Trilogy Collection

Listen to this,’ she said to Maureen now. ‘Oh, he’s such a funny little bleeder …’

Maureen was June’s best friend – she had been since they were both in their teens. And also her relative, since she was Jock’s sister. She was like June in so many ways, but unlike her in the important ones; she was older and wrinklier, and, since she no longer bleached her hair like June did, a lot mousier, despite the amount of slap she optimistically trowelled on. She crushed out her fag, drained her glass of bitter and banged it down on the bar. ‘June, I’ve heard it 20 fucking times. All right, yes, the lad’s a comedian. Now put that bloody thing away and let’s have another drink, okay?’

June stuffed the letter back into her bag. Maureen didn’t understand. How could she? She was only Vinnie’s auntie, after all. And probably jealous, June decided, because her own kids were thick as pig shit. She drained her own glass and flicked her hair and, turning her back on Maureen, smiled sweetly at the drunk propping the bar up next to her.

‘Wanna buy a lady a drink, Bobby?’

He turned and snorted at her. ‘You’re no fucking lady.’

June rolled her eyes, but she was only mock-annoyed at him. No, she wasn’t a lady – not that he’d know the difference – but she was still getting a drink out of him, one way or another. ‘So,’ she said, ‘are you getting the drinks in or not? Cos if not, you can fuck off and fart next to somebody else.’

Maureen’s laugh exploded out of her. ‘June! You can’t say that!’

June threw a withering glance at her sister-in-law. ‘Can’t I? I just did. If he thinks he’s standing here, dropping ’em, without buying us a couple of drinks, he’s got another think coming.’

Bobby grudgingly paid for two more halves of bitter, much to the amusement of Donald, the landlord.

‘You’ve certainly got a way with words, June, I’ll give you that,’ he commented drily, as he scooped up the money that Bobby had scattered on the bar.

June winked at him. ‘Flattery will get you everywhere, Don,’ she told him. And though the comment was a throwaway one, she meant it.

Donald had run the Bull a good few years now, and she’d known him for all of them. As she would – it was her and all of her friends’ local. It was the hub of the Canterbury Estate community, the Bull; the place where deals were clinched, plans were made and affairs started.

Donald was married, but he was also an incorrigible flirt, and June – having a soft spot for him – always enjoyed his attention. It would usually take the form of something more than just a wink or two, as well. Not tonight though. Maureen might be her best mate, but she had her loyalties – she’d grass her up to Jock in a flash. All it would take would be one little argument, and then she’d say anything to drop June in it with her brother. No, tonight she’d behave herself. No harm in trying to blag a few free drinks though.

‘So,’ said Maureen, who didn’t seem finished with Vinnie after all. ‘Did he write our Josie too? Bet she’s been missing him like crazy.’

June nodded. ‘Wrote us both.’

‘Aww, I bet she was happy, the poor mite.’

June considered this. ‘You know, come to think about it, she was a bit funny when I gave her it. A bit narky.’

‘Narky? Why’d she be narky?’

June shrugged. ‘I don’t know. She’s been miserable since he left – course she has; I know she’s been missing him. They’re two peas in a pod, those two – but when I gave her it, she didn’t even seem to want to look at it. It was only cos I made her that she did read it out. And then the soppy little bleeder started crying halfway through.’

‘Aw, bless her, June. You really think that’s any wonder?’

June stared into her glass. No, it wasn’t any wonder really. Of course she missed Vin – they both did – but, well, it just felt like she’d been hit by a ton of bricks. Hit by his leaving way more than she’d expected.

‘I know,’ she said to Maureen. ‘I know it’s hit her really hard, but, I don’t know … she’s really not herself – she’s been walking round like a fart in a trance. Even Jock can’t sort her out – and her being such a daddy’s girl, as well. I don’t know if she blames him, but it seems like it – she doesn’t want to know him. Even gave him a slap the other day – cheeky little git that she is.’

‘A slap? What on earth for?’

‘For nothing. I swear I don’t know what’s got into her. All he did was try and get her to sit in his chair with him to watch the racing. Now that’s not like her, is it? She loves her dad.’

‘No,’ Maureen agreed. ‘That’s not like her at all. But give her time; it’s only been a couple of weeks, hasn’t it? Have you written back to him yet?’

June sighed. ‘Not yet.’

‘Why ever not? I’d have thought you’d have done that the same day!’

‘I know. And I want to. It’s just so hard knowing what to say. I mean, he’s all happy and that, talking about when I come down and visit. But I can’t, can I? Old Saggy Tits made it quite clear – there won’t be no visits. Bastards. Don’t they realise? A lad needs his mother! And I mean, they might, mightn’t they? She did say about weekends home at some point, so they might. But you know how these things work. There’s no chance if he doesn’t keep his nose clean, is there? And what’re the chances of that happening, Mo? Zero. He’s probably playing up already, if I know our Vin, the stupid little bleeder. Pound to a penny. Otherwise I would’ve had a call.’

They lapsed into silence then and June, her happy mood having drained away as quickly as her halves had, half-wished she’d not even brought the letter with her. The thought of the months ahead – no Vinnie, Titch with a face like a slapped arse, Jock being Jock – was just too depressing to think about. No, Mo was right. She needed to write back. He’d be bound to be waiting to hear from her, bless him. She was almost glad when the bell went for drinking up at 10.30. With Don off limits, and the letter still calling to her from her handbag, even the Bull couldn’t work its charm tonight.

They left the pub, fur coats clasped to their throats to keep the bitter cold out. The rows of council houses opposite were now mostly in darkness and the leafless trees that lined the main road took on a sinister appearance. The estate looked a lot less friendly on a night time.

June felt the breeze stir her hair and shivered involuntarily. ‘You walking back through the snicket, Mo, or coming down our street?’

Maureen shook her head. ‘Too cold for the long way tonight. I’ll cut through the snicket.’

June cast about to see who was around. Maybe someone else was headed that way as well. She didn’t like to think of Maureen using the snicket on her own at night. It was always useful being able to use it in daylight, but nights were a different matter entirely. Without streetlights, the footpath served a whole other purpose; for robbings and fights or laying in wait, hidden, for someone with whom you had a grudge. Luckily there were a few others spilling from the pub as well now. ‘Make sure someone walks through with you, then,’ she said. ‘It’s dark up there.’

‘Will you give over, June?’ Maureen laughed, swaying slightly in her slingbacks, the night air catching the scent of her Charlie perfume. Must have spritzed herself in the ladies before coming out. ‘I should be so fucking lucky!’ she said. ‘Steven says I should wear a sign on my back saying “rape me” if I’m to be in with a chance.’

‘He’s a rotten bastard, that husband of yours – and you can tell him that from me. Right then, I’m off. I’ll call round tomorrow when I get sick of looking at face ache.’

‘Be as long as that, will it?’ Maureen joked as she toddled off into the night.

For all that she worried about Maureen, June didn’t mind walking home alone herself. She’d done it for years and its familiarity meant it held no fears. This was her patch – the Bull was only 10 minutes from home – and she’d have been shocked more than frightened if anyone jumped her. Not to mention giving as good as she got, she thought decisively, feeling a giggle form in her throat as the fresh air hit her. Must be more pissed than I thought, she decided, and even as she thought it she felt herself stagger. She giggled again when she heard the wolf whistle behind her, minutes later. Almost home, and automatically smiling to acknowledge her admirer, she was surprised to see that no one was there.

Then a gravelly voice. ‘Over here, June!’ Coming from above.

She didn’t need to look up to know who it was now. Mucky-fucking-Melvin. She continued to walk without turning around.

‘Give us a flash, June,’ he shouted down. ‘All them at the Bull will have had a good look.’

Now she did turn around. ‘Why don’t you just fuck off, you pervy bastard.’

She heard his dirty laugh and his window slamming shortly after. Fucking old pervert. Fancy him having the nerve to have a go at her! He’d know about it soon enough if she told Jock. Which she might do. He’d smash his stinking brains in, good and proper.

But for now she had more important business to attend to. Letting herself in the front door without waking the miserable old fucker up. She slid her key into the lock with as much care and deliberation as she could summon and, though it wasn’t much, she was still pleased to note as the door opened that the downstairs of the house was dark and silent.

Good, she thought. She wouldn’t be having an argument tonight, at least. Which in itself was a rare treat when both of them had been drinking, and as night followed day, knowing Jock, he would have been.

She tottered over to the sofa and sat down heavily, then pulled Vinnie’s letter once again from her handbag, tears pricking behind her eyes as she did so. A picture formed in her mind, of a cold, hard prison bed. She tried to ignore it. It was just the drink – stupid mare – making her feel all weepy. Perhaps she should just put it away and go to bed. But then she thought of her poor boy, banged up, and how much he’d be missing his home comforts. No, she decided, she’d stay down here tonight.

She was comfy enough anyway, she thought, pushing the letter back into the black hole of her handbag. She’d just get her tights off – she hauled herself up again – just her tights, and then she’d be done for the night. But she’d barely got her thumbs under the waistband and started tugging when her balance went – oops! She really must be more tiddled than she’d realised – and fell back heavily. She was fast asleep in seconds.

When Josie came down in the morning, it was to find her mother sound asleep and dribbling, with her tights round her thighs. She stepped past her and, trying to be as quiet as she could, knelt down, laid and lit a fresh fire. That done, and with June still comatose and snoring behind her, she crossed the cold lino onto the square of old carpet that served as a rug, went into the kitchen and made a pot of tea.

It was only when she’d done that and poured herself a cup that she became aware of her mother stirring in the lounge.

‘Have you shit the bed or something?’ she wanted to know, seeing Josie standing there, mug in hand. ‘What you doing up so early?’

June passed by her then, to go into the little toilet just off the kitchen, leaving the door open so she could continue the conversation from there.