Hidden Sin: Part 3 of 3: When the past comes back to haunt you

‘No, I’m telling you. You can’t tell me what to do.’

‘Oh yes I can – all the while you’re under our roof, you’ll do as you’re told!’

‘Fine, then,’ she said. ‘Then I’ll get out from under it. I’m not staying here to listen to this crap. I’m off to sleep at Susie’s, where I can get a bit of fucking peace.’

Grabbing her handbag, Paula stormed out of the house, slamming the door behind her. She fumbled in the bag for her car keys as she marched down the path. What the hell was that all about? Had her mother completely lost it?

Her head was reeling. She rummaged some more, but her car keys weren’t in her bag. Fuck, she thought, of course, because they were sitting in her fucking bedroom, because she’d – damn it – decided to go in on the bus today.

Which left her two choices. To walk to Susie’s (or maybe to Joey’s, but she dismissed that idea immediately – he was over at his mate Dicky’s and she didn’t even have the number) or to sneak back into the house again and get them. And while she was at it, some spare undies and a blouse for the morning. Hopefully without her psycho mother hearing her.

Chapter 19 (#u3b2a27c9-cff6-517e-afc6-3911b180c95f)

Happily, her mam and dad were now both in the kitchen, both speaking loudly, and presumably – no, almost definitely – discussing her. Good, she thought. Let them. Let her mam keep droning on. Christ, how badly she needed a place of her own, where she didn’t have her every move dissected and could make her own decisions. And what was particularly galling was that the gloss had somewhat come off the place anyway; strippers and pole dancers – perhaps her mam had got wind of some of that. Though who from, she hadn’t the slightest idea. But it was still galling. Who the hell did she think she was, telling her what to do?

She slipped her shoes off, and made her tentative way up the stairs, placing her feet on the treads with care and precision, just as she’d done countless times after a too-late night out, opting for listening to a lecture in the morning, once the temperature had cooled, over one of her mam’s legendary rants at the time.

She made the landing without incident, and tiptoed to her room, moving silently in the dark to grab all the bits she needed; the knickers, a clean work blouse, the bag with her keys in. And, after groping around for a good bit in her wardrobe, the half bottle of vodka that had been sitting there for ages. Hopefully Susie would have some Coke to go with it.

She headed back across the landing then, but stopped by the stairs. Her parents’ voices were now louder. Were they properly arguing? She tiptoed down a little way. Yes, they were, and that wasn’t at all right. Yes, her mam could mouth off loud enough to have the neighbours banging on the walls, but not her dad, ever. That wasn’t his style. He normally just sat and waited for her to calm down. And, in this case, had clearly been happy enough to let her mam do their dirty work. What the hell was going on to have him raise his voice to her? She took another few steps down and rested her head against the banister, so she could hear the muffled voices more clearly.

‘I’m fucking telling you, Josie, you’ve gone too far,’ her dad was saying. ‘Why do you have to go off at her like a bull at a fucking gate? You’ve just got her back up now, like I told you you would. And she’s going to start noseying around now, asking all sorts of questions, and all kinds of shit will kick off over it. You just don’t know when to keep it shut, do you? You know what we agreed. Yet off you go, like a bloody banshee, as per.’

She? They meant her? Paula strained to hear better. ‘So bleeding what?’ her mam snapped, as if responding to her request. ‘Let the fucking truth come out. He deserves it!’

What truth? And who? What were the pair of them on about? She glanced back up to the landing, half-expecting Sam and Tommy to have their noses poking out from round their own bedroom door, but there was no sign of either, which meant they must be keeping their heads down. They had the survival instinct and nose for danger of experienced assassins, and had presumably scarpered upstairs when her mum had started on at her. And no Lou, either – but perhaps she’d already legged it round to her mate’s. That’s what she’d have probably done at her age, hearing her dad kick off like this.

‘That’s not up to you, me, or anyone else, for that matter!’ Her dad was properly shouting now. ‘And if you had any fucking sense you’d stay out of it. Well out of it. You know what you’ll do, Josie, don’t you? You’ll just bring it to our fucking door. Our door. Ours and our kids’. And I’m not having it. Just stay out of it, you hear me?’

But bring what? That was the burning question. What on earth was her dad on about? ‘You moron!’ her mam yelled. ‘It’s already at our fucking door!’

‘No, it’s not,’ her dad said. ‘But it soon bloody will be if you keep on like this. Just keep out of it, okay? If you don’t hold your tongue you know full well what’s going to happen. Sooner or later the whole truth is going to come out – just you wait – and then the shit is really going to hit the fan.’

‘So what?’ Paula’s mum’s voice was getting shriller by the minute. ‘You don’t get it, do you? I don’t care! Perhaps it should all come out. Perhaps it should never have been buried in the first place. I know she’s my friend, but there are limits – and we’ve reached them. Gone way past them, like a bloody racehorse. This is our daughter we’re talking about, and I’m not having it, Eddie. It’s all very well, all this pussyfooting around trying to protect poor innocent fucking Joey, but how long are we supposed to just sit here and say nothing? Till he moves in on Paula? Till he rapes her as well?’

Rape? Paula gasped, trying to take it all in. He? She’d said ‘he’ – did she mean Joey? It made no sense at all. Couldn’t be. That was just too ridiculous. So what the hell were they on about? She heard some sort of scuffle then – though it didn’t sound violent. Her dad was never violent. Wasn’t capable of violence. It was probably just the sound of a chair being scraped across the lino, as if someone – one or other of them – was standing up.

But the door didn’t open and her dad spoke again then. ‘Pipe down, Jose,’ he hissed. ‘The kids’ll hear you. Enough now.’

More than enough, Paula thought, her mind reeling with questions. Worried now that she might be discovered at any moment, she padded down the rest of the stairs, slipped her shoes back on and left.

Josie snatched up her cigarettes and lit one. Enough? Like doing nothing would make it all go away? Why couldn’t Eddie see that? It was all just getting worse.

She watched him light one too. He was shaking his head. ‘Come on, Jose, you’re being hysterical. It wasn’t exactly rape, was it? Christ, you really think that’s his style? And as I remember it, she would have chopped off her own bloody right arm to get back with him once Joey was born. Amazing how short everyone’s bloody memory is! Particularly hers.’

‘I can’t believe you’re defending him.’

‘I am not bloody defending him. I’m just pointing out that it wasn’t as simple as you’re saying. And it’s not our business to dredge it all up again.’

‘I bet a judge would call it rape. She was sixteen, remember. Frigging sixteen years old. She was ripe for the fucking taking, and he took her. And while he was supposed to be with her fucking mother – how sick is that? He’s an animal. And I know for a fact he worked one over on her, too – spent weeks, bloody months even, telling her how fucking gorgeous she was, and how things were so bad between him and her mam. She was sixteen, Eddie – not much older than our Lou – Christ, we of all people know how easily led girls are at that age. And she wanted an out – and that makes all the difference. Her brother off his head in the land of fucking smack, and her mam – well, God rest her soul, but she was shitty to Chrissy too – not to mention her nan and granddad, and –’

‘But it isn’t our business. You wade in like you always do and see where it bloody gets us.’

‘I don’t want to wade in – I want to wade bloody out!’

‘So why the hell are we even arguing? So do I!’

‘So she has to leave there. End of.’

‘Which she won’t – not now you’ve laid the bloody law down to her. She’ll do the exact bloody opposite, like she always does.’

‘Which is why she needs to know the truth. All of it.’

‘Not from us. We’re not involved in this. She’s not involved.’

‘God, Eddie – stop being such a divvy. It’s fucking Rasta Mo we’re talking about. The biggest drug dealer in Bradford, and now he’s into putting girls out on the batter, as well. And our daughter works for the prick. How is she not involved? What if the place gets raided, eh? What if that happens? And our Paula’s working there. Fuck, she does all his fucking books and you can bet your life they won’t be kosher. Of course she’s involved! She could end up in bloody prison!’

Eddie was silent for a few minutes, rubbing his hands through his hair. ‘Well, in that case, it’s Christine you have to speak to, isn’t it? Tell her it’s up to her to sort it. Tell her to tell that lad of hers a few home truths, and hope he’s got the sense to walk away as well. But please, Jose, don’t go screaming accusations about rape, okay? That will bring all kinds of shit to our door, as you bloody already know. Your Vinnie, for instance. He’d love to have a pop at him. And he would, too, he’d have a pop at fucking anyone these days. And he’s out again soon, isn’t he? Trust me, you’ll just cause World War fucking Three.’

‘Yes, but would she though? All of it? I can’t see it, can you? Her head’s way too far down in the bloody sand.’

‘It doesn’t need to be all of it,’ Eddie said. ‘Just enough so the pair of them see him for what he really is, before it’s too late.’

Josie stubbed out the cigarette and nodded grimly. If it wasn’t too bloody late already. She had a terrible premonition that it might be.

Chapter 20 (#u3b2a27c9-cff6-517e-afc6-3911b180c95f)

Susie lived on her own, on Little Horton Lane, in a cottage she rented just near the Brown Cow. It was handy for work and also handy for Paula to nip in for a coffee if they were on different shifts. Or outside, in Susie’s little suntrap of a back yard. Paula had great respect for her friend, not least because of her independence. She was only a couple of years older than Paula, but had been long engaged – almost married – till her fiancé was unfaithful, and where she could so easily have headed back home to her parents with her tail between her legs, she’d chosen to remain there and go it alone, even though, financially, Paula knew it was a struggle. Her mam’s words about her own naïvety still rankled. It was a word that really rankled, full stop.

It was getting dark when she pulled up in the pub car park and locked the car – where had the time gone? How could it be so late already? – but there was a light burning a welcome over the front door.

‘Changed your mind?’ Susie said as she opened it. ‘What a lovely surprise. Come on in, mate. I have wine. Not much in the way of food, like, but wine I can do. You okay?’ She scrutinised Paula more closely under the light in the hallway. ‘You’re not okay, are you? What’s up?’

‘I wouldn’t know where to start,’ Paula said as she followed her friend into the shabby but cosy sitting room, breathing in the familiar scent of cheap floral air freshener. ‘Pour me a large one of whatever you’ve got while I get my head straight and I’ll tell you. I’m not sure I’ve got my head round it yet myself.’ She flopped down onto the little two-seater sofa while Susie went to get glasses and a bottle from her galley kitchen.