Hidden Sin: Part 3 of 3: When the past comes back to haunt you. Julie Shaw
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I’m telling you it’s not. Jesus, Mam – I’m twenty! You can’t just decide between you what I can or can’t do.’
‘Yes we can, and we are,’ she said. ‘I won’t have you down there, Paula. It’s bad enough that Joey’s so bloody embroiled in it all, but that’s not our problem. You are, and –’
‘Hang on, hang on, hang on,’ said Paula, getting up from the stool. ‘You really think I’m going to just throw everything in on the basis of some nonsense my gobshite of a little sister has been spouting at you and whatever gossip you got from your cronies down the post office?’
‘Don’t you dare call your sister that!’
‘Well, she is! And I’m twenty, in case you’d already forgotten – an adult. An adult who’ll make my own decisions, thank you very much. Christ, you think I wouldn’t know if there was dodgy stuff going on? It’s me that does the bloody books! And anyway – Christ, Mam – why the hell are you starting on me?’
‘I’m not starting on you. I’m just telling you. It’s not up for discussion. You’re to hand in your notice, and you’re having nothing more to do with it. They’re a bad lot, the lot of them. You have no fucking idea, Paula … God, you’re so bloody naïve!’
‘And you’re fucking pre-menstrual, clearly,’ Paula couldn’t stop herself from saying. Which did it – blew the fuse that had obviously been sparking; she was just quick enough to avoid her mother’s tiny but efficient fist.
‘I’m telling you!’ her mam yelled as Paula ducked it a second time.
‘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.
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