Mother’s Only Child (45 page)

However, she was allowed to do nothing but gaze at him. She was saddened to find that for the first five days of the baby’s life, she hadn’t even known of his existence.

‘Sure, you’ll have a lifetime to get to know him,’ the nurse said, when she spoke of this. ‘Now you must rest and heal yourself quickly, so you can take the baby home and care for him.’

The doctor stressed rest too. ‘You have a number of broken ribs,’ he told her. ‘However, far more worrying was the damage to your spleen, one of your kidneys and your liver. Now, we have done a small operation to repair the spleen, but we have left the kidney for the moment, to see what time will do. A damaged liver, providing the damage is not extensive, will heal itself.’

‘So how long will I be in hospital?’

‘It’s impossible to be accurate about these things, my dear, but a few weeks yet.’

Maria didn’t care how long she was in hospital, for she felt protected there. Sean had told her he’d had the locks changed on the house and about her lodging an injunction against Barney, forbidding him to come near her. As if waving a piece of paper would stop Barney doing anything he wanted to do, she thought. If he couldn’t open the door, he would kick it down. No, she was better in hospital and, much as she missed her children, she dreaded the time when she would leave.

‘She’s scared stiff, and little wonder,’ Sean said to
Andrew, after the locks had been changed. ‘Someone should go and see Barney, warn him off. It can’t be me, for even now I would be tempted to put my hands around his scraggy neck, and squeeze hard.’

‘I’ll do it,’ Andrew offered. ‘He needs to know the house is out of bounds to him or he might just turn up there. For our own sake too, we ought to know how he is and if he is going to make a formal complaint or something like that.’

‘He wouldn’t do that, would he?’

‘He might well,’ Andrew said. ‘He’s just the type. But let’s cross that bridge as and when we come to it.’

Barney came to, twenty-four hours after he had been brought into the hospital, to find a policeman sitting beside his bed. The policeman explained about the attack. The memory of Sean and what he had done came flooding back. Everywhere ached and throbbed. Hatred for Sean festered inside Barney and he wanted to make a complaint, tell the copper. To see the man hauled off to gaol would give him the greatest pleasure in the world.

But then he remembered what he had done to Maria. He couldn’t remember all of the attack, for it had been done in a blinding rage, but he could remember enough. He might end up the loser again if he made waves, so he told the copper he was jumped as he left the pub. It was dark and he didn’t see his assailant.

He left hospital a week later, on Friday, 4 December. Because he was not allowed home, the police got him a bed in a hostel. The place reeked of unwashed bodies, vomit, wee and a hint of meths. It was peopled by
down-and-outs, whom Barney thought were the dregs of society, and the mattress of the bed he was given to sleep on was so flee-ridden he was kept up all night scratching.

The first thing he did next morning was see the governor of the place and say he didn’t belong there. For God’s sake, he had a nice comfortable home and a wife to warm his bed. True, she’d gone all prissy on him just lately because he had smacked her about a bit, but he was sure when he had a talk to her she would see where her duty lay.

The governor glared at him. ‘You injured your wife so badly that she is still in hospital, as far as I am aware,’ he said. ‘If you attempt to see her or even approach the house, then you will find yourself in prison. If you feel you don’t belong here, then prove it. Go out and get yourself a job. With a bit of luck the council might rent you out a flat or you will be able to rent one privately. That is the only option open to you.’

Over a week later, Barney thought he was going mad. Because the hostel wasn’t considered a proper address, he had to call for his dole daily and most of it he had to give in for his lodgings. It was worse than bleeding prison anyway, the sodding place. One time, he’d spent most of his dole, arrived back drunk and they wouldn’t let him in. Another time he tried to come in late and they said all the beds were full. Two nights out in the freezing cold nearly did for him.

And if he didn’t have a drink soon, he felt he would go crazy. So far he had refused the meths a couple of
tramps had offered him. One of them had said, ‘In a day or so you won’t be so choosy.’ By God he was right, because by the end of that first week he would have drunk anything. What he wouldn’t give for a bottle of poteen now. That brought Ireland to mind. He thought of the last letter his brother had sent him. He’d written that they were thinking of an early release for him on account of his good behaviour. Funny, he’d never have thought ‘good behaviour’ and Seamus would ever be mentioned in the same sentence. Barney could write to him, but Seamus couldn’t write back because he had no address. Maybe Barney should just go over and see him? Surely to God he would find some place to hang out once he got there.

But to go to Ireland he needed money. You needed money for any damned thing. He wandered down to the Bull Ring. He’d had the watery porridge and toast at the hostel but that had been a few hours before. He couldn’t afford to spend what he had left on food because he needed a drink so badly. The Bull Ring was the place for pinching off the barrows, especially on a Saturday when the place was always so full. While the costers were plying their trade up at the front and had queues forming, they couldn’t keep an eye on the back of the stall as well.

And suddenly, there just in front of him, was a woman with her bag open and her purse almost poking out of it. In a split second, it was transferred to Barney’s pocket. Then he was pushing his way through the crowds and out on to High Street before he opened the purse.

‘Twenty-two pound, six and four pence,’ he breathed.
He put the lot into his pocket, threw the purse in the nearest waste-paper bin and stood a moment, deciding where to go.

He needed to go to the house and find out if Seamus had written him another letter for, not knowing of the latest developments, that was where he would write. Anyway, he needed clothes. He only had those he stood up in, and even he could smell the pong coming off him. Surely to God he had a right to get his clothes, whatever order Maria had to keep him away.

First, though, he badly needed a drink. He went into a pub on Corporation Street. He had a great many drinks and some hours later he staggered out. The short winter’s day was almost at an end and it was very dusky by the time he got to Steelhouse Lane to catch the bus home.

However, in his drunken state, he got the bus to Erdington, instead of Pype Hayes. He got off at the village. Darkness had fallen now, but this suited Barney’s purpose, which was to get into the house unseen. He set off to walk.

Most people at the church knew about Maria being away in the hospital to have the baby and Martha looking after all the children. One Sunday after Mass, a woman gave her some tickets to see the afternoon showing of the pantomime
Puss in Boots
at the Repertory Theatre in the town on the following Saturday afternoon.

‘Cheer the babbies up,’ she said. ‘And my girl works there and gets some tickets for nowt, like.’

Martha thanked her warmly, delighted to have them,
and only sorry Deirdre couldn’t come with them. She had her dancing class on Saturday afternoons and, as she was in a doing a solo in the Christmas concert, she couldn’t afford to miss a lesson. As Sean and the boys would be off to the match, Patsy, who wanted to visit the library anyway, arranged to pick Deirdre up from her class and bring her home. Martha didn’t want her returning to an empty house and Patsy didn’t mind. She was at a loose end anyway, as Andrew was refereeing a school football match.

So when, that Saturday, Deirdre emerged from the hall, shrugging herself into her coat, her cheeks glowing crimson from the exertion, Patsy was waiting for her. Deirdre was glad she was there because it was pitch-black. As they walked, and Deirdre prattled on about the dancing, this girl and that, and what they had done or said, Patsy let her mind wander to her wedding day, which was set for late August, when hopefully the weather would be sunny, warm and dry.

They were walking down Orchard Road. At the end of it was a crossroads, where to the right was the village, while Arthur Road was to the left.

Barney was at the crossroads. He heard them coming, stepped back behind a hedge and waited until they were nearly level with him.

‘Well, well,’ he said, suddenly appearing. ‘Look who’s here.’

Patsy looked at him and in the glow of the streetlamp, she could see that his eyes were red-rimmed and glazed, his skin coarsened by drink and there was a smell coming off him like rancid cheese. She was
repelled by the thought she had ever found this man in any way attractive. She wanted to smack him across the face, or spit at him, but she knew that if she was to complain about Barney, Sean could go after him again and then anything could happen.

‘Keep away from him at all costs,’ Martha had said. ‘But if you do meet up and if you have to speak, be polite for God’s sake. And whatever he says to you, keep quiet about, even if it’s offensive—in fact, especially if it is offensive. If you care about Sean at all, the least he hears about Barney the better.’

So, mindful of her mother’s words, Patsy said, ‘Hello, Barney,’ and felt Deirdre’s hand slip inside her own.

Barney noticed this and bent to Deirdre’s level.

She smelt the putrid stench of him and saw the brown stubs of teeth in his mouth that stunk of stale beer and cigarettes as he said, ‘What’s up with you? Cat got your tongue?’

‘No.’

‘That’s good then. You frightened of me?’

Deirdre had never felt so scared, but her daddy said you should always stand up to bullies and so she willed her voice not to shake as she said, ‘No. No, I ain’t.’

‘Bet you are…‘ Barney began.

‘Leave her alone, Barney,’ Patsy said sharply.

Barney ignored Patsy as if she hadn’t spoken. ‘You should be scared. God, I eat little girls like you for breakfast.’

‘No you don’t,’ Deirdre said scornfully.

That’s enough,’ Patsy tried again. ‘Come on, Deirdre, we have to go home.’

Barney’s hand shot out and fastened around Deirdre’s
arms so tightly that she cried out with the pain of it.

‘Leave go of me,’ she yelled, trying to wrench it away, but the grip didn’t slacken.

‘Let her alone, for pity’s sake,’ Patsy protested.

Deirdre remembered that Sally said her mommy said that when their daddy was going to hit her. ‘Does he hit her, your daddy?’ Deirdre had asked, appalled.

‘Yes he does,’ Sally had said fiercely. ‘Mommy never says. She always says she walked into something to explain the marks on her face and that, but I hear him. I hate my daddy, I do, and I’m frightened of him too. I just wish he’d go away somewhere and not come back.’

Deirdre had been quite shocked. She couldn’t think of a time when she might not love her daddy, but then her daddy was nothing like Sally’s. Now, suddenly, she was sick of it all. She was sick of Barney going around hurting and frightening people and just getting away with it.

Barney gave her arm a sudden twist and Deirdre bit her lip to stop the gasp of pain escaping, because she decided she was going to stand up to this man, however scared she felt inside.

‘Do you want to know what I do to bold wee girls who don’t do what they’re told?’

‘No, I bloody well don’t.’ Deirdre yelled straight into Barney’s face. ‘In fact, I don’t want to listen to anything you say. I hate you. Everyone hates you and I wish you would just drop dead.’ And then, before Patsy could do a thing about it, she hit Barney full in the face with the flat of her hand. The surprise caused him to loosen his hold slightly, and she jerked and was free.

‘Don’t you dare lay a hand on her,’ Patsy cried suddenly, catching hold of Barney’s arm, raised to retaliate with his fist balled. She knew she couldn’t hold Barney for long, and to Deirdre she cried, ‘Run, for Christ’s sake.’

Deirdre ran like the wind, streaking along Arthur Road, expecting any minute to hear feet pounding after her. She ran up Holly Lane and into Grange Road, where she had to stop, out of breath. She took the precaution of hiding behind a hedge of one of the large, imposing houses there until she had stopped gasping. Still there was no sign of pursuit. She risked a cautious look out and saw Barney walking down Holly Lane, almost dragging Patsy behind him.

Deirdre chewed her thumbnail and wondered what to do. There was nowhere for her to run to escape a Barney intent on finding her. Patsy had the key to their house, which was the first place he would look for her, and Maria was still in the hospital. Anyway, where was he taking Patsy? What if he hurt her—killed her even—and she, Deirdre, had just run away and hid? She knew she had to follow them and she set out stealthily.

Deirdre soon knew where they were making for: Nock’s Brickworks on Holly Lane. It had been worked for years and, as they had dug out the clay, a deep quarry had formed behind. Now the place didn’t even warrant a watchman. It was deserted most of the time, the buildings fast becoming derelict. The children were forbidden to go near it, both because of the depth of the quarry and also because it had quicksand at its
base, so of course it drew them all, but especially the boys, like a magnet.

Deirdre had just been the once, six months before with Paul, when she threatened to tell on him if he didn’t take her, so using the guise that they were going to the library, they left the house together one Saturday morning. It was as easy as pie to get in, because the fencing had fallen into the same disrepair over the years as the buildings. Paul said in broad daylight it was best to cut down the side, so that you wouldn’t be seen going into the place by people in the houses on the other side of Holly Lane. ‘Once we are in, there is a mound of earth that hides us from the road,’ Paul said. ‘The only place you can be seen then is at the edge of the quarry.’

Deirdre soon saw that down the side large areas of the buckled fencing had been pushed in, leaving mangled shards of rusty metal sticking up, which she was careful to step over. The ground was littered with half-bricks, broken slates, splintered glass and, here and there, lumps of wood and all of it covered in muck and mud.