Two Women (50 page)

‘You’re pissed.’

Matty laughed again, a loud raucous laugh that reverberated around the wing and caused a PO to bang on the door.

‘Keep it down in there, you two.’

Susan was giggling along with her now, like two schoolgirls. Matty poured them more large drinks.

‘I killed him, all right. But the funny thing was, you see, he wasn’t expecting it.’ She laughed again. ‘You should have seen his face! Talk about shocked. He wasn’t expecting it at all.’

‘Well, I shouldn’t think he was. In fairness no one expects to be stabbed through the heart, do they? I mean, it’s just not done in polite society.’

They both started to laugh again. This time the banging on the cell door was louder as the night PO shrieked: ‘Keep it down in there, I said.’

‘I bet the lesbians get that shouted at them all the time, don’t you, girl?’

Matty had to push the corner of Susan’s blanket into her mouth to stop her laughter from bursting out again.

‘Come on, pour the drink and let’s get really sloshed.’ Susan was having trouble talking already but the prospect of getting slaughtered looked good to her and she was determined to enjoy it.

‘Well, no getting maudlin then, like Rhianna does.’

Susan shook her head. ‘Don’t worry, I won’t.’

Matty moved her head nearer to explain what she was feeling.

‘I tried it, you know. The lesbian thing. When I was on remand. But it wasn’t for me. I like men. Well, actually, what I mean is, I prefer men if I’m going to do it at all.’

Susan grinned.

‘I can fucking take it or leave it, girl. Barry never did it for me in all those years. Even when I really loved him, at first like, he still never did it for me. Now that bloke from Mad Max, the Australian . . . What’s his name?’

‘Mel Gibson.’

‘That’s it, Mel Gibson. Now him I could give a right seeing to. And I mean a seeing to and all. The full bifta. Whatever he wanted, he could have.’ She looked down at herself and smiled wryly. ‘Mind you, there ain’t much here anyone would want, is there?’

‘Have you never, ever enjoyed sex? Not even with yourself?’

Susan was shocked at the thought and told her so.

‘Steady on, girl! I’m all for plain talking but that’s taking it a bit far, to my mind.’

Matty was really enjoying herself now. She loved shocking other people and knew that talk of masturbation was as shocking as it could get for Susan Dalston.

‘You mean, you’ve never had a wank? A frig?’ She frowned then. ‘And what’s the other expression the girls in here use?’

Susan pulled herself upright against the bunk.

‘I don’t know, but one thing I do know is you’re drunk. Drunk and disgusting at the same time.’

Matty laughed again.

‘You make me die! Like all the others in here, all swearing and hard talk and yet something as normal as masturbation and you go all shy and retiring. One of the most natural things in the world. The best natural sedative there is. Yet you lot, who talk freely about periods and shagging, as you call it, find it embarrassing.’

Susan could hear the edge creeping into the other woman’s voice and was quiet. She knew how people were after a drink. She should do after what she grew up with.

‘All right, Matty, calm down. Keep your bleeding hair on. I don’t talk about that or periods, I never have. It’s how I was brought up, I suppose.’

She tried to make a joke of it. Matty wasn’t having any of it.

‘People like you aren’t brought up or reared, you’re dragged up. Dragged up to be just like your parents and theirs before them. It’s how things are. It’s called socialisation.’

Susan sipped at her drink and sighed.

‘Well, whatever it’s called, it’s crap.’

Matty nodded in agreement.

‘It’s all crap, don’t you see, Sue? That’s what’s so terribly funny.’

Susan laughed with her though she didn’t really think it was funny. Indeed she had no idea what the joke was supposed to be. But she didn’t let on. She believed everyone was entitled to let off steam now and again, and obviously Matty had a bit more steam than everyone else.

It always made Susan smile when the girls in for shoplifting or kiteing, using a stolen chequebook and banker’s card, bemoaned their sentences. Six months and they acted like they were facing death row. They forgot that she and a few others were looking at ‘real’ time. In real prisons.

Most would leave here for an open nick, get a job on the farm or in the garden, and smoke and booze their few months away. Whereas she would be moved once more to a secure unit and have to acclimatise herself all over again.

‘Go on, girl, have a good laugh, does you the world of good.’

Matty was laughing, belly laughing once more.

‘All your little homilies . . . You really don’t know, Susan, do you?
You really don’t know
.’

She cracked up again but this time there was no humour in it. It was strained, forced laughter that was hollow-sounding and sad.

Susan filled their mugs again and they drank in silence for a while.

She knew Matty was away somewhere in her head, like she was, probably going over old ground that had been raked and sifted so many times it would be bald if it was real. That ground was always the same for Susan. She guessed it was for Matty too.

All ifs and buts. If only this had happened differently, if only that had happened before, ad infinitum.

Susan knew it all herself, she had been there so many times, but one thing she had learned: it changed nothing, absolutely nothing.

Barry would still be dead, the kids would still be without her, and nothing on the surface was changed no matter how much you
wished
it could be different.

‘When I killed him, Susan, I knew I was going to do it all along. I’d known for ages what I was going to do.’

Matty stared into Susan’s face. In the half light she looked grotesque.

‘But
he
didn’t know. Victor didn’t know. I mean, how could he know? I couldn’t
tell
him, could I? Spoil the surprise.’

She was laughing again. Quietly this time, like a child caught out with a box of matches.

‘But I did it. I told myself I would and I did. That’s called positive thinking. I remember reading about it in
Cosmopolitan
. Thositive pinking.’

Susan laughed with Matty as she tried desperately to say the two words.

‘I am pissed, as you would say.’

Susan took the mug from her and helped her up on her own bunk. Then she covered her with a blanket.

‘You have a little nap, mate. I’ll put all this away. You get some sleep.’

She tidied away, leaving no evidence for the morning screws. As she opened the box under her bunk she saw a half bottle of Scotch and a lump of dope. Placing the vodka in with it, she slid it out of sight.

Then, pouring the two mugs of drink into one, she drained it down. Enjoying the feel of the alcohol. The warmth of it inside her belly.

‘That hit the spot, girl, I can tell you.’

Matty turned her head and looked down at her.

‘I like you, Sue, you’re all right.’

Susan grabbed at her hand and squeezed it tightly.

‘You’re not too bad yourself, girl. Now get some Sooty and Sweep. You’ll feel like a dog’s turd in the morning.’

Matty laughed again, a girlish sound.

‘Your kids are beautiful, Susan. Very beautiful. Even the screws admire their photos. I’ve seen them looking at them.’

She tried to nod to reinforce her words and Susan smiled to herself.

‘I aborted two babies by Victor. I did, Susan. Isn’t that terrible?’

Susan stood by the bunk and held Matty’s hand again, pulling it into her chest as if she was one of the kids, sad and troubled by a little worry.

‘My old man kicked a few out of me, girl. I know how you feel, love. Really I do.’

Matty was trying to focus in the darkness.

‘Oh, it wasn’t Victor, Susan, he wanted them. It was me.
I
didn’t want any kids. Not by him anyway. I’m not the maternal type, I’m afraid. He cried after each abortion because I didn’t tell him till after I’d had the op. Then it was too late, he couldn’t do anything, could he? But Victor was never very good at doing anything really. That was the trouble, he irritated me. An educated, smart man yet he was as silly as a bag of marbles where women were concerned.’

Susan didn’t know what to say. So she just held Matty’s hand and tried to comfort her.

‘Don’t beat yourself up over it, mate. We all do things we regret.’

Now Matty’s voice was serious.

‘Oh, I don’t regret it at all. Any of it, Sue. What is there to regret really? I rid the world of an ineffectual prick called Victor Enderby.’

‘A violent ineffectual prick called Victor Enderby, you mean?’

Matty shook her head in the darkness.

‘He wasn’t violent, Sue. Give me a break! He was the quietest, kindest man in the world, was Victor. That was his downfall. I thought I could handle him and all he was but I couldn’t, you see. In the end he drove me mad. Bored me rigid and made me hate him. I had to get rid of him. You do see that, don’t you?’

Susan didn’t answer her. Instead she pulled the blankets up around Matty’s neck and tucked her in.

‘Go to sleep, you’ll have a head like a balloon in the morning.’

But Matty was gone, gone to another place entirely and this time Susan didn’t envy her. In fact she decided that she wouldn’t want to be Matty Enderby for all the money in the world. She was also wondering what the hell she was going to say to her the next day.

She could only hope that Matty would forget this conversation and never refer to it again. For herself, she was going to put out of her mind all that she had heard. Some things in life were best left inside a person’s head. Susan had believed this for a long time and Matty had made her more aware than ever just how dangerous talking could be if you had something to hide.

And Matty certainly had something to hide.

 

Wendy awoke with the birds as usual. She lay in bed in the Charlton Home for Children, Great Wakering, Essex, and looked around her. The room was almost sterile. White walls and white Formica furniture.

Sitting up, she opened the window by her bed and lit a Benson and Hedges. Puffing on it deeply, she drew the tobacco into her lungs. If her mother knew she smoked she would freak out. But her mother wasn’t here, was she?

Wendy scratched idly at her leg and sighed.

If Mr Potter was on night duty he would pop his head around the door at any minute then stroll in and try to cop a feel. Well, she was ready for him this morning. She had a small blade hidden underneath her pillow.

She wouldn’t hurt him with it, just threaten him.

As she heard the handle turn she threw the cigarette from the window and stared at the door, heart beating like a drum. Willing it to stay shut.

But Mr Alfred Potter was already on his way in.

He was old, as far as Wendy was concerned, being in his forties with blond wispy hair and bad teeth. A fact that obviously didn’t bother him as he seemed to smile all the time.

Especially at the girls. The bigger girls.

‘Up bright and early then, are we?’

Wendy didn’t answer him as he walked slowly towards the bed.

‘Been smoking, have we?’ He was still smiling.

As his hand came out to touch her hair as usual she still didn’t speak, but as it strayed towards her breast she brought the small blade out from under her pillow. Jumping from the bed, she held it in front of her.

‘Come on then, Mr Potter, go for it!’

She hissed the words and was pleased to see his face blanch.

‘You ever touch me again and I’ll cut your throat! I’m more like me mother than people think, see. I’m as bad as her, you hear what I’m saying? I don’t take any shit from anyone, right?’

Mr Potter was scared, really scared, and it showed on his face. Without a word he walked from the room and Wendy felt herself relax.

Forced herself to relax.

She had won! She could not believe he had rolled over so quickly. But he had walked out and left her there without a word.

She hugged herself with glee. She had taken the law into her own hands and she had won, as she’d known she must. No more waking at an unearthly hour, lying in bed wondering if he was going to come in, with his wandering hands and his bad breath.

She had taken control and fronted him up. She had won the battle and therefore the war.

She lit another cigarette to celebrate.

Then the door burst open and there stood Mrs Reading and Mr Potter and two other care assistants.

‘She has a knife on her. She threatened me with it.’

Mr Potter, respected social worker and youth leader, knew exactly what he was doing. The blade was where he’d said and no one listened to the terrified girl’s explanation as he’d known they wouldn’t. He smiled sadly at Wendy as the police were called and smiled even more at her shock and horror.

Wendy realised she had won nothing. And Mrs Reading’s next words stayed with her all her life.

‘Blood will out, Mr Potter. I’ve seen it time and time again. Blood will out.’

Chapter Twenty-Three

Roselle could not believe what she was hearing about Wendy. It was against everything she knew about the girl, and she decided straight away that there had to be something more going on that no one knew about for the girl to threaten one of her social workers with a blade.

Roselle suppressed a smile. If they could see some of the weapons
she
had taken off young girls in her club before now. She had even confiscated a hand gun once from a little Brummie sort called Angelina. She had looked like an angel and talked like a navvy. And she had had every intention of using that gun.