The Leaving of Liverpool (39 page)

Phoebe-Ann snatched the plate he was holding and threw it with as much force as she could muster against the range, where it shattered into dozens of pieces. ‘There! Now you can starve, Jake Malone! And, what’s more, you can sit in your own filth all night, I’m going to bed!’

‘You bitch! You bloody little bitch!’ he was almost sobbing with rage. ‘I’ll make you pay for all this! One day I’ll make you pay!’

She sat down on the edge of the bed and undid the parcel with hands that shook. She could kill him, she could. She’d let him stew for the night. Usually she washed him and changed him and got him on to the low camp bed beside her bed, but tonight he could sit there all night. That would teach him to be so evil-minded. How dare he say such things to her when she’d given up everything for him?

As she hung up Emily’s clothes, the tears spilled down her cheeks. What had she become? She’d sunk as low as him. Swearing and screaming, like his ma. No, she’d never sink as low as Ma Malone, never. She had to try to maintain some dignity, some self-respect, but it was so hard being tied to a man like him. Tied and trapped for the rest of her life. She leaned her head against the wardrobe door. She was twenty-one years old and her life was over. What would Mam have said, what would Lily have advised her to do? Make the best of it and not sink to his level, that’s what Mam would have said. But there wasn’t anything to make the best of.

She thought of Rhys and a fresh wave of sobbing overtook her. She should have married him, he would have been good to her, he still loved her. He’d told her that before he’d gone away. If only she could leave Liverpool, leave Jake and run away to Rhys. It was impossible and that made it all the more bitter a pill to swallow. She was still married and both Rhys and his mother were strongly religious people.

She wiped her eyes and drew the curtains and began to get undressed. In future, she’d ignore all his taunts, all his complaints, all his swearing. She’d be silent and dignified and each Sunday she’d get herself dressed up and have a few hours of freedom. Perhaps that, in a small way, would help to compensate for being trapped in this sham of a marriage. But tonight he could sit in the kitchen, that would teach him to call her a whore.

J
AKE BECAME INCREASINGLY BITTER and harder to live with as the months passed, but Phoebe-Ann argued and fought tenaciously to keep those few, precious hours on a Sunday evening. She swore to Alice and Emily that without them she would go completely mad. But, as the weeks turned into months, those few precious hours of freedom only served to increase her resentment. She envied both Alice and Ginny: their jobs, their money, the time they had to themselves, unburdened and carefree, and the fact that they were always more smartly dressed than she was. Emily was generous with her clothes and had made her two dresses and a skirt but the resentment built up week by week and there were nights when she lay staring at the ceiling wishing she could just leave Liverpool, go anywhere as long as she was far away from Jake Malone and Liffy Street.

Emily felt sorry for her but her constant complaints were beginning to irritate.

‘There isn’t much more I can do for her,’ she said to Edwin.

‘She shouldn’t expect you to. You’ve already done more than most sisters would do. And, when it comes down to it, Em, if it hadn’t been for her we would have been married long ago. It started years ago. I know she meant no harm, that she was just trying to help James Mercer, but just lately I seem to keep having the same thoughts. She’s always been a burden to you, Em, and she probably always will be.’

As Emily had had a particularly trying day, she silently agreed with him instead of defending Phoebe-Ann as she usually did.

 

Phoebe-Ann had had a trying day, too. She’d got up with a headache, Miss Millicent had been awkward over the household accounts which had reduced Miss Nesta to tears, and Cook was snappy because her rheumatism was causing her a lot of pain. When she’d gone home to give Jake his lunch, he’d cursed and sworn at her from the minute she’d set foot in the door. It was only Monday and she had six whole days and nights before she could escape for a few hours and pretend she was single and free. She’d made him a cup of tea, some paste sandwiches and had slammed out again. When she’d finished work she’d walked home with a heavy heart. The day or the work wasn’t over for her. Miss Millicent and Miss Nesta would sit down to an appetizing supper, set on a table covered with a crisp white damask cloth and laid with fine china. Then they’d sit in their comfortable, warm, clean drawing room and read or embroider, cocooned in peaceful silence, away from the harsh, noisy, dirty and distressing reality of life. If she’d been able to live-in, she would have shared that tranquillity and luxury but for her it was back to those depressing rooms, drudgery and
him
.

As she walked down the street she saw Mrs Elston from next door, standing on her doorstep, arms folded over her ample bosom. Phoebe-Ann gritted her teeth. She’d have to pass the Elston house so there was no way of avoiding the woman. ‘Cold and damp again, Mrs Elston,’ she said tiredly.

Mrs Elston jerked her head in the direction of Phoebe-Ann’s house. ‘Comes ter somethin’ when I’ve got to stand on me doorstep in this weather to get a bit of peace an’ quiet.’

‘What do you mean? What’s been going on?’ Sometimes when Jake yelled at her, Mrs Elston would hammer on the adjoining wall with the brush, so she assumed he’d been making a lot of noise. Probably cursing and swearing to himself.

‘Sounds like there’s hundreds of them in there, havin’ a do, instead of just five.’

‘Who’s in there with him?’ Phoebe-Ann felt the stirrings of annoyance followed by trepidation.

‘The whole tribe of them. His flamin’ brothers, that’s who!’

Phoebe-Ann’s eyes narrowed. Ever since the day she’d pushed him up Florist Street, none of the Malones had ever come to see him. ‘Oh, they are, are they! Well, they can just clear off. They’ve never been near since she threw him out, so they needn’t think they can start now! I’ve got enough to put up with with him!’

Mrs Elston settled herself more comfortably against the doorpost. This looked very promising indeed. She’d wait until Phoebe-Ann Malone had gone in, then she’d give Madge Hamilton a knock. Aye, it promised to be a real good slanging match. First bit of excitement in the street for months.

By the time Phoebe-Ann stalked into her living room her cheeks were flushed and her eyes glittered dangerously. She glared around at them all. They seemed to dominate the room and Jake was sitting in the middle, looking as though he’d backed the winner in the Grand National.

‘Just what the hell are you all doing here?’ she snapped.

‘I told yer she’d ’ave a cob on, didn’t I?’ Franny said, trying to hide the bottle he was holding.

‘Can’t we come and see our brother now, seeing as it’s his birthday an’ you never bring him round to see us?’ Seamus remarked sarcastically.

She’d forgotten it was his birthday. ‘If you want to see him, and it’s taken you all long enough to remember that you’ve got a brother, then one of you can push him back to Mona Street. Maybe his loving mother would like to see him as well, as it’s his birthday.’

‘Don’t you start on me ma. She’s gettin’ on now an’ he’s your responsibility,’ Peader answered.

Phoebe-Ann laughed cuttingly. ‘Getting on! It doesn’t stop her from getting herself down to the Grecian every night, does it? Nor did it stop her getting thrown out last week. Drunk and disorderly, so I heard!’

‘What me ma does is her business,’ Jake muttered. ‘You never remembered me birthday.’

Phoebe-Ann laughed again. ‘And she did? So, where’s the card and the present then? Or have you already drunk it?’

‘She always was a bloody misery; didn’t even get a bevvy in when they got engaged,’ Vinny muttered.

‘You keep your mouth shut in my house, Vinny Malone!’ She could see that she was going to have trouble getting rid of them and for a moment she was afraid, remembering that she had neither Jimmy nor Jack to support her now. She glared at them all and then, turning, she went into the bedroom and slammed the door.

As she took off her uniform and put on her old, faded dress and equally faded pinafore, she could hear them muttering, punctuated by bursts of coarse laughter. How she hated them all and how dare they think they could invade her home whenever they felt like it, birthday or no birthday. But how could she stop them? And they’d all been drinking. Wasn’t Jake hard enough to cope with without a drink inside him? Nor was he used to it now. There was no money for drink.

She wondered should she stay in the bedroom until they’d gone, but then anger flared. Why the hell should she? It was her home, she worked to pay the rent, to keep food on the table and a fire in the range. She went without even what in the past she would have considered the bare necessities to keep a roof over their heads. She was cold, hungry and thirsty. No, she wasn’t going to stay skulking in the bedroom waiting for them to leave. If needs be she’d have to use desperate measures to get them out. She marched purposefully back into the other room.

‘Right. You’ve seen him, you’ve all had a good moan about me, so now you can clear off home or to the alehouse, I don’t care which. I’ve been working all day to keep him and I’ve got things to do.’

‘We’ll go when we’re ready,’ Seamus stated ominously.

‘Aye, they’ll go when I say so,’ Jake added, emboldened by their presence. They’d put her in her place.

Phoebe-Ann stared malevolently at Jake. Once she wouldn’t have known what to do next but now things were different. She’d put up with so much, suffered so much that all the gentleness in her nature had been buried under the brittle shell that had formed around her heart. ‘I’m going to give you one last chance to tell them to go, Jake Malone.’

‘Sod off!’

‘Right, you asked for it! Don’t say I didn’t warn you. Tell them to get out and not come back – ever!’ She folded her arms and waited for the answer she knew wouldn’t come.

‘They can come here any time they want to! You leave me all bloody day with nothing to do but stare at the effin’ walls and talk to meself!’

She didn’t reply. Instead she grabbed the chipped enamel basin and began to fill it from the sink in the corner of the room. From the shelf that was fixed above the sink she took a large bar of carbolic soap and a pile of clean rags.

‘What’s that for?’ Franny asked, eyeing the bowl of water.

She studiously ignored the look of horror on Jake’s face. ‘To wash his dirty arse, unless you want to do it? He’s been sitting here since lunch time so he’s bound to be in a nice mess. Here!’ She shoved a piece of old towelling towards Franny, who shrank back.

‘Are you all so bloody squeamish that you can’t take the sight of the mess?’ She dragged the old piece of blanket from across Jake’s knees; she was past caring how he felt. She pushed his hands away and tried to unbutton the old trousers he wore, faded almost to white by the constant washing and bleaching. Her eyes bored into Jake. ‘Tell them to get out now or so help me I’ll not see to you for a week!’ she hissed.

‘That’s enough. Come on, we’re going. You’re not going to humiliate him like this, you hard-hearted bitch!’ Seamus snarled.

Phoebe-Ann straightened up. ‘Get out! Go on, get out of my house and if any of you set foot in here again then I’ll have the law on you!’

‘You ugly, evil, whore! I should have killed you! I should ’ave bloody killed you when I had the chance!’ Jake screamed at her, beside himself with shame and hatred.

Phoebe-Ann turned back to him. ‘Pity you didn’t. It would have been worth it, knowing you’d swing at the end of a rope and then you’d burn in hell for ever!’

‘You’d better watch yourself, girl. We’ll not forget this,’ Seamus growled from the doorway.

Phoebe-Ann picked up the bowl and threw the contents at him. He cursed as the water drenched him and then he stormed out.

She didn’t even bother to clean up the mess, she just slammed into the bedroom and threw herself on the bed. Oh, God! What had happened to her? She’d just acted like Ma Malone. Screaming and swearing and threatening to humiliate Jake like that. Where had all her decency, her sensitivity gone? She knew the answer. When she had started to sink into the mire, becoming like them. She was lowering herself to their level, the gutter, but how had she let herself become so degraded? Again she knew the answer. It had all begun the day she had taken up with Jake Malone. When she’d started lying and deceiving everyone, herself included. When she’d married him despite everyone’s attempts to stop her. And her mam had paid such a high price for her determination to try to spare her the utter misery she now endured.

‘Oh, Mam! Mam, I’m sorry! What’s going to become of me, Mam? How can I go on like this?’ she sobbed into the pillow.

 

Albert saw them walking back up Myrtle Street and he’d wondered where they’d been. He ignored the taunts and jeers but kept his eyes ahead and flicked the reins to make the horse hurry on. For a second he wondered savagely why the horse couldn’t have bolted now and trampled the whole tribe of them beneath its hooves. It would have been good riddance. Then he sank back into the apathy that plagued his waking hours.