The Faithless - Martina Cole [5]
He placed his hand gently on her shoulder, willing her to turn to him, to just once let down her guard. He could feel the heat of her body through the thin material of her dress, and then when she turned towards him he felt his heart soar. He placed his arm around her slim waist, wanting to pull her towards him, comfort her, but she threw him off her with a strength that belied her slim frame.
‘You fucking useless ponce.’
She was spitting out the words with fury, and the vitriol in them stunned him, as it always did when she exposed this side of herself. She never swore in front of the neighbours of course, she felt she was above that. But in private it was as if the swearing was a vent for her pent-up aggression. When she was angry with him or little Gabby her repertoire was never far away.
‘You do realise what this means, don’t you?’
She was looking into his eyes now, and he could see the first glimmer of fear amidst the anger and the disgust.
‘Look, Cynthia, we won’t starve.’
She pushed him away from her and, sighing, she shook her head sadly. ‘No. No, you’re right, we won’t starve, but then again we won’t be living the high life either, will we? It’s make do and mend, it’s thinking through every purchase. It’s making ends fucking meet, and robbing Peter to pay fucking Paul. It’s the life I grew up with, never being able to do anything . . . Never being able to just have what you want, when you want it. It’s like admitting I’ve failed . . .’ She turned from him, and her whole body seemed to have shrunk, as if the enormity of what she was saying had broken her somehow. ‘It’s being no one, no one and nothing for ever, that’s what this all means to me.’
Jimmy looked at his wife, his heart in pieces. He couldn’t understand why she was so upset. He looked out for her, he looked out for his family. ‘You’re wrong, Cynthia. We have a good life. The trouble with you is, it’s never enough, is it? You always want more than you can have. You should never have married me; I can’t give you what you want.’ He had finally said it to her. Had finally said what was on his mind.
She laughed, a derisive little laugh. Then, facing him once more, she said quietly, ‘Well, you got that much right anyway.’
For a split second she thought he was actually going to strike her and, in her heart, she knew no one would blame him if he did just that. Instead, though, he placed his hands by his sides, clenching his fists as if to stop himself.
‘Maybe you’re right, but do you know something, Cynthia? No one in the world could ever give you what you want, because it would never be enough. You want, want, want, and then when you get it you lose all interest in it, and you start wanting something else. Well, now you know the score, I’ll have me dinner.’
He had never spoken to her like that, not once since she had set her cap at him, and she knew then and there that she would make sure he never spoke to her like it again. But she was trapped, trapped in this house, with his kid, and with his name. And, as if that wasn’t bad enough, she had a terrible feeling she was pregnant again.
Chapter Four
‘Oh, for fuck’s sake, Cynthia! Cheer up, girl.’
Mary Callahan looked at the hard, set face in front of her and suppressed the urge to shake her daughter. Where she had got this one from she didn’t know. Cynthia looked down her nose at everyone around her, had done since she could sit up on her own.
Gabby, bless her heart, was the antithesis of her mother. She looked like a little angel with her halo of blond hair and huge blue eyes. She was a gorgeous, loving little girl, but Mary knew that the poor child would not get that love returned from her own mother. Mary had accepted years ago that her daughter was capable of a lot of things, but love wasn’t one of them. And as for that poor sap she had snared, and who she still had by the nuts . . . Mary wasn’t an advocate of violence against women, but if ever a man should slap