‘Fuck knows,’ Carol replied, ‘but he’s just given me a slap for sticking up for me mum. He was calling her a slag and all sorts, and I’m not gonna sit there and say nowt about it, am I?’
Josie and Carol went to sit in the kitchen, trying to close off the noise coming from upstairs. They could hear what sounded like furniture being thrown around as well as the occasional angry scream from Tina, which made them start, but didn’t seem to signify that he was getting the upper hand. In any case, already at the sharp end of Black Bobby’s hand, Carol knew better than to interfere again.
‘Do you want to come round to our house?’ Josie suggested. ‘There’s no one in, and at least you wouldn’t have to listen to it.’
Carol gave her a weak smile. ‘I better not. That bastard might kill her if he knows I’ve gone out. No, better stay. I’ll make us a cup of tea, eh. They’ll stop soon – they always do.’ She grimaced. ‘Then I’ll have to turn the record player on, so we don’t have to listen to ’em doing you know what.’
Josie cringed, the horrible thing always lurking at the edges of her mind still. She thought of men, and what they did, and what they did it with, and she recoiled. She couldn’t help it. Perhaps she’d never be able to. And Caz too, she knew, even though it had been a while since Black Bobby had tried it on with her. Caz didn’t know why but she’d grown about a foot in the last year, it felt like. So maybe it was that. He didn’t dare. They exchanged a look.
‘Shush!’ Carol said suddenly.
‘What?’
‘Silence,’ she then mouthed, nodding her head towards the ceiling. She crept to the kitchen door and opened it an inch or two. ‘Oh fuck, it’s him. Coming down.’
Carol scuttled back towards the sink and turned on the tap to fill the kettle, just as Black Bobby walked in.
‘What the fuck’s she doing here?’ he demanded, pointing at Josie.
Josie hung her head. She couldn’t even bear to look at him. ‘Her mam and dad are out, so she’s come to see me,’ Carol said mildly. ‘Do you want a cuppa?’
Bobby reached Carol in three strides and belted her round the back of the head. ‘No I fucking don’t, and what’ve you been told about bringing people round here?’
Carol winced and put her hand up to guard against another whack. ‘She’s just come round for a bit, that’s all. Where’s me mam?’
‘None of your business, you nosey little cunt.’ Bobby reached round Carol and filled a glass with water. He then turned to Josie as he gulped it down, his Adam’s apple bobbing. ‘And you can fuck off an’ all,’ he said, having drained it in one. ‘We’re not fucking babysitters. Sling your hook.’
Carol stood behind Bobby, wildly shaking her head, but Josie stood up, even so. No way was she sitting around for more of this crap. It was worse than home, plus Black Bobby scared her. She couldn’t understand why Caz’s mum was still with him. But then she knew she didn’t understand much about anything where men were concerned. Only that some of them – a few anyway – were just horrible.
‘You want to come to mine, Caz?’ she tried again, but Carol shook her head, as Josie expected. She wouldn’t go anywhere without checking that her mum was okay.
‘Okay,’ she said. ‘See you tomorrow then, okay?’ Then she let herself out, slipping into the night quickly to stop Blue trying to follow. Maybe she’d pop round to Lyndsey’s instead. It would be good to see her nephew and nieces, if not her stupid sister and revolting Robbo.
Josie and Lyndsey didn’t really get along. Never had. With such an age gap, they’d never been close to one another, and since Lynds had moved in with and had kids by her last horrible boyfriend, there was little chance they ever would be either.
That her sister took drugs made Lyndsey a proper idiot in Josie’s eyes, and she had abhorred Robbo since the first time she’d met him. She blamed him – for meeting her sister just when she’d been left by the last moron she’d shacked up with, for dragging her into their seedy druggy lifestyle, for keeping her poor when she could barely afford her kids. She was bleeding lucky social services hadn’t taken them away.
And she wasn’t the only one who found Lyndsey a waste of space. Her mam and dad hardly ever saw their elder daughter, even they only lived a few houses down on the same street. They never called up and Lynds never came down. They might pass and chat for a minute of two on the street, if one or the other was going to the shops or something, but it was only ever small talk because June had no time for drugs and druggies – and if she wanted to see her grandkids or them her, she’d always just send Josie or Vinnie up to fetch them back.
It was sad but it was the way it was. And would keep being, Josie reckoned, and much as she didn’t want to be around Lyndsey or Robbo, she loved her little nieces and nephew and she knew they’d be pleased to see her now.
She ran most of the way back from Caz’s – and out on the street, since it was dark – hoping that when she got there the first thing she smelt wouldn’t be the dreaded wacky baccy. She hated the smell of it – it made her retch – and she hated what it did; made everyone who smoked it turn into grinning idiots.
Walking around the back of the house, as she knew she’d never get an answer from the front door, Josie tapped on the window and tried to peer in.
‘Auntie Titch!’ a small voice called from the back door. Josie smiled as she saw Robbie coming outside. He was naked apart from a pair of grubby underpants.
‘Ooh, get back inside, Robbie, you’ll freeze out here!’ she told him, ushering him back into the house.
‘We have to be quiet, Titch,’ he whispered now, putting a finger to his lips. ‘Everyone else is asleep and I’m doing colouring in.’
Josie closed the back door as quietly she could and followed her nephew into the front room. It was a pigsty as usual, cushions scattered across the floor, with little Lou and Sammy fast asleep on top of them. Cans of Special Brew and ashtrays filled the entire surface of the coffee table, and an overturned tobacco tin and papers were strewn across the shaggy fireside rug. In the midst of all this, entirely as she’d expected, Lyndsey and Robbo were top-and-tailing, spark out, on the couch.
‘You want me to make you a pipe up, Auntie Titch?’ asked Robbie, climbing back up to his seat at the table. He was all of eight years old now, and the picture of perfect innocence. It was heartbreaking. He grinned and giggled at her. ‘The idiot showed me how to do it properly.’ He pointed to Robbo, and quickly put his finger to his lips again. ‘But you’re only allowed to call him that when he’s sleeping.’
Josie pulled out the other chair and sat down on it. ‘No, you’re alright, kiddo,’ she said. ‘I don’t smoke that stuff. It sends you loopy, just like the idiot. I can’t stop long anyway. I just called in to say hello, that’s all.’
Robbie frowned, then brightened as his eyes alighted on some of his artwork. He held up a picture. ‘D’ya like my fire engine?’ he asked. ‘I did it to send to Uncle Vin. D’you think he’ll like it?’
‘He’ll love it, kid. And I’ll send it with my next letter. So you keep it safe and I’ll call back for it, yeah?’ He slipped it under his drawing pad, and as he did so, she noticed he was goose-pimpled. ‘You warm enough, Robbie?’
He shrugged and looked up at her. ‘I’m okay,’ he said. ‘We got no gas till Monday, I don’t think, so we can’t have the fire on. I can always get mum’s dressing-gown though.’
Fuming that her sister had once again put beer and fags before heating for the kids, she felt in her pocket for the coins June had left her for chips, marched into the kitchen and put a couple of shillings in the gas meter. She would make do with toast once she got home.