Mother’s Only Child (37 page)

‘Got it all thought out, haven’t you?’ Chloe said glumly. ‘Where does all this leave me? We’re supposed to be friends.’

‘We are friends.’

‘Yeah, seems to me you would rather be with that bloody Barney than me.’

‘Don’t be silly,’ Patsy said, but she knew Chloë was right: she wanted to be near Barney at every opportunity and she really couldn’t care less about anyone else.

When Patsy asked her mother a month or so later if it was all right for her to go to Chloë’s house a couple of nights a week to get her homework done, Martha had no suspicions.

‘It’s obvious they will get more done there,’ she told Sean. ‘After all, Chloë just has the one sister and she is away at university most of the time.’

In late February, Barney had started visiting his brother in Mountjoy Prison at the weekend every few weeks. He’d been writing to Seamus every week as soon as he got his address, and Seamus had asked if Barney would come and see him now he considered it was safe for him to do so. Maria could hardly object, for the brothers only had each other, but Barney was always harder to handle when he got home from these visits on Sunday night. He was usually quite drunk and belligerent too. That alone made Maria nervous, but he didn’t ever do anything remotely like he had the day he got the letter from Ned.

‘Where did you stay?’ Maria asked Barney the first time, for he would take the train late on Friday night, catch the early morning ferry and arrive in Dublin midmorning. He would see his brother that afternoon, stay the night and return on Sunday.

Barney stared at Maria and said, ‘You don’t really want to know that, nor do you need to know it.’

Maria knew then he had been with some woman and she felt cheap and shoddy. What should she do—rant and rave, forbid him do such a thing and shame her in this way? Would it change Barney’s behaviour at all? No, she knew it wouldn’t and at least she could give herself the dignity of never asking that question again. Later, when Martha asked the same thing, Maria was able to meet her gaze steadily and in a controlled voice say his brother had had lots of contacts in the city and Barney lodged with one of those.

Barney felt guilty every time he saw his brother, knowing that if it hadn’t been for Seamus, he could well be in an adjoining cell. There was a young girl, barely older than Patsy, who would be waiting for Barney after his prison visit, and who was only too willing to accommodate him and make him feel better about himself.

Every Sunday night of Barney’s return, Maria would empty his bag and smell the cheap perfume on his clothes and sometimes see the mark of lipstick on his shirt collars. She would say not a word about it and hide them from Martha’s eyes, knowing she would never understand.

Maria wasn’t the only one to hate Barney going to see his brother. Patsy did too. She had neglected Chloë too much to seek her friendship the weekends that Barney was in Ireland. In case there was any doubt of this, Chloë told her straight: ‘You can’t just pick me up and drop me again like some old rubbing rag, and don’t think you can. You don’t want me when lover boy is around and I don’t want you when he isn’t. You made your choice.’

Patsy could hardly blame her, if she was honest, but it did make the weekends a bit of a lonely time. She did go to the youth club on Friday because her mother would have thought it odd if she didn’t, and it was moderately better than walking up and down the length of Erdington High Street, where, anyway, she was bound to be spotted and notice brought to it at home.

However, she could hardy just turn up at choir practice and she had to skulk about until it was time to go home. She gave the excuse she had a test to revise
for or an essay to write as the reason she hadn’t gone back to Chloë’s after choir. In actual fact she did get more done those weekends because there was little else to do. At least that was a good thing, for she gave scant regard to her studies when Barney was around

Spring gave way to early summer and when Patsy asked if she might go to the odd concert with Chloë in the city centre, neither Martha nor Sean could see anything wrong with it. As Sean said, ‘The girl works hard enough’ and he upped her pocket money so that she could pay for the things she wanted to do. Patsy felt a heel as she took the money each week.

She didn’t really need it. Barney or his friends supplied her with cigarettes and booze, and she needed little else. While Barney had taken her to the cinema a few times and the theatre once, mainly he took her to pubs where he would play poker. She would share in the excitement and get happily tipsy, glad that when she got home late Sean and Martha had gone to bed.

In late June, Paul made his First Holy Communion and Maria made him a new white shirt and grey trousers for it. He was as proud as punch, being nearly the best dressed there, for not everyone had such a skilled dressmaker in their house. In August, she made matching dresses for Deirdre and Sally, but in different colours, for their shared first birthday party. The two looked as pretty as a picture.

Everyone was always grateful, but in many ways it also helped Maria. Barney, never an easy man, had got more difficult since they had come to Birmingham, and going to see his brother made him worse. Barney
wanted and expected the water for his wash to be ready when he was in from work and then for the meal to be on the table. The clothes he dropped on the bedroom floor he wanted washed, ironed and put away so he could just put his hand on them, and he wanted his wife waiting to satisfy him when he rolled in from the pub.

Sean and Martha viewed all this with concern, but if they asked Maria if there were any problems, or whether she wanted to talk, she always said she was fine. She had often thought that if she could get Barney away from his brother, their marriage might have a chance, but that hadn’t happened and she often felt a failure as a wife. Making something good out of someone else’s cast-offs gave her back some of her self-esteem.

The good summer eventually drew to a close and autumn was heralded in with gusty winds and extreme cold, that ensured snow before Christmas. The children were ecstatic. That snow was to herald in the worst winter in living memory, but no one knew that then. The adults viewed the snow apprehensively but stoically, knowing that it never lay long in Birmingham, while the children at least had a great time.

There was crisp snow on the ground on Christmas morning, for the previous day’s fall had frozen overnight. Both Martha and Maria thought it too cold to take the babies out. ‘Anyway,’ Martha said, ‘the pram will be the very devil to push in this.’

‘I’ll stay here and go to a later Mass,’ Sean said.

‘No, I will,’ said Patsy. ‘You should be together at Christmas.’

‘If you are sure…‘

‘Course I am.’

‘Do me a favour then, Patsy, and give Barney a shout in about half an hour, will you?’ Maria said. ‘And I’ll have another go when I come home. He must have one hell of a hangover from the state he was in last night, but if he doesn’t get up, he will miss Mass altogether.’

Patsy decided she wouldn’t just call him, but take him a cup of tea. She remembered how thirsty she had been the first and last time she’d had a hangover of any significance. She quite often felt delicate in the mornings now, and sometimes queasy, or might have a bit of a headache, but nothing like that first time. But before she could do this there were the babies to see to, and they were more of a handful now that they were both on the move. She gave them both a drink and a biscuit, threw a load of toys into the large playpen Sean had bought to keep them safe, and left them both in there while she took the cup of tea to Barney.

He took some time to rouse. When at last he opened his eyes he shut them tight against the light. ‘Jesus, dammit, what are you at, shaking me like that?’

‘Barney, it’s me, Patsy.’

‘I don’t give a holy shit who it is.’

Barney had never spoken to Pasty in that way before and she was taken aback, but she remembered how she had felt and said, ‘I’ve brought you some tea.’

That brought Barney’s bleary eyes open again and slowly he pushed himself up in the bed. Patsy saw with a little consternation that, on his top half anyway, he was bare. He had a mass of black hair on his chest.

Barney saw her discomfort, but made no comment on it. Instead, he took the cup from her, drained the scalding liquid with a couple of good swallows, and wiped his mouth with the back of his hand as he put the cup on the table by the bed. ‘God, that was a life saver.’

He patted the bed. ‘Why don’t you sit down?’

Maria was nervous and she ran her tongue over her lips. ‘Better not.’

Before she could do a thing about it, Barney’s arm shot out. He grasped her hand and gave a tug so that she fell onto the bed in a heap. Barney was becoming frustrated with Patsy. He’d been taking her out for almost a year and was no further forward with her, and he didn’t intend to wait much longer. He had decided by the New Year he wanted to have shown Patsy what she had been missing all this time and this was a heaven-sent opportunity.

Still holding her hand, he began to massage it gently between his fingers. ‘There,’ he said huskily. ‘That’s better, isn’t it?’

Patsy nearness was arousing him so much, he thought if she could see beneath the covers she would be scared to death. As it was, Patsy was realising it had been foolish to come into Barney’s bedroom. The look in his eyes was frightening her a little.

‘I have to go,’ she said, trying to get up, but Barney didn’t let go of her.

‘Not yet awhile,’ he said. ‘Can’t I have a kiss for Christmas?’

‘Barney, I—’

‘Just one little Christmas kiss?’ Barney pleaded. ‘It’s
not much to ask, especially as I am feeling like death. Come on, I need cheering up.’

Thinking she would humour him, Patsy bent her head and when their lips touched it was as if an explosion happened in Barney. He grabbed Patsy and pulled her on top of him while he kissed her in a frenzy of desire, his tongue darting in and out of her mouth. She fought him at first and then she was kissing him back, hardly aware what she was doing, for strange yearnings were flooding Patsy’s whole being. She didn’t understand them fully, but knew she didn’t want them to stop.

‘Ah Patsy, Patsy,’ Barney said, releasing her lips at last. ‘I have wanted this so much, and for so long. I’ll never hurt you, so don’t worry.’

‘What are you talking about?’ Patsy asked, still breathless from the kiss.

‘You just slip in here beside me.’ Barney said, moving the covers over, ‘and, God, I’ll transport you to Paradise.’

Patsy was on her feet in an instant. ‘Barney, I couldn’t do that. How can you even suggest such a thing?’

‘You want it as much as me, if you would only listen to your own body,’ Barney snapped. ‘The kiss said as much.’

‘Yeah, well, the kiss was a mistake.’

‘Some mistake.’ Barney said, grabbing at her suddenly and yanking her into the bed beside him. He was totally naked—she soon realised that—and he pushed her hand down on to his stiff and throbbing penis, just as Sally let out one of her ear-splitting yells.

Patsy was feeling sick and dirty. She had never seen
a man’s penis, let alone held one in her hand, but Barney’s mouth was covering hers, one arm surrounding her so she was unable to pull away. His tongue was darting teasing her mouth. With a sense of horror she felt herself responding. Her hand was being pushed up and down Barney’s penis and she heard him groaning.

She stiffened. What the hell was she doing, she thought, and the next moment she was fighting like a wild cat. She tore her mouth from Barney’s and bit the hand that tried to restrain her.

He gave a yell. ‘What the hell, you bloody little sod! he cried, looking at the blood dripping on to the coverlet before sticking his injured hand in his mouth.

‘Leave me alone,’ Patsy demanded. ‘Let me go.’ Barney’s attention was centred on his throbbing hand and he had relaxed his grip on Patsy. She pulled her hand away and brought her knee up sharp. He gave a moan of pain, but when Patsy tried to get out of the bed, her legs got tangled in the covers and Barney was able to grab her again as she struggled.

‘By God, you’ll pay for that, you little tiger,’ he said, and slapped her hard across the face with the hand she had bitten. Patsy opened her mouth and screamed as loud as she possibly could.

‘Shut up, for Christ’s sake,’ Barney shouted over the noise, knowing such sustained screaming would eventually arouse the notice of the neighbours. ‘Give over. I’ve not touched you yet.’

Patsy continued to scream and then she suddenly yanked her hand. Taken unawares it slipped from Barney’s grasp and then she was off the bed, out of the room and down the stairs with the speed of light.
She pulled Sally, awash with tears, red with temper and still crying, from the playpen. Sobbing herself in panic and fear, she went into the kitchen and picked up the carving knife, fully intending to let Barney have it if he came after her.

However, the skirmish with Patsy had taken it out of the hungover Barney and his hand was throbbing. He swung his legs out of bed and sat there for a minute or two, waiting for the tilting room to right itself and the dizziness in his head to ease, before making his groggy and shambling way to the bathroom where he vomited over and over. He was in no state to pursue anyone.

Maria felt herself soothed by the familiarity of the Mass that morning, the Latin words and responses that she had known from childhood, interspersed with beautiful carols. It had been just what she had needed after Barney’s assault on her body the night before, when he had been so rough and unfeeling she knew she would be bruised in many places, and had been feeling depressed by the whole scenario.

Outside they were greeted by many, and were making for home when Martha was hailed by Chloë’s mother.

‘How is dear Patsy getting on?’ she asked.

Martha laughed. ‘I should think you could tell me that,’ she said. ‘She’s at your house more than she is at her own.’

Chloe’s mother looked a little stunned. ‘At our house?’ she repeated. ‘You must be mistaken. Patsy hasn’t been to our house in months.’