Catch up with previous installments: Catch up with previous installments: Part 1, Part 2, Part 3, Part 4.
Chapter Three continued...
Tom woke up around eleven am from a petrifying hallucination where massive German Shepherd dogs were trying to viciously attack him as he lay in bed. The image of their curling, lolling tongues haunted him. His head thumped. He was feeling drained and achingly feverish. It took several minutes to gear shift his mind. As soon as he tried to stretch his leg, it hurt like hell and he vaguely remembered his injury. How he’d done it was forgotten in the subsequent blackout. He’d probably recall it later.
He slowly lowered one foot to the floor while still keeping a horizontal top half. Every time he tried to sit up he felt nauseous. Nowadays he rarely actually vomited but if he did, it was so painful like his poor stomach was trying to eject every gram of phlegm and fluid from his body.
Noticing the cup of water Crystal had left him, he finally succeeded in struggling upright to gulp it down noisily ignoring the little black fly floating on the surface. Next, he realized he’d wet himself. He’d done it before when legless and Yvonne had said with disgust that he ought to wear a nappy but that time he’d been collapsed on the bathroom floor tiles so clearing it up wasn’t so bad. Rubbing his forehead hard with closed eyes, he sat plonked in his own urine stench with a blank mind.
Tom was still in that position when Yvonne came in, lugging several carriers, her own bag overflowing with a supermarket shop. Funny how you went in needing a few bits but when you came out you’d bought up half the shop, especially on payday.
‘Oh for God’s sake. Look at the state of you. Go and have a cold shower and sober yourself up.’ She dumped her handbag on the low coffee table before taking the shopping through to the kitchen for unpacking.
Tom grunted something unintelligible in reply. Scratching his scalp fervently at the same time as twisting a finger vigorously in his ear, he shuffled to the cramped bathroom. He took a tentative look at the leaking, sticky wound deciding that it was best left well alone. He couldn’t face a cold shower and knew Yvonne only heated enough water for Crystal and herself to shower in the evening so that they went to bed clean. Tom had more or less given up washing anyway so that was usually okay with him.
He raided the dirty linen basket Yvonne kept in the bathroom, found a stained tee and trousers which didn’t smell too much of perspiration and, chucking them on, he ambled back to the front room. Man, he needed a drink to get him going. One problem with that, he had no wonga. He must have spent it all last night. Or maybe it’d been stolen. Looking around the room, he saw Yvonne’s handbag on the coffee table. She always had a bit stashed in there. Ha, ha, his need was greater than hers.
‘Going out,’ he shouted and beat a hasty retreat, slamming the door behind him.
Mrs. King thought, ‘Good riddance.’ She’d have a bit of lunch then tackle the mess Tom had left.
Half an hour later Tom was tanked up but not totally blitzed so he made it back to Glasgow Terrace with some cheap cans before Yvonne left for The Broadway Grill. He burped his way in and, seeing the sofa had been copiously sprayed with Vanish, he pulled the old, creaky wicker chair in front of the TV and flopped down. The air was sickly with the aroma of chemical cleaners.
Yvonne came hurrying from the bedroom. She checked her purse and found it only contained a few measly coppers. What?
She’d been to the cash machine for her hundred pounds food money earlier and had only spent about fifty in the supermarket.
She knew what had happened and that it could only have been one person.
‘Give it back, you bastard,’ she seethed at Tom. ‘That’s our bills money for this week. I need that money!’
‘Shut ya stupid mouth,’ was the only response. Tom smirked as he ostentatiously ripped the ring pull on one of his cans causing a splatter of frothing lager all down his front. ‘Look at that, you bitch. That’s your fault.’ He tried to shake the drips off his free hand then licked up the rest of the mess.
Yvonne flew at him grabbing for his pockets. ‘I need that money. Where is it?’
Tom responded with the out-of-control aggression typical of heavy drinkers, clouting Yvonne violently on the back of her head as she desperately groped at his pocket. He seized her wrist and wrenched her arm upward and round. Yvonne staggering fell heavily on the same arm... but... she had the rest of the money he stole!
She was groaning with pain and shock but dragged herself up, clutched her bag tight and made a beeline for work leaving a bemused Tom.
As Yvonne hurried along the uneven towpath shortcut to The Broadway Grill on the High Street, the air was scented with curry and spices from the nearby Bombay Foods factory. The unexpected skirmish with Tom had knocked the stuffing out of her completely so she was aware of feeling shaky like an empty mug on a wobbly pedestal. It was years since she’d had the courage to really stand up for herself because, like Crystal, she found it easier to be a doormat agreeing with everyone and keeping quiet, avoiding hassles. She just had to show her face on time at The Grill. She’d only worked there a few months so was still on her trial period. Soon she could have a quick, sugary cuppa to steady her nerves before packing the afternoon dirty dishes into the washer in the kitchen. The well-organized manager and his kind wife were on duty tonight so everything should run like clockwork.
‘Hello Yvonne,’ Mrs. Adriano greeted the breathless arrival. ‘No need to rush my dear. It’s dead this evening and I’ve already done the kitchen,’ she smiled. The atmosphere in the eatery was calm and relaxing as the few customers chatted quietly or listened to the subdued background music while the air conditioning whirred softly.
‘Thank goodness, I thought I was going to be late,’ puffed Yvonne. ‘Shall I clean out the fridge tonight then?’ She flopped onto the red, plastic bench seat to rub her poor arm and ease her aching ankles.
‘Is everything well?’ Mrs. Adriano enquired softly. ‘You look a little flustered. All this rushing about... it’s not so good for you. But you know this of course.’
Yvonne suddenly felt fragile and teary-eyed. She looked at Mrs. Adriano’s concerned face as she sat opposite her. ‘I had a to-do with my Tom. I’m alright now though. I just need a cup of tea and I’ll be fine.’
‘Let’s go in back. Gino and Chef can cope out here. We’ll have tea and chat about the crazy men and you can tell me all about it.’ Mrs. Adriano took Yvonne’s arm in a motherly way to guide her as she stood up. Yvonne cringed at the sharp pain as Mrs. Adriano touched her.
‘You poor dear, he has hurt you, I think. Come along with me. We go up to the flat and sort this out.’
Yvonne began to weep as the unaccustomed sympathy registered that someone was actually caring about her. She couldn’t remember the last time someone other than Crystal gave a monkey’s uncle if she lived or died. Mrs. Adriano pushed a tissue into Yvonne’s good hand and said, ‘Cry my dear, cry, let it all out.’
Yvonne told Mrs. Adriano everything... about Tom’s drinking and how he’d taken the money. She told how this behaviour was chronic and getting worse. She told how she’d stood up for herself and fought back. She told how she felt so guilty now. She told how she didn’t even know why she felt guilty but she always thought everything bad that happened was her fault. Last of all she told how bone-weary exhausted she was.
Mrs. Adriano was nodding compassionately. ‘This is bad, Yvonne, mia cara. You must think seriously about this Tom. These violent men, they don’t stop once they start. You must think to yourself and your beautiful Crystal. How will you feel if he hits your lovely girl, eh?’
Yvonne winced as she nursed her arm. ‘Yes...I know. I can’t go on like this. It’s making me ill... I don’t think he would touch Crystal. It’s me he can’t bear.’
‘You know what it is? You should think of the divorce Yvonne. You are right. You can’t go on this way. Nobody could. He may hurt you more next time. I can help you with this. You know, before Gino I had this drinking guy. They call these men ‘wife beater’. I done the divorce. It was best thing I ever did.’
‘Yes... I have thought about it before but Tom lives with me so I don’t know how go about it.’
‘Well, you must think more and, as I said, I will help if you want, but first things first anyway. I get my car and drive you up A&E. That arm is swelling up, needs looking at by doctor.’
Cal’s mobile rang making him jump out of his skin. His mind had still been occupied with the Crystal incident.
‘Hi, Cal Grant speaking.’
‘Hello Mr. Grant, Johnson here, Chair of Governors at Stratton Road High,’ a fruity voice introduced itself. ‘I’m phoning to say congratulations. We’d like to offer you the post of NQT teacher in the English department, starting next September, salary, and conditions of service as detailed at the interview...er... will you accept the post?’
Overjoyed, Cal confirmed, ’Yes, I certainly do accept. Thank you so much for letting me know.’
Johnson, who’d obviously been reading a script before, relaxed as he chuckled, ‘Good to hear it. We were impressed with your knowledge and enthusiasm. We’ll confirm in writing of course and ask you to do the same. Mrs. Skinner prefers that be done the old-fashioned way, haha.’
Cal couldn’t resist doing a Morecambe and Wise type skip dance as he roared, ‘Yeees!’ Woohoo, things were on the move. He’d let his family know and sort out his move to this area. Life was sweet.
Don't miss the next installment of ''Crystal King – 21st Century Girl'! Find out what happens when Crystal's dad wakes up!
Coming soon on @deemarshall!
Thank you for reading!