'About seven grand, but don't worry, there's plenty more where that comes from.'
He said it in his big 'I am' voice, the voice he used so she would know just how good he was to her. How he risked life and limb for his family, without a thought for his own liberty.
She fell for it every time.
Kissing him softly on his lips she looked into her husband's eyes. The complete and utter trust and love she held for him told him he had now gained himself a few nights out on the lam. He had iced twenty-five grand that morning from a wages snatch in East London, he was still feeling the rush from the job and he was enjoying his pregnant wife's adulation. He needed it, because for all the strange there was floating about in his orbit, there was only one woman on his mind and she was beginning to take over his every waking moment.
Patricia had used him, and that had never happened to him before in his life. Usually he was the conqueror. He used women, they did not use him, consequently he was absolutely besotted with her, and to make matters worse he had a feeling she knew it and was enjoying his discomfort. The way she smiled at him, then ignored him, before finally speaking to him in that animated way she had, making him feel like he was back in with a chance. Then blanking him for days, as he spent his time trying to think of excuses to talk to her.
But their encounter had blown his mind. Never before had a woman taken him to bed, enjoyed him without even talking to him before or after, and then acted as if he didn't exist. He thought about her constantly, her boyish body that she was so confident with, her small breasts that he had adored. Patricia had taken what she wanted from him and he had loved it.
As he thought about her his hand slid towards his wife's swollen breasts and he caressed them gently. She was so unlike Patricia. Jackie resembled a cow, with huge udders and that milky smell women got when they were ready to drop. Patricia was long and sleek, and she could move like no woman he had ever bedded before.
Jackie felt his hands on her and as always was willing to give in to him. Like her mother before her she believed that if you never refused a man he would not want to stray. Her father had proved the lie to that statement and so had her husband.
She, like Lena, didn't understand the logic of womanising men. It was all about power, and like a rapist, they used women as a means to an end. It wasn't really anything to do with the sex act, as far as they were concerned that part was just a bonus for all concerned. It was about the chase, and once the women had succumbed they were history. They were another story to be told in the pub, another conquest that made the men concerned forget the futility of their lives. They never once cared, or really desired the woman in question, who were just a pawn in their game of life.
'You be careful, Freddie. I'd rather scrimp than see you banged up again.'
He smiled at her, the smile that made every woman think she was the only woman in the world who mattered to him. 'You're my girls, ain't you? I have to take care of my girls. That's why I work all the hours God sends.'
The answer annoyed Jackie as he knew it would.
'What? In the whore houses…'
He clamped his hand across her mouth roughly, all the time speaking in a low, determined whisper that brooked no argument. 'Don't start, Jackie, you know it's me job. I have to keep an eye out, mate, see that the punters don't rip anyone off and make sure the girls don't try and pick anyone's pocket. Especially Ozzy's.'
She was struggling to sit up now, had moved away from his embrace. Then, pushing his hand from her mouth roughly, she lit a cigarette to control her breathing, before saying scornfully, 'The girls? Is that us girls, as in me and your daughters, or the whore girls?'
He sighed, his long-suffering sigh, the sigh he used to make her feel stupid, make her feel that she was in the wrong, was always in the wrong. It was the sigh that told her if she kept on there would be trouble.
'Shall I stay at home then?' His voice had risen and she knew the kids would be able to hear him from their bedrooms, which was another of his psychological weapons. 'Shall I sit here and watch the flock wallpaper with you, eh? Drop a trip, shall I? At least that way I would have a bit of entertainment and all.'
He was getting aggravated now. She wonders why he ended up practically lamping her one, and then she causes all this! He took a few deep breaths. He had to talk her round, at least until she had dropped the new chavvy. Then he could do what he liked.
'You can kiss goodbye to all this if I stop doing me work.'
He looked around the over-furnished, untidy room, and waved his arms about in disdain. He was playing her and she knew it, but they also both knew that the money would always take precedence over everything else. She loved lording it up to the neighbours and she loved the feeling of spending. Her spending was astronomical lately, and unlike her sister she was never one to think of the inevitable rainy day. Never thought to make the money work for her in case he ended up on another six-year holiday courtesy of the judicial system. After all the years alone and scraping a living she was going mad, and the money also told everyone in her orbit that he must love her. It was the balm on her sore heart, it was her defence against the world.
He watched as she eyed the seven grand and knew he was home and dry. He hugged her tightly then, and she enjoyed the feel of him as she always did. She craved his attention as she craved his good will.
'Well, try not to make a night of it, eh? Remember that you have a family here.'
Her voice was still uptight and they both knew that it was not real permission. She was more or less telling him she wanted him home with her. Trying to make him feel guilty for abandoning her.
With her pregnancy, he needed her to smile as he walked out the door. The last time, when she had lost the baby, he had felt guilty, had been made, for the first time ever, to question his actions. He was determined never to feel like that again.
She had used it for so long, even his own mother had warmed to her, had silently blamed him. He was only amazed that Lena, who would normally blame him if it rained on the day she cleaned her windows, had not stuck her oar in. In fact, she had not said anything about it at all. Now he made sure Jackie and the girls were well looked after, both in public and in private. He had heard a whisper that his treatment of his wife had been leaked all the way to the Isle of Wight.
He had been banged up with Ozzy and his mates for a long time and he wanted their good will. If looking after this fat bitch would guarantee that then that was what he would do. He still resented her though, and once she was delivered, she was going to get the shock of her life. If it was another split arse, she was doomed for eternity as far as he was concerned.
But his image was his all, and at the end of the day image and reputation was what paid his wages. In their world it was all you had. So he kissed the tip of her nose gently, then looking at his brand new Bulova watch pointedly he said heartily, 'You get a bit of sooty and sweep and lay off the fucking drink. That poor baby will be born half pissed if you ain't careful.'
It was said in a joking way but the underlying edge was there. He was warning her and she knew it. She wondered briefly if her mother had tipped him the wink but dismissed the idea immediately. He had eyes, and a sense of smell. It wouldn't take a blind dog long to sniff her out.
She looked at his handsome face and was amazed that someone who looked like a Greek God, and who could smile in a way that could melt the hardest of hearts, was capable of such cruelty.
And he was cruel, but even though she knew that, the pull of him was still as strong as the first time she had seen him. With him she was never happy because he made her feel ugly, like second best. Yet without him she felt bereft, as if her life had no meaning, had no purpose.