Born Bad. Josephine Cox
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part of his message must have got through her drink-sozzled brain, because she fought Saunders off and began to walk unsteadily down the street on her own.
When she was far enough away, Alan hoisted Phil Saunders by the collar and slammed him against the wall. ‘You’ve got a lovely young wife at home,’ he reminded Saunders. ‘She’s worth ten of that little tart. I don’t know how you got your claws into Judy, but if I was her, I wouldn’t even let you through the door!’
Humiliated and angry, Saunders began blustering. ‘It’s none of your damned business. Judy is my woman and I’ll do as I please – have you got that?’
He then fell in a heap on the ground and lay there, burping and giggling, until suddenly his mood darkened. ‘That damned Judy! I know what she’s up to all right, and I’m telling you now – if she ever crosses me, I’ll snap her neck like a dry twig!’ He struggled to his feet, breathing heavily.
Alan snatched him by the shoulders and ground out: ‘You listen to me, sunshine.’ Shoving his face to within an inch of Saunders’s, he promised, ‘If I ever find out you’ve laid a finger on that girl, I swear to God, I’ll swing for you.’ When there came no response, he tightened his hold. ‘Did you hear what I said? Has it got through that thick mist of booze and arrogance – has it? ANSWER ME, YOU HEAP O’ RUBBISH!’
‘All right! All right! I won’t hurt her,’ came the sulky answer. Then he turned maudlin. ‘I love her, don’t you know that?’
‘You don’t love her,’ Alan said scornfully. He was aware of Judy’s story; not all of it, but enough to realise that she was as lonely and frightened as any young woman could be. ‘You wouldn’t know how to love anybody. You control her, that’s what you do. You use and defile her, then you demand her love and loyalty in return. You don’t even know her. You’ll only ever be satisfied if you bring her down to your own level, but you’ll never be able to do that, because for all her suffering and loneliness, she’s a cut above you, and always will be.’
Astonished to see tears in the other man’s eyes, he lowered his voice. ‘Let her go, Saunders!’ he urged. ‘You’re no good to her. Acting like this, you’re no good to her. The way you are now, you’re no good to anybody!’ Then, hardening his heart again, he thrust him aside. ‘Now get out of my sight. But remember what I said – Judy is a good friend to me and mine, and we’ll be watching. So you just think on that.’
‘Get off me!’ When the older man released him, Phil remained where he was, propped unsteadily against the wall, shoulders sagged and a look of defeat on his sorry face.
In his fogged mind, he did love Judy, but not with tenderness or joy. It was a spiteful love – of dictatorship, and unfounded suspicions. Deep down, he knew his wife had no feelings for him, and it drove him crazy.
Truth was, Phil Saunders had never known Judy’s love; not the kind that spoke from the heart or shone in a woman’s eyes when she looked at you. So he went on punishing her, because she could never give him what he craved – that elusive ‘forever love’ that comes only once in a lifetime.
Deep down, he knew it wasn’t her fault, because how could she give him that kind of love, when she had already given it to someone else; a boy of eighteen. A boy she had deceived when she was only a kid herself.
In all these years, she had never forgiven herself for what she had done; and Phil had never forgiven her for choosing another over him.
When he too was on the brink of manhood, Saunders had witnessed at first-hand the magic that was Judy and Harry. The memories were deeply ingrained, he could see them in his mind’s eye even now, the way they laughed together and looked at each other, the way they held hands as though they could never let go.
It was because of these memories that he knew in his heart, that however much he wanted it, Judy could never be his.
Yet he continued to chase the dream, until very slowly, the love he felt for her was turning into a frenzy of resentment darkening into hatred.
At number 16 Jackson Street in the backwaters of Bedford town, Judy lay in bed, her eyes closed – but she was not asleep, never asleep; especially not on a Friday when Phil was late home from work.
Every sound outside the house made her nervous, so nervous that she had to get out of her bed and go downstairs. When the wall clock in the hallway rang out the first hour of a new day, she almost leaped out of her skin.
Shivering, she grabbed a jacket from the coat stand and, throwing it about her shoulders, she crossed into the tiny kitchen. ‘One o’clock in the morning, and he’s still out there, drinking and carrying on,’ she said out loud, ‘working himself up to fever pitch for when he gets home.’
It wasn’t the cold that made her shiver. It was fear.
Unable to settle and reluctant to go back to bed, Judy prepared herself a cup of cocoa. She carried it to the table and there she sat, her eyes darting to the door at every sound. ‘I should leave him,’ she muttered. ‘I should go away and never come back.’ But where would she go, and how would she manage?
Maybe she could find work, but what kind of work? And if her last attempt was anything to go by, how long would she be able to hold it down before they sacked her for being useless? Her nerves were shattered. She couldn’t focus on anything for more than a few minutes at a time, and she was incredibly uncomfortable around people.
She was constantly afraid. Afraid of being in a crowd, afraid when people approached her, and panic-stricken when she felt cornered.
So what chance did she have in the big wide world? She had no money except what he gave her, and that was pitifully little. ‘I’ll ask Pauline to help me,’ she told herself. ‘She’ll get me my confidence back again. I’ll talk to her – yes, that’s it. She’ll help me, I know she will. When I took that factory work last time, I wasn’t ready. I wasn’t strong enough, but I’m stronger now. I can do it, I’m sure I can.’
Her sense of excitement wavered when she remembered. ‘Phil would never let me do it.’ She recalled the rows and upsets she had endured each time she mentioned going out to work. ‘It was because of him that I lost my job in the laundry that time,’ she recalled.
She had been so happy in that little job with the other girls, but then he had humiliated her. ‘He wouldn’t stay away, wouldn’t let me be. So they had to sack me. It wasn’t their fault.’
Time and again she had tried to break free, and each time he had ruined it for her. It was like a game to him – a nasty, spiteful cat and mouse game. At first, she had tried to fight him. In the end though, he always won.
‘I don’t love him. I never have, never will,’ she whispered. ‘So why do I stay with him?’ Once upon a time she had been strong. But he had drained all her strength away, until she just didn’t care any more.
Halfway down the street, Saunders was embroiled in a row with the taxi driver, who was glad to be rid of this particular fare. ‘Pay me what you owe me,’ he warned Saunders, ‘or I’ll go to the police!’
The man had never encountered a more miserable passenger. ‘I should charge you a damned sight more,’ he complained, ‘for all the earache and aggravation I’ve had to put up with, let alone having to stop twice and let you out to be sick.’
Sorting out the money, Saunders threw it at him. ‘It’s me who should be calling the police!’ he grumbled. ‘The fare you charge is out-and-out robbery!’
But before he could start another argument, the taxi driver swung his cab round in the street and raced off. Winding down his window, he yelled down the street, ‘Bloody drunks! Lunatic! Next time I see you looking for a cab, I’ll be off in the other direction.’
‘Good!’ Saunders waved his fist as the taxi sped away. ‘You robbing swine! If I never see you again, it’ll be too soon!’
One minute