Authors: Julie Shaw
Having crossed the grass, Josie slipped through the gap in the perimeter fence and slid down the slippery, muddy grass bank to the bottom of the hill. She was at the back of the building now, and sat and waited for a few moments, but once satisfied that the only sounds were coming from inside the building above her, she began making her way across the area of wasteland in front of her.
Littered with old car tyres, cans, empty boxes and discarded chip wrappers, to anyone looking, it just seemed like a rubbish tip. But behind that, and known only to a very select few, there’d been a major excavation. The apparent wall of impenetrable brambles actually hid a sizeable retreat; space enough for half a dozen kids, at a pinch, to sit together, the scrubby ground buried under a damp and smelly carpet off-cut and light provided by stubs of candles in old jam jars.
Josie carefully parted the curtain of branches, fought her way through the scratchy bushes and pushed her way finally into the little space. Then almost jumped out of her skin when she first heard a sniffle and then, as her eyes gradually adjusted to the darkness, saw a figure crouched down in the corner.
Her fear was only momentary, though. The sniffle sounded female, and the figure tiny. ‘Who’s that?’ she asked in a whisper.
‘Oh it’s you, Titch. Thank fuck for that, I almost shit myself then!’
‘Caz?’ Titch asked, peering at her. ‘That you?’ She shuffled a bit closer then sat back on her heels. ‘What the fuck are you doing here?’
Carol sniffed again and Josie could see the white of a tissue or bit of bog roll. ‘What’s up, mate? You’re crying. Has someone battered you?’
Carol wiped the tissue across her face and shook her head. ‘No. No, it’s not that. I’m fine. I’ll be alright, mate. I just needed to get away from the house for a bit.’
Her as well, then. ‘Why’s that?’
‘It’s nothing. Just the usual. Mam, an’ that. I’m much better now you’re here.’ Her eyes adjusted now, Josie could make out her friend’s smile. ‘What
are
you doing here anyway?’ Carol asked her.
‘Never mind that,’ said Josie. ‘What d’you mean – ‘Mam, an’ that’? What’s happened? Has your mam started on you or something?’
For a few moments Carol said nothing. She just sat there, scrunching and unscrunching the tissue. Then she sobbed again, all at once, and reached her arms out to Josie, who pulled her in for a hug and held her tightly. ‘Oh, Josie,’ she said finally, ‘it’s not my mam. I wish it was. It’s that bastard that she’s with. Him. That black
bastard
!’
Crying out loud now, so much so that Josie felt compelled to try and shush her, she pressed her face into Josie’s chest, her shoulders heaving. ‘He’s been doing stuff to me, Titch …’
‘Doing stuff? What stuff?’
‘
That
kind of stuff. An’ I’m sick of it …’
Josie pushed Carol away slightly and stared at her. ‘Doing stuff like
what
? What do you mean, Caz? You mean Black Bobby has, right?’
Carol nodded and sobbed again and raked the tissue across her face again. ‘Please swear down that you won’t tell, Titch. You must swear, okay?’
‘I will swear,’ she said, understanding dawning. Carol
too
? ‘I
do
swear – but what’s he done to you?’
‘Been coming into my bedroom,’ Caz said haltingly. ‘You know, when me mam’s at the bingo and … touching me down there and stuff.’ She paused to sniff. ‘I mean he gives me cigs and sweets and that afterwards, an’ I thought I could kind of cope with it, but it’s horrible, Titch – horrible, and he’s just getting worse and worse. Tonight he …’ she paused and gulped. ‘Tried to … you know … put his thing in me, and … and I managed to fight him off – and thank fuck for Blue – but …’
‘Did Blue attack him?’ Josie asked, wide-eyed. Blue was Caz’s dog and she was a big alsation bitch. Josie knew she’d defend Caz with her life.
‘Almost,’ Caz said. ‘Got between us. Scared the shit out of him at least … but …’
She stopped then, her face crumpling, and started wailing all over again. ‘I don’t know what to do, Titch,’ she mumbled, burrowing her face into Josie’s neck. ‘I can’t tell me mam, can I? She’ll kill me. She’ll say I led him on. An’ he’ll just lie, won’t he? So you mustn’t tell. You won’t tell, will you? I’ve just gotta think what’s the best thing to do. So just forget I told you, okay? Will you promise?’
Josie stared into the thicket, unseeing. Remembering. It had been four weeks now and her secret felt like a physical thing inside her. She was still cut and bruised, as well, down there. Where he’d forced his thing inside her. Raw. She shuddered.
‘Caz, I’ll never tell a living soul,’ she said, stroking her friend’s hair absently. ‘I understand, and I’ll never tell a living soul, I promise.’
Carol pulled back from her then and used the last twist of tissue to blow her nose. Then threw it into the blackness.
‘I know you won’t,’ she said. ‘An’ I’ll be fine. It’s okay. It’s just …’ She wrapped her arms across her chest and rocked slightly. ‘It’s just horrible in a way I can’t tell you. It’s just disgusting. It’s … You know, when men … and they …’ She stopped and shook her head. ‘Just be glad you
don’t
know, Titch.
Really.
You don’t
want
to know.’
The silence in the den lasted a full 20 seconds, and Josie knew Caz was struggling not to cry again. Black Bobby. Him as
well
. And he
lived
with them. The thought was shocking. The idea that he could just go into her bedroom any time he liked and do that stuff to her … It was shocking and it was disgusting. No wonder Caz was so upset.
‘I do know,’ she said quietly, the words coming from her mouth without her even consciously deciding to say them. It was as if her secret had decided it was staying secret no longer, overruling her.
Carol looked puzzled for a moment. Then shook her head. ‘No, Josie, you don’t know. I’m talking about grown-up sex stuff. That’s what I’m telling you.’
‘I do know,’ she said again.
Carol’s eyes began to widen. ‘What, you mean it’s …
God
, Titch, you mean your
dad
?’ She clapped her hands to her mouth. ‘Oh my
God
!’
Josie shook her head, stricken at the thought. ‘God, not my dad! Mucky Melvin!’
Carol gasped. ‘Mucky
Melvin
?
Fuck
!’
So Josie told her.
And in the telling, she felt alternately traumatised and better. Traumatised, remembering what she’d tried so hard to forget; his smell, his croaky breathing, his gnarly, stinky fingers, his greasy matted hair slipping and sliding against her cheek … But better – so much better – now it had all finally spilled out of her. Better that she didn’t feel so alone any more, better that she’d been able to tell someone she trusted, someone she loved, someone who’d understand. It made her feel slightly less dirty.
‘Shit!’ Caz said, finally. ‘The monster! The shitty, filthy monster!’
‘You mustn’t tell, Caz …’
‘I won’t tell. I promise, Titch. I’ll
never
tell. But you should tell. This isn’t like Bobby, Titch. If he’s done that to you he needs to go to prison. You should tell. You should tell your mam and dad.’
Josie felt her heart thump at the thought Caz might tell on her after all. ‘I can’t do that!’
‘Why not?’
‘Because they’ll kill me for being so stupid and going in there!’
‘Course they wouldn’t!’
‘They would, Caz. You don’t know my mam!’
In truth, Caz did. Josie knew that. And a part of her also knew her friend was probably right. But she just couldn’t bring herself to even think about telling her parents. She just couldn’t. She just
wouldn’t
. Not
ever
.
‘How about Vinnie, then?’ Caz said. You should tell your Vinnie – he’ll fucking kill him!’
Josie shook her head. ‘That’s exactly why I won’t be telling Vinnie, Caz. He’s already gotten himself in more bother and has to do more time. I can’t tell him, Caz. He’s in enough trouble as it is.’
‘Well, you can’t let him get away with it, Titch. Dirty old bastard! Why don’t you tell your Lyndsey and Robbo, then? Robbo will know what to do.’
‘I dunno.’ She said. ‘I did think about it but you never know with Lynds. She can’t always be trusted to keep her gob shut, can she? I dunno. I just … well, I’m just so glad I’ve told
you
. It was killing me keeping it to myself. I feel so much better now I’ve told you. What you gonna do about Black Bobby?’
Carol looked sad again and shrugged. ‘Same as you, I suppose. Nothing. Just keep it to myself and hope my mam decides to get shut of him. She’s looking like she might do soon, at least.’
‘You should sleep with a knife under your pillow,’ Josie said. ‘Threaten him with it next time.’
Carol smiled. ‘You’re a mental case. Can you imagine that? Me pulling out a knife threatening to cut off his dangly bits?’ She giggled then, unexpectedly. ‘Nice idea, though.’
Which made Josie giggle too. She realised she felt better than she had done since Vinnie went. It would be okay. They had each other and she knew it would all be better now. She wiped a dirty hand across her face and squeezed Carol’s arm. ‘That’s settled then. We don’t tell anyone. Not for now, at least. This is our secret.’
‘Our secret,’ agreed Carol. ‘Blood sisters, okay?’
Josie nodded and the two girls made their way out of the den. She felt stronger now. Strong enough to cope with it on her own. Strong enough to cope with Vinnie not coming home yet. When you had a blood sister like Caz you could cope with
anything
, however horrible. She just hoped that neither of them was going to have to.
February
Jock reached behind the front-room door for his sheepskin coat. It was the back end of winter and was freezing outside, but that wasn’t going to stop him going to work today.
Which wasn’t like Jock. Normally even the mere utterance of the word ‘work’ was enough to send him scuttling back to bed. Jock had his own, much nicer, way of making money. And one that didn’t mean grafting for some other undeserving fucker, either. Jock was a gambler. It was in his blood, same as it had been in his dad’s before him. Coming from a family of bookies he’d had the horse-racing bug since he was a lad.
So Jock didn’t really need to work – not all that often, anyway. Like most of the men on the Canterbury Estate the only regular work he did was his weekly trip to the dole office, to sign on for his unemployment benefit. If he fell short – perhaps needed extra money for Christmas or a party, then he’d do a bit here and there ‘on the side’. The only other main spur to him making the effort to pull a few quid together was, as it had always been, June. New clothes, a night out – she was always on his case about something she wanted – and every so often, when the frequency of her nagging got too much, he’d do whatever was required to shut her up.
But not today. Today was different. Today he was actually looking forward to going to work. This particular job was a right little number and if he played his cards right, him and June would both be laughing. It was a gift, a proper gift, and he could hardly believe his luck.
He went into the hall, shrugging on his coat as he did so. ‘Right, I’m off, then,’ he called up the stairs. ‘You coming along at dinner time again? Same place?’
‘Hang on a minute,’ June yelled back. ‘I’m coming down.’
Jock went back into the warm front room to wait for her. He looked up at the clock and shook his head in irritation. Silly mare was going to have him late again.
It was a full couple of minutes before she appeared in the doorway – not dressed, as he’d expected, but still in her short flimsy nightie, her face still caked in the make-up she habitually went to bed in. She was sauntering across the room with a look that meant business. ‘Come here, you,’ she said, puckering her lips and making a grab for him. ‘Give us a kiss before you go.’
‘Piss off, you silly get!’ he protested as he tried to dodge her. ‘Fuckin’ hell, June, a sniff of a few bob, and you’re all over me like a cheap suit!’
Not that he minded, he decided, as she giggled at him coquettishly. ‘It’s not a few bob any more, you divvy,’ she said. ‘It’s a few new pence, remember? Has been for two years now, in case you hadn’t noticed.’
‘Fuckin’ decimalisation,’ he growled. ‘Never going to get the hang of it. They should have left well alone. Bleeding common market nonsense!’ He extracted himself from his wife and waved as he left. ‘Don’t forget,’ he called over his shoulder as he stepped out onto the pavement. ‘Wimpy at 12. Don’t be late, June, or you’ll fuck it all up.’
June laughed as she waved him off. ‘Don’t worry, love,’ she called after him. ‘I’ll be there with knobs on!’
He could still hear her laughing when he was halfway down the road, and when he looked back, she was still waving from the front-room window, the daft cow. Still, it gave him a warm feeling, made him puff up with pride. Despite their fall-outs, he still loved her to bits.
He quickened his step, his mind now back on the job at hand. Things to do, places to go, people to see. It was a good 20-minute walk into town, and a cold one, and he was anxious to get where he needed to be. He pulled the lapels of his coat a little tighter together, reflecting that there was perhaps one too many people involved in this thing. So he was nervous. He didn’t mind admitting it.
Josie came downstairs, minutes later, to find her mother in the living room, admiring her reflection in the mirror.
‘Not bad for an old bird,’ she was saying (to herself, presumably, Josie decided) and arching her drawn-on eyebrows. Josie never understood why she did that – shaving them off and then painting them on again. Why? Why not just leave them as they were? ‘And tomorrow you’ll look even better,’ June promised herself, grinning. ‘Once you’re wearing all your lovely new clobber!’
Josie stood just inside the doorway for a moment, watching her mother blow a kiss at her own reflection, clearly oblivious that her daughter was even in the room. It had always been a bit like that with her mum – and when Vinnie had been home, even more so. Put Vinnie in a room with them and it had always felt as if she became invisible. She was her dad’s girl, always had been, and Vinnie was her mum’s boy – that was just the way it was, just the way it would always be, probably. They were poles apart, after all. Her mum was so unlike her. So glamorous and girly. So alien. Something Josie knew she’d never be. Not any more, anyway.