Mo said she was quirky (6 page)

Anyway, if he was, Helen would have known, and she was not a boaster saying that. Men looked at her and the surgeon was one. Their brains were someplace else. Men dont have brains. That was Ann Marie, ‘it’ thinks for them, ‘it’ meaning ‘thing’ as in penis. Their eyes were watching you when you glanced up from the cards and you saw them for that one split second before they looked away, unless they wanted you to see. Then if they went further and gave a wee signal, smiling longer or else whatever, men did it in a certain way and it was obvious, you knew it was happening, even when it was a surprise; people who should have known better, if they were in the public eye like on television or football players. Two were regulars. They were new in their football team, new in the country, and this was where they came, them and their French voices; it was French they spoke, just sexy and funny and the women talked about them. But they were only boys, they shouldnt have been spending their time in casinos. And if they were reported? People tell stories, they phone up the newspapers. Their football manager wouldnt have liked it.

Just being alive was a gamble. You opened a door and what was behind? You never knew. Everybody took risks. Helen too, she had done. Never again. Never. Never never. Oh my God the thought, the very thought! The one she went with made her shiver. Even thinking about him. It was true. Who made her feel like that? Nobody. Oh how he looked at her, he just had to, even away over, he would be standing away over and she would be dealing and perhaps somebody asking for a card and she happened to see him, just glancing across. Then he was gone; she looked and she didnt see him. She couldnt stop thinking about him, he just arrived and she saw him and then he was away and she couldnt think of anything else. That was
so
against the rules. You could act ordinary in the job but when it came to men and it took away your concentration, oh no, then their hands were in the till and you were out a job.

It was dangerous too. He was dangerous. Men that made you feel that way, some did and he was one.

There were rumours about him. Nothing bad; not that Helen ever heard and she would have heard because she listened for it. And never anything to her, not in the slightest, only how he made her feel, and the respect for her, that was what he had. He never acted badly towards her. So if it was sex my God that was her business. It was. He just made her feel good. That was him and the man he was. If he was different with men, well of course he was: men are different with men and so are women, different from women, different from each other; of course they are. It made life a puzzle. Men could be strange, they did unexpected things, foolish things, they took foolish risks. Why had he chosen her. Because it was true that he did, he did choose her.

It was her he chose. My God. Out of everybody.

He was a puzzle. Men were. But him, he really was. Being older too, that made it more so. Helen didnt like older men, and their bodies. No, she didnt. It was only him. What did he do to her? it was like he did something. He didnt attract her: he made it so that she could be attracted; then it was up to her, she could allow it or not, so it was her, so that is the risk and she took it.

And he parted from her.

He did! You would have thought the other way round, her leaving the man, but not Mr Adams, just disappearing like as if she had done something. She hadnt. It was him. He just went out her life. People do that. You want to know why, they dont tell you. Brian was the same. He was exactly the same. That was men, why do they do it? Even a brother.

Oh but she was glad it finished with Mr Adams because with her ex, it didnt bear thinking if he found out, he would have killed him. Or said he would. Fantasy-land. It was only her he would have killed. In comparison to Mr Adams he was a boy, not fit for the company. Vulgar and silly, silly and stupid, a vulgar and stupid young guy, that was her ex. It was hard to imagine him in the same room. Mr Adams only would have looked at him. If even he noticed him. That would have been nice to see: that would have put him in his place.

The arrogance of it. And what had he to be arrogant about? Just a stupid stupid, stupid and vulgar and just silly, and foolish, so so foolish.

But if ever he had found out. My God!

Helen could have told him. Imagine she had. To set against the arrogance, the pure arrogance, how somebody could be so arrogant, so stupid and so

and with so nothing to be arrogant about!

That would have been something to see, if she had told her ex. What might he have done? Nothing. There was nothing. He might have thought he could. Small chance. He would have had another think coming, if he so much as touched her, the slightest thing.

Yes she had gone with Mr Adams, so she had taken the risk. That was her and her own personal experience.

Even now he would have had that effect. If ever she was to see him my God, trembling hands if she was drinking tea, it was ridiculous, a grown woman.

Her life was so strange. Things happened. She didnt know anything about him. But she went with him and it was to a hotel. Of course he was married, she knew nothing about that. What did she know? She knew she was safe: that was what she knew. Knowledge was not a fault. Helen wanted it for Sophie. Mum hadnt wanted it for her. Why was that? Imagine not
wanting knowledge for your daughter. Knowledge helped you survive. You needed it as a woman.

Helen closed her eyes.

If something bad had happened to him, she wouldnt have known. Who would have told her? Nobody. She sought news of him in the newspapers, watched television, listened to radio. She wasnt being silly. Mr Adams had that about him. He
was
somebody. She knew he was.

She should have been in bed. Why was she still sitting here? She wasnt fit to sleep. She didnt deserve it.

Daylight had come so if she was not asleep, well, she never would be, and no wonder, it was all just men, how many were there? not that many, she wasnt thinking about that, only how they looked, they always looked. It wasnt her fault. Why did Mum blame her? But she did. If a boy was at the door or shouted up at the window or what? whistled in the street. Mum blamed her. Why? It wasnt her fault. Men looked, they always looked. A mother should know the girl isnt to blame. Brian wasnt the only one who left home.

Oh poor Brian, poor Brian. That was Mum. Never poor Helen. But Helen stayed in touch and Brian didnt.

Mum should have looked at herself. Why didnt she? Her and Dad both, if they wanted to know the truth, but people dont.

Yes people took risks. Of course they did. Grannie used to say it about Dad how he picked on Brian, that was a risk because if he pushed him too far, the size he was. Brian didnt have to be scared of anybody, only hitting them too hard. That was what Grannie said, if ever Brian hit back, that was the time to worry. And she gave Mum a hard look because she was talking about Dad, if he kept picking on Brian all the time, why didnt he just stop it? It wasnt nice picking on people. Dad did pick on Brian. He goaded him. That was Grannie’s word,
goaded
, he
goads
the boy.

Fathers with sons; there are stories in the bible. But girls too, they have to take risks because with boys, what if they talk? Boys talk. They tell each other if you do something if you are a girl, so then they all come to your door, it is horrible, even if it is your dad answers, they ask him, or if it is your brother, they dont care, they say it to him, oh is your sister coming out to play?
to play
, what does
to play
mean, and laughing to each other; so nasty, and unfair, them all smiling and thinking what they are thinking. Whose fault is that? How can the girl be blamed if she hasnt done anything? The girl gets blamed. It is so unfair.

They have to do it and they learn, that is how they learn, if it is the first boy. That is the real world. Why can parents not accept the real world, boys go for girls and girls have to let them, and if it is the wrong one; it cannot always be the right one. It would be impossible, so then they gain in understanding. Women get stoned to death, they get burned to death and buried alive and suffocated at birth. A girl is a woman, a baby girl too, she is a woman; a woman gets suffocated at birth, not a baby, they dont see a baby. That is the real world. People dont see the real world. That is up to them, if they want to hide the truth. They suffocate a baby because the baby is a woman, they stone her to death.

Knowing Mr Adams let her see about her ex what she didnt want in life. Him! It didnt affect their relationship because that was already finished. Only she hadnt told him. She knew and he didnt. How many times, lying there beside him in the dark and he was awake, and she could have said it to him, she could have. And she knew he was awake. Oh she knew alright because when he swallowed. People dont swallow, not if they are asleep. He was wondering if
she
was awake. She hardly breathed, she wouldnt have, not for him; never. Her mind could go any place. She was able to lie there and think it, whatever it was, whatever
she wanted to think, and he was powerless because he could not stop her brains. He would if he could but he couldnt. Except if he nudged her. He did that, nudged her. Horrible. Even with strength. So it was like hitting her. Imagine that. That was what it was. If it was the hip it was real pain because it was his elbow doing it and that was like the bone, so you could be bruised, and it was only pretence, to waken her up, hitting her to waken her up.

He didnt know how lucky he was. If she had done what she could have done and told Mr Adams, but she didnt. Imagine she had! My God. He would have come and beat him up, or got men to do it. Although if he didnt recover: that was the worry. What if the men hurt him on the head or damaged his neck or his back or even his legs and like something happened so it was lasting damage? My God, what if it was a wheelchair? Sophie would have to push him around too. And she would when she was older and travelled up to Glasgow, because he would never come to London, never. Such a selfish bugger, just so selfish. Whyever did she get mixed up with him? That was Helen, that was so typical, so so typical; she was hopeless, really, she was.

Not in a hundred years, marrying him, imagine, if she had known anything.

The word ‘respect’.

‘Respect’ was such a beautiful word. ‘Respect’, what it was. There were these men in her life. Sometimes she was sick of it, of men, just all men, and if she had another child oh if it could be a son and the way she would bring him up, it would be
respect
, to respect people, whether men or women, or children. Why not children! We should respect children too. Mo did it with Sophie. He made sure of that. Helen watched to see. How does the man treat the girl? just the littlest girl, if he watches her undress. He has to do it, so how does he do it? And
the little girl just trusts him. It is not a risk. She doesnt know that it is because she doesnt know, she doesnt know anything. What does a girl know? Nothing. She doesnt know anything. How can you blame her? You cant. A girl cannot be blamed. That is so so wrong, just so so wrong. Of course she trusts him. She doesnt know and sits on the carpet and with her legs open or sits on him and it is on him, on his thighs and front; what does he do? because if he has to do something, if it is a man he is so sensitive there, even if it is a father, you just have to touch him. But what if it is a little girl?

No one in the entire world had known about Mr Adams, until Ann Marie. Helen told her. Imagine telling
her
! Typical. But why, why why why!

Because she had to. Otherwise explode, exploded, she would have exploded because who to tell if not Ann Marie it would have been him, her ex, that was who she was going to tell. The one person never to tell was the one she would. She thought she would, she was bursting to, really, she was, lying beside him and she was going to explode my God the words reaching up from her throat into her mouth and if she unzipped her lips out it would come: everything would come out; not in a confession; only how wonderful it was, she wanted to tell him because he didnt know and didnt know anything about how it could be if it was two people, he just had no knowledge at all, such an ignorant ignorant

But she needed to tell someone and told Ann Marie. Then others knew. They were smiling. They knew. Ann Marie told them. Imagine telling them. But she did.

So sad, so so sad, really. A friend is a friend but is not a friend, not a real friend. What is a real friend? That is like family, a real family. Mo had a real family. Helen didnt. Sophie was her family.

It was the last time she would confide in anybody. Who was
there? Not another living soul. She didnt have one proper friend. Imagine a sister, how that would be; just talking and being able to say things. Some said about mothers and daughters, but not hers. Even brothers; in stories you got them, sisters confided in brothers.

Oh but Ann Marie had had a tough life. It was true. Everybody had tough lives but Ann Marie really really did have, just how things had been for her, so very very difficult. But other people’s lives were difficult too. Everybody’s life. Ann Marie had a habit of going on and on about how tough it was. Other people were the same, like they were the only ones with troubles. Nobody knew the meaning of ‘tough’ except them. It was so so foolish. They knew nothing about people but dismissed them anyway, and said things that were nonsensical. If they could only think, why didnt they think? There were countless millions of people. How many of them had tough lives? Most of the world. What if it was Africa and Asia and these countries where they starved to death? People were killed in these countries. But oh no, they didnt want to hear about that, they didnt like political things and thought they knew better. If you said about other countries they just looked at you so it was you, you were the naïve one.

That was a fault people had. Older ones especially, they had to be the experienced person, as if they knew everything because they had seen hard times and their lives were tough.

Nobody knew everything; nobody had the right to say that. It was like a woman’s story in a magazine Helen had been reading. This woman sent in her own personal diary and they published it. Her dad had Alzheimer’s and her mum was an invalid, unable to leave the home without assistance. The daughter had to call in every day. Every single day. She visited her parents every single day of her life. A train and a bus on the return journey. She was married herself although she had no
children. How could she have? There wasnt any time. It was just so tough. Helen wouldnt have coped. Every single day. The travelling alone was two and a half hours, then the time she spent looking after them, say an hour and a half, so four hours daily, four hours out your life, every day of the week. Imagine it. Every single day! My God. So she did have it tough. But was it the toughest? It didnt give her the right to act like she knew everything, although she could have but she didnt. Some people were humble but some were the opposite. It was interesting when you read about their lives. There were hidden parts for everybody.