Ruby Read online

  ‘Ballet’s for snobs,’ she snarled. ‘How come you go there?’

  ‘My mam wants me to go,’ said Jessica.

  ‘Well your mam’s a snob then,’ said Trina who would have loved to have gone to ballet classes but knew her mother couldn’t afford it.

  For a few minutes more she baited the girls until she grew bored and decided to return home to search for something with which to stick the poster onto her bedroom wall.

  ‘Come on, Tyler. We’re going home now,’ she said. ‘And don’t you dare start crying again!’

  Tyler saw the expression on Trina’s face and obediently let her lead him home.

  Trina wasn’t a bad person, but she did derive a certain satisfaction from seeing the girls squirm, especially knowing that they only pretended to like her out of fear. She had found a way to exert power over others and, in a life where things were otherwise out of her control, it gave her a kick. It also helped her to deal with all the festering resentment that bubbled away inside her.

  All these girls had more than her and they all had better lives. She might not be able to boast about her nice life like they could but at least she knew how to command some respect from those who secretly thought they were better than her. It was Trina’s first step in learning how to use her strength of character and imposing physique to her advantage. And that knowledge would stand her in good stead in the future.

  2

  August 1991

  It was Sunday morning. Trina groaned when she heard her mother shout from her bedroom doorway.

  ‘Come on, you as well. We can’t afford to be idle on the Lord’s Day.’

  Trina looked at the time on the old alarm clock sitting on top of her chest of drawers. Eight o’clock. Why couldn’t her mother let her lie in on a Sunday just for once? All the other local girls got a lie in on a Sunday. In fact, some of them didn’t get up till eleven, and Trina didn’t see why she should be forced out of bed. She turned over and shut her eyes. Just as she felt herself drifting off, she heard her mother shouting again.

  ‘What on earth do you think you’re doing, Trina? Come on, up. Now!’

  As she shouted, Daisy pulled back the bedclothes.

  ‘Aw, Mam,’ Trina pleaded. ‘It’s Sunday.’

  ‘I’m well aware of what day it is, my girl. That’s why we’ve got to be up. Now, come on. And don’t you dare take that tone with me if you know what’s good for you.’

  Trina looked up at her mother who was staring intently back, her tense body language letting her daughter know that she wouldn’t stand for any arguing. When Daisy said you had to be up, you had to be up and that was that. Trina sat up in the bed and stretched till her mother left the room, satisfied that she had made a move.

  When Trina got downstairs her mother was busy in the kitchen making breakfast while her brothers were in the living room getting ready.

  ‘Go and help Tyler with his clothes then you can get yourself dressed and eat your food,’ said Daisy.

  Trina sighed and walked back towards the living room.

  ‘And don’t come that attitude with me,’ said Daisy.

  Another hour and they were all fed and dressed, and the boys had been given a brisk wash before they were allowed to leave the house. Daisy had swapped her everyday jeans for a smart skirt and jacket, and her hair was neatly plaited. Likewise, Trina’s hair was in plaits and she wore her best dress.

  The boys were also kitted out in their best clothes although the trousers were now too short for the older two and Tyler’s jacket was a bit too tight. Unfortunately, the children outgrew their clothes before Daisy could afford replacements, and the few new clothes she’d bought were in the wash. Her own clothes were old but she kept them looking good.

  They caught the 192 bus near to home and within no time they had arrived at the Bethshan Tabernacle, a popular local church, with Daisy’s dire warnings to behave still ringing in the children’s ears. Trina had already picked up on the fact that it was important to her mother to create a good impression.

  Daisy and her children sat amongst her group of regular friends and relatives. Trina noticed her grandmother in a tweed jacket and skirt with a matching hat, and two of her aunties and uncles. Her older cousins weren’t there, and Trina felt a touch of resentment that they always seemed to get out of going to church. She, on the other hand, had to attend every Sunday. Maybe when she was a bit older, she’d be able to get out of going to church too.

  As they took their seats in the pews, Ellis and Jarell argued over who sat where and Tyler pushed noisily past people, trying to get to his grandparents. Trina noticed some of Daisy’s friends tutting and whispering amongst themselves. Her mother scolded her sons for making a noise, and Trina’s grandparents tried to calm Tyler down. She could tell her mother was stressed, glancing anxiously around as though she was bothered about the impression people had of her children.

  Daisy was a single mother to four young children, alone and on benefits, and would therefore never be fully accepted by the churchgoers. Even at nine years of age, Trina was aware that these people had been far more accepting of her mother when she was still with her womanising, bully of an ex-husband. For some reason he seemed to command respect, and Trina wondered if it was because people were frightened of him. She knew that people treated her mother differently now, but she couldn’t quite understand why.

  Trina also wondered about the need to go to church every Sunday. When she had asked her mother why, Daisy had grown quite cross and said, ‘May God strike you down for your blasphemy, child.’ Her words and the tone she’d used to convey them struck such fear into Trina that she hadn’t bothered asking again.

  As she sat there fiddling with her hands, Trina willed the sermon to be over. The words of the sermon went straight over her head. She couldn’t relate to anything being said and her mind began to wander. Trina looked forward to the singing, especially when they had a group performing on the stage. When that happened, everyone usually danced along to the music and it was good fun. But this bit was boring. What she really looked forward to was going back home. As it was Sunday, all the chores for the week were done and she could spend the rest of the day doing what she wanted, content in the knowledge that her soul had been cleansed for the week.

  *

  It was the following day and Trina was keeping an eye on her brothers after school while her mother was in the kitchen at the back of the house doing some washing. When Trina heard a knock on the door she rushed to answer it, eager to alleviate her boredom.

  As Trina opened the door she spotted two strange men, both burly, one with red hair and a beard, and the other dark with crooked teeth. Behind them a large white van was parked. By the time Trina’s mother ran into the hallway, her hands still full of suds, shouting, ‘Don’t let them in!’ it was too late.

  The men barged roughly past Trina who stood looking at them, bewildered as her mother grabbed hold of one of them and tried to stop him from going into the living room.

  ‘Get out of me house! Get out of me house!’ she yelled. ‘You’re not having me things. It’s all I’ve got.’

  But the men ignored her anguished cries and marched straight into the living room. Daisy soon caught up with them and there was a heated discussion. Red Beard took a piece of paper from his clipboard and handed it to Trina’s mother asking if she was able to pay.

  ‘Not today, but I’ll have the money next week,’ said Daisy.

  ‘Sorry, but it’s not good enough,’ said the man who then instructed his colleague to start collecting goods in payment.

  Daisy ran in front of Crooked Teeth and tried to block his way. ‘No, not me stereo,’ she pleaded. ‘Please don’t take me stereo.’

  ‘Madam, could you please step out of the way?’ said Red Beard, but Daisy stayed put, blocking his colleague’s path.

  ‘Very well,’ said Red Beard, putting his clipboard down on the sideboard and stepping towards the TV.

  Daisy switched her attention to h
im. ‘No!’ she yelled. ‘You can’t take the TV. Me kids are watching it. You cruel, cruel man!’

  Tyler picked up on his mother’s distress and began wailing while Ellis and Jarell tugged at the man’s clothing to try and stop him getting to the TV. Trina noticed the other man lift the stereo while all the commotion was going on. But she didn’t try to stop him. Something about the officiousness of the two men unsettled her, and she was wary of going against them.

  Daisy swung round, looking from one man to the other, unsure who to deal with first. In the midst of her confusion Red Beard unplugged the TV and barged past her carrying it. Ellis and Jarell chased after him, screaming and tugging at his jacket to try to stop him. He set the TV down in the hallway while his partner carried the stereo outside to the van.

  Daisy pursued Red Beard through to the kitchen and Trina could hear her mother remonstrating with him over the seizure of more goods. ‘Quick,’ Trina said to her brothers. ‘Let’s get the TV back while it’s still in the hall.’

  But by the time the children had gone through to the hall, Crooked Teeth had returned and was already carrying the TV out of the house. Now Ellis and Jarell also began to cry, and Trina felt unshed tears of anguish pricking her eyes.

  ‘He’s got the TV, Mam!’ she shouted, and Daisy came dashing into the hallway.

  ‘No!’ shrieked Daisy. ‘How can you do this? Me poor kids.’

  By now Daisy seemed to have accepted there was nothing she could do to stop the men. So, instead, she reached out to her two oldest boys, putting an arm round each of them to offer them comfort. But their howling continued. Unsure what else to do, Trina took Tyler into her arms and tried to cuddle him while he struggled to break free and wailed down her ear.

  Trina couldn’t understand why her mother had given up the battle to hold onto their things. But she didn’t realise that her mother was far too proud to go out into the street and give the neighbours something to gossip about. Trina felt upset and indecisive. Tyler’s wailing and her other brothers’ crying and screaming was becoming too much. She looked to her mother for guidance but Daisy seemed as defeated as the rest of them, standing there with a solemn frown on her face.

  When Daisy eventually snapped and screamed at the boys to shut up, Trina was relieved in a way. She could see the men had almost finished as the pile of things in the hall had now gone. Both of the men were still outside but then Red Beard came back into the hallway and handed Daisy a piece of paper.

  ‘Here’s a list of the goods we’ve taken in payment,’ he said.

  ‘They’re not goods!’ screamed Daisy. ‘They’re our things. What are me kids supposed to watch now?’

  ‘Sorry, love. Just doing my job,’ said the man as he casually walked away.

  ‘You wicked, wicked men!’ shouted Daisy.

  The front door was open, but Daisy seemed past caring about the neighbours or anyone else as she waved furiously at the men and shouted, ‘Bastards!’

  Trina heard the sound of the van’s engine starting up. When the vehicle had roared off down the road. Daisy slammed the door shut and pushed her sons away from her.

  ‘Get out of me sight!’ she yelled.

  The boys ran, frightened, down the hallway and up the stairs, with little Tyler trotting clumsily behind. But Trina stayed in the hallway, concerned for her mother. It was the first time she had ever heard her mother use bad language, and it unsettled her.

  She looked at her mother who had now stopped shouting. Daisy’s eyes were moist and as the tears slid down her face, she dropped to the floor, covering her face with her hands and bawling. Then Trina’s own tears came and she knelt on the ground, her child’s arms encircling her mother in a futile attempt at comfort.

  After a while Trina asked, ‘Why did they take our things, Mam?’

  She braced herself for another angry reaction from her mother. But Daisy didn’t shout. Instead, she raised her head and looked at her daughter, her expression one of defeat and humble resignation as she said, ‘Because we don’t have any money, Trina.’

  When Daisy slowly walked back towards the kitchen, Trina was hit by a deep sadness. She recognised that this was a bad day for the family, not just because of the things they’d lost, but because of Daisy’s response. It wasn’t often that Trina saw her mother so wretched that she was reduced to tears and foul language. Trina felt helpless and she wondered not only how her family would cope, but just how much worse things were going to get.

  3

  August 1991

  It was only a day later when Trina dawdled in from school to find her father occupying their worn old sofa with a scowl on his face. Isaac was a big man, both in height and frame. He was good-looking and muscular too, and it was easy to see why women found him difficult to resist despite his bullying ways. It was also easy to see why men found him so menacing; he had a reputation locally as a ruthless fighter who spared no pity for anyone who crossed him.

  Trina watched her mother setting a cup of tea down on the coffee table in front of her father, muttering as she did so.

  ‘I never thought I’d see the day when I had bailiffs turning up at me home.’

  ‘Alright, Daisy. No need to keep saying it. I told you, it’ll be sorted,’ he said. ‘And if I’d have been here, they wouldn’t have fuckin’ got away with it!’

  Daisy didn’t say anything about his bad language, a sure sign to Trina that she was treading lightly with him for some reason. Once she had put the cup down, Daisy turned round and addressed her daughter.

  ‘Where you been till this time, child? Your father’s been waiting to see you.’

  Trina very much doubted that. When he had lived at home it had seemed to her that he couldn’t stand the sight of his children. Now, however, he was sitting there with Tyler on his knee running a toy car along the length of his father’s muscular arms.

  ‘Well?’ said Daisy. ‘Aren’t you going to say anything to your father?’

  Trina looked across at her father whose face broke out into a fake smile. ‘Hi, Dad,’ she muttered.

  ‘How’s my girl? Come and sit next to your dad for a bit,’ he said, patting the cushion next to him and grinning widely as though he was enjoying her discomfort.

  Trina walked across the room and sat down awkwardly beside him. ‘Where are Ellis and Jarell?’ she asked her mother.

  ‘I’ve sent them to the shop. They’ll be back soon,’ said Daisy.

  ‘Yes, then we can all be one big, happy family again,’ said Isaac, laughing.

  Daisy joined in with his gaiety, but to Trina it seemed as though her mother’s laughter was forced. When the merriment stopped, Daisy asked, ‘Well, child, aren’t you going to tell your father about your day? I’m sure he’ll want to know what you’ve been up to at school.’

  To Trina it was like penance, having to make conversation with her uncaring father while he feigned interest. As she sat there talking to him, she willed her brothers to get back soon. Perhaps they would take some of the pressure off her.

  Eventually they did come back and her mother went into the kitchen to finish making the tea, leaving Isaac with his four children. Once the boys were there Trina tried to excuse herself by saying she was going to help her mother. As she stood up her father pulled her back down onto the sofa.

  ‘Leave it,’ he growled. ‘Your mother can make the tea herself. I want my kids here with me. I haven’t seen you in ages. I thought you’d have wanted to see your dad too.’

  His last sentence was spoken like a question and Trina felt pressured to respond.

  ‘Well, yeah,’ she said, frightened of saying the wrong thing and making him angry. ‘Course I do. I just wondered if my mam needed some help, that’s all.’

  ‘Well she doesn’t,’ he snapped.

  Isaac stayed and had dinner with them before he left. Trina was relieved when he had gone, although she didn’t say that to her mother who seemed in a better mood than the previous day. Daisy wasn’t exactly happy but she seemed more
at ease, as though some of her worries had been alleviated.

  When she got into bed that night, Trina said her prayers as she did every night; she was too afraid of the wrath of God otherwise. But this time she didn’t just say her bedtime prayers, she added a prayer of her own; please God don’t let him come back.

  Once she had finished praying, Trina dwelled for some time on bad memories of when her father had been at home. His perpetual anger. The rows. The put downs. The smacks. The rare outings. Him flirting in the park. Suddenly pleasant and likeable. Then disappearing for days. And the peace offerings whenever he came back. Toys that she never played with; contaminated by his deceit.

  When she eventually drifted off, she was playing the same words over and over inside her head, please don’t let him come back, please don’t let him come back, please don’t let him come back…

  4

  September 1991

  Trina’s prayers went unanswered as Isaac moved back into the family home a few days later bringing with him a TV, stereo and various kitchen utensils. As Trina eyed the household items lined up in the hallway, it reminded her of some sick kind of TV quiz show with her father as the booby prize. Trina knew that the replacement goods were some sort of deal her mother had struck with him, but she was just glad that at least they were getting something in exchange for having to put up with her father.

  For a few weeks everything seemed fine between her parents although Isaac never accompanied the family to church. He was good to his kids though, in those early weeks, treating them whenever the ice cream van came round and giving them money for sweets from the corner shop, just like the other kids in the street. Sometimes they even had cake after tea, and Trina dared to dream that perhaps they could be just like normal families.

  But then the rows started again. At first they were out of sight of the children, but Trina could hear them when she lay in bed at night. Her father’s angry voice carried up the stairs, his use of expletives countered by her mother’s disapproving tones. She couldn’t fully understand what the problems were, but she thought it had a lot to do with her father’s compulsion for chasing other women. She grew to dread coming home from school, feeling as though she was walking into a battlefield.