hatred. And except that Evie’s nights got worse each night.
The escalation was shown in the remarks. The despot got more personal.
‘ TUCK YOUR BLOUSE IN ,’ said the magic-pad the second day.
Evie disobeyed, said nothing.
‘ YOU’RE NOT PRETTY, YOU KNOW .’
The writing said that on the third day.
‘Look who’s talking,’ Evie replied. It wasn’t particularly smart, but it was better than saying nothing.
14
Ted stood in the phone booth down the end of Liberty Street. Wretched booths, they make them too small. Kids had gone and smashed the ledge, bloody vandals, so there was nowhere to put the letter he’d been sent. He read the number, held the letter between his teeth, dialled, and got a Telecom recording. Swore quietly, rang Directory Assistance, got another number, got through, asked for the Bankcard Collections Section.
A pert little girl took his name and put him through to a smart-voiced man. The man called him Ted, as though he knew him, what a hide.
‘Well, Ted,’ said the man, like a headmaster, like police, ‘we still want to know why you haven’t paid your account.’
On the porch over the road sat a thin, old man, watching the poor cove wrestling with his collar in the telephone box. It’s the father of those kids, he observed. He often saw him, driving off in the morning, saw him often too other times in the day, when he’d drive the Kingswood back and park it here, down the end of the street, and sit in it.
Poor cove, the old man thought. There was a dejection in Ted that the old man recognized. He’d seen it in many blokes, that look. (Known it in meself, come to that.)
Thirteen hundred bucks, Ted thought, hanging up. Evie’s mum didn’t know she’d pushed their Bankcard account $300 over the limit. Evie’s mum didn’t know that Ted had been making cash withdrawals.
15
On the night of her fifth day of despot duty, Evie went on strike.
‘I’m not going to do it, Mum, ever again!’
‘You bloody are, y’know.’ Ted didn’t even look up from his plate.
‘Mum, I can’t!’
‘Give it a burl, love. Now here comes an aeroplane, where’s it going to land?’ Mum was flying fishfingers into Sammy’s mouth.
‘Mum, she’s a shit!’
‘Mummy, Evie said a rude word,’ Sammy said happily.
‘Don’t talk like that in front of the kids, love. God knows, Maria’s bad enough already, worse since we moved in here.’
‘I am not!’ Maria said.
‘Yes you are,’ Jodie said pleasantly. Jodie was always agreeable. That was how she annoyed you.
‘You’re a shit, Jodie.’
‘Mummy, Maria said a rude word,’ said Sammy, even more happily.
‘Don’t swear, Maria.’
‘Evie did!’
‘Well, Evie shouldn’t.’
‘Evie-Peevie,’ Sammy chanted, ‘Evie-Peevie, Evie-Peevie, Mummy, Evie’s not eating up her aeroplanes.’
‘Mum, I
can’t
do it!’
‘Give it a burl, love.’
‘Mum, I won’t. She’s an old witch.’
‘A
real
witch?’ There was awe in Jodie’s voice.
‘You’ll bloody do as your mother tells you.’ Ted picked up his plate and slammed out to eat in front of the television.
‘Mummy, Daddy said a rude word!’
‘Just stick at it please love, for me.’ That meant that if Evie didn’t do it, Ted would get at Mum. ‘Ted wants you to do it because, well, you know, it never hurts to keep in good with the landlord. Landlady, I mean. Here comes the aeroplane, look, it’s a big jumbo, just one last mouthful, sweetie.’
‘So I’m to suffer, because Ted wants to crawl up Mrs Oatley.’
‘If you’re
scared
, Evie, I’ll go in with you.’ The idea of a witch next door made a lovely shiver go right through Maria.
‘Is that the old dear’s name, love?’ Mum said vaguely. ‘Really, love, it can’t be that bad.’
‘I’m having nightmares!’
‘No wonder, the amount you bloody sleep.’ Ted was back in, dumping his plate in the sink.
16
Bang. Lizzie was hammering. Every time she got a nail in one side, the wood would
The escalation was shown in the remarks. The despot got more personal.
‘ TUCK YOUR BLOUSE IN ,’ said the magic-pad the second day.
Evie disobeyed, said nothing.
‘ YOU’RE NOT PRETTY, YOU KNOW .’
The writing said that on the third day.
‘Look who’s talking,’ Evie replied. It wasn’t particularly smart, but it was better than saying nothing.
14
Ted stood in the phone booth down the end of Liberty Street. Wretched booths, they make them too small. Kids had gone and smashed the ledge, bloody vandals, so there was nowhere to put the letter he’d been sent. He read the number, held the letter between his teeth, dialled, and got a Telecom recording. Swore quietly, rang Directory Assistance, got another number, got through, asked for the Bankcard Collections Section.
A pert little girl took his name and put him through to a smart-voiced man. The man called him Ted, as though he knew him, what a hide.
‘Well, Ted,’ said the man, like a headmaster, like police, ‘we still want to know why you haven’t paid your account.’
On the porch over the road sat a thin, old man, watching the poor cove wrestling with his collar in the telephone box. It’s the father of those kids, he observed. He often saw him, driving off in the morning, saw him often too other times in the day, when he’d drive the Kingswood back and park it here, down the end of the street, and sit in it.
Poor cove, the old man thought. There was a dejection in Ted that the old man recognized. He’d seen it in many blokes, that look. (Known it in meself, come to that.)
Thirteen hundred bucks, Ted thought, hanging up. Evie’s mum didn’t know she’d pushed their Bankcard account $300 over the limit. Evie’s mum didn’t know that Ted had been making cash withdrawals.
15
On the night of her fifth day of despot duty, Evie went on strike.
‘I’m not going to do it, Mum, ever again!’
‘You bloody are, y’know.’ Ted didn’t even look up from his plate.
‘Mum, I can’t!’
‘Give it a burl, love. Now here comes an aeroplane, where’s it going to land?’ Mum was flying fishfingers into Sammy’s mouth.
‘Mum, she’s a shit!’
‘Mummy, Evie said a rude word,’ Sammy said happily.
‘Don’t talk like that in front of the kids, love. God knows, Maria’s bad enough already, worse since we moved in here.’
‘I am not!’ Maria said.
‘Yes you are,’ Jodie said pleasantly. Jodie was always agreeable. That was how she annoyed you.
‘You’re a shit, Jodie.’
‘Mummy, Maria said a rude word,’ said Sammy, even more happily.
‘Don’t swear, Maria.’
‘Evie did!’
‘Well, Evie shouldn’t.’
‘Evie-Peevie,’ Sammy chanted, ‘Evie-Peevie, Evie-Peevie, Mummy, Evie’s not eating up her aeroplanes.’
‘Mum, I
can’t
do it!’
‘Give it a burl, love.’
‘Mum, I won’t. She’s an old witch.’
‘A
real
witch?’ There was awe in Jodie’s voice.
‘You’ll bloody do as your mother tells you.’ Ted picked up his plate and slammed out to eat in front of the television.
‘Mummy, Daddy said a rude word!’
‘Just stick at it please love, for me.’ That meant that if Evie didn’t do it, Ted would get at Mum. ‘Ted wants you to do it because, well, you know, it never hurts to keep in good with the landlord. Landlady, I mean. Here comes the aeroplane, look, it’s a big jumbo, just one last mouthful, sweetie.’
‘So I’m to suffer, because Ted wants to crawl up Mrs Oatley.’
‘If you’re
scared
, Evie, I’ll go in with you.’ The idea of a witch next door made a lovely shiver go right through Maria.
‘Is that the old dear’s name, love?’ Mum said vaguely. ‘Really, love, it can’t be that bad.’
‘I’m having nightmares!’
‘No wonder, the amount you bloody sleep.’ Ted was back in, dumping his plate in the sink.
16
Bang. Lizzie was hammering. Every time she got a nail in one side, the wood would
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