Goodnight Lady (35 page)

As Joshua stood with a jar of ale in his hand he was more than pleased with the reception. There was a large four-tier wedding cake, and food the like of which he had only dreamed of. A large ham, turkey, chicken, beef. There were all sorts of salads and cold vegetables. He had even eaten curry for the first time, amazed at the skill of Briony’s cook, Mrs Horlock.

He watched as his friends relaxed in the grand surroundings and sampled the fine foods and the plentiful drink. All the children had little cakes thrust into their hands and one of the men had made a swing on a large tree at the end of the garden. He looked over to where his wife was talking to her sisters and suddenly felt an enormous burst of pride. She was actually his, now, his wife. She looked beautiful and he knew this was being remarked on.

A normal East End Irish wedding reception consisted of some currant cake and a barrel of holy water. This was home-made scotch, or poteen as they called it. Then the next day there would either be a big joke, such as, ‘Someone forgot to book the fight!’ Or the talk would be of an actual fight that had ensued at some point in the drunken proceedings. Not on his wedding day, though. People were enjoying tasting a bit of the high life, as they would put it to themselves. They’d talk for years about this day, the only chance many would ever get to stand in a garden like this, with drinks and food, and not be either working there or watching from a vantage point. Joshua knew that the general consensus was he had done well for himself, and basked in his newfound status.

Eileen smiled at him tremulously, and he smiled back. Her tiny waist was emphasised by her ivory satin wedding gown, and he told himself that soon she’d be sporting a belly full of arms and legs. He couldn’t wait to start the ball rolling. Tonight couldn’t come quick enough for him. He’d drive her hard, by Christ, because after all, she was his wife, wasn’t she? And a man was allowed to be a man in his own home, surely?

 

Eileen and Joshua were in their small terraced house in Bow. It had been presented to them a week earlier by Briony and now Eileen stared around her in wonder. It was hers entirely. In her name, in fact. She didn’t even have to pay rent.

She had been all for refusing the place, her horror of how Briony accumulated her money still fresh. But Joshua had said it would be churlish to refuse such a magnificent gift, so she had acquiesced. Now she stood in the kitchen, with the freshly leaded range and the smell of lavender polish and coal, and gazed about her in wonder. It was fully equipped, she didn’t even have to supply a tablecloth or a tea towel. Everything was already there.

Joshua put his arm around her waist and she pulled away from him as if she’d been burnt.

‘Shall I make a cup of tea?’

Joshua smiled. ‘It’s not tea I want, Eileen love. You just get yourself upstairs and get into bed. I’ll sit here for a while and have a smoke. I’ll be up soon.’

The words were heavy with emphasis and innuendo and Eileen licked dry lips and nodded.

Upstairs she stared around her at the bedroom. The bed looked very big all of a sudden, and the lights from outside seemed to give the room shadows and dark corners previously unnoticed. She didn’t want to turn on the light though, the thought of Joshua seeing her in the light frightened her. She sat on the bed and bit her lip. Unsure now why she had been so keen to get married. She liked the thought of having her own home, and cooking meals and looking after children, but that was all daytime stuff. She had not allowed herself to think of the nights. They were like her times with Henry Dumas, to be pushed into the furthest recesses of her mind. Only now, here she was married, and the night was here, black and ominous and threatening to go on forever.

She started to unhook her dress, unable to reach the tiny pearl buttons with her trembling fingers. She covered her face with her hands, seeing another bedroom, warm and pretty, and herself lying in bed terrified in case Henry came in and woke her. It was the fear of the unknown that frightened her so. Would Joshua want what he’d wanted? Would he want her to put her hands and lips in secret places that made her feel faint just thinking about them? Would he want her naked and open, kneeling on the bed, her tears seeming to spur him on. Was that what the priest meant when he said children were born through pain? The pain of rough hands and humiliation and fear?

She searched the room with wild eyes, as if expecting a doorway to appear so she could run through it and escape. She closed her eyes tightly and tried to stem the burning tears that were filling up her eyes. Tried to stop the erratic beating of her heart. She could smell her own fear and it spurred her terror on to new heights.

She heard him tapping out his pipe in the fireplace, the rat-tat-tat like an explosion in the silence. She held her breath, ears straining to pick up the sounds as he shut the kitchen door and made his way up the stairs. His tread was heavy, new shoes creaking with each movement of his feet. The breath was hurting her chest and she let it out noisily. A fine layer of sweat was covering her body. The armpits of the dress were wet now. As the bedroom door swung open she groaned in fright. Her whole body seemed to be stiff and unyielding, her legs rooted to the floor.

‘Come on, Ei, aren’t you undressed yet?’ The words were low, spoken in a cajoling whisper.

Her face, strained and white, devoid of colour, stared at him in dumb terror. He unbuckled his trousers, a loud belch escaping from his lips. The trousers dropped to the floor and he stepped from them.

‘Let’s get some light in here.’

As he turned to put the light on she croaked out through stiff lips: ‘No ... No, please, Joshua. I’m frightened.’

He turned to her, a smile on his lips.

‘I’m sorry, Ei, I’m forgetting it’s your first time.’ He sat beside her on the bed, taking hold of her hand. ‘Stop your shivering, girl, we’ll soon warm each other up.’

Eileen saw his face in the dimness. He had drunk too much and his face was ruddy. His thick lips gleamed and his eyes looked empty. Like vacant sockets. She pulled her hand from his and stood up.

‘I can’t, Joshua, I can’t ...’

He pulled her down on to the bed. Lying on top of her, he began pulling up her wedding dress. Feeling for her underclothes, he kissed her - wet, tobacco-tainted kisses that made her whole body shrink. She pushed his chest, feeling the roughness of his shirt on her palms. He laughed. Hitching himself up, he pulled off her drawers, tearing them with the force he used. Dragging them down her legs while his mouth sought her again. She tried to put her head on to her shoulder, the panic welling up inside her. Wanting to be anywhere but in this room. She saw her father trying to take her mother, Henry taking first herself and then Briony. All the pictures ran through her mind and merged, until all she could see was Henry, her father and Joshua, all naked, all trying to pull at her, touch her. With one almighty push, she forced him from her.

She heard his muffled curse as he landed on the floor. Before she could pull herself from the bed, he was up, dragging at her dress. She could hear the material tearing, the pearl buttons coming apart with ease. She hooked her hands and tried to tear at his face, arms flailing in the darkness. He grabbed her wrists and a searing pain shot through her arms. Then he slapped her hard, across the face, knocking her head sideways with the blow. She lay then, stock still, looking at the man who loomed over her.

He pulled her clothes from her then in silence, meeting no resistance, his hands rough, his mouth spewing out reprimands and curses. He looked down on her nakedness, her heavy breasts and tiny waist, and felt the full force of his want. Kicking her legs open with his knees, he held on to her waist and roughly entered her, jabbing himself into her, careless now of her pain, of her fear. Enjoying the sensation of being the master of the situation. As he entered her he suddenly stayed still. Buried inside her, he looked down at her in confusion. There had been no resistance in her at all. He had slipped inside her, even as she was, dry and terrified, and had met nothing. He took her hair in his great fist, pulling it hard.

‘You’ve been busted.’ The words came out low and deep.

Eileen stared up at him, her mouth moving in prayer. She wasn’t aware that he had spoken. She lay there staring up at him in terror, her mind blank except for the prayers that were crowding into her mind.

Joshua began to lose his erection, all desire for his virgin wife leaving him. In his drink-clouded brain he saw her as she had been when he met her. Never a real kiss, never a touch, nothing. And all the time she was busted, had been used. No wonder that sister of hers had been so quick to marry her off. Had threatened him. Some other man had known her, had touched her. They must all be laughing up their sleeves at him, like it was one big joke.

Eileen, realising that he had stopped, assuming it was all over, tried to rise. It was as if this action, the way she tried to get up, get away from him, finally finished him. Shoving her down by her shoulders he pinned her to the bed and began to ride her hard, thrusting himself inside her with every ounce of energy and strength he possessed.

He wanted to kill her, wanted to slip his hands around that slim white throat and squeeze the breath from her body. But he couldn’t. Even in his rage he remembered she was the sister of Briony Cavanagh. Well, he decided, there were other ways to skin a cat, and by Christ he’d use everyone of them. Eileen O’Malley, as she now was, would never know another day’s peace.

Mariah looked at Tommy with shock tinged with well-concealed annoyance. She put her hands together and tapped her two forefingers against her lips. ‘And what has Briony to say about this?’

Tommy shrugged nonchalantly.

‘They’re my halves of the businesses, I can dispose of them where I want.’

Mariah shook her platinum blonde head, a smile playing on her lips as she answered him.

‘I don’t see it that way, Tommy, and I have a feeling on me that Briony won’t see it like that either. Now then, I don’t know what has brought all this on, what’s transpired between you, but I know this much. You’re not using me to get a sly dig in. Me and Briony get along very well, we’re going into business together on a house actually, and I have no interest in making an enemy of her. Not now, not ever.’

Tommy was surprised to hear about their business deal and looked at his hands, clasped together in his lap, while he digested the news. Briony had said nothing about it to him. Nothing.

‘I see.’

Mariah grinned. ‘No, you don’t, Tommy Lane, and I think you should be ashamed of yourself. You walk in here, like the big “I am”, offering me your half of Briony’s businesses when they’re hers really. Briony’s the one who built up the houses while you concentrated on chancier deals. I know about your bookies, I know everything about everyone. I’ve made a career out of it. If you want shot, as you so eloquently put it, of any connection with her, my advice is to let her buy you out.’

Her voice softened and she leant towards him. ‘Listen, Tommy mate, I don’t know what’s happened between you, but this ain’t like you. Trying to tuck her up! Whatever she’s done to you, remember the past. Remember when it was good and then decide on big things like the partnership. You might be having a nasty half hour today, but think, will you still feel like it a month from now, or a year?’

‘To tell you the truth, Mariah, I can’t face her. This ain’t nastiness. I thought you’d be the best bet for a partner. You’re alike, so bloody alike! But I can’t face her meself. I’m sorry, I don’t want to clap eyes on her now or ever. I don’t really want to do her down, I swear that. But I have to sever the ties.’

‘Do you need the money?’

Tommy shook his head.

‘No. I don’t need the money.’

‘Then write to her, tell her from now on you’re a sleeping partner. To bank your half of the profits. That way, you don’t cut all your ties - you might be sorry you did one day - and also you don’t have to see her until you feel you can handle it. And I’ll give you some more free advice. Don’t try and sell your half to anyone without consulting her first. That’s taking the piss and you know it. If she done it to you, there’d be murder done. Try and keep an element of friendship there, Tommy. Give her first offer, then if she refuses, be a sleeping partner. But don’t make things worse than they are. Trouble comes without you going out looking for it.’

 

Molly was shocked at the sight of Eileen. She had left the newlyweds for a week, restraining herself from going to the house, telling herself they would want a bit of time on their own. Finally, she had made the long awaited trip and now she sat in the little kitchen with Rosalee chewing on a slice of bread and wasn’t sure what the hell she had stumbled into.

Eileen was as quiet as a church mouse, her face pinched and drawn. She was preparing her dinner, and such was her lassitude, even peeling the carrots was a long-drawn-out operation. She had made a pot of tea and had not opened her mouth since. Molly had talked about all her own doings, until now there was an absolute quiet that hung in the air like a silent cloud.

‘Is everything all right, Eileen? You don’t look yourself, girl.’

Eileen looked at her, her face strained. Molly felt a sinking feeling at the sight. Please don’t let Eileen’s nerves get the better of her now, not when she’d been better for so long. Holy Mary, don’t let her be going off her head again, please.

‘I said, are you feeling all right, Eileen child?’

She nodded.

Molly sighed loudly, wondering what to say.

‘Is everything all right with you and Joshua?’

Eileen cut the carrots up, the scrape of the knife against the wooden chopping board the only sound in room.

‘For the love of Christ, Eileen, will you bloody well answer me?’

Molly’s loud voice made Eileen and Rosalee jump.