Читать книгу Born Evil - Kimberley Chambers - Страница 12

DEBBIE EASED HERSELF into a sitting position. For what seemed like the umpteenth time, she hauled her oversized body out of the armchair and stood staring out of the window. She was worried sick about her Billy. He loved his grub. Like clockwork, he popped home about six for his dinner, and if by any chance he couldn’t make it, he always sent a pal round to tell her he would be late. It was now eleven o’clock and she hadn’t seen hide nor hair of him. She just hoped he was okay. Surely if he had been arrested or involved in an accident of some kind, someone would have informed her.

It seemed too much of a coincidence, today of all days, when her brother had gone to look for him, that this had happened. Maybe they had got on that well they’d embarked on a bender together. Somehow, though, she couldn’t imagine that. She was kidding herself. And even if they had gone out on the piss, Billy would still have made time to let her know.

Debating whether to knock next door and borrow Sharon’s phone to ring her brother’s mobile, Debbie decided against it. It was late now and she didn’t want to become a pest. She’d already knocked twice earlier, to ring around Billy’s locals.

‘He’s not in here tonight, love,’ had been the answer to her question in all three pubs. Billy didn’t normally venture anywhere else. If he wasn’t in his usual haunts, she was stumped as to where he was. Defeated, she wandered out into the kitchen and left a note on the top, telling him that his shepherd’s pie was in the oven. Then, not knowing what else to do, she got into bed and prayed for his safe return.

Billy McDaid staggered down the dimly lit road and angrily kicked out at a cat that had the cheek to get in his way. Still fuming over the events of earlier, he’d got himself paralytic, hoping to improve his mood. Instead of making him feel better, though, the snakebites he’d sunk had had the opposite affect. Kicking over a dustbin, he reeled into the tower block and repeatedly pressed the lift button. He swayed out of the lift and with difficulty managed to fit his key in the lock at the second attempt. Debbie had barely slept a wink and was relieved when she heard the sound of the front door opening.

‘Is that you, Bill? Where have you been?’

Billy let out a loud belch. ‘Mind your own fucking business.’

Debbie was shocked by his viciousness. ‘What’s happened, Bill? Are you okay?

Kicking the door shut, Billy slammed his fist against the wall. ‘Am I okay? Do I sound okay? You silly fucking slag!’

The tone of his voice told Debbie not to say any more.

Staggering into the kitchen, Billy clumsily retrieved the shepherd’s pie from the oven and dropped a quarter of it on the floor. He scooped it up with his hands, slopped it back on to the plate, picked up a fork and ate the bastard thing. Burping, he opened the fridge door, took out a can of cider and greedily downed it.

Debbie felt her whole body start to shake from head to foot as she heard him approach the bedroom. She hadn’t a clue what she was meant to have done wrong, but guessed it was something to do with her brother. Feeling the baby kick, she prayed for its safety.

Billy staggered into the bedroom and lunged at her. Dragging her out of bed by her hair, he swung her round to face him. ‘You been telling tales on me, you fucking cunt?’

Debbie started to sob. She knew from past experience that there was no reasoning with him when he was like this. ‘I haven’t said anything bad about you. I love you, Billy, why would I say anything bad?’

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.