Angela was working behind the bar when Eddie came in that night. She dampened down her initial feelings of excitement and Paddy crossed the bar in front of Angela and said to Eddie, ‘What will you be having then?’
Eddie was a little puzzled, for normally Angela was left to serve him. His eyes met hers as Paddy was pulling his pint and she gave a slight shrug. Angela wasn’t totally surprised though, because she knew Breda would have said something to Paddy to explain the long conversation they’d had earlier. She also knew Breda wouldn’t have told him the whole truth of the situation for her sake, probably putting the onus on Eddie, saying he was bothering her or something.
Now Paddy, although he knew Angela was a grown woman and a free agent, was also aware that she was naïve in the ways of men, despite the fact she had been married and had a child. Barry had been as familiar to her as any blood brother before she married him. The marriage had been happy, no denying it, but she had looked at no man since. Most of the men she served were married and so she had straight away rebuffed any advances they might have made, never encouraging them in any way. Pleasant though she continued to be, she’d always made it clear the men were just customers to be served.
Then Eddie had arrived, an Irish man with a Yankee swagger, all charming and agreeable, with a host of tales to tell. And, most important of all, he was single – for Angela had established that from the beginning. Paddy suspected that there was more to what had gone on with Stan and that had made Angela vulnerable, but whatever had happened it obviously couldn’t be mended and so eventually she’d taken up with Eddie. Whereas at first Paddy had not had any qualms about the two of them forming a friendship, a few months down the line he had reservations. He couldn’t have explained them to anyone else, didn’t understand them himself, but he had been a publican a long time and as a publican he soon got the measure of people. He knew while there might be nothing basically wrong with Eddie, he wasn’t for Angela.
Eddie had encouraged her to drink alcohol when she never had before and, though Paddy recognised that she was an adult and doing nothing wrong, he knew a little alcohol would have soon gone to her head. He had been shocked when Breda told him what had ailed Angela that morning and that it had been Eddie who had encouraged her to drink, and had felt relieved when Breda went on to say that Angela had decided to stick to lemonade in future.
He fully approved of that and so made sure he, rather than Angela, served Eddie, thus effectively keeping them apart most of the evening. Angela at first was a bit irritated for she was a grown woman and, whatever Breda had told him, he still shouldn’t treat her like a child. She knew what had happened between her and Eddie shouldn’t happen again unless they were married, and she would have to speak to Eddie about that. But the previous night had not been Eddie’s fault alone and so Paddy had no right to keep them apart in this way.
Eventually, seeing the landlord busy with another customer, Eddie sidled up to the bar.
‘What will you have to drink?’ he said, and even his voice caused the hair to stand out on the back of Angela’s neck. When he put his hand over hers as he spoke, a tingle ran all the way up her arm. Eddie knew the effect he was having on Angela and, when their eyes met and he smiled at her suggestively, yearning shafts of desire so filled her being they caused her to tremble slightly . She had the urge to leap over the counter and kiss Eddie until she was breathless.
‘What?’ Angela said, for the intensity of emotions she was experiencing had driven everything else from her head.
‘I asked you if you wanted a drink?’ Eddie said. ‘Port and lemon, is it?’
‘No, just a lemonade, please.’
Paddy had heard what Eddie had said and moved towards them. ‘Angela will have a lemonade,’ he said.
Eddie ignored Paddy and said to Angela, ‘Don’t you want something a little stronger? You’re a big girl now.’
‘Lemonade she asked for and so lemonade it is,’ Paddy said firmly and poured it out for Angela.
Eddie was affronted. ‘She’s not a child, Paddy, as I said. She should be able to decide for herself.’
‘She did decide for herself and wanted lemonade,’ Paddy insisted.
‘No she didn’t,’ Eddie said. ‘You decided for her.’
‘Will you both stop talking about me as if I’m not here,’ Angela said. ‘And just at the moment I want lemonade and that’s all there should be to it.’
Eddie said nothing further, but he was frustrated, because he wanted Angela compliant and willing for sex that night. He’d had a wire that day saying his uncle was ailing and he needed him back home pronto to see to things till he was back on his feet. He wanted something to remember Angela by and he knew she was capable of giving him that all right if he had her in the right mind, and that was usually when she had been drinking.
Angela seemed odd that night, and he put that down to the shame he knew she must have felt in the cold light of day, having been so wanton the night before. Even he had been surprised because, though he knew it was drink-fuelled, he’d seldom seen a girl as filled with lust as she had been. He was longing for closing time when he would have the opportunity to hold her close, kissing her and caressing her in the partial privacy of the alleyway to her house as they had done many times before. His limbs actually trembled at the anticipation of such delights awaiting him and so he was surprised that, when time was called, she said she didn’t need anyone walking her home that night.
Eddie couldn’t understand her, but Angela really didn’t know if she was strong enough to resist Eddie and behave properly. She didn’t know what was the matter with her because she had never felt this way for a man before – even, God forgive her, her own dear husband, Barry. Eddie was the first person she thought of when she opened her eyes in the morning and her excitement at seeing him mounted through the day.
If she was working, she waited on tenterhooks for him to appear. He always sat by the bar and if his hand brushed against Angela’s she would feel a quiver run through her whole body. She often had to fight the urge to clasp his hand and lay it against her cheek, to kiss his fingers one by one. Then there was the more intense kissing and caressing they enjoyed in the alleyway to Angela’s door as she made her way home after her shift.
Eddie was well aware how Angela felt about him and so he struggled to be civil and not betray his anger as he said, ‘Are you sure, Angela? It’s bitterly cold out there. I could at least keep you warm till you reach home.’
Warm? Angela felt as if she were on fire. Even his nearness was affecting her, and his voice. She longed for his touch and yet was afraid what she would do if he did put his hands on her body. She had to make him see that what had happened yesterday should not have happened and mustn’t happen again. She felt a bit of a hypocrite because truthfully what she wanted was to repeat that wondrous experience, but she must resist that. Breda said it was the drink she’d had that caused her to forget herself, but she didn’t know if that was true or not and so she said quite sharply, ‘Thank you, Eddie, but that really won’t be necessary tonight. I’m very tired.’
Paddy was confused. Eddie had always taken Angela home and he’d never seen any harm in it, but something had clearly happened between them. Though Breda had been unusually cagey about the details, it was obvious that that night at least Angela didn’t want Eddie walking her home. And no reason she should put up with the nuisance of him if she didn’t want to, so he said to Eddie, ‘You heard the lady. Now you just sling your hook.’
Eddie had no option but to leave, but as he did so resentment fuelled the pulse in his head, which had started to beat incessantly. When that happened he knew he was liable to fly into a violent temper. Still, he knew better than to start on Paddy Larkin and with a dismissive wave to Angela he made for the door.
Before Paddy let Angela out a little while later, he cast his eyes up and down the street to see if Eddie was lurking about outside, but there was no sign of him. He turned to Angela with a smile and said, ‘Coast’s clear, lass.’
‘Good,’ Angela said fervently, ‘I can’t wait to put my head on my pillow.’
Paddy watched Angela’s slight figure as she hurried through the night, illuminated now and then in the glow from the street lights. Eventually though, Paddy could see her no more and he shut and bolted the door. He thought it might be easier just to bar Eddie altogether, for all he was a good customer. On the other hand, he was well liked by many of the regulars so there were bound to be questions asked. In addition, many knew about the relationship that had developed between Angela and Eddie and they might draw their own conclusions. Then she could easily become the subject of gossip, even scandal, which was the very thing he was trying to avoid. No, he thought as he made his weary way to bed, he’d best leave things as they were and keep a weather eye on Angela.
Even as Angela hurried for her house, the cold of the night eating into her, she tried to be relieved Eddie hadn’t waited for her. She was wondering what on earth was the matter with her that she felt disappointed Eddie hadn’t waited. She had to admit he aroused feelings in her she hadn’t known she had. She really had to be straight with him as soon as possible. She knew she had to be careful how to word things so that he wouldn’t be hurt or disappointed, and she decided to give some thought to it in the morning when her head would be clearer.
Angela reached her own alleyway without incident and she sighed as she turned into it. But someone was there before her and suddenly her way was blocked. One arm encircled her and the other hand covered her mouth as a well-known voice said, ‘Ssh, don’t scream!’
Angela’s eyes opened wide, though Eddie couldn’t see that in the dimness of the alley, nor could he see them flashing in anger. But he heard the fury in her voice as she tore his hand from her mouth and snapped out, ‘Eddie, what the hell are you playing at? I nearly had a heart attack.’
‘Just waiting to see you,’ Eddie said. ‘Can’t get near you in the pub with old man Larkin. Think he wants you for himself.’
‘Paddy’s not like that,’ Angela said. ‘He’s just looking out for me. He reminds me in that way of George Maitland I used to work for when I was a girl. He was paternal too.’
‘Paternal my arse,’ Eddie spat out. ‘Men like that are hoping to get their leg over, trust me.’
Angela opened her mouth to protest and Eddie broke in angrily, ‘In the pub tonight he kept us apart good and proper and you didn’t seem to mind. Thought you might have gone off me.’ He lowered his voice to a husky whisper that made Angela feel weak at the knees. ‘But then I knew you couldn’t really have gone off me after what we shared last night.’
He drew her towards him as he spoke and opened her coat so she could feel the bulge in his trousers. One hand sneaked up her jumper and cupped her breast as he went on, ‘I’m sure Paddy and Breda would be shocked at your behaviour yesterday. Shall I tell them you couldn’t seem to get enough sex yesterday? Begging for it, you were. You were utterly shameless and still are. Loving what I am doing to you and wanting me to do more.’
While Angela was still in semi-control she struggled to get out of Eddie’s arms. But it was useless for Eddie just held her tighter.
‘Oh yes,’ he went on. ‘People would love to hear how the prim and proper Angela McClusky is so filled with lust, she is little more than a tramp.’
‘Eddie, please …’
‘Oh, yes,’ Eddie said threateningly. ‘I could tell them all and destroy you and yours.’
Before she was able to reply Eddie’s lips were on hers, his tongue snaking in and out of her mouth, and then he was kissing her throat and her neck and then her lips. Angela felt her body responding even while she burned with humiliation, for every word Eddie said was true. If he spoke of it he would be believed and her name and her daughter’s would be dragged through the mud.
Despite this, her body was betraying her and when they eventually broke away she was panting. Angela had heard Paddy say that you needed to keep an eye on Eddie as he had a temper and that night she felt it emanating from him. But he had never been anything other than kind, gentle and supportive to her, so she thought it was his way of teasing her, of joking about what he could do, but with no intention of doing it.
‘You’re right, Eddie,’ she said, ‘I was shameless and I have been barely able to live with myself today when I remember what I did. You wouldn’t tell anyone though, Eddie, sure you wouldn’t.’
Eddie heard the tremor in Angela’s voice and almost smelt her fear and smiled, but it was too dark for Angela to see that the smile never reached his eyes as he said, ‘I might be persuaded not to if you were nice enough to me.’
Angela felt a tremor of unease run through her. She knew what Eddie meant and couldn’t comply. She wasn’t sure how he would react when she made that plain to him.
She was unaware of the fury coursing through Eddie that had been roused by Paddy Larkin’s protectiveness. In the many dalliances he’d had with women, he was always the one who called the shots, not them. That was a lesson he would have enjoyed teaching Angela McClusky if he wasn’t being called back to America as soon as he could arrange a passage.
All he wanted was her compliance. He wasn’t asking much, for he knew she wanted sex as much as he did.
‘And,’ he said, ‘I’d like a little kiss for a start.’
Angela hid the sigh as she went into Eddie’s arms almost reluctantly, for his kisses caused strange yearnings in her body that Barry’s kisses had never done. She felt guilty for comparing them, for Barry had been her one true love while Eddie … she didn’t really know what she thought of Eddie. But while one part of her enjoyed his kisses and, if she was honest with herself, always wanted more, another part felt slightly alarmed by them and the power they seemed to have over her.
Almost as soon as their lips met Angela felt the familiar tingling beginning in her body. When Eddie, holding her tight against him, prised her lips apart and thrust his tongue into her mouth, kissing her hungrily, carnal shafts of pure desire shot through her. Eddie felt it too and knew Angela was sinking, bending to his will.
And he was right. Angela was responding, she couldn’t help herself, nor the moans that came unbidden that she tried to suppress. Then one of Eddie’s hands was fondling her bare breast while the other was caressing between her legs. She was fully aroused and she moaned in the ecstasy of it. She felt she was drowning and she wanted to ignore the little voice of reason battering in her head because the need to have this man inside her was almost overwhelming.
Almost, but not totally. For an instant she saw again the cold dark night when she left her vulnerable baby on the workhouse steps. She knew that could never happen again and yet it took a superhuman effort to bring the kiss to a halt and push Eddie away from her. She stood before him, breathless with the desire that still flowed through her, her body aching to be touched, caressed, stroked and loved.
Eddie was so angry and frustrated he could barely speak. His manhood was as hard as a steel rod and the pulse began again to beat in his head and suddenly he wanted to destroy Angela. He had been just minutes from taking her and she wanted it as much as he did and showed it in every rapturous bone in her body.
‘What the hell are you playing at?’ he ground out.
‘I’m … I’m sorry. I can’t …’
‘What d’you mean, you can’t?’ Eddie demanded. ‘I have to go back to America in a few days and I want some beautiful memories to take with me.’
White-hot fury consumed him. All this time she had been teasing him, just like all women did, and now she thought he was going to take no for an answer. He grabbed her by the collar of her blouse and his other hand shot out and slapped her so hard across the face, her head snapped back and cracked against the rough wall. She gave a cry of alarm and pain and her hand flew to her face as hot scalding tears gushed from her eyes down her reddened cheek. She tasted blood in her mouth – the power of the slap was such she had bitten into her cheek.
Eddie had already started to move away from her as he barked out, ‘You bloody stupid slut.’
Angela’s head was reeling and for the first time she felt really scared of Eddie. She couldn’t understand what she had done to make him so angry and wanted to ask him but her fear of him was so great her teeth began to chatter even as the tears continued to fall.
She remembered oh so vividly an assault like this years before and she recoiled as Eddie came nearer, folding her arms over her head in an effort to protect her face. He tore her hands away and Angela flinched, expecting another blow, but instead he spat out, ‘You slack-mouthed whore.’
He knew the smack he had given her would probably remind her of that other assault and he spat out, ‘No wonder you were raped, those soldiers knew that you wanted it really, because lust oozes out of you. Course it might not have been a rape at all. There would have been no need, for you would have opened your legs for free and taken joy in it. You’re a dirty bitch and all the other street tramps are welcome to take you.’
He gave her an almighty push so that she fell back, her head hitting the brick wall again with a crack. She crumpled in a heap on to the besmirched and grimy cobblestones.
Angela was stunned by the blow to her head, but she breathed a sigh of relief as her bleary eyes saw Eddie walk up the alleyway and out into the night without a backward glance. It was eerily silent as the sound of footsteps faded away and suddenly she wanted to be inside her own house and safe where no one could hurt her any more.
She scrambled to her feet and almost fell in the door, tripping over the step and ripping her lisle stockings and grazing both knees in her haste to be in. Once inside, with the door fastened and bolted behind her, she sat before the deadened fire despite the chill in the room and tried to make sense of what had just happened. Every bit of her ached. There was a throbbing pain in her head, a gnawing twinge in her neck where it had been wrenched back, her knees were bloodied, her cheek smarted and stung, and she was sobbing in fear, pain and confusion.
It was as the tears turned to dry, hiccupping sobs that she became aware of the intense cold and began to shiver. Groggily, she got to her feet and in the mirror above the fire she saw that, as well as her red swollen cheek, both eyes looked bleary and unfocussed. The one above her damaged cheek was particularly red and puffy. Her lip on that side was split open too and the blood from that and the blood and mucus seeping from one nostril mixed with the tears. Eddie had made one unholy mess of her face and she was at a loss to know how to repair the damage before the morning.
Eventually she decided to fill a bowl with water from the kettle and, with chattering teeth, dabbed gently at her face to at least clear up the smeared blood, then pulled off her ruined stockings and dabbed at her grazed knees. She was careful to be quiet so as not to wake Connie; if her daughter saw her now Angela had no idea how she would explain any of this to her.
She was longing to lie down somewhere warm and soft and she made for the stairs, cautiously stumbling across the room towards them as if she was indeed as drunk as a lord. She felt emotionally drained and not at all steady on her feet. She was also dazed by the bangs to her head and the stairs swayed in front of her eyes. She made the bedroom only by hauling herself up and leaning heavily on the banister. When she eventually got to her room, she lay down on the bed in her shift, because she couldn’t face undressing, and sighed in relief.
The fact that Eddie, her sensual Eddie, who had taken her to heights of exquisite sexual pleasure she had never experienced before, had assaulted her just as the drunken soldiers had all those years ago kept reverberating in her head. She couldn’t understand why he had changed from lover to abuser so quickly and where the anger had come from.
The soldiers had got away with the assault and Angela knew Eddie would probably get away with doing a similar thing too. If she revealed to anyone what had happened, it might be worse for all concerned. She knew Paddy would believe her and could easily feel so strongly about it that he might take Eddie to task and then he might be the one in trouble. She couldn’t take that risk. Nor could she take the risk that Eddie would tell Paddy about what a sex-crazed harlot she was, filled with lust and wanton for sex. So she decided it was better to say nothing.
She slept fitfully that night and when she did eventually fall into a deeper sleep she was wakened by a nightmare of the attack by the three drunken soldiers. After the attack, and for some time afterwards, she’d had horrific and terrifying nightmares almost every night so that she was afraid of going to sleep. Over the years the bad dreams had eased considerably and eventually stopped altogether, but now they were back to the forefront of her mind again and she was afraid to let herself relax enough to go to sleep after that. She was almost glad when the night ended and she could get up, though she felt like a piece of chewed string and her movements were ponderous and slow and her eyes gritty with lack of sleep.
She thanked the Lord that she left for work before Connie got up for school. She knew she would have to use the face powder that she kept for high days and holidays very skilfully so that Paddy didn’t ask any awkward questions. And she hoped Breda would do what she normally did and stay upstairs, because she doubted she could fool her with some tale about walking into a door.
As she made her way to work, she was glad too that it was very early and winter, so it was still cold and dark. Those few people she met, hurrying to work as she was, would not think it strange that she had her scarf pulled down to her eyes and another wrapped around her mouth. She greeted Paddy as she went in and set to work right away. He was always busy in the mornings and so he never really had a chance to see her face. Breda stayed upstairs and Angela left work thankful that Breda was taking the lunchtime shift and the first person she’d have to encounter would be Connie when she came home from school.
Powder could only do so much disguising and Connie stared at her as she came in from school and said directly, ‘What happened to you?’
Angela had her story ready. ‘I tripped up in the alleyway and hit my head on the side of the house as I went down.’
‘Were you drunk?’ Connie asked.
Angela was too stunned to reply for a moment or two and then she said quite stiffly, ‘No, I was not drunk. What a thing to ask.’
Connie gazed at her mother dispassionately for a moment or two and then said, ‘I think that’s a very reasonable question because you have often come home drunk. I’m not the only one that has noticed either, because Maggie mentioned it to me.’
‘When did you see Maggie?’
‘Coming home from school yesterday,’ Connie said. ‘She was doing some shopping in Bristol Street.’
‘You didn’t mention it.’
‘No,’ Connie said. ‘No, no, I didn’t, because I was too embarrassed and ashamed of the things she asked me to say anything at all to tell you the truth. She told me that people have been gossiping about you, about the way you’ve been gallivanting around with that Eddie fella, but I couldn’t bring myself to say it to you.’
Angela gave a sigh, knowing that Connie wasn’t a child any more and could be fobbed off no longer. She deserved some explanation for her mother’s behaviour.
‘All right,’ she said. ‘Connie, you are old enough now to hear the truth about these last few months. Don’t judge me too harshly because parents, mothers, make mistakes too, but I am sorry if that has affected you in any way.’
Connie listened to her mother as she explained that the attraction of Eddie in the first place had been the fact that he came from New York, the city two of her foster brothers had drowned trying to reach, and that he had entertaining stories to tell that often made her laugh.
‘Everyone liked him and he liked me and he asked me out once and I said no. Then one day I thought, “Why not?” I was single and so was he and I was lonely.’
‘Hope you’re not implying this is my fault.’
‘Of course not. I’m just telling it as it is,’ Angela said. ‘I told you before that we went for a walk in Cannon Hill Park and on the way back we went for a drink.’
Connie’s eyes narrowed. ‘And you know already that’s not something a respectable woman would do,’ she said incredulously. ‘How many women do you serve in a week at the Swan, Mammy?’
‘The Swan’s different.’
‘No it isn’t,’ Connie snapped. She didn’t understand why her mother seemed not to realise that the worst thing a woman, especially a mother, could do was frequent a public house and drink. Any man, even a father, could drink and as much as he liked. Her granny used to tell her of Maggie’s father who would often go along the road singing after a session at the Swan on a Friday and Saturday night and no one thought any the worse of him for that. Even if a man beat up his wife, no one interfered and the wife would usually put up with it, saying it was just how the drink took some men and that was that.
However, no women except the lowest of the low drank, never mind got drunk.
Connie faced her mother and said, ‘You get drunk and don’t bother denying it. How could you have any respect for yourself when you behave like that?’
Angela flushed and thought if Connie knew the half of what she had got up to with Eddie when she was drunk her daughter would likely never speak to her again. Connie didn’t know it, however, and thankfully there was little likelihood of her ever finding out. Angela felt a wave of shame hit her. How could she have been so blinded by Eddie and allowed herself to get so carried away? If only she and Stan had never fallen out, things could have been so different, but ever since then things had been just awful.
Angela saw contempt flood over Connie’s face and, in an attempt to exonerate herself said, ‘I know I shouldn’t have been drinking at all but it wasn’t that I drank loads. It was just that it affected me more because I wasn’t used to it.’
‘Yes, but that only works for the first time,’ Connie said. ‘Or maybe the second time. By then you must have known the effect it was having on you and you should have stopped, but I know you didn’t do that because I was seldom asleep when you came home.’
‘I’m sorry, Connie,’ Angela said. ‘Truthfully, I had two glasses of lemonade last night and that is all, honestly. And that’s what I am going to stick to in future and Eddie McIntyre is going back to the States again soon anyway.’
Connie had never met Eddie McIntyre and had no interest in doing so. She didn’t think he was a good influence on her mother and hoped he would stay in America for a very long time, though she didn’t share that with her mother.