LITMIR.BIZ

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the lock. His voice echoed down the street. ‘JUDY! LET ME IN, YOU DOZY BUGGER! JUDY! GET OUT HERE, WILL YOU, WOMAN!’

      Judy made no move. Instead she remained seated at the table, cowering, her stomach churning as she waited for the inevitable.

      It wasn’t long before the door was flung open and he was inside. The sound of his voice sent cold shivers down her spine. ‘Judy, where are you?’ He began laughing, a soft, evil sound that she knew so well. Sometimes she really thought he was out of his mind. ‘Come here, my pretty.’ He chuckled. ‘Your husband has need of you.’

      As he stumbled down the passageway, Judy felt herself shrinking into the chair, and when he burst through the door, she wished she could be anywhere but there.

      ‘Oh, look! There’s my dear little mouse.’ Putting his fingers across his face he made the image of a mouse twitching its whiskers. ‘Little mouse,’ he sniggered. ‘Frightened, pretty little mouse.’

      Judy looked away. ‘I’m not playing your games,’ she told him, pretending to drink her cocoa.

      ‘Ooo, so little mouse is not playing, eh?’ giggling childishly he swaggered towards her. ‘You’d best be nice to me.’ Drawing out a chair, he sat so close to her, she could hardly bear it.

      ‘So tell me, little mouse, what are you doing down here? Why aren’t you in bed?’

      ‘I couldn’t sleep.’

      ‘Oh, and why was that?’

      She shrugged her shoulders. ‘I don’t know, but I’m feeling sleepy now, so I’ll get back up—’

      ‘We’ll go when I’m ready!’ As she stood to leave, he gripped her arm so tightly he made her cry out. ‘I said … sit!’ Putting force on her arm, he made her sit down. ‘Now then, I want to know what you’ve been up to.’

      Assuming he’d found out about the man who thought she was a beggar, Judy was frantic. Taking a deep breath, she tried to explain. ‘The man made a mistake, that’s all. He thought I was begging, but I was only asking the time.’

      ‘What!’ He spun her round to face him. ‘Who thought you were begging? What the hell are you talking about?’

      ‘Nothing.’ Realising he didn’t know, Judy tried desperately to cover it up. ‘It was nothing – a mistake, that’s all. I was just there and he made a mistake.’

      ‘Who?’ Taking hold of her by the shoulders he shook her hard, until she cried out for him to stop. Then, throwing her aside as if she was nothing, he sneered, ‘That says it all, doesn’t it, eh? Phil Saunders’ wife … begging in the street!’

      The laughter stopped. ‘Who else saw you, eh? Who else saw you asking for money in the streets? Damn you! I make sure you want for nothing, and that’s how you repay me. Bitch!’

      Bringing his fist up, he caught her hard across the face and sent her reeling backwards. ‘I ASKED YOU A QUESTION!’ The trickle of blood from her temple seemed to enrage him. ‘ANSWER ME! WHO ELSE SAW YOU BEGGING?’

      ‘I was not begging.’ Dazed by the blow, she wiped away the blood with the back of her hand. ‘I was asking the time, and the man just thought I was begging.’

      ‘It doesn’t make sense. Why would he think you were begging?’

      ‘I don’t know. Ask Alan,’ she sobbed. ‘He was there. He took me back to Pauline. I would never beg, and why would I need to?’ She had to humour him, or pay the price. ‘Since I lost my job at the factory, you’ve always provided for me.’

      Clinging to him, she appealed, ‘Listen to me, Phil. I was not begging. You ask Alan. He’ll tell you.’

      He stared at her hard and long, before stretching out his arms and crushing her to him. ‘You’re right.’ He stroked her long fair hair. ‘You’ll never need to beg, while you’ve got me. Nor will you need to work in a place where men gawp at you all the time, itching to get their hands on you. I won’t have it, d’you hear?’

      He had the look of madness. ‘I’ll take care of you. Me – Phil Saunders. I took care of you when nobody else would,’ his manner softened, ‘because I love you. I’ve always loved you.’

      Holding her away from him, he said, ‘I’ll give you a few more pounds, then you can buy yourself some nice new clothes. The old ones are getting a bit tatty and folks might blame me. I can’t have that now, can I?’

      He thrust his hands into his trouser-pocket. ‘Here.’ Shoving a fistful of money into her hand, he ordered, ‘Take it – it’s yours. Tomorrow morning, I want you to go out and get some decent-looking clothes, so nobody can ever say that Phil Saunders’ wife is a beggar!’

      She looked at the wad of notes, realising they were the best part of his wages. ‘I can’t take this.’ She stuffed it back into his pocket. ‘We need it for more important things.’

      He made no move to return the money to her. Instead, he continued to stare down on her, his eyes narrowed and his face set hard.

      ‘Honest, Phil, I’ll be fine.’ She saw the signs and began to panic. ‘All right then, I’ll just have a few pounds,’ she gabbled. ‘I’ve seen some really nice things in town. There’s a little skirt and top, and a really pretty jacket … blue with black trim. I could buy all of those things for just a few pounds. We don’t need to use all your hard-earned wages.’

      For a long moment, it seemed as though he wasn’t even listening, but then he gave a begrudging half-smile. ‘Whatever my Judy wants is fine by me.’ When he raised his hand, she instinctively flinched. ‘Aw, poor little mouse, look what you made me do.’ With the cuff of his sleeve he dabbed at the line of blood trailing from her temple. ‘I didn’t mean to hurt you, but you just get me all riled up.’

      Loudly tutting, he uprighted the cocoa cup which had been spilled over. Then, taking her by the hand, he switched out the light, and pushed her up the stairs.

      Judy knew full well what was coming, but she said not a word. Instead she allowed herself to be led to the bedroom, where he roughly stripped off her nightgown and threw her bodily onto the bed.

      ‘Who do you belong to?’ It was a question he often asked of her.

      ‘You.’

      ‘Say it properly!’

      ‘I belong to you.’

      ‘That’s right. You need to remember that. They all need to remember that.’

      Tearing off his clothes, he straddled her, his hands all over her, touching her face, fondling her small, pert breasts, and now he was running his hands over her smooth, bare thighs. ‘You’re very special to me,’ he murmured hoarsely. ‘There are men out there who would give their right arm to have you.’

      He sniggered. ‘They can’t have you though, can they? Not when you belong to me!’

      Judy thought it was a strange kind of love that wanted to hurt and dominate. There was a dark hatred in him that filled her with terror. But still, she said nothing, for if she dared to disagree, she would be made to pay the price. Sometimes, he was incredibly gentle. Sometimes, like now, he was the unforgiving enemy.

      Cruel or gentle, he raised no feelings in her, other than fear and repugnance, and a deep-seated urge to tell him the truth: of how she cringed under his touch; of how her dearest wish was to find the courage to put a million miles between them.

      At times like this though, when he was in this mood, Judy knew to keep her silence.

      ‘You’re the loveliest thing I’ve ever seen.’ He traced his finger over the hollow of her neck. ‘My dear, sweet little mouse.’ His passion so obviously aroused, he whispered harshly, ‘If any man ever tried to take you from me, I would have to hurt him. Really hurt him! You do understand that, don’t you?’

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