk cats’ pee, but if I had, it would taste just like that tea of yours.’ She gave a shiver as though swallowing something horrible. ‘So, this time, have you done what I told you?’
‘Yes, I have.’
‘Two teabags, then?’
‘Yes, Mother. Two teabags, one sugar – the way you like it.’
‘I bet you didn’t warm up my cup!’
‘Yes, I did that too.’
‘Good girl. At long last, you’ve learned your lesson. You can be such a naughty child!’
Through the haze in her mind, Eileen saw a chubby six-year-old with long, fair plaits and mucky hands, instead of a shapely, pretty woman aged thirty. ‘What am I to do with you, eh?’
‘Sorry, Mother.’ Following doctors’ advice, Libby had learned how to deal with her mother’s unpredictable moods. ‘It won’t happen again, I promise.’ Gently reaching out, she suggested in a quiet voice, ‘Come on now, Mum. Don’t let your tea go cold. You know how you hate cold tea.’
Unsure, Eileen moved back a step. ‘Too cheeky for your own good, that’s the truth of it. Drive me to distraction at times, you really do!’
‘I try not to.’ She gently wrapped her fingers about the older woman’s hand. ‘Come on, Mum.’
Eileen took a tentative step forward, only to pause again as though unsure. ‘You do realise, don’t you? I shall have to tell your father when he comes down.’
‘If you must.’
‘He’ll probably smack your legs.’ She jabbed her forefinger into Libby’s chest. ‘Oh, and don’t think I’ll stop him this time, because you deserve a smack!’
‘I expect I do.’
There followed a quiet moment, during which the older woman took stock of the situation, her kindly gaze holding her daughter’s attention. ‘Perhaps I won’t tell him,’ she confided in a whisper, ‘because he can get nasty when he has to give you a telling-off.’ Her face softened. ‘Yet he loves you, Libby. We both do.’
Choking back the tears, Libby told her, ‘And I love you, Mum . . . so very much.’
Libby had small recollection of her father, who had gone away when she was still a little girl. Like a fast-fading picture in her mind, she saw a big man with blue eyes, dark hair and quiet manner; a man with a beguiling Irish accent who came home from work and went upstairs to change before the evening meal. Most times when the meal was over, he would go out – returning much later when she and her mother were in bed. Occasionally she recalled the odd, brief cuddle, but that was all. There was no memory of closeness or laughter. There were no night time prayers or bedtime stories from Ian Harrow. There was a quiet sadness about her mother then, and in the years following his desertion of them, that made Libby feel guilty, even when she had not misbehaved.
At school she was a bit of a loner. She did have one good friend, though. Kit Saunders was in the same class as her. They laughed and played, and their friendship lifted her spirit, but when the bell rang for home-time, a great loneliness came over her. Kit’s dad worked shifts and was always waiting at the gates for his beloved daughter. Kit and her parents did fun things together. Sometimes they took their daughter to the summer fair and one year, they invited Libby to go with them. Kit’s father won his daughter a big teddy-bear on the coconut-shy. The kind girl asked him to win one for Libby, and he did his best. It was a much smaller one, but the little bear had the funniest face, and Libby was thrilled. Oh, how she loved him!
During the day, George the bear (named after Boy George, her favourite pop star) sat on Libby’s bed, and at night he came under the sheets and together they cuddled up to sleep. He was her friend and to this day, George still sat on her bed, waiting for his cuddle.
Sadly though, Kit’s family moved away and Libby lost touch with them.
The truth was, Libby never really knew her father. Her mother adored him, though. Apparently, during their marriage, Ian Harrow chose countless women over his wife. He had many affairs and once or twice even left her, but he always came back. Until the last time.
Even then, her mother continued to love him; every day and well into the night, she watched for him through the window, and afterwards cried herself to sleep. After a while, she became forgetful; she began to lose direction. If it hadn’t been for Libby coming home from school and clearing up, the house would have been buried in filth. It was only a matter of time before Eileen’s health really began to deteriorate, and after a while it really did seem that she didn’t care whether she lived or died.
It was a cruel, heartless thing he did, deserting them. Over the years, Libby often wondered if that was why she had shut him from her mind. In a way, because of him – and because her mother increasingly withdrew into her own little world – Libby’s childhood ended the day her father abandoned them.
Eileen Harrow’s breakdown happened gradually, without her daughter even noticing. At night, when Libby lay half awake in her bed, she could hear her mother sobbing, calling out, asking why he had wanted to leave her; asking if it was her fault. Had she let him down somehow? Had she not loved him enough, or not shown it enough? And was he really never coming home? It was that which she found hardest to accept.
Libby’s grandmother would come up on the coach from Manchester and stay for a time, but then she began to buckle under the strain, and her visits grew less frequent. Still grieving after the loss of her own husband, Arthur, she eventually stopped coming altogether, and died in 1992, aged seventy-three.
Libby’s grandparents on her father’s side didn’t want to know them. They claimed it was Eileen’s fault that he had strayed and they could not forgive her. They thought she should have done more to keep him happy at home. The letter they wrote was very harsh. Soon after the event, they returned to their native Ireland.
When Eileen became too confused to be left on her own, Libby quit her job as a teaching assistant and began working part-time at the local supermarket, Aston’s. Thanks to their very good neighbour, the widower Thomas Farraday, Eileen was looked after, and even occasionally taken out for drives and for walks in the park.
Unfortunately, Thomas then suffered a health scare, and Libby was obliged to give up work altogether, in order to take care of her mother. That was five years ago, and now, her mother was her life. Thankfully, Thomas regained his health, and for that Libby was immensely grateful. It meant she could do a couple of hours each morning at the supermarket and get out of the house for a while.
Eileen continued to believe that her husband Ian would come home. But he never did, and Libby never forgave him, as her mother’s mental health worsened.
‘Hey!’ Eileen’s angry voice shattered Libby’s thoughts. ‘Did you hear what I just told you?’
‘Sorry, Mum. What was it you said?’
‘I said you’re not such a bad child after all,’ Eileen replied sharply. ‘You’re just a bit mischievous at times. So I’ve decided I won’t tell your father. At least not this time!’
Familiar with her mother’s mood swings, Libby kissed her on the cheek. ‘Thanks, Mum.’
‘You must never do it again, though. Or I will tell him, I really will. And then there’ll be ructions.’
‘Oh, quick! Here he comes.’ Libby drew her mother’s attention to the figure coming down the stairs. Libby had never before seen the man – a scruffy, tousle-haired individual in his late fifties. ‘Let me do the talking, Mother.’
‘What’s going on ’ere?’ The man smiled from one to the other. ‘You two ’aving a bit of a barney, are yer?’ He was quick to sense the atmosphere, and equally quick to realise that the younger, pretty woman was not best pleased to see him there. Well, sod her, he thought, and sod anybody else who didn’t take to him. He had a living to earn just like other folks, and he would earn it in any way he could, good or bad.
Addressing Eileen, he asked, ‘This your daughter, is it? Not too keen to see me, is she, eh?’
‘Ignore her, Ian.’ Affording Libby a scowl, Eileen smiled up at the man. ‘She always was a difficult child! As you know.’
The man gave a curt nod of the head. His name was not Ian Harrow but Peter Scott, a bully-boy and laya-bout. Having spent the night with the crazy old bat, all he wanted was his payment.
Looking him up and down, Eileen struggled to remember. ‘I’m so glad you came to see us. You mustn’t go just yet, though. Oh dear, it’s been such a long time since you were last here. Please, won’t you stay for a cup of tea?’ Unable to remember him, she grew agitated. ‘Oh, and a slice of toast and marmalade, eh?’
‘What?’ He saw his opportunity. ‘I’m not ’ere for bloody marmalade!’
‘Oh, well, some bacon and eggs, then.’ The flustered woman turned to her daughter. ‘We do have eggs and bacon, don’t we?’
‘Sorry, Mother,’ Libby lied, hoping he might leave without any further fuss. ‘I didn’t have time to do a shop yesterday.’ This was an awkward situation; one of many over these past difficult years.
‘No eggs or bacon? Well, it won’t do, my girl. It won’t do at all!’ Raking her hands through her hair, the older woman began stamping her foot. ‘No eggs or bacon! You’re worse than useless! Can’t even mek a bed properly! However hard I try, you never learn, do you?’ Turning her attention on the stranger, she stared him up and down. ‘An’ who the hell are you?’
Peter Scott gave a sly, gappy grin. ‘Oh, now I see what yer at!’ The grin slipped into a scowl. ‘Don’t play the innocent with me, you old cow,’ he hissed. ‘Oh, an’ I can tell you now – lying in bed with you turned my stomach!’
‘What d’you mean?’ Looking from the man to her daughter, Eileen was obviously confused. ‘What does he mean?’ she repeated worriedly. ‘What’s he saying?’
‘I’m warning yer, don’t try that on me!’ he snarled. ‘I don’t tek kindly to being conned!’
All the same, this time he thought he might have fallen on his feet. First the old one sidles up and asks him to go home with her, and now he discovers there’s an even better opportunity to get away with his pockets full. Maybe after he’s given the younger one a good seeing-to, an’ all.
Twisting the tale, he said, ‘Nice try, ladies – I’ll give you that. But it won’t work. Y’see, I ‘appen to be in the same line of business.’
‘What are you getting at?’ This time, Libby sensed real trouble. Like before, her mother had obviously thought this man was her husband and promised him the earth to come back home with her. It was not the first time that Eileen Harrow had scoured the streets for her missing husband, only to come across some ne’er-do-well ready to use the situation to his own advantage. ‘I’d like you to explain,’ she went on coolly. ‘And then I’d like you to leave!’
Scott laughed – a hollow, unnerving sound that sent the older woman cowering against the wall. ‘Lah-di-bloody-dah, ain’t we?’ Irritated, and anxious to get away, he pretended to search his pockets. ‘Yer thievin’ devils! Me money’s gone! I can see what yer up to now! Con artists the pair of yer! And clever with it. But not quite clever enough. It’s obvious that you set out to rob me blind. And I ’ave to admit, yer took me in good and proper at first, but now it’s clear as day what yer after.’
Taking a step forward, he concentrated on Libby. ‘You’re the brains behind it, while this one’ – he grinned at Eileen, who was still cowering against the wall – ‘is the bait. And no doubt the police will see it the same way after I’ve finished.’ He had to make them out as villains, or the younger one would likely call the police on him.
He outlined his interpretation of events. ‘So there I was, minding me own business, when this woman latched onto me, said she needed me to ‘come home’ with ’er. Enticed me back here, she did, and very convincing it was too. I didn’t realise I was being set up to be robbed.’ He congratulated himself on being witty enough to turn the tables on them. ‘I can see it all now. The two of you are in it together. Con-artists, just like I said. You set a bloke up an’ leave him wi’ nowt.’
‘That’s a lie!’ Libby retaliated. ‘You must have realised my mother is ill, yet you deliberately took advantage of her!’
He slowly clapped his hands together. ‘Oh, very good.’ He grinned widely. ‘So now, what do you think to my interpretation of events?’
‘I think you’re a liar and a rogue. And if you reckon for one minute that anyone would believe your story, you’re a damned fool!’
‘Is that so?’ The smile disappeared from his face. Leering at her, he hissed softly, ‘Well, that’s my story, word for word, exactly as it happened, and I’m prepared to tell it to anyone who wants to know.’ Anger coloured his voice. ‘Yer ought to be bloody grateful it were me she latched onto! There are men out there who might have given you silly pair a good hiding, an’ more. No doubt they’d ’ave gone through this house an’ took everything worth a bob or two. An’ I reckon, it’s only what yer deserve.’
Fearing he might get violent, Libby moved to protect her mother, ‘I want you out of here – now!’ she said in a low voice. The thought of him bedding her mother was sickening.
Turning his trouser pockets inside out, Scott continued to play the victim. ‘There were at least fifty quid in these pockets when she picked me up, and now it’s all gone. So, unless yer want more trouble than yer can handle, you’d best hand over what I’ve earned, along with the cash you stole from me trouser-pockets. Oh, an’ don’t mek the mistake o’ shouting for help.’ To prove the point, he grabbed Eileen and held her in a vicious grip, before abruptly releasing her when she began to struggle.
As he took a step towards Libby, Eileen startled them both by yelling obscenities. ‘You leave her alone!’ Rushing forward, she clung to Libby with one hand, while with the other, she feverishly plucked at her hair until she resembled a wild thing.
‘I’m going nowhere, not without what’s mine!’ Grabbing Libby by the neck, he yanked her forward. ‘You’d best shut her up, or I will!’ With one mighty thrust he sent her hurtling backwards.
Subdued, Eileen was sobbing. ‘Who is he?’ she whispered hoarsely. ‘Why does he want to hurt us?’
‘Don’t worry, Mum. I won’t let him hurt you.’ Libby realised that the quickest way to be rid of him would be to offer whatever money they had. But since they had so very little, that was not really an option.
Her voice trembling, Eileen said to Libby, ‘If he’s here when your father gets home from work, there’ll be the devil to pay!’ Glancing furtively at the door, she half expected Libby’s father to burst in and protect them.
‘You heard her,’ Libby said, squaring up to the intruder. ‘My father will be home soon from the night shift. So if you know what’s good for you, you’d best make tracks!’ Keeping her mother safe, she added firmly, ‘There’s nothing for you here.’
‘I’ll go when I’m paid what she owes me. And fifty quid on top!’ His smile widened, to show a crooked row of yellowing teeth as he eyed her up and down. ‘Happen you’d prefer me to take part payment in other ways . . . if yer know what I mean?’
Libby knew exactly what he meant. ‘Like I said, we’ve got nothing for you. So, if you don’t leave, I’ll have no choice but to call the police.’
‘Go on, then!’ he goaded. ‘Call ‘em now! I can soon explain how I found this poor, deluded old dear wandering the streets, prostituting herself to any man that took her fancy. Being a proper gent, I managed to find an address tucked in her pocket, and I made sure she got home safely. That’s what I’ll tell the police, I reckon they’ll get the Social out and she’ll be banged up in a home, where she belongs.’
‘No one would take any notice of a man like you!’ All the same, Libby was worried. If he really did what he threatened, the officials would be all over her, asking questions and snooping around. And if that was the case, who knows what might happen? Her mother must not be taken from her.
‘Oh, and don’t forget, there are any number of witnesses who’ll back me up,’ Scott boasted. ‘They all saw how she offered herself on a plate to any man she came across – promising money and everything.’ He added cruelly, ‘Only it seems they didn’t need the money as much as I did.’
Lowering his voice, he leaned forward. ‘Like any decent bloke, I took pity on her, an’ the fact that she’s safely home proves that. So I think you know who the police will believe. No doubt they’ll ask why you allowed this poor old soul to wander the dark streets in her nightwear. You put her in danger, that’s what they’d say.’
Sensing Libby’s concern, he went on menacingly, ‘If it weren’t for me, some lesser man might ’ave had his way with ’er, before throwing ’er in the canal. Wrong in the ’ead she may be, but to tell the truth, compared to some of the scrubbers we get on the streets, she’s passable enough for a bit of fun.’
‘You get out!’ Diving out from behind Libby, Eileen suddenly threw herself at him, fists flailing. ‘Get away from my girl!’ The force of her attack sent him stumbling against the wall. ‘What d’you want in my house? Get out! Go on, get out!’
Shocked by Eileen’s vicious onslaught, and now with Libby joining in, Scott found himself being man handled across the room. Libby managed to open the front door, where the two of them struggled to push him outside. ‘Show your face here again,’ Libby warned, ‘and I’ll have the law on you!’
‘Yer don’t say!’ Grabbing Libby by the throat, he tried to push her back inside. ‘I don’t need no trouble with the police, so just give me what I’m owed, an’ I’ll go!’
When Eileen came at him again, screeching and clawing at his face, he raised his arm and, with one sharp thump, sent her backwards across the room.
‘Hey! What the hell d’you think you’re doing?’ The man came at him from behind.
Older than Scott but strong as a bull, Thomas Farraday grabbed the younger man by the scruff of his neck, lifted him off his feet and literally swung him down the path, straddling him as he tried to scramble up, fists bunched and ready for a fight.
‘This ain’t got nothing to do with you!’ Scott argued, before a hammer-sized fist smashed into his mouth. It was enough to send him scampering, but not without a parting shot as he nursed his jaw: ‘You want locking up! Mad as hatters, the lot of you!’
Then, as Thomas took a step forward, he ran like a crazy man, stumbling wildly in his panic to get away. From a safe distance he shook his fist. ‘I’ll not forget this in a hurry!’ he yelled, though when Thomas started after him, he fled down the street, never to be seen again.
