My Daughter, My Mother (31 page)

‘Nah – well, if I have, it’s just running round after madam here.’ Amy was at their feet on a paving slab with paper and wax crayons. ‘I’m fine. Anyway, how’s Mom?’

Karen shrugged as if she was a bit sick of the subject.

‘Hard to tell. You know what she’s like. About the same. Not very nice to Dad at the moment, but then she goes through her moods. She has reduced the dose a bit, though, I know that.’

‘That’s good.’

As Karen left she looked hard into Joanne’s face, wearing a puzzled expression. She kissed Amy, then touched Joanne’s upper arm. They weren’t huggers, not in their family.

‘Take care of yourself.’

Joanne stood with Amy in her arms, watching Karen go back to her car. Karen turned and waved at them briefly. Her sister was getting nicer, Joanne thought. For a moment she was full of a warm feeling. Then the sick dread returned. Dave would soon be home.

Some days, she rebelled angrily.

‘You can’t just keep me in the house like a prisoner. I’m not your possession, like some toy you’ve bought from a shop.’

Her ranting was always to herself, while she was pegging out washing or wiping down the kitchen. Sometimes she wanted to explode with frustration and self-pity at the loneliness of it all. But she never said anything to Dave’s face. She was far too frightened, too desperate to keep the lid on it all.

‘Damn you,’ she’d mutter sometimes, yanking the buggy into the hall. ‘I’m bloody well going out, whether you like it or not.’

There was always something to buy from the shops anyway. One morning, a while ago, she had run into Tess in the Soho Road, still heavily pregnant. She felt shy of saying hello, but Tess, who was outside a shop with her little boy, Joe, holding her hand, spotted her straight away.

‘Hi, Joanne!’ she said, smiling. She looked different, her face swollen, hair scraped back, but she was cheerful.

‘Hello,’ Joanne said. She leaned down to Amy in the buggy. ‘Look who it is. It’s your friend Tess! And little Joe.’

‘Hello, Amy.’ Tess smiled.

‘You’ve not had it, then? I thought you were due ages ago.’

‘So did I,’ Tess grimaced. ‘I was supposed to be due a week ago. It feels as if I’ll be pregnant forever now! They’re going to induce me in a day or two, if nothing happens.’

Joanne wished her luck and parted from Tess, uplifted at seeing a friendly face.

About a fortnight later she set out shopping again and ran into Tess once more, pushing an old-fashioned pram, with Joe holding on at the side. In the pram she saw a round, contented face. Tess told her that she had had another boy and they had called him Christopher. She looked thinner, but still had the misshapen look of the weeks following a birth. They discussed labours and weights and sleep patterns for a few minutes. Tess looked as if she was managing very well, which was what you would expect with Tess, Joanne thought.

‘See you when the term starts,’ Tess said. ‘You’re coming back to the group, aren’t you?’

‘Oh yes – I hope so!’ Joanne said.

There was a pause. Tess looked intently at her. ‘Are you okay, Joanne? You look really tired.’

‘Oh yes, I’m fine.’ She made up something about Amy not sleeping well and got away as fast as she could.

As she walked home, it was with a sinking worry inside. She longed to get out to the toddler group, but it would be another cause of tension and suspicion. For a moment Joanne found herself wishing desperately that she was not married. It was hard being a single parent, but nowadays she felt like a single parent anyway, only with a moody, oppressive man to deal with as well. She knew her attitude to Dave had changed. She could hardly find any positive feeling for him these days. He was someone she looked at objectively, as another difficult task in her day. And, increasingly, she was frightened.

Rebelliously she thought, I’ve had enough of this. Why the hell shouldn’t I go out and see people?

She didn’t know where Sooky lived, but at least she knew Kieran’s house and it was quite close. She hesitated. Maybe Gerri would be home from hospital by now? In which case she didn’t want to turn up and make things awkward. She’d never met the woman and didn’t know what state she might be in.

But her desire for company made her decide to chance it. When they got to Kieran’s house, she saw his red car was outside with the seats for Billy and Charlie. The house felt occupied and she thought she heard voices, perhaps the TV.

To her relief, Kieran opened the door. He seemed both taller and thinner than she remembered. After registering who she was, he smiled broadly.

‘I was passing . . .’ Joanne started to say.

‘Great, that’s great! And you managed to make the bell work – it can be a bit dodgy. Come in, have you got time for a drink?’

‘Oh yes, I’ve got time!’

Kieran laughed. ‘Acres of it, I expect.’

‘Only I didn’t want to disturb you – not if Gerri was home . . .’

Kieran led her through and put the kettle on. ‘No, not yet; we’re starting with weekends. She’s doing okay – a few setbacks. It’s just quite a slow process. Coffee?’

‘Tea, if that’s okay.’

Amy had fallen asleep on the walk, so Joanne left her in the buggy and she and Kieran went outside with Billy. The baby, Charlie, was also asleep. The two of them sat out at the back while Billy played on the grass.

‘Have you seen Sooky?’ Kieran asked.

‘No, have you?’

Kieran, swallowing a mouthful of coffee, shook his head.

‘I forgot to ask where she lives,’ Joanne said. I know it’s in Handsworth Wood – Selbourne Road, I think she said. But I haven’t got a number or anything. She’s really nice, isn’t she?’

‘Yes, lovely person,’ Kieran agreed. ‘Oh well, I expect she’ll come back to the toddler group when it starts. Not that long now, is it?’

Joanne reported that she’d met Tess, and Kieran said he’d seen her as well. They talked about kids for a bit: broken nights and feeding, and how Kieran’s boys were adjusting to their mother coming and going. Kieran got Billy to show Joanne the wormery he’d made in a big glass far. She admired it, though the jar was so big that there were no worms to be seen, as they seemed to have taken refuge deep in the middle somewhere.

Once her drink was finished, Joanne thought with a jolt of the phone ringing at home, of Dave waiting for her to answer.

‘I’d better be off,’ she said, ‘or Amy’ll be awake and then I’ll never get away.’

Kieran smiled again. She thought what a boyish, innocent kind of face he had. It was such a relief to be with someone other than Dave. ‘Well, we wouldn’t mind the company. Pop round again if you get time.’

‘Thanks, I expect we will.’ She felt unwelcoming not saying the same in return:
Come to ours: Amy would love it.
But ridiculous as it was, it didn’t feel safe having him in the house, even if Dave was out.

Kieran and Billy waved her along the road and she walked home, feeling, at least for a while, that life was something approaching normal.

Thirty-Eight

Dave decided to take the last week in August off.

‘We could have a few days out,’ he said. ‘Even if we can’t afford a holiday.’

Joanne had mixed feelings. It would be good not to have to get through each day with Amy on her own. If Dave was at home, maybe he’d relax and not feel he had to keep checking on her. But the thought of him being there all day was also unsettling. Was she ever going to be able to relax for a moment herself? These days she often felt she was struggling for air.

Over the weekend Dave caught up with some jobs in the garden, mowing the grass and replacing a rotted fence panel at the end of the garden. It was a relief that he was busy. His mood had not lifted. On the Saturday morning Joanne stood hand-washing a few of Amy’s clothes at the sink. She could see Dave at the end of the garden, his strong figure bending and straightening as he worked. His blond hair was short and neat as usual, and his face and neck were turning pink in the sun.

Joanne stood with her hands in the soapy water. Last night he had pulled her over onto her back, when she had been curled up hoping for sleep. He stared down aggressively into her face.

‘What’s the matter? Don’t you want me any more then? You too good for me, are you?’

He was always doing that: throwing ridiculous questions at her, so that whether she answered ‘yes’ or ‘no’ she was caught out.

‘Don’t be silly – course I want you,’ she lied. ‘I’m just a bit tired, that’s all.’

‘Tired.’ He looked scornful. ‘What’ve you got to be tired about?’

She felt sore after his treatment of her last night. Watching his unhappy, forbidding figure, that stranger the other side of the glass, she thought,
I hate you, Dave Marshall
.

They went over to see Dave’s mom, Wendy, that afternoon, and to Kings Heath to see Joanne’s on the Sunday, so the weekend was more or less taken care of. Dave suggested they take Amy out to Brueton Park one day, have a picnic. Maybe even go out Tamworth way to Drayton Manor Park on another.

It was Sunday night and she was cooking tea.

‘Brueton Park’d be nice,’ she called through to the back room. She was at the stove, mashing the spuds. ‘I think Amy’s a bit young for Drayton Manor – some of the rides there are really big.’

Dave appeared at the kitchen door.

‘So?’ The aggression was so instant, so out of proportion that it jarred her, making her heart race. His arms were folded, face full of rage, his eyes boring into her.

‘Well . . .’ She could hear her voice trembling and fought to keep it under control. ‘It’s just – as she’s so little, it might be a waste of money. We could go when she’s a bit bigger.’

Dave nodded his head in a nasty, mocking way. ‘Oh yeah, waste of money, is it now? And whose money is it, eh? Who earns every penny of the money around here? Those clothes you’re wearing – that food – who bought all that, eh?’

She knew this was not the moment to point out that Karen had given her the shirt she was wearing for her birthday.

‘Well, you do, but . . .’

‘I do. Me.’ He came up very close, speaking right into her face. ‘So who decides whether or not I can take my own daughter out for the day, if I want to? You?’ The sneering tone increased, the eyes boring into her. ‘And what do you bring into this house, by the way, if anything?’

‘Dave!’ She tried to back away.

‘No, I’m serious.’ He was forcing her into the corner of the kitchen and Joanne started to feel her knees go weak. Her hand was gripping the potato masher. It was a tinny thing, not much of a weapon for self-defence.

‘Look, I know you earn the money . . .’ She was beginning to panic, feeling trapped in the kitchen. She turned and pulled open the cutlery drawer, trying to break the mood. ‘Could you go and lay the table for us – please?’

Again he stared hard at her, taking his time, then turned away. She followed him out to the back room, anger coiled within her. He was round the other side of the table now, the way clear if she wanted to run out of the house.

‘Since you ask,’ she said, ‘if you had to pay a childminder to look after Amy all day, you’d soon find your precious wages disappearing, I can tell you.’

His head shot up. She saw fear in his face for a split second, before the hard, controlling eyes were back, trying to pin her down, body and soul.

‘Why would I need to do that?’

‘You don’t – that’s the point I’m making. I’m just saying my days are worth something, that’s all. You’re not the only one.’

For a second she thought she had pushed him too far, that he would lash out, but to her relief he seemed to subside and go off the boil. As she served the food Joanne realized that standing up to him might be the best thing. It just took so much energy and felt so risky and frightening.

‘Look,’ she said as they ate their meal, ‘I don’t mind if you want to go to Drayton Manor Park – we’ll go, if that’s what you want.’

‘Oh,
thank you
,’ he said with heavy sarcasm, as if he had just been granted an enormous favour. And he stared her out again. The battle of the eyes. She found it hard to swallow her pie and left half of it.

It was later that he hit her, unannounced, from behind.

They were undressing in their room and she was standing by the bed, her shirt off, in the process of unfastening her bra. He was suddenly behind her, punching her hard, between the shoulder blades. The pain was extreme and she fell forward onto the bed, gasping. Eyes closed, absorbed in the blackness, all she could think of was the pain, the need to get her breath. She heard her own shuddering sobs, once she could suck the air in and out. There was nothing to say. She had gone to a dark place in herself, like an animal surviving.

He was standing over her. As she surfaced she became aware of the denim-covered legs near her by the bed, alien as something from outer space. Without a word to him she got up, not looking at him, blanking him out.

‘Jo?’ He put a hand on her shoulder.

‘Don’t touch me!’ she snarled, shying away.

She was too hurt and upset to think about whether he would hit her again. All she could think of was getting out of that room, away from him, from a man who could just hit you, out of the blue, for nothing – a man who was supposed to love you.

Trembling with shock, jolting sobs shaking her, she went to the pillow on her side of the bed and pulled out her nightdress. She didn’t look at him. She was like a machine.

‘What’re you doing?’ he said. He didn’t sound angry, just bewildered.

‘I’m going to sleep in with Amy.’ She marched to the door. She felt electric, full of sparks that might burst out any moment in the form of screams that would never stop.

‘No, Jo, don’t . . .’ He had started to sound wretched. ‘I’m sorry.’

‘I said don’t touch me! I don’t care how
sorry
you are! What good is
sorry
? Get away from me . . .’

‘Don’t walk out on me – just come to bed and it’ll be all right.’

But she was already across the landing, into Amy’s room, frantically moving the chest of drawers against the door to keep him out. She never wanted to see him again, ever.