Two Women by Martina Cole

ain’t the Holy Grail, love, we just want what’s ours.’
    June laughed, a deep rollicking sound.
    ‘You mean, you want what’s Jimmy’s? Let’s not beat about the fucking bush, eh? Now do you want his stuff or not, and if so what’s the price?’
    ‘I think the price is down to you and I’ll see if we all think it’s fair. Now sit yourself down and I’ll make us both a drink and we can chat. I warn you, though, don’t go getting too ambitious for what’s mine, June. I can be a very tough adversary.’
    June looked into the cold eyes before her and didn’t attempt to argue. Instead she smiled and sat at the kitchen table, eyes drawn to the platter of succulent turkey and the well-baked ham. She knew in her heart that she was going to get the tucking up of a lifetime, but it was what she had to do. For all Joey’s faults, and they were legion, she could not let him take the kick for everyone else. Because Joey would, he wouldn’t grass . Joey would take the big lump dished out, probably fifteen years, and do his time with as much aggravation as possible. It was in his make up. The Davidsons would see her all right and then forget about them. June knew it all so well, knew what could easily happen.
    She had to do a good deal here today, the deal of a lifetime.
    Her husband’s lifetime.
     
    Ivy had a face that could curdle milk at the best of times. Today both her granddaughters felt sorry for her because for once she had good reason to be worried.
    Susan was folding up the wrapping paper from her presents and putting it away neatly in her bedroom drawer. It was so pretty she wanted to keep it all just to look at it sometimes. She loved nice things, loved owning them.
    Debbie worried about her father for about an hour and then got fed up. Nothing was happening so she decided to go round and see a friend.
    Left with Ivy Susan tidied up, made her granny a hot toddy of milk and Bushmill’s, and then went to her room and dreamed.
    As she cleared up the mess left by Debbie she hoped and prayed that her father was given twenty years. At one point she imagined him being hung, but as she knew hanging was over now she couldn’t get into it somehow and instead went back to picturing him in a cell for years and years.
    It made her feel so much better inside.
    She would never have to have that man’s hands on her again, and by the time they let him out she would be grown up and able to tell him where to go.
    Susan sighed with happiness.
    Please God the police had enough on him. Please God they made the charges stick. A knock on the door broke into her reverie and she opened it expecting to see a neighbour. Instead she was confronted with Barry Dalston.
    Her heart was beating so hard she was sure he could hear it. She felt as if her head was filling up with warm air and that her arms and legs had become leaden, so aware of herself did she become.
    She was glad now she had put on her new clothes and had made herself up. She knew she looked as nice as she was ever going to look.
    Barry for his part was dressed as usual, scruffily, and wearing his wicked lop-sided grin.
    ‘Merry Christmas, darlin’. Do you think maybe I could come in or you could come out - whatever?’
    She opened the door wide and he walked into the flat. He placed a small package in her hands and Susan smiled with delight.
    ‘For me?’
    Barry grinned.
    ‘No, it’s for your sister.’
    Seeing her face drop, he hugged her to him.
    ‘Of course it’s for you, who else?’
    She took him through to the lounge, glad now that she had cleaned up. Her granny was asleep in the chair by the gas fire, a Capstan cigarette dangling from her lip.
    ‘You better come through to the kitchen, me granny can’t half snore.’
    Smiling he followed her into the kitchen. Going to the gas cooker Susan put the kettle on. She could feel her hands shaking. Then, turning to him, she looked into his face.
    To her Barry was beautiful in every way. She loved everything about