Monika was getting the children’s tea when Joe got back from work. Josie, nearly 7 years old, helped her. Jack, Al and Bill were sitting in high chairs around the kitchen table. The radio was on, playing a lively tune about the weather being hot and it being summertime and someone having women on their mind.
Monika remembered that clearly for years to come.
“Is that woman not back yet? It’s 5 o’clock.”
“No, Susannah is not back yet.”
“I came home early especially, I wanted to hear all about her afternoon with her old friend from university.” It was obvious from his voice that he had not believed a word of her excuse.
“She is not back yet.” Monika repeated as she continued to feed the children their tea.
Joe had frequently told Susannah that when he wanted to enjoy a bit of fun with another woman he had to do it away from home. He would tell her how he would like to bring one of the women from the pub back and have sex in their bed. He had taunted her by saying that that was exactly what he would do the moment he was ever left alone in the house long enough – even if the children were at home.
Another of the visions he had taunted his wife with was his curiosity about his having sex with Monika. He would talk about it when they were in bed together. Susannah put it down to his wanting to humiliate her, wanting to arouse himself as he went through the motions of sex with her.
There was enough reality in the threats to have tied Susannah to the house when there was any chance he would be there. She had had to make sure that neither the children nor Monika were left alone with him. Under normal circumstances.
But she had had to leave them this afternoon, she could not have another baby, she had to get rid of it. Perhaps Joe would be late back from work, she would get home and he wouldn’t know anything was wrong.
It must have seemed like a golden opportunity to Joe. An opportunity that wouldn’t occur again in a hurry. He hadn’t believed the story about an old university friend and he wasn’t sure what it was she was up to, but this was too good an opportunity to miss.
“Josie, take your brothers out into the garden.”
“But Daddy....”
“No ‘buts’. Do as you’re told. Now. And don’t come back inside until you’re told to. I’ll call you when you can bring them in.”
Monika lifted the boys out of their high chairs and went to carry them out to the garden, holding her hand out for Josie to hang on to as they went. What could Joe have in mind? The children hadn’t finished their tea.
“Not you, Monika. I want a word with you.”
She put the boys down. She knew better than to cross him.
“Now Monika, its my turn.”
“What do you mean?”
“It’s my turn. With you. You don’t belong to Charles and the German, it’s my turn now.”
It took a few moments for Monika to realise what he was saying but then the look in his eyes reminded her of the past.
“That’s not true!” She tried to think of a way out of this. She had to keep him talking. She must not let him do what she knew he was going to try to do. She tried to make sure the kitchen table was between them.
“Of course it is. Everyone knows what you and those two perverts get up to. Now I want some of it.” All the middle class façade he had wrapped around himself for the past 8 years was gone.
He was too quick for her, darting round the table he grabbed both her wrists with one of his hands and with the other reached under her skirt. She remembered thinking that he seemed very skilled at practically undressing her with only one hand. He was very strong. She struggled to free her arms from his grip. He was unzipping his trousers when she managed to free one of her hands – she reached back behind her, desperately trying to find something to hit him with – she had to distract him – there had to be something....
She had been raped too often during the war, she had been forced too many times, to let it happen again – after all those years of peace and happiness she would not, could not, let it happen.
Her hand found the handle of the bread knife.
She swung her arm round in a wide arc the blade facing forwards. His shirt offered no resistance and the blade slid into his side. It jarred in her hand as it glanced off a rib and dug even further into his body. She let go of the knife as his grip weakened. He let her go.
He had cut himself many times, on the boat. Fishing hooks, blades and thick canvass needles had stuck in his legs, arms and hands. He knew that it was essential to do these things without thinking of the pain. You just did it. You worried about the pain later. He reached round and gripped the knife and pulled it out of his body. The pain in his side and in the palm of his hand took his concentration for just long enough for Monika to squeeze past him. She headed towards the door, reaching down to pull up her pants as she tried to run.
But even with the pain, perhaps even because of it, Joe was quicker. He pushed her out of the way swearing at her. Vicious fucking bitch’ was all she could make out as he headed through the door and into the garden.
“Oh my Christ – the children!”
She ran after him – she must save the children from him – God knows what he would do to them.
He still had the bloody knife in his hand.
By the time she reached the garden he had the three babies in a bear hug in his arms, Josie was struggling and had got away from her father. The young girl was staring at the red stain spreading rapidly across his shirt and the knife still held in one of his hands. “Aunty Monika?” Josie, frightened and confused, started to cry.
“Is everything all right there?” a voice came from the neighbour’s garden, the thick hedge preventing him from seeing what was going on.
“Absolutely. No problem – just the children playing up a bit while they wait for their mummy to get home.” Joe sounded almost normal.
“Good, good, try to keep the noise down old chap – it’s such a lovely evening out in the garden.”
“Shut the fuck up.” He did not shout, he did not want the neighbour to hear – but he said it with sufficient menace to silence Monika and Josie.
He was walking quickly out of the side gate clutching the three young children in his arms. They saw him turn right, towards the sea.
Josie bent down and picked up the knife her father had dropped. “No!” screamed Monika as she grabbed it out of Josie’s hand and ran inside to the phone.
“Come quick! Come quick! He has taken the children. He has gone mad!”
“What do you mean ‘he has taken the children’?”
“He’s taken them to the sea.”
Max had answered the phone and immediately decided to divide resources. There was no time for explanations – he realised the gravity of the situation.
It was a good thing he had answered the phone, time would have been wasted if Charles had done so as Monika had spoken in German – a language she had not used since she had come to England 22 years before.
“Charles, go to the quay. Joe has taken the children.”
“I am going to the house – Monika is hurt. No Charles, you go to the boat, take Carl with you – stop Joe from taking the children on the boat. Run!”
The brothers had quite a way to go – the quay was far nearer Joe and Susannah’s house than it was to Sandhey – there was no way they could get there first. But they had to try. It would be quicker to run along the beach than to drive.
They ran.
When Max reached the house Monika was standing by the kitchen table. Josie was standing behind her, holding onto the hem of her skirt with her thumb in her mouth, as she had done when she was a young child.
Taking in the bloodied knife on the table in front of Monika and the tears in her dress, Max did not take long to read the situation pretty accurately.
“Oh my dear girl! He didn’t try to...”
She nodded, her eyes dull, her face as lifeless as it had been when they had looked out over the unterseeboot 25 years earlier.
“Did he...”
She shook her head, lifting up the bloodied knife.
“Is he badly hurt? My dear child we need to know. If he has gone on a boat with the children and he is wounded.... it will be dangerous.”
She shook her head, then nodded, then shook it again then cried out “I don’t know! I don’t know! He mustn’t harm the children! Oh the poor children!”
“What about the ‘poor children’ where are they? What is happening?”
Susannah had arrived home.
Carl and Charles reached the quay to see the children crammed into the skiff with their father who was rowing out to the fishing boat. He was not making a very good job of it as he was obviously hurt. He was favouring one side, the boat was not travelling in a straight line.
They watched with the dawning realisation that the boat was not making headway and had been caught in the current of a channel in the incoming tide.
It was not making any progress, it was being swept along – Joe had no control over it – he was fighting the oars so hard he was not even trying to hold onto the children.
Charles yelled at a man in a boat completely unaware of what was going on “Help us! We’ve got to get out there!.
“No way. Tide’s running. They’re gone”
“Jimmy, for fucks sake it’s your brother!” Carl had recognised the fisherman.
“No room.” With no redundant words Jimmy pushed Carl away from his boat and pushed off into the water.
Charles and Carl watched Jimmy rowing strongly, swiftly catching his wounded brother. They saw him trying to lift the young boys to safety from the tiny skiff, yelling at Joe to stop trying to row. He was taking no notice. Jimmy said afterwards that it seemed like Joe just had to get away. He was trying to row with his right hand – his left arm was useless now the full impact of the knife wound was making itself felt. Jimmy had had to lean on the skiff to grab the children, then it just careered over, throwing Joe into the sea.
He had grown up within spitting distance of the sea, he had been a fisherman, made a living from the treacherous waters; but he could not swim. His survival instinct made him try to do some kind of doggy paddle to keep afloat but he was hurt. His left arm would not work properly, his head went under. His brother tried to reach him but watched helplessly as he was swept out of reach.
He hadn’t stood much of a chance once he was in the water.