29

Jimmy Randall was not in a good mood. He’d had a lousy day, clearing a bombsite in the teeming rain.

Knocking off at the end of the day, Jimmy and Charlie made straight for the Red Lion. Charlie bought the first round, and when they had downed that in double quick time Jimmy went for the second. He was in no hurry to go home to a miserable wife and a squalling baby. When Charlie got up to leave, Jimmy stayed, bought himself another pint and sat, brooding, in a corner.

‘The trouble with Mav,’ he’d moaned to Charlie earlier, ‘is that she’s let herself go, know what I mean? And she don’t want it no more. Says she’s too tired. Too tired for a good fuck? I said to her, I told her, what she needs is a good seeing to, but, no, she won’t have none of it. Says the baby’s making her tired. The baby, I ask you? How can looking after a baby make you tired? He sleeps most of the day!’

Charlie, the father of five himself, nodded and taking another pull at his pint, replied, ‘Women get funny about that sometimes, mate. But she’ll get over it, you’ll see.’

Well, thought Jimmy, as he finished his pint and treated himself to a whisky chaser, she can bloody well get over it tonight. She’s going to get a bloody good seeing to, and no mistake. I’ve had enough. One more drink for me, and then I’m off to sort her out.

He bought himself another whisky that he couldn’t afford, thinking as he handed over the money that Mavis would have to go short on the housekeeping this week, but that was tough, he needed a drink.

When he got home, he found the house in darkness. A street lamp gave him enough light to fit his reluctant key into the lock, and when finally Jimmy managed to open the door, he staggered into the dark hall.

‘Mavis!’ he bellowed. ‘Where the bloody hell are you?’

There was no reply, but he heard a sound in the kitchen and slamming his hand on the switch, he flooded the hall with light.

‘Mavis!’ he shouted again. ‘Mavis, what’s going on? Where are you?’

A reply came from the kitchen. ‘In here.’

‘What the fuck are you sitting in the dark for?’ he demanded, as he pushed open the door. His words were slurred, his step unsteady and he lurched against the door frame, flicking on the kitchen light, before slumping heavily onto a chair.

Mavis was sitting at the table, her eyes red from weeping and bleary with sleep. He stared at her for a moment, trying to focus his own eyes, then he looked round and seeing no sign of the pram, asked, ‘Where’s the kid?’

‘Mum’s got him,’ Mavis replied wearily. ‘She’s keeping him for the night, so’s I can get some real sleep.’

‘Is she now?’ Jimmy gave her a lewd grin. ‘Well, that suits us just fine, don’t it? Means we can have some fun, you and me. Not have to think about him.’

Mavis still didn’t get up from the table, and Jimmy looked round him.

‘Where’s me tea?’ he demanded. ‘You ain’t got the kid to look after, and you ain’t even got me tea on the table when I get home, you slut.’

Mavis got shakily to her feet and reached for the kettle. Jimmy grabbed her wrist as she went past him and jerked her towards him. ‘I said, what you been doing all day? Where’s my tea?’

Mavis tried to snatch her hand away, but his fingers bit into her wrist.

‘Let me go,’ she screamed, grabbing at the table to steady herself. Jimmy’s eyes swivelled to the table and fell on the photo of Rita and Rosie still lying there. Letting go of Mavis, he snatched it up, waving it at her in fury.

‘What the hell’s all this?’ he roared. ‘Where’d you get this? That what you’ve been blubbing about? Well, you can cut that out. Them kids is nothing to do with us no more!’

‘No,’ shrieked Mavis, grabbing at the photo. ‘Give that to me!’

Jimmy laughed and pushed her away, keeping the picture out of reach. ‘Know what I’m going to do with this?’ he jeered. ‘This is what I’m going to do with this!’ He held the photo high above his head, and with great deliberation, ripped it across and across, dropping the four pieces onto the floor and scuffing them with his feet.

Mavis gave a wail of anguish as he trampled them under his boots. ‘My babies!’ She launched herself at him trying to push him off the pieces of photograph. Jimmy caught her by her shoulders and gripping tightly, shook her so violently that her head jerked back and forth like a broken doll’s.

‘Them kids have nothing to do with us,’ he shouted again. ‘Get it? They… don’t… live… here… no… more.’ And with each word he banged her shoulders against the kitchen dresser.

‘Because of you, you bastard!’ screeched Mavis, her fury overcoming her fear. ‘You sent them to Australia! It’s your fault that I ain’t got my kids. They’re the other side of the world, and it’s your fault.’

‘Australia! Don’t be daft!’ snapped Jimmy, giving her a shove so that she staggered sideways and had to grab hold of the gas cooker to stop herself from falling. ‘They’re in Russell Green, you stupid cow, and you know it.’

‘No, they ain’t!’ screamed Mavis. ‘They’ve been sent away.’

‘Good riddance!’ snarled Jimmy. ‘Australia’s welcome to them.’ He slumped back onto his chair. ‘Now, where’s my tea?’

‘There ain’t none,’ Mavis said flatly.

‘Ain’t none?’

‘No, nothing.’

‘Then we’ll get on with the next thing!’ shouted Jimmy. ‘And don’t you tell me you’re too tired, ’cos I don’t give a flying fuck.’ He gave a drunken laugh as he tried to grab her, ‘and that’s what we’re going to do, you and me, whether you like it or not.’

‘Don’t you touch me!’ shrieked Mavis. ‘Get your hands off me.’

‘Why? Don’t like it no more?’ jeered Jimmy. ‘Was a time I remember when you couldn’t get enough of it. Like a bitch on heat, you was. Couldn’t wait to get your knickers off. Well, tonight’s your lucky night, bitch.’ He lurched to his feet, and made another grab at her, blocking her escape to the door.

‘Keep away from me, you bastard!’ hissed Mavis. ‘You sent my kids away, and I let you. But you’ll never touch me again.’

‘Says who?’ grinned Jimmy. He could feel his manhood stirring in his trousers, growing with excitement as she faced up to him across the table. He’d always enjoyed a bit of resistance, a glint of fear. Oh yes! Once he’d got hold of her, it would be the fuck of all fucks.

‘Leave me alone,’ she was shouting, backing away from him. ‘Get away from me!’

Jimmy laughed aloud now, enjoying her terror. She couldn’t escape. He could see the bolt was across the back door, and if she made a dash for it, he’d be on her long before she got the door unlocked. Slowly, deliberately, he walked towards her, looming over her as she cowered into the corner beside the dresser.

‘Now, bitch, we’re going to have a little fun,’ he slurred. He made a grab for her, and catching hold of her by the hair, dragged her, shrieking out of the corner. Her cries excited him even more and holding her against him with one hand, he undid his belt with the other. Twisting away from him, Mavis caught up a kitchen knife from the dresser and slashed it at him, only missing his face by inches. With a roar, Jimmy caught hold of her wrist and wrenching it violently, tried to force the knife from her hand. But Mavis had firm hold, and hampered as he was with his trousers sliding down his legs, he couldn’t twist it from her grasp. Together they staggered back against the wall, Jimmy turning the knife away from him as he tried to wrest it from her. Unable to do so, he rammed her hard against the wall, crashing the back of her head against the uneven plaster. Despite the explosion of pain in her skull, Mavis still gripped the knife, and it was only when Jimmy bent her arm back at an impossible angle that she released her hold and he pulled it out of her hand. Still struggling to free herself from his grasp, Mavis kicked out, catching her feet in his loose trousers and together they collapsed into a heap on the floor. Jimmy landed on top, crushing her beneath him, the knife still in his hand. Mavis’s scream, cut off, transmuted into a gurgle as a fountain of blood exploded upwards, spraying them both. Jimmy rolled away and heaving himself to his hands and knees, stared down in horror at Mavis and the kitchen knife now protruding from her neck. He knelt, staring unbelievingly as the blood continued to pump from the wound, spreading in a crimson pool on the floor. Mavis stared back up at him, her lips moving, but no sound coming from them, just a few bubbles of blood. Jimmy reached for the knife and with one determined twist ripped it free. With the blade came another gush of blood, and before his eyes Mavis’s head lolled sideways as life drained from her.

For a long, stunned moment, Jimmy looked at the knife in his hand and then with sudden rage he threw it across the room.

‘Stupid, bloody bitch!’ he bellowed. ‘What d’you pick up the knife for? Stupid, stupid, bloody bitch!’

He heaved himself up onto his feet and looked down at her again, the familiar anger rising in him once more. Mavis was dead, there was no doubt about that, she lay on the floor like a discarded rag doll, and it was all her fault. If she hadn’t said no in the first place, he wouldn’t have lost his temper. She was his wife, for God’s sake, she had no right to say no. All he’d wanted was his right as a husband, and she’d been screeching at him. Any man would’ve lost it.

He felt a sudden burst of panic. She was dead, and they’d say he’d done it. That bitch Lily would never believe it was all Mavis’s fault.

‘Shit! Shit! Shit!’ he shouted to the kitchen. ‘Shit!’

What was he going to do? For several moments his mind seemed a blank, but staring down at Mavis, who returned his stare with sightless eyes, he tried to think. A plan. He needed a plan. Christ! He turned his back on her. Couldn’t think with her staring at him.

Get rid of her body somewhere? Somewhere she’d never be found. Then he’d say she’d run off and left him. If he could just get rid of her body and clean up the kitchen a bit… Then he looked at the blood all over his clothes, the blood pooled on the floor, the blood spattered on the wall, and knew that it would be impossible to clean up the mess that was Mavis’s death.

No, his brain was working now, no, his only chance was to get out, and get out fast. With luck she wouldn’t be found until tomorrow or even the next day, if that interfering cow Lily didn’t come poking round. Twelve hours, maybe more, for him to disappear into the melting pot of London.

Without looking again at the rag doll that lay at his feet, Jimmy staggered from the room. Had to get out of his blood-stained clothes. Had to clean himself up. He hauled himself upstairs and into the bathroom. There he shed his clothes and standing in the bath, scrubbed himself down. The water turned pink as Mavis’s blood was sluiced away, and when at last it ran clear, he towelled himself dry before going into the bedroom and dressing in clean clothes from the skin out. Quickly he packed a grip with another set of clean clothes, neatly ironed by Mavis, his demob suit, and adding his razor and toothbrush, he zipped up the bag and made his way to the front door. Gingerly, he removed his cash from the pocket of his bloody trousers. The trousers he left discarded with the rest of the blood-soaked clothes on the bathroom floor; with Mavis lying in a pool of blood on the kitchen floor there seemed to Jimmy no point in trying to hide them.

He turned off all the lights before opening the front door and taking a quick look along the street. The night was cold, frost sparkling on the pavement, with a new moon and a sky bright with stars. The street was empty, and without a backwards glance, Jimmy stepped out and walked away into the night.