A Mother’s Sacrifice. Kitty Neale

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СКАЧАТЬ you about smoking?’ He glared at her, snatched the cigarette from her mouth and angrily threw it to the floor. Then he grabbed her arm and marched her off down the road towards home, her chunky sensible heels furiously snapping on the pavement.

      ‘But what about Johnnie?’ Glenda asked as they crossed the top of the street where Maude and Bob lived. She was anxious to collect her son from Harry’s parents, even though it was late.

      ‘Don’t worry about him. Me mum would have put him in bed with her by now so you can pick him up in the morning,’ Harry growled. Glenda swallowed; she feared she was about to feel the brunt of his anger yet again that night.

      Bloody woman showing me up, thought Harry as he slammed the front door of their two-up, two-down terraced house. How dare she walk off like that and have the audacity to say I was showing her up! He stormed into the small living room, throwing his ex-army overcoat over the back of their threadbare winged armchair whilst Glenda went through to the kitchen.

      ‘Glenda! Where are you?’

      Glenda appeared in the doorway. ‘I’m just about to put the kettle on. Do you want a cup of cocoa?’

      ‘No, I don’t! I want to know what your bloody game is.’

      ‘Game … I–I don’t know what you mean,’ Glenda answered, her voice sounding shaky.

      Harry took three swift steps forward until he was face to face with his wife. She’s not fucking stupid, he thought.

      ‘You know exactly what I mean,’ he said as he grabbed her around her neck with one of his large, calloused hands. The force he used caused Glenda to stagger backwards but still Harry held on, pushing her up against the wooden door of the under-stairs hallway cupboard. ‘Don’t you ever leave the pub like that again.’ He squeezed her neck tighter. ‘And showing you up, eh. Me showing you up! It was the other way round, woman, and I ain’t standing for it!’

      He lifted his other hand, slapped her hard across her cheek and for a moment she closed her eyes, but when she opened them again to look back at him Harry could see there were no tears, just a look of defiance which he took as a challenge.

      ‘You fucking bitch,’ he spat, remembering how he had noticed her looking at Billy Myers. ‘Fancy that Billy, do you?’

      ‘No … Harry, please. Don’t be silly. Of course I don’t.’

      ‘Silly … So I’m silly now, am I?’ Without further thought Harry released her neck to punch her in the stomach, and Glenda fell to the floor. ‘Now who’s silly, eh?’ Harry snarled as he kicked her in the ribs. ‘Get up and get up them stairs. I’m telling you, woman, you had better behave yourself in future. You’re my wife! Mrs Harry Jenkins, and don’t you bloody forget it!’

      Harry stood back as Glenda scrambled to her feet and ran for the stairs, clutching her belly. The hallway was normally dark, but now it was well illuminated by the lights from the kitchen and living room. Huh, Harry thought, I bet she turns the tears on now.

      He held on to the wall as he swayed behind her, slowly stumbling up the stairs. When they were in bed he would have his husband’s rights. Harry grinned to himself as he made his way into the bedroom; at least he never suffered from brewer’s droop.

      The alarm clock rang out at six o’clock in the morning. Glenda was already awake, her back to her husband and the covers pulled up tight under her chin. Her side hurt so she tried not to move too much, but she knew she’d have to get up to make Harry his morning cup of tea and pack some Spam sandwiches for his lunch. She felt a moment of resentment at the thought of having to do anything for him after what he had inflicted on her last night.

      Oh, he would be sorry today, probably bringing her some cheap flowers and promising her he would never hurt her again, yet it was always the same – good behaviour for a week or two until he’d have a drink and she would become his punchbag.

      Last night he had gone too far. The kick to her ribs had damaged her, possibly cracking a bone or two, and, as she had laid in bed sobbing with the pain, Harry had forced himself on her, disregarding her discomfort and ignoring her pleas to stop.

      ‘Argh,’ Harry grunted now as he slammed his hand down on the alarm clock. ‘My head’s banging and I think the tooth fairy shat in my mouth in the night.’

      Glenda remained motionless, waiting for Harry to go to the bathroom before she would get out of the bed.

      ‘Sod these mornings,’ he moaned, throwing his legs over the side of the bed, ‘it’s freezing and more like winter than autumn.’ He turned and shook Glenda’s hip. ‘You awake?’

      ‘Yes,’ she answered through gritted teeth.

      ‘You gonna get up and put the kettle on then?’

      Without answering, Glenda winced as she slowly climbed out of the bed and made her way downstairs to the kitchen. As she stood on the cold linoleum, staring at the kettle waiting for it to boil, she gently rubbed her aching ribs and wondered what had happened to the charming man she had married three years earlier. The one who had lavished gifts on her and made her feel so safe and secure in his muscular arms. Harry used to make her laugh so much that her sides hurt. Yet now her sides hurt for a very different reason.

      She had loved Harry so much when they’d first met, but now, instead of adoration, Glenda found herself contemplating how she could ever get out of this situation. It was impossible of course. She had little Johnnie to think about and nowhere to go. Her parents couldn’t help, and even if she left, Harry would easily track her down to drag her back home. He would never let her go, and, with no other choice but to stay with him, she felt trapped – trapped with a man who was growing more and more violent.

      The kettle whistled on the gas stove as Glenda feared that one day Harry would send her to an early grave.

      Glenda turned the corner onto the street where her in-laws Maude and Bob lived. As she looked down the row of little terraced houses, she thought how all the streets around here looked the same, apart from the Latchmere estate with its impressive five-storey tenement blocks. Maude had said she wouldn’t mind living in one as the views would be spectacular, and they would have an indoor lavvy. But the idea of living up high didn’t appeal to Glenda, and she was lucky as her street was more up to date so they all had bathrooms inside, with electric geysers for hot water.

      As was usual at this time of the morning, housewives in their housecoats, cardigans, curlers and scarves were busy outside, cleaning their doorsteps and enjoying neighbourly natters. A few younger children were kicking balls across the street, wearing short trousers even though it was a nippy day. Glenda put her head down and paced towards Maude’s house, hoping that none of the middle-aged busybodies would stop her for a chat. Her cheek was still puffy and she was running out of excuses to cover for Harry’s violence. The women around here must think I’m so clumsy, she thought, hoping the embarrassing truth would never come out.

      The worst thing was that everyone in these streets who knew her also knew her mother Elsie. She was a frail woman who had had Glenda late in life. The pregnancy and a traumatic childbirth had left her weak and sickly. In fact, Ted, her father, had said Elsie had never properly got over it. Her father was getting on in years too, so the last thing that Glenda wanted was to worry them both with her marital problems.

      ‘Wotcha, Glenda,’ Mrs Williams called from over the other side of the street, ‘you look like you’re in a hurry, love.’

      ‘Oh, СКАЧАТЬ