A Lesser Evil - Lesley Pearse [27]
Dan was savage about it. ‘Bastards!’ he exclaimed. ‘I could’ve got a job working in a warehouse or something all this time. What am I supposed to do now?’
‘Get a job in a warehouse?’ Fifi suggested without any sympathy.
‘I’m a bricklayer,’ he snapped at her. ‘And a bloody good one. I don’t want to be loading lorries or sweeping floors.’
‘This bad weather can’t last much longer,’ she said hopefully, although the forecast was that it was here to stay for a while yet. ‘With spring coming on, all building work will start again soon.’
‘And meanwhile I’ve got to live like a pimp on your wages,’ he ranted, red in the face with anger. ‘I can’t even afford to buy a television or go and have a couple of pints. Your parents will be delighted to be proved right about me.’
All at once they were rowing. Fifi snapped at him and said she was sick of him moping when none of this was her fault. Dan said she was like a spoilt child expecting that everything should be like fairyland. At every retort they got nastier to each other, bringing up anything they could think of, Dan bringing home junk, and Fifi’s lack of housewifely skills.
‘You’re so untidy and messy,’ Dan shouted at her. ‘You think you’re so high and mighty because your father’s a sodding professor, but if it wasn’t for me cleaning up we’d be living in a pig sty.’
‘That would be the right place for you,’ she hurled back at him. ‘You eat with your mouth open, your elbows all over the table. You can’t even hold a knife and fork properly.’
She was shocked at herself for saying something quite so vicious, but he didn’t give her a chance to take it back.
‘Well, I’m sorry if I offend you, Little Miss Perfect Manners,’ he hurled at her, his eyes blazing, ‘but while you were learning all that at your cosy little tea parties, I was having to work in the children’s home’s laundry and out in the grounds. You’ve lived in cloud cuckoo land all your bloody life, never had one day’s hardship.’
That night was the first time they went to bed without kissing goodnight. Fifi lay curled up with her back to Dan, seething with resentment that he had dared to criticize her. She fully expected that he’d apologize and cuddle her, and when he didn’t she became even more resentful.
She hadn’t been able to buy herself any new clothes or get her hair done. She was fed up with having no television, not even a trip to the pictures. She’d given up everything for Dan, and this was how he repaid her.
The next three weeks were so miserable that Fifi even thought of going home. Dan was out all day looking for work, and when he could find nothing, not even a warehouse job, he got steadily more morose and sullen. There were more rows and angry silences, and they even stopped making love.
One evening, the night before Fifi’s payday, the electricity went off soon after she got in from work. Neither of them had any money for the meter; they couldn’t heat up the leftover stew from the night before for their dinner, or make a cup of tea. Without heat or light they were forced to go to bed.
Fifi began to cry because she’d spent her last few shillings on some stockings and a couple of magazines that lunchtime. She felt guilty now that her selfishness meant Dan had to go to bed hungry and would have to start the next day without a cup of tea, or even hot water to shave. She blurted this out to him and said how sorry she was.
When he cuddled her and said it didn’t matter, she was surprised to find his face was wet with tears too. ‘It’s not your fault,’ he said. ‘I’ve lived this way most of my life, but now it seems I’m making you live that way too.’
He held her tightly, smoothing her hair and telling her how much he loved her. ‘But look what I’ve done to you! Your family and friends have cut you off; you’re keeping me. I’m useless.’
Fifi said that wasn’t true and that she’d rather be with him, even if they were penniless, than with anyone else in the world.
‘There’s nothing for it but to go to London to work,’ he said dejectedly.