Adele walked into the Boardroom bar in the city centre. The place was full of trendy twenty-somethings and she made her way through several groups of people who chatted loudly while the sound of Spandau Ballet played in the background.
She had made an effort, as she always did, and was wearing a navy blue wrap dress, which accentuated her curves while also disguising the few extra pounds she had gained since her break-up with John. In her hand she clutched a black, patent leather handbag, which matched her stiletto heels. She stopped and glanced around the room, trying to find her brother.
There he was, sitting at a large round table surrounded by his friends, with two young, attractive women fawning over him. She recognised a few of the faces from her past and cringed at recollections of the torment she had suffered at their hands. She paused momentarily, deciding whether to join Peter or whether to turn around and walk out the door. But before she reached a decision her brother spotted her.
‘Adele, over here,’ he shouted.
She approached the table and noticed that the two women seemed to be competing for Peter’s attention. When Peter introduced Adele to everyone the two women barely acknowledged her.
But David reacted, standing up and pulling out his chair with a flourish. ‘Please be seated, Your Ladyship,’ he teased and the group sniggered.
‘What do you want to drink, Adele?’ asked Peter, ignoring David’s comment.
‘Oh, thanks,’ she said, flattered by his generosity.
Peter took a note of what Adele and his friends wanted to drink then he headed off to the bar. Adele sat on the chair David had provided while he dragged another chair up to the table and squeezed in next to her.
‘Well, how’ve you been?’ David asked, draping his arm over the back of her chair, his insincere smile revealing a broken and stained front tooth.
They made small talk for a few minutes. David was very interested in her job, especially when she told him about her recent promotion following completion of her bookkeeping exams. But she couldn’t help feeling that his interest was disingenuous, as though it was leading up to something. Her intuition was right; the tone of the conversation soon changed.
‘What brings you here, anyway?’ David asked ‘We’ve not seen you for ages. I bet you think you’re too good for us now you’re a supervisor,’ he sneered.
‘Not really. I wouldn’t be here if I did, would I?’
David sniffed and picked up his pint. Adele sat uncomfortably for a few moments waiting for Peter to come back from the bar. When he did, he was carrying several drinks on a tray, which he handed around to his friends.
It was obvious to Adele that they all looked up to Peter. She could tell by the way they reacted enthusiastically to his banter and attempts at humour. Then the conversation turned to recent activities.
‘How’d that last job go?’ one of the men asked Peter.
She could see Peter shake his head before replying, ‘OK, you know. The usual.’
‘Haha,’ David interrupted. ‘Best not let big sis know what you get up to, Pete. She’ll have the law on us.’
‘Shut up, Dave,’ snapped Peter. ‘It’s all kosher.’
‘Haha, yeah. Course it is,’ David laughed.
The men then seemed to speak in a code that Adele didn’t understand. There were references to jobs, targets and readies. It was obvious they were talking about something underhand but Adele was unable to comprehend the details. She shuffled uncomfortably in her seat, feeling entirely out of place. Because of her discomfort she found herself downing her drink faster than usual. It was soon finished, so she went to the bar to buy another drink for herself and Peter.
When Adele joined the crowd around the table again, their enthusiastic chatter dulled and the volume dropped. It was as though there was a swift change in topic as soon as she was within earshot.
‘I tell you what,’ said David, ‘if you ever need a solicitor for your “kosher” business, Pete, maybe big sis can sort you out.’ Then, turning to Adele, he added, ‘Bet you know some big-shot solicitors where you work, don’t you? Maybe they could help us out if we ever get in a bit of bother.’
‘Not really,’ said Adele. ‘The accounts department is in a separate office. Anyway, it’s not that kind of solicitors. They deal in conveyancing mainly.’
‘Oooh, get you,’ taunted David.
Adele had had enough. ‘What is your fuckin’ problem?’ she snapped. ‘Just because I work for a living, it doesn’t make me a snob! You wanna fuckin’ try it sometime instead of being a complete waster.’ She scowled at David who jumped back in his chair. His movement was dramatic and exaggerated; another taunt.
‘She bites,’ he sniggered and the group joined in his laughter.
Adele stood up, scraping her chair across the floor. ‘Fuck off, tosser!’ she shouted before pouring her drink all over David’s head and storming out of the bar to the sound of jeers and laughter.
*
Shirley sat sobbing in her living room. She knew she was becoming maudlin but she couldn’t help it. She missed her kids and her mother even though she had been gone for a few years now. She stared up at the mantelpiece, admiring the porcelain figurine, which looked so out of place in her living room. It had been her mother’s until she died, and Shirley treasured it. In fact, the figurine was one of the few ornaments she bothered dusting. That and the large brass cat, which decorated the hearth, were the only ornaments that Shirley lavished with any attention. She’d inherited both of them from her mother. Every time she stared at the figurine she was comforted. It seemed to reflect her mother’s personality, standing proudly amidst the clutter.
When Tommy came home, Shirley sensed that he was in a mood straightaway. It was in his stance, the look on his face and the stomping of his feet. He was also drunk. Shirley quickly dried her eyes, hoping he hadn’t noticed. But he had.
‘What the fuck’s wrong with you?’ he demanded.
‘Nothing, just having a moment. That’s all.’
‘No wonder you don’t get any fuckin’ housework done when you’re sat scriking all the time. Your mam’s been gone years, for fuck’s sake! It’s about time you pulled yourself together.’
Normally Shirley would keep her mouth shut but the mention of her mother annoyed her. ‘You don’t know what it’s like!’ she complained. ‘It’s never happened to you and, even if it did, you probably wouldn’t bother.’
‘What the fuck’s that supposed to mean’ he asked, lumbering over towards her.
His rigid posture and glaring eyes were enough to quash Shirley, who began to backtrack. ‘Nothing. I just mean that you’re not that close to your mam and dad.’
‘None of your bleedin’ business,’ he said, walking over to the fireplace.
He was carrying a lit cigarette, which had burnt down so far that the lit end was almost touching his fingers. He hovered against the mantelpiece, searching for the ashtray, which was concealed beneath the clutter. Shirley was up out of her chair anticipating his next move. She was ready to shift some of the mess so that the ashtray was visible. But she was too late.
‘Fuckin’ shite!’ yelled Tommy, swiping at the items that crowded the mantelpiece.
Shirley’s breath caught in her throat as she watched the figurine tumble down to the ground. ‘No!’ she yelled, bending to pick it up.
Its arm was missing and the rest of it was covered in cracks. For seconds she stood, speechless, nursing her precious figurine while the tears flowed.
She was upset but she was also angry. ‘You bastard!’ she shouted at Tommy in an uncharacteristic display of courage. ‘Look what you’ve done to my mam’s ornament,’ she said, holding it up for him to see the damage.
Tommy swung his fist at Shirley’s hand, launching the figurine across the living room. It landed in the corner and smashed into tiny pieces.
‘Don’t you fuckin’ dare speak to me like that!’ he yelled, gripping his hands tightly around Shirley’s throat.
Shirley retaliated. ‘Get off me!’ she stormed, bashing his arms with her fists to try to loosen his grip. His hands continued to tighten around her throat until she was unable to speak. So she dug her nails into his hands.
Tommy drew his hands away in shock. He was still holding the cigarette and, as he pulled his hands away, the lit end singed his fingers. He dropped it instantaneously, howling from the stinging pain.
‘I’ll fuckin’ teach you!’ he screeched as he started raining blows on Shirley’s face and torso.
Shirley held up her arms to protect her face but this incensed him more. As Tommy unleashed his full fury, Shirley was helpless. After a torrent of punches, she crumpled to the floor. Tommy wasn’t finished. No longer able to thump her, he used his feet instead. His sturdy work boots were perilous and Shirley cried out in pain as blow after blow assailed her body.
When he had finished, he straightened himself up, panting for breath with spittle leaching from his angry mouth. Then he grabbed her hair, forcing her to face him.
‘Fuckin’ bitch,’ he cursed then spat into her face before walking away.
Shirley lay on the floor in pain. She glanced up through eyes that were already beginning to swell. There in a corner of the room she could just about make out the shattered remains of her treasured figurine.