She was their mother, she was the one who had given birth to them, she was the one who had brought them up. When Freddie had been banged up, she had done everything she could for them all.
But did they thank her for it? Did they fuck. They were the most ungrateful bastards ever to walk the earth, and she had given birth to them all.
Little Freddie spat at her as he walked past to go and get himself some sweets from the kitchen. He often spat at her, he spat at everyone and thought it was funny. But when her hand shot out and slapped him hard across his buttocks he yelped out loud and then, as always, when he was hurting, he attacked her.
Pulling her hair and spitting and screaming at her, calling her names.
In the end she punched him with all her might in the tummy and winded him. He crumpled to the floor, and just once, for the first time ever, he shut the fuck up.
She finally felt the sense of victory he usually felt when he pushed her to the limit of her patience.
His next attack knocked her on to her back and it took all the girls to drag him off his mother.
And the worst of it all was, they were laughing at him as always.
The house was quiet, and Maggie lay in the bath, luxuriating in the absolute happiness she was feeling.
She was glad she had not stayed at her mother's house. Even though the house felt far too big for her when she was alone, she was so glad she had come back to her husband. She knew husband was not a word the women used these days, it was almost a derogatory term, but she was proud that Jimmy was hers, glad he was her husband, her old man, her bit of all right, as her mum would say.
She sipped her wine and lit herself a cigarette, and as she pulled on it she felt the fluttering inside her that she often felt when she remembered making love with Jimmy. It felt like she was going over a steep hill in her Merc, that exciting feel of his hands on her. His tongue, his heavy body on top of hers as he brought her to climax.
She closed her eyes and pulled once more on her cigarette. She had Barry White on the player in her bedroom. His deep baritone was sneaking into her en suite and she was thinking of her Jimmy and his lovemaking when she felt a hand touch her shoulder.
Her eyes flew open and she dropped the cigarette on to her chest. Sitting up in pain and terror, she looked into the laughing face of Freddie Jackson.
'All right, Mags?'
He was grinning at her, and she was astonished to see that he was undressed.
She felt the bile in her stomach rise up as he licked his lips slowly and then, laughing once more, he said, 'What's the matter, sweetheart, you all tired out?'
She felt vulnerable, frightened and worse than anything she felt the utter loneliness of a woman who knew she was completely alone, and completely at someone else's mercy
She sank under the bubbles, ashamed of him seeing her naked, ashamed that she had not protected herself enough and ashamed because she had known in her heart that this day would come and now it was here she wasn't sure she had the strength to fight him off.
And the fact she had not asked him what he was doing there or what he wanted told him all he needed to know.
'Please, Freddie, go home, leave me alone…'
'Oh fuck off, Maggie, you want this as much as I do, and you've made me wait. I ain't waiting any longer.' Then he dragged her from the bath by her hair, lifting her up as if she was nothing, a featherweight.
She screamed, knowing her screams were a waste of time. No one was going to hear her, that was the downside of large, well-built houses. She could feel her feet dragging across the floor, and she was twisting and turning, trying to get free from his grip.
But as she squirmed he was laughing harder and harder, and when he threw her on the bed, the bed she had lovingly made not two hours earlier after the lovemaking with her Jimmy, she was still trying to cover herself up, cover her nakedness, cover her perfectly toned and very attractive body. That only her husband had ever had access to.
He was pushing his knee between her legs, opening them, and she was really crying now, sobbing and begging him to stop and leave her alone before it all went too far.
'Ah, what's the matter, then? You telling me you don't want a bit of cock?'
She could smell him, he stank and she knew instinctively that he had been with someone else already. He had the stink of a dirty woman on him, and she knew it was a deliberate ploy, he wanted her to feel like nothing, and he had achieved his objective.
As he entered her, the burning sensation was like nothing she had ever felt before, it was like he was using an object. The hardness of him, the stench of him, was overpowering. He was above her, and as he tried to kiss her she kept pulling her face away, until he grabbed her hard by the chin and then he kissed her and forced his tongue into her mouth. It tasted horrible, of beer and brandy and dope. His spit was thick from the cocaine and it clung to her lips, making her gag.
It was so invasive she started to retch and she knew he was finding it all hilarious, she knew he could not see what was wrong with her. To him this was just a quick fuck, a way to teach her a lesson. And he had planned it so he could use her and then walk away, knowing she could never tell her husband. Daren't tell her husband, daren't tell anyone.
As he started to pummel into her, she could feel his arms tensing as he got ready to ejaculate, and she tried to force him off her, but he held her down and he talked filth into her ears as she felt the hot wetness of him inside her. She felt his rancid breath and, as his sweat mingled with her tears, she felt him shudder to a halt.
He lay on top of her, he was panting and he was also making sure she could not move away from him just yet.
Never in her life had she felt so disgusted or so used.
'You needed that, didn't you?'
She could hear the laughter in his voice, could hear the triumph, and the complete and utter satisfaction as he kissed her on the tip of her nose before he spoke once again.
'You're not regretting this, are you, Maggie?'
She tried to tip him from her, tried to get away from him, but he was too strong and he was also enjoying himself too much.
'Anyone would think you'd been raped, the way you are carrying on.'
He was goading her, and it was then she realised that she could not win, that he was far stronger than she would ever be. That Jimmy would not understand any of this, that Jimmy would never want her again, not really, no matter what he believed or what she told him.
She knew that Freddie was completely aware of what he was doing, he was loving it, enjoying every second, and he was going to get away with it for no other reason than he sounded so reasonable. Even after what he had done to her, he was sounding like it was a game or something they had planned. He had been so nice to her for so long, they had a kind of truce, and now this would be used against her. She could not compete with that, and she knew it.
This was payback time.
He was staring down at her, and even in her distress she could see how good looking he was, how he would look sheepish and sorry as he blew her family apart. If Jackie ever found out about this, there would be a war.
As if reading her mind he said gently, 'Imagine what Jackie would do if she heard about this, eh?'
He was kissing her forehead this time, as if she was a favoured child. He squeezed her breast hard, making her wince. Then he was pulling himself downwards, she could feel his tongue between her legs, and that was when the vomit finally found its way out of her mouth.
She threw up all over him, all over the bed and all over the brand-new cream-coloured carpet.
She saw him kneeling above her, saw his heavy body, his hairy legs and his yellow toenails and the vomit came up once more. Projectile vomiting. It was all over them both and he was laughing as if it was the funniest thing he had ever seen.