Anyway, Brian hadnt been a fighter and he wasnt small. The one at the traffic lights was angry-looking and dangerous and even like he wanted to fight. That wasnt Brian. Brian didnt fight and why should he have? It was nothing to be ashamed of. She remembered from childhood days and that time, she was with him, he was taking her someplace — where was he taking her? — they met boys and they were laughing at him. Brian could have thumped them so so easily and like if he had he would have hurt them. It was not nice. Helen was holding his hand, if they were laughing at her too, they didnt even know her and it was not fair how they could laugh at her, if they didnt know her. It should not have been her. Why were they laughing at her? What did it mean? Wee girls dont know. So much of what goes on, it passes over your head. Poor Brian. Boys had to stick up for themselves. They had to fight back. Helen would have. She would have slapped their faces. The cheek of them laughing at her. If she had been the boy. Dad said it too. Oh if it was your wee sister, she would have hit them back, she’s the fighter in this house!
It was fun, Dad meant it as fun when she told them. Mum called it tittle-tattle. It wasnt tittle-tattle; that was a horrible thing to say. Helen was only telling her. She was her mother for God sake she had a right to tell her; and she should have listened. That was her duty. She was a mother and mothers had a duty. It wasnt tittle-tattle it was only a wee girl telling her about something exciting.
As if it was Helen’s fault. It was not Helen’s fault. These boys were laughing at Brian. So it was not her. It was only because she was there they laughed at her, because she was with him. It was horrible and cruel. Boys were torturers. She would have slapped them. Brian could have punched them. Boys can punch. Because if you have to. Children learn to take care of themself: girls most of all. That was what Mum didnt understand, because she favoured Brian, or she only liked boys, but it wasnt Helen’s fault if she wasnt one. Dont blame the child. Why did Mum blame her? She seemed to, and it was not her fault. Girls shouldnt have to fight but people did things to you if you didnt. You couldnt hide anywhere; you couldnt find a place. People got you. They came and got you. Sophie had a picture book called The Book of Secret Places; it was a nice book but the title was a lie. There were no secret places. Sophie thought there were. What do you say to a child? They always find you.
School had been like that. And Marcelle Tierney.
Marcelle Tierney. Imagine thinking of her. She was just a bully. People thought she was marvellous but she wasnt. And taking the boys’ side against her. Some girls did that, if boys were getting you, they just laughed, they joined the boys against you. You had to stick up for yourself. So if Brian didnt. Dad picked on him too. ‘Picking on’ was not bullying. Dad was not a bully. He picked on Brian. It was not the same as ‘bullying’; and it was bullying Marcelle Tierney did to Helen which was worse than ‘picking on’ and especially she used the boys. That was what she did, it was horrible. The boys all liked her. They liked Helen too. They liked Marcelle because she was sporty but Helen was sporty. Everybody knew that. The worst was Ian Mathieson. It was just horrible and wouldnt have happened except for Marcelle and Marcelle was her friend — supposed to be, but friends dont act that way, not real friends, so she hadnt been a real friend, not like a real friend.
Silly nonsense, why was she thinking about it?
Anyway, she stuck up for herself, she had to. It wasnt always possible because how can it be? But for boys too. Imagine being a boy. Helen couldnt. Weak or strong, what would she have been? Weak. Or strong. She couldnt imagine.
It was survival. Children had to learn. People died or went mad.
Or not respecting you. Boys didnt. They could be animals. Not all animals, some were not like that. Sheep didnt hurt each other. Horses didnt, and cows; people worshipped cows. Human beings were worse. Only to respect another person, and they couldnt, they couldnt even do that. The human body is a ‘hallowed temple’ supposed to be but if it was not treated properly like only humiliated and made a thing to denigrate, if that was what happened, if they denigrated, girls too, they were the worst.
Helen dozed. Then was awake.
A blank period.
Not a doze. How long if it was? Half an hour. Half an hour is good. Even five minutes. Two. One and a half. Can people sleep for one and a half? Sleeping for one and a half minutes, not even the one with the limp, if that was a dream, but she didnt have any dream. Not unless it was longer. She hadnt checked the clock so it may only have been five, or ten, or even more although ten onto what she already had would have been good, and she was back to work at nine this evening. As soon as Azizah arrived she would be out the door, if Sophie allowed it. The crying fits had stopped thank God, thank God.
Nightshift didnt allow sleep. Perhaps if she lived in a castle or else the country, in a posh mansion with a hundred servants and finery and all furnishings, plush settees and beautiful soft cushions. But she needed bed, eyelids
A thickness too
But Brian
He wasnt a coward. He wasnt. They just were laughing. Why did they? It was horrible. He wasnt weak. Only with Dad, who was strong. Oh my God. Except with Mum. That was so strange. Take away Mum and he was the strongest. Who was stronger? Nobody. Nobody was stronger than Dad. Although not Helen, he didnt dominate her. He took her side in everything, even against Mum.
Although who did he dominate apart from Brian? That was a question too. But not a nice one. If it was Dad. Dad as a man. What like was he? If it was the company of men. That was a different question. If he was not strong, perhaps he wasnt. There was an arrogance in older men too, she saw them in the casino, ones who were loud and brash, showing off; that way they looked at you; you were just nothing to them, they rated you so low as a human being. They wouldnt think it was rape, you were so nothing, just like nothing. They didnt care about human beings. It was all twisted and perverted, it wasnt love, and not respect. And the women with them. Not them either. What were they for? What did they do? What did they care about? Zombies personified. You saw their eyes, they had no life, it was horrible and tragic. They took part in it, and it was so demeaning, and affected all women; little children too. What did these women think? Did they think of that? No, because these little girls were nothing to them with their expensive jewellery and piles and columns of chips, stacks of them. It was so so demeaning. Old-fashioned too. From an old-time Hollywood picture with all dumb blondes and gangsters. But these gangsters were not criminals in the ordinary sense, just men with loads of money. Mo’s question was where did they get their money but what did it matter except they had it and waved it around and laughed if they lost. How did they take losing? Could they take it? That was the big question for them. One guy lost eighteen thousand pounds in twenty minutes and then said goodnight. So cool. He was like a hero. The dealers too, they spoke about him.
Perhaps Brian was weak but what did that mean? ‘weak’. ‘Weak’ was not weakness. So if he had been ‘weak’, it wouldnt have been like a weakness, like it had always been there. How could it? He wouldnt have survived. Nobody would. Not if you were one person and all of them, all of them there, if it was only you, you were only one person. You wouldnt survive. Who could? Nobody. Girls were begging and prostituting. Young girls too, people touching you and all what, it didnt bear thinking about, and gang rapes and beatings, actual beatings, just beating women. What cowards! Men were cowards. To treat women in such a way, they were cowards and bullies and you had to stand up to them.