CRUEL SECRETS Read online

  Kelly decided to head upstairs to her room and start her homework but instantly paused when she heard Patrick say, “So, Maureen, have you heard about Eddie?”

  Holding her breath, she listened.

  “No! And I don’t want to even hear his bloody name mentioned. The dirty lying paedophile.”

  Kelly threw her hands to her mouth to stop the gasp from escaping.

  “Well, girl, ya best listen. He is out on parole next month, and it’s my guess he will be coming for what’s his. Mark my words, Mo, he will be on your doorstep. So best you get yourself prepared.”

  “Patrick, you haven’t been around for a few years now, and I have to tell you, things have changed.”

  Patrick let his eyes wander around the uninviting living room and then at the oversized picture of Christ and said, “Yep, I can see that.”

  The next morning, Kelly put on her school uniform and headed down the stairs. Patrick was gone and her mother was in the garden pruning the roses. She thought about saying goodbye but then decided it was better just to slip away before her mother asked any questions. She didn’t have school today; this was her little secret. She would go and visit her aunt Bet who was her favourite person. If her mother knew, she would have gone spare. So, she hurried off down the road. Her aunt was within walking distance, obviating the need to catch the bus. Instead, she could save the bus fare for a treat. Glancing over her shoulder to make sure no one saw her, she quickly slipped down the side of the house. Her aunt’s two-up two-down little cottage was the opposite of hers. She smiled, as she passed the concrete snowman that was still out on the doorstep in September. She pushed aside the big fluffy blooms of pink roses which had grown wildly along the wall. The last time she had been there, a thorn had scratched her face. Still, she liked the smell and no doubt her aunt wouldn’t bother pruning. She wasn’t like her own mother where everything had to be neat and tidy. She knocked on the back door and then turned the handle.

  “Aunt Bet, it’s me, Kelly,” she called.

  “In ’ere, my babe,” answered Betty.

  Kelly walked past the kitchen and straight into the living room. Her aunt Bet was sitting in her comfortable chair with her leopard print glasses perched on the end of her nose, reading the paper.

  “Did ya stick the kettle on?”

  Turning on her heels, Kelly headed back to the kitchen. She moved the dirty dishes aside and filled the kettle. The cupboard just above the sink held the mixed assortment of mugs, so she carefully retrieved two and made them both a brew.

  “’Ere, Aunt Bet.” She handed the mug and sat herself opposite.

  “So, what do I owe the pleasure … and does ya muvver know you’re ’ere? I don’t want no fucking grief from her right now. Me back’s playing up again.”

  “No, she thinks I’m at school, but the school’s got a training day, so I thought I would come and see you.”

  Betty sat up straight and removed her glasses. She had soft eyes, round and grey, and so different from Kelly’s mother, Maureen. Her eyes were vindictive and dark. It was hard to imagine they were sisters. They even spoke with different accents. Chalk and cheese, as they say.

  Betty looked her up and down. “Jesus, gal, you look like ya go to one of them grammar schools.”

  Kelly laughed. “Well, yeah, that’s mother for you. I mean, I can’t even wear tights. I look like a right idiot, you know. But I can’t handle the shit I would get if I tried to argue about it.”

  “Are ya all right, though … I mean, ya don’t get bullied or nuffin?”

  Kelly bit her lip. “Not exactly, no, but I get the mickey taken out of me. Still, no one hits me, well, not that often, anyway. I just don’t have friends, that’s all!”

  That comment really hit hard. Betty was choked up and Kelly noticed her eyes filling. “But I’m happy enough though, honestly. I’m gonna get me a good job and me own place one day. Away from her.”

  “One day, aye, gal, one day,” smiled Betty. She loved her niece and felt gutted that the poor kid was raised by an evil bitch. She knew that Kelly was so sad inside and the sweet smile was just a front. At every opportunity she could, she would offer her a decent meal; the sight of her niece’s skinny body though really sickened her.

  The photos, arranged haphazardly along the mantelpiece, were of her and Betty’s sons, Ricky and Billy. Anyone else would have thought that Kelly belonged to Betty. One showed the boys and her together on the sofa, and then there was another, with just her in Betty’s arms.

  “Aunt Bet, who is Uncle Patrick? He was at ours last night.”

  Betty shot a look of concern at Kelly. “Patrick? That fucking little shit of a man? He ain’t your uncle, he is … He is a no-good waste of space.” She got herself to her feet. “By Christ, I thought ya muvver had more fucking savvy than to have that wanker knocking about!”

  Kelly was wide-eyed and taken aback. “Who is he?”

  “He’s one of ya mother’s brothers, cousin’s sister on the decorator’s side!”

  “What?” asked Kelly, screwing her nose up in complete confusion.

  “Aw, Kel, he ain’t any fucking relation. That slimy nonce, he used to sniff around ya mother, years ago. He was married to … oh, never mind.”

  “You’re joking!” emitted Kelly. “My mum and a fella?”

  Betty snatched the fag packet from the sideboard and lit up, puffing furiously.

  “No, girl, this was the same time as your dad …” Immediately, she clammed up.

  It was Kelly’s cue to jump in. “Talking of my dad—” She had no sooner got the words out when Betty was on to her. “Kel, listen, as much as I dislike my sister, you know that I cannot talk about the past.” She sat down heavily and flicked the ash into the freestanding 1950s ashtray.

  “But …”

  “No buts, my babe. I made an oath to Mo that I would not say a word until you were sixteen. We both had secrets and I made her swear she would keep my little secret silent too.” She looked up at the photo of her Billy and shook her head. “Don’t s’pose my secret matters anymore, though. My poor Billy is gone, dead and buried, love his heart.”

  “So, why not tell me then, Aunt Bet?”

  Taking another drag, Betty shook her head. “Babe, an oath is an oath, and I may not be a lot of things, but a woman of my word, I am. Please don’t ask me again. Ya know I can’t ever say no to you.”

  “Aunt Bet, I heard that Patrick tell mother that Eddie is out in a few months. I know he is me dad, but I just wish I knew more about him. Mother has always said he is a paedophile. I hope I haven’t taken on any of his genes. I mean, I think I’m normal, but who knows?”

  “Gawd, babe, of course ya normal …” She paused, getting her thoughts together. “So, what else did ya hear?” asked Betty, as she tried to gauge what was said.

  “Nuffin. Should we be worried? That Patrick did say that Eddie will be coming for what’s his, so what did that mean?”

  Betty swallowed hard. “I don’t know, babe. Anyway, don’t you go worrying that pretty head of yours. You concentrate on getting good grades and getting yaself a decent job.” Betty knew that would be a tough ask, as Kelly was so quiet and terribly shy. How could the poor kid even get through an interview?

  As Kelly sipped her tea, she relaxed, sinking deeper into the puffy well-worn sofa. She kicked off her shoes and swung her legs around, which was a pleasure she could never have at home. “Sit up straight like a lady,” her mother would always demand.

  “Aunt Bet, can’t I move in with you?”

  Looking empathetically at her niece, Betty replied, “Oh, my babe, I would love nothing more than you ’ere wiv me, but ya muvver would burn the fucking house down. When you reach sixteen, you can move in then ’cos you can make ya own decisions, can’t ya.” Betty swallowed to remove the lump in her throat. She could sense Kelly was begging her, but her niece was a genius at showing little emotion; Maureen had knocked that out of her. Her sister had a lot to answer for, turning a once
lively little girl, who would light up a room, into a waif of a kid, with nothing much to say and who walked with the world on her shoulders and her face always tilted to the floor.

  Kelly smiled and continued drinking her tea. She had dreamed of living with her aunt. It would have been a different life altogether; there would have been no antibacterial wipes everywhere, no starched school uniform, and all the freedom in the world. She wasn’t allowed friends, and she couldn’t even mention a boy’s name, as her mother would go nuts. She hated going to church, with the constant quotes from the Bible and the never-ending threats of burning in hell. It was too awful to fight against her religion, as the punishments were severe and sometimes cruel. She gazed at her aunt, whose face was glowing with emanated love, and she just wished she could have been her mother. It was hard to imagine they were related. Betty was forty-two, with a curvy, fuller figure and long black wavy hair. She never left the house without a full face of make-up and always kept her nails brightly painted, usually red. She was slower these days, after falling down her stairs and damaging the disc in her spine. Maureen was the opposite; she had thin mousy hair, and she always kept it pulled back in a bun. She never put on make-up and wore clothes more suited to a sixty-year-old, and yet she was only forty, two years younger than Betty, in fact, but no one would have guessed.

  “Aunt Bet, will you tell me the truth about the past, when I turn sixteen?”

  Betty stubbed her fag out and clasped her hands together. “I made a promise to ya mother all those years ago, when things were different. If I fucking knew then what I know now, I would never have sworn an oath, but I did. Now that promise was to never mention the past until you reached sixteen … Strange, ’cos I can’t really remember why. I guess she thought you would be a grown woman, a bit like she was at that age, I s’pose. Anyway, I promised I would tell you when you reach the right age, and like I said, I am a woman of my word.”

  “Okay, I won’t ask again until then,” she smiled. “That Patrick reckons I am the image of my mum.”

  “Nah you ain’t, and you look fuck-all like the snotty prune-faced bitch.” Betty laughed aloud. “Cor, Jesus, that creep, Patrick, must have shit in his eyes, if he thinks that. Ya muvver might have been a looker twenty years ago, but fuck me, she ain’t now. Looks more like a rat on speed.”

  They both laughed because they could and because it was how they saw her.

  “So, I guess I look like my father, then?”

  Not wanting to say much more, she smiled and concededly nodded. It wasn’t a surprise to Kelly, as she had guessed as much. There was only one mirror in the bathroom and the reflection of an olive-skinned, green-eyed girl, staring back, was nothing like the face of her mother. She wondered if her father was foreign; maybe he was Spanish or Italian. His name was Eddie – well, there was nothing exotic about that!

  They spent the rest of the day watching a few horror films. It was a special treat, since her mother refused to have the television on unless it was to watch history documentaries, and, of course, any religious films. She must have seen The Ten Commandments at least thirty times.

  Four o’clock on the dot, Kelly leapt from her seat, slipped her feet back into her flat school shoes, and said her goodbyes. Betty hugged her tightly and kissed her forehead; she felt sorry for Kelly and had a deep-seated hatred for Maureen.

  As she watched her niece from the window, walking down the road to the bus stop, her heart felt heavy. Maureen didn’t deserve a daughter as sweet as Kelly. More to the point, Kelly didn’t deserve to have a mother so cruel. Her niece may look happy on the outside but Betty knew inside Kelly must be suffering. With no friends and no social life, she was missing out on her youth. It was a far cry from when they were young; as teenagers, they were always out, especially Maureen. She was invited to any party going, dressed in the skimpiest of rig-outs and knocking back the vodka like there was no tomorrow. Nothing and no one stopped her. Betty was less outgoing, but she still had the freedom to join in the fun, if she wanted to. She had her boyfriend at the time and therefore a balance. Saturday nights were saved for her mates, and the rest of the week was spent either washing her long hair or going out with him.

  By the time they had both left school, Betty had a job in the bakers and Maureen worked in the factory in Cray Avenue. Work was easy to come by, then. The avenue was a long strip with factories on either side. The wages weren’t fantastic but decent enough to pay their way and there was also enough over to buy their clothes and have a few good nights out. Back then, that was all they had to worry about. Lucky for them, their parents were not strict at all. Betty thought about her mum and dad; she still missed them. It was such a shame that their mother had died of pneumonia and their father died a few months after of a heart attack. Betty always said it was because of a broken heart. They would turn in their grave now, if they knew what had been going on.

  When Kelly arrived home, she heard her mother talking to Patrick. Quickly, she popped her head into the living room and said hello, before she was chastised for being rude. They practically ignored her, with just a grunt and a nod, so Kelly went as usual to the kitchen to wash up. She didn’t bother making herself a sandwich, as her aunt had cooked them both a roast, followed by devil’s food cake, which, of course, they had both laughed about.

  Once Kelly finished her chores, she went to her bedroom. However, on the landing she noticed two suitcases, clearly labelled Patrick Mahoney, and so she assumed he would be staying in the spare room. Jesus, she thought about the bathroom and shuddered. She would keep herself in her bedroom and wait until the coast was clear, if she needed to use the toilet. There was no lock on the bathroom door, but there was a cast-iron doorstop in her room, in the shape of a wolf, and that would have to make do. Her mum had bought it in the charity shop and used it to keep the door open to air the room. For some reason, her mother insisted on having the bedroom window open to ward off evil spirits, or something mad like that. Kelly hated it, especially in the depths of winter. As soon as she was home from school, she would run upstairs to close the window and the door and allow the room to warm up, before she settled down for the night.

  She sat on her bed and gazed around the sparse square room with a single bed, cream walls, pink curtains, and a plain pink quilt cover. On the wall by the window was a desk to do her homework, next to that was a bookshelf, and on the opposite side was a wardrobe made of white melamine with a faded plastic handle. Beside it was a chest of drawers with her hairbrush and comb. No pictures, no posters, no colourful knick-knacks – it was all just plain and boring. It was probably like a prison cell without the bars, but, of course, she was free to come and go. Well, not so much free – but at least not locked away.

  Carefully, she listened to hear if her mother was still talking but the sounds were indistinct. Taking her time, she slid out the magazine she had bought with the tenner her aunt had given her. She hid the change in the lining of her bag. Her work folder was bigger than the magazine, so she slipped it inside and sat on the bed, propped up by her pillow. Admiring the cover for a while, she stared at the two celebrities with tans and tons of make-up – they looked so beautiful. She then turned to the story with all the make-up hints and tips. She dreamed of the day she could buy lip gloss and try some mascara and wondered if she would look like these young women. She must have dozed off before the magazine slipped away and onto the floor.

  Without warning, she woke with her mother screaming at her, pointing to the magazine as if she had just discovered a used condom or something. Maureen was red-faced and foaming at the mouth, causing Kelly to bolt upright, ready for the backlash. The first slap across the face nearly knocked her off the bed. The second one missed her head and caught her neck which angered her mother for missing her target. With that, she backhanded her with a clenched fist and it caught her cheek. Instantly, the stinging and throbbing gripped her, making her eyes water. But rather than retaliate, she sat still, holding her breath, hoping that was the end of it a
nd her mother wouldn’t drag her outside to the shed. It was always her worst fear.

  Luckily, Maureen had other ideas and turned on her heels and marched away, leaving Kelly alone, with her fresh bruise and raging heartbeat. Holding her throbbing face, she stared down at the magazine and wished she had never bought it. Inside, she was seething; she wanted to fight back, but she was terrified of her mother. Years of slaps and whips had made her afraid, so she had cowered before her into meek submission. Therefore, the teasing from the girls at school really meant nothing in comparison.

  It was ten o’clock, so Kelly snatched her nightdress and dressing gown that were hanging up on the back of the bedroom door and quickly hurried into the bathroom. Patrick and her mother were still downstairs. She heard his voice. “You have to keep that girl in check, Mo. Ya don’t want a lovely child like that spoiled by these sex-mad teenage boys, now do you?”

  Kelly shuddered; how dare he discuss stuff like that about her! She quickly got herself washed and slipped into her nightwear. After she cleaned her teeth, she headed back to the bedroom. As she closed the door, she suddenly felt uneasy; maybe it was the tone in Patrick’s voice that made her feel ultra cautious, but she decided to push the iron doorstop up against the door to keep it shut, all the same.

  That night she didn’t sleep too well at all. Her face was still throbbing and she kept thinking about Patrick. What if he came into her room? By the morning, she was ready for school, eager to get out of the house. Patrick was in the spare room, snoring, whilst her mother was in the kitchen, making herself tea. Kelly noticed her hair was down, which softened her face, and she was wearing a satin dressing gown. That was new. She didn’t speak to her mother except to say goodbye.