rightly diagnosed, and so Eileen stayed strong for her boy and trusted that Steven would one day grow into a fine lad.
Lizzie was fidgeting nervously. ‘It’s funny, you know, I haven’t seen her around since this all started up. I reckon she knows he did it and is too frightened to come out and face us. She’s protecting that sick bugger!’ Lizzie peeled the cellophane off a fresh pack of Player’s, screwed it up and placed it in the bin. ‘But maybe we should go round and see her . . .’
They’d been friends a long time, and Lizzie still felt she owed Eileen that much, no matter what her son had done.
51
Sue pulled a face at her. Taking the red toy brick out of TJ’s mouth, she weighed her words before she spoke. ‘No, leave it, Lizzie. There’s no point in talking to her, it’s him that needs sorting. Do you want a drink, sweetheart?’ she asked her son in the next breath.
‘In there, Sue, bottle of lemon barley.’ Lizzie pointed to a cupboard next to the sink. She felt sure Sue had sussed her, could read the doubts lurking in her mind, so couldn’t afford to appear hesitant. ‘Yeah, you’re right, Eileen’s weak as piss water.’
‘Cheers, Lizzie,’ said Sue. ‘Poor Michelle, though, did you see the state of her at the funeral? I don’t know how she stayed upright. I think she was trance-like, sort of not really with us.’
Lizzie twirled her fag up and down her fingers, a neat little trick she had. ‘She’ll never get over it.
Losing a child is bad enough, but to lose one like that
. . . well, it doesn’t bear thinking about. She’ll be after his guts when she gets her strength back.’ Her thin lips drew hard on her cigarette. ‘I don’t think it’s women’s work, though, do you?’
Sue butted in again. ‘Well, look, my Terry said to give him the nod and he’ll go round with a couple of the blokes.’
‘Sooner the better, I reckon,’ said Nanny Parks, taking a Player’s from Lizzie’s proffered packet. ‘Ta, Liz.’
52
‘I expect Grace and John will be pleased,’ observed Sue.
‘Don’t bank on it,’ countered Nanny Parks, ‘you know what a soft sod my Grace is. She’s always felt sorry for that boy, given him sweets and what have you, so I haven’t told her anything about this and I’m not going to. Her John’s so wound up he’s fit to be tied, but she just sits there on the settee holding on to little Adam. She’s been in a world of her own.
‘My brother Gary always brought the best out in her, ya know. Those two were inseparable when Grace was in her teens. He was never like that with Gillian. I remember, it put her nose right out of joint!
Don’t think Grace ever got over his death until she met John and moved on. Shame her uncle isn’t around now to get her out of herself. It breaks my heart to see her and John so quiet and subdued.’
‘Give them time,’ said Sue, ‘I expect they’re still in shock.’ A loud knock at the door made them sit up straight. ‘That’ll be Potty,’ said Lizzie.
Sandra Potts was a formerly attractive woman, now in her early thirties, who had gone to seed from the effort of bringing up three children without any help from her husband Michael, who preferred to spend all his spare time down the pub with his mates.
She had thought he was the answer to her prayers when they first met eight years before. She already had one daughter, Lucy, a mistake by a very good-looking young lad who had swept her off her feet and 53
then unceremoniously dumped her as soon as she announced her pregnancy.
When she and Michael met and he had taken to step-fatherhood like a duck to water, Potty had thought she had it made. Back then, Michael was quite a catch. Lucy was calling him Daddy from the off. It was only once his own two had come along that he started staying away from home for increasingly long periods. There were rumours about his affairs with other women, and his drunken behaviour was obvious for all to see, but rather
Lizzie was fidgeting nervously. ‘It’s funny, you know, I haven’t seen her around since this all started up. I reckon she knows he did it and is too frightened to come out and face us. She’s protecting that sick bugger!’ Lizzie peeled the cellophane off a fresh pack of Player’s, screwed it up and placed it in the bin. ‘But maybe we should go round and see her . . .’
They’d been friends a long time, and Lizzie still felt she owed Eileen that much, no matter what her son had done.
51
Sue pulled a face at her. Taking the red toy brick out of TJ’s mouth, she weighed her words before she spoke. ‘No, leave it, Lizzie. There’s no point in talking to her, it’s him that needs sorting. Do you want a drink, sweetheart?’ she asked her son in the next breath.
‘In there, Sue, bottle of lemon barley.’ Lizzie pointed to a cupboard next to the sink. She felt sure Sue had sussed her, could read the doubts lurking in her mind, so couldn’t afford to appear hesitant. ‘Yeah, you’re right, Eileen’s weak as piss water.’
‘Cheers, Lizzie,’ said Sue. ‘Poor Michelle, though, did you see the state of her at the funeral? I don’t know how she stayed upright. I think she was trance-like, sort of not really with us.’
Lizzie twirled her fag up and down her fingers, a neat little trick she had. ‘She’ll never get over it.
Losing a child is bad enough, but to lose one like that
. . . well, it doesn’t bear thinking about. She’ll be after his guts when she gets her strength back.’ Her thin lips drew hard on her cigarette. ‘I don’t think it’s women’s work, though, do you?’
Sue butted in again. ‘Well, look, my Terry said to give him the nod and he’ll go round with a couple of the blokes.’
‘Sooner the better, I reckon,’ said Nanny Parks, taking a Player’s from Lizzie’s proffered packet. ‘Ta, Liz.’
52
‘I expect Grace and John will be pleased,’ observed Sue.
‘Don’t bank on it,’ countered Nanny Parks, ‘you know what a soft sod my Grace is. She’s always felt sorry for that boy, given him sweets and what have you, so I haven’t told her anything about this and I’m not going to. Her John’s so wound up he’s fit to be tied, but she just sits there on the settee holding on to little Adam. She’s been in a world of her own.
‘My brother Gary always brought the best out in her, ya know. Those two were inseparable when Grace was in her teens. He was never like that with Gillian. I remember, it put her nose right out of joint!
Don’t think Grace ever got over his death until she met John and moved on. Shame her uncle isn’t around now to get her out of herself. It breaks my heart to see her and John so quiet and subdued.’
‘Give them time,’ said Sue, ‘I expect they’re still in shock.’ A loud knock at the door made them sit up straight. ‘That’ll be Potty,’ said Lizzie.
Sandra Potts was a formerly attractive woman, now in her early thirties, who had gone to seed from the effort of bringing up three children without any help from her husband Michael, who preferred to spend all his spare time down the pub with his mates.
She had thought he was the answer to her prayers when they first met eight years before. She already had one daughter, Lucy, a mistake by a very good-looking young lad who had swept her off her feet and 53
then unceremoniously dumped her as soon as she announced her pregnancy.
When she and Michael met and he had taken to step-fatherhood like a duck to water, Potty had thought she had it made. Back then, Michael was quite a catch. Lucy was calling him Daddy from the off. It was only once his own two had come along that he started staying away from home for increasingly long periods. There were rumours about his affairs with other women, and his drunken behaviour was obvious for all to see, but rather
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