Oh God.
Anyway, some families were sick. What did it even mean? sick! Society began from there, the sickness. You only had to watch the news. What about hers where you had one member not speaking to the others, just cutting himself off? It was Dad’s fault. He singled Brian out. Imagine he was alive and she brought home Mo. Nobody was good enough for her, not even the King of England, never mind ‘the wee Paki’ up the stair. That was how they spoke. They werent even being racist. They said that, oh it is not racist really, only ‘ingrained’. Ingrained. The answer was children. If all children mixed together and had friends like from everywhere then if their parents met up and knew each other. Mo said that. Helen wasnt so sure, thinking of Glasgow and the Catholic Protestant thing. Mo knew nothing about it. You having a laugh? But it was something to laugh about. Oh it is only old-fashioned. People said that; that was how you felt it was so like backward, and they laughed, Helen didnt like how they laughed. Mo too. People could be patronising. Muslims wanted separate schools so why was that okay but not like for Catholics and Protestants? if they wanted their own education for their own religion. What difference would it be if it was them kept apart from other people? It would be the same if it was Muslims or if it was like Hindus and Sikhs or Jews, whoever it was. She didnt care if Mo disagreed, ‘faith schools’ or what you call them. Mo said they were good people but were they if they were going to be sectarian? How could they be? That was sectarian, that was communalism. What was communalism? If it was hurting, if people were being hurt, if they were being killed? Were they hilarious? Why were they not hilarious like if it was Catholics and Protestants? If that was funny what about the other stuff? Mo didnt think that was funny if it was like the Punjab or what he was talking about.
White woman with her own baby! That was the hilarious thing how Mum, if she found out about Mo’s family not thinking she was good enough. Pakistanis! My God! The neighbours would laugh at that one. Not that Mum worried too much about neighbours. If anybody it was Dad. He was the petty one. But at least he would have been there for her. He would have been. Helen knew he would have been. He would have loved Sophie; just having a grandchild, Dad would have loved that, he would never have been off the phone, and asking questions, wanting to speak to the girl and just like my God a proper grandparent. No wonder Sophie showed no interest in talking to her. You cant blame the child for that, you have to look at the adult. Mum never asked questions, except the most basic. Why didnt she ask the wee soul a question? She never did, not a proper one. Her one and only granddaughter.
If it wasnt for Mo Helen wouldnt have bothered keeping in touch. He was cheery, or tried to be.
Although he could be too cheery. Mum didnt like ‘cheeriness’. Helen didnt like it much either. Cheery men! Women werent ‘cheery’ in that way. It bordered on stupidity. With her ex it was forced. As though everything was fine when it wasnt, it was awful; things were awful; lousy and horrible; just hopeless really and that voice going on and on, pretend cheeriness. The way he did it was such a sham. Yes Mo was cheery but you never felt he was acting. With him it was real. Because he was good, a good man, so if he was cheery, it was an honest cheeriness. He respected people, and had a talent for them too. Really, he did, like if Helen was late meeting him someplace he would be hearing a stranger’s life story by the time she arrived. Even at the supermarket he got into conversations. It was nice when it happened; an old person started talking and when Mo replied that was him, just another London guy, it didnt matter he had a different background, it was two London voices. Helen liked that. It was so nice when it happened. He had the London patter. They all had it, the ones Helen met, they tried to patter her. So she wasnt always boring. Otherwise why would they bother? They wouldnt bother otherwise.
Mo collected Sophie at ten past three and should have been home by three thirty, at the latest. Helen could have done it herself but him doing it was great: one less worry. When he couldnt she had to be out of bed by half past one, and even then it was a rush. Before Sophie started school was the very worst; nurseries and childminders, that was the nightmare of nightmares back in Glasgow, she was going mad, like truly, her sanity, so that was a major thing how Mo had been so supportive. They had only just met. He was not like a bosom friend but take away him and who was there? Because Mum, my God. She could not rely on Mum. She made that plain enough. Dont think of me, dont expect me. And that damn nursery and all their officious damn officiousness, rows and tellings off, oh late again, late again they hated you being late even two minutes, just that officiousness and how mothers had to stay once a fortnight to be with their child, to be with their child. What did that mean? How presumptuous was that, it was just so incredibly presumptuous. As if people didnt have jobs to go to. My God. As if life wasnt complicated enough. What world did they come from? People had to work, and it was five nights of every week, it needed to be. Why did they not understand that? People lived every day. Not just some. They didnt stop breathing and eating every so often, it was just so stupid. What did people think? People didnt think. That was the problem. Thinking wasnt a strong point.
Without Mo she would have been stranded. She would never have returned to London. It wouldnt even have occurred to her because with Sophie and everything, if the nursery scene was bad in Glasgow at least she knew about it there and the travelling wasnt so bad. Then worrying about him all the time, her ex, if he was going to interfere and he would have my God he would have of course he would have.
She would never have managed. She didnt have the looks for prostitution. Well of course she did. If you were young, you only had to be young. She would never have considered it. She didnt know how; even making enquiries, who would you have asked? it was ridiculous, except in a roundabout way, but who would have known? It was all guessing, and if you went up to somebody and asked, what a laugh that would have been. The ‘girls’ came into the casino. Helen could have got talking to one, or if she had gone into a casino herself, another casino, and just, all she would do, just, if she just waited or sat down and what would happen perhaps if a guy talked to her or what, she didnt know. Except the problem then that people would know her in these other casinos. You get to know people, and they know you.
Imagine walking the streets my God whoever could imagine. And the risks, imagine the risks. Helen saw girls on these quiet streets, poor-looking and cold, behind buildings and in back lanes and car-parks, so horrible and dangerous. Girls getting beaten up and raped and murdered, how many girls were murdered every year? the figures were shocking; what were they? You saw these guys, horrible horrible guys, looking at you, just how they looked at you like sleazy, so so sleazy. Stripping you with their eyes, women said that, oh he strips you with his eyes. That was what they done, and to make you feel that way, you just turned your head and they were watching you and that was it, they wanted you to know, that is what they were doing. Sleazy and horrible. They wanted you to be a slave, you were just a woman, you meant so little to them, they looked down on you and didnt think you were anything, not a real human being, they didnt think you were, just a slave. That was him. You were a servant bringing up his child and for sex, that was what he wanted you for so he could penetrate you or if it was your mouth, that was penetration too, it was all just penetration, penetrating another human being; and you werent another human being, not to them. They only thought of men. They didnt think of women. That was the look, how they did it, sleazebags. That was a good word ‘sleazebags’.