‘I want you to buy me a cassette,’ he said, defiantly so that she wouldn’t be able to accuse him of whining.
‘The jam’s over there.’ She said to Pam: ‘I suppose you’ll be wanting to get a job now?’
She felt more friendly. ‘What do you do?’
The boy sat down to eat, and said between one mouthful and the next: ‘I want a cassette.’
‘You can’t have one, so stop nagging. I’ve worked as bus conductor, traffic warden, checker-out at the supermarket. You name it, I’ve done it. I wanted to be a street-sweeper but the council wouldn’t let me. I suppose they thought I’d go on the game with my tin barrow!’
‘You was a waitress once, don’t forget,’ her son said.
‘I’ve done a bit of everything.’
‘Mum, I want a cassette.’
She leaned over and struck another blow for freedom against his head that would have made someone twice the size stagger.
‘I get National Assistance,’ she said to Pam, ‘and all the other handouts I feel I’m entitled to. Then I do odd jobs like painting and decorating, as well as wallpapering, baby minding, car washing, helping at a stall up the market on Friday, and on Saturday I do the windows of four different flats at five quid each. It’s bloody hot in here. The thing is, love, don’t ever get a full-time job. Find part-time work, because you can change around, and it’s more interesting that way, as long as you don’t let those you sweat for know that you do for anyone else. Get National Assistance, don’t declare your jobs, and never pay tax. You’ve got to beat the system, because if you don’t it’ll beat you, specially when you’re a woman.’
She stood up to take off her sweater, her loose and shapely bosom moving under her shirt. There was a warm and not unpleasant smell of sweat. ‘I don’t get a penny from the father. I don’t mind, because if I did he’d only come sniffing around now and again to put his head between my legs and cry. He’s in the computing business now, and doing quite well after getting over his political tantrums – which I suppose all his sort do sooner or later – going from one grubby-knickered little dolly to another. I said the service of the dead over him years ago.’
The boy finished his tea, rubbed his injured face a couple of times, then sat on the settee and opened a schoolbook. ‘I only said I wanted a cassette.’
‘Get a paper round then, to pay for one,’ she said.
‘I’m too young.’
‘Say you’re twelve.’
The door banged again, and a ten-year-old girl came in, her schoolbag spewing pens and books when aimed at her brother.
‘That’s Hilary,’ Judy said, ‘the other bundle. But at least she’s a girl.’
‘Am I?’ Hilary examined the machine-gun knowingly, unclipped the magazine and set the bullets in ranks on the table, then removed the stock and wondered whether to take the rest of the gun to bits before having her tea. ‘I sometimes wonder.’
Judy stroked her hair, then drew away as if the feeling burned her. ‘You were when you had your bath last night,’ she laughed.
Pam pointed to the gun. ‘Is it real?’
‘It’s a replica,’ Judy said. ‘My husband would spend hours assembling and taking it down, like saying his beads. We lived in a house then, and he used to practise jumping from the back window fully armed. But one day he broke his ankle. He left the gun when I threw him out, and Hilary took it over. She used to watch him playing with it from her cot. I think she thinks it’s him now. I swear to God I heard her call it Daddy the other night. Leave it alone, and get your tea.’ She cut and buttered some bread. ‘I’m going to take that gun into the garden tomorrow and give it a decent burial.’
Dark-haired Hilary smouldered under the deadly insults, but set it down as she was told. ‘No, mummy, please don’t. I like to play with it.’
She turned to Pam. ‘When you think you’re fit for a job, come and tell me. If I hear of anything I’ll let you know. Or whatever else you need, just come and see me, even if you only want to rest your head on my bosom and tell me your troubles. I know how it is. It’s bloody hard for a woman of any age who pulls out of the slave-state. You work like hell for a Lord of Creation because that’s what your mother told you to expect out of life, and you don’t even get any good sex for it. I don’t think I ever had a thrill from a man, unless he did it deliberately before starting in on me, but I can give myself a thrill any time, and get an even better one from my girlfriend. Maybe you can’t always trust a woman, either, but at least you know what to expect.’
Pam stood up. ‘I really think I must be going.’ Her clothes were damp, and she felt herself sweating in the steam.
Judy laughed. ‘Do I shock you?’
She made an effort to smile, and sat down again. Everyone did what they liked, as long as they didn’t bother anyone else. ‘Of course not. Why should you?’
‘I don’t know. But I shan’t try to seduce you. It only comes on me now and again. I don’t do it for scalps, like men. You should see all the notches my husband cut into the butt of that gun. I never knew what they meant till Sam told me, though he was only six. “Daddy cuts that gun with his penknife when he goes with that girl,” he said. I’d been so innocent and trusting. Good job I was, I suppose. One day I threw the hot iron at him, and he left in fear of his handsome features, not to mention his life. I was a Judy he’d never seen. Six months later I was shopping on the Portobello Road and met this prissy little fair-haired woman with glasses who worked in Whitehall. She was a ready-made MoD type, and I carried her shopping home. From that moment I never looked back.’
In spite of her confidences Pam noted the occasional fragility of her expression. Whatever she was, her marks of servitude were undeniable, and no one broke free without wounds. Pam liked her for being so friendly and sympathetic. She certainly knew a great deal about herself. ‘Do you like living in this place?’
‘Why? Want to make an honest woman out of me? I’m always waiting for someone to do it, man or woman, I don’t really mind, as long as it’s under my conditions and not theirs. After all, they’d be getting more from it than I would.’
‘I really must go.’ But it was hard to get up. There was much that was likeable about the place, and the people.
‘Don’t forget, then, any time you want to talk, or watch the telly, just walk in. I let these two look at it for three hours a week. Don’t stew too much by yourself up there. If you get depressed, remember that your big troubles are over. You’ve only got little ones from now on, such as feeding yourself and keeping warm. Come down for a chat with Judy. She’s harmless, really!’
‘Thank you for the tea. I enjoyed it.’
‘Come any time you like. Don’t forget.’
‘I don’t want to intrude.’
‘Fucking lesbians!’ said the boy.
Judy’s large hand clenched and reached out, but she drew back as if thinking he had been knocked silly enough for one day. He didn’t flinch. With such an upbringing, he’ll probably go out and conquer the world, Pam thought.
‘I won’t mind if you do,’ Judy said to her.
If she didn’t move she would be here all night. The miasma of cooking – there was a huge long-handled iron pot on the stove from which a meaty smell emerged – was sending her into a doze. She stood up, but stayed near the door.
‘Phyllida never comes here,’ Judy was saying. ‘She’s got a thing about children, which is understandable, considering these two. So I go there. Makes a change.’
‘She don’t like us,’ said Hilary, stripping the gun for a second time, and setting parts over the table, ‘but she gives us presents.’