Heartless (3 page)

Ever since the twins had been born, their relationship had been strained. Bernie gave up her role at the garage to concentrate on bringing the boys up, and now all these years later they no longer agreed on much anymore. It was rare that they were in the same room for more than half an hour these days, and even when they were the only thing they shared was an uncomfortable silence. Stanley favoured Tommy so blatantly, struggling to bond with Jonathan. Bernie constantly pulled her husband up on it, but she knew deep down that it was so hard not to be biased. Tommy was so considerate and caring and he couldn’t do enough for anyone he met. Jonathan, with his dark moods and his constant sneers, seemed like the devil in disguise. Bernie had often guiltily wondered if Tommy had got all the good genes and Jonathan the bad ones. No matter what she or her husband did to try and get through to the boy, nothing worked. It was as if Jonathan had no emotions. Suddenly feeling extremely sorry for herself, Bernie dropped the plate she was holding onto the floor and flung herself onto a chair. Placing her head in her hands, she started to sob.

She had never felt so lonely.

Chapter Three

“Good morning, my beautiful little dumpling-bum.” Nessa O’Hagan pulled back the curtains and let in a stream of bright sunshine. Now that there was light in the room she could get a proper look at her gorgeous granddaughter who was sprawled out on the sofa.

“Rascal, get down from there you blinking eejit,” Nessa said, as she pushed the little Jack Russell off the chair that he was desperately trying to claw his way up onto, so that he could greet their sleepy-looking guest.

Sophia couldn’t help but laugh at the sight of her nan wearing her usual morning attire of a fluffy leopard-print dressing gown and a head full of purple rollers, as she swatted the yappy little dog off the furniture. Rascal was in his element now, leaping around the room, thoroughly enjoying the fact that he was now the centre of attention. He began to move faster and Sophia giggled even more as she watched the nutty little dog pick up speed and wag his tail as he went.

Nessa managed to catch up with her demented pooch and pulled him up into her arms. “Should have called him blinking Loopy, not Rascal, always acting the maggot so he is. So, how do you fancy some brekkie, my lovey?” Nessa was delighted that she would have her granddaughter’s company for breakfast, although she was also aware that the privilege had come at a price. It was the second night in a row that she had woken to find her sleeping on the couch, and Nessa didn’t need the brains of Einstein to work out that her shithead of a son Jamesie was up to his old tricks again. Nessa wished to God that the man would cop on to himself and stop being the no-good bully that he was. What poor Sophia and her mother had to put up with on a daily basis from her son was totally unacceptable, and Nessa was losing her patience. Silently thanking God that her house was just across the road, and Sophia didn’t have to go very far to get here Nessa decided not to start questioning the poor girl just yet as she made her way through the open archway into the kitchen. Sophia would tell her in her own time.

“Yes, please, Nan, I’m starving. What are we having?” Her nan always bought Sophia the chocolate cereals and other sugary treats that she loved, unlike at home where she was lucky if she could find a slice of toast most mornings.

Sophia rubbed her eyes and stretched her arms out, giving a dramatic yawn. She had been awake much of the night with a hard metal spring from the sofa poking into her back. What with that and a head full of worry, she had probably only had about three hours sleep in total and she knew if she milked the fact that she was exhausted, her nan would feel sorry for her and let her off school again.

Nessa shook the cereal boxes and realised that they were all empty. How that girl stayed so slim, Nessa couldn’t fathom.

“Oh, I tell you what, I’ve got some tasty stew left over from last night’s dinner. It was bloody delicious, you know. Albert brought it over; he makes the fluffiest dumplings I’ve ever seen: the size of footballs they are. Think he was trying to win me over, as he was worried that it probably didn’t taste as good as how us Irish make it,” Nessa said. “I told him the secret is in the spuds.”

Nessa was proud of her friend’s culinary skills. She had known Albert for years and since he had retired from working long hours as a busy GP, he mainly filled his days cooking the most amazing dishes. His specialties included delicious curries and tasty posh French cuisine, the names of which Nessa couldn’t even pronounce, and as for his cakes: well, they were something else completely and she was surprised that she wasn’t the size of a house with the amount of food he brought over for her. Albert seemed to be in the habit of making so much food that there were always leftovers. Nessa knew that the old boy had a soft spot for her, but he had never made a move or said anything. He had just insisted that he feed her well in return for her great company and Nessa was only too happy with the arrangement. Albert was a real gentleman, but although Nessa was very fond of the man she would never want anything more than his friendship. It went without saying that the only man that Nessa O’Hagan would take to her bed these days was the hairy mutt variety: aka, little Rascal.

“Stew... ew!” Sophia cried. Only her nan would eat stew at seven-thirty in the morning.

Seeing her granddaughter scrunch up her nose in distaste and stick out her tongue at her suggestion, Nessa added: “Well, there’s not a lot in, I’m afraid. I haven’t had a chance to do me shopping this week yet.”

She placed Rascal onto the floor so that she could see what food she could dig out from the back of the cupboards.

“You know, if you weren’t here, I’d think nothing of eating that stew. Don’t matter to me what time of the day it is, food is food, makes no odds to me; goes in one hole and out of another,” Nessa shouted into the direction of the lounge as she giggled to herself whilst she continued to root around for something her granddaughter might find acceptable.

Sophia rolled her eyes at her nan’s bluntness then stood up and shook out the blanket that was always left out for her ‘just in case’. Folding it and placing it on the arm of the sofa, she made her way to the kitchen.

Deciding that soda bread and honey was the safest option, Sophia settled down on the pine kitchen bench as her nan fussed around her, clanging the cups before pouring tea into them.

“So, darling; what happened last night? Has that son of mine been causing you girl’s grief again?” Nessa asked, trying to keep her tone light.

Jamesie was the bane of Nessa’s life: of his whole family’s life, in fact. He was a violent bully and he caused poor Sophia and her mother Kaitlin nothing but misery and aggravation. He was a wretched git at the best of times, and Nessa could only imagine the tense atmosphere over at that house now he had lost his job. Nessa didn’t envy poor Kaitlin and Sophia having to live with him while he moped about the place drinking all the time, wallowing in self-pity. She couldn’t even bear to visit him, so God only knew what living with the man must be like.

“Yeah, you could say that, Nan.” Sophia looked down at her hands. She took a deep breath before she continued: “He came in late, drunk again, so I snuck out the front door while he was shouting.”

Sophia looked up and met her nan’s worried eyes.

“He didn’t lay a hand on you, did he?” Nessa felt her body tense in apprehension as she asked the question. Her suspicions that he was hitting Kaitlin were bad enough, but if he had hurt Sophia Nessa would kill him.

“No, Nan. No, he wouldn’t. Besides, I didn’t give him the chance; he didn’t even know I snuck out. He only hurts Mum; she just lets him. I don’t know why she puts up with it,” Sophia said miserably, unable to understand why her mum tolerated her dad’s behaviour.

Nessa could tell that Sophia was relieved that she could confide in her, and Nessa was glad that she was able to. If it wasn’t for her granddaughter filling her in, she wouldn’t have known the half of what went on. Kaitlin was a lovely woman but she and Nessa weren’t close, not like how she and Sophia had always been. Nessa also knew that Kaitlin had her own problems. The woman popped so many pills that she almost rattled when she walked. ‘Happy pills’ she had called them when Nessa had caught her in the kitchen a while back eating the things like sweets. Nessa had told her to ask for a refund, because ‘happy’ certainly hadn’t made any sort of appearance in her life in a long while.

“I don’t know what’s bloody wrong with that man,” Nessa said, feeling the familiar anger bubbling inside her at the thought of her son’s controlling temper and what this poor girl had to witness on a regular basis. “Had I known that he was going to turn out the way that he has done, I would have held his stubborn little head down in the bath water when he was a boy and drowned the bugger. I should have thrown him away and kept the bleeding stork.”

Nessa hated to see worry etched on her young granddaughter’s otherwise perfect face. Her skin was flawless, a pale milky white, and Nessa adored Sophia’s vibrant red curls. She felt so protective of Sophia: she was the light of her life. She reminded her so much of herself, although looks-wise they were total opposites. Her granddaughter had real beauty, a trait which Nessa had never had the good fortune to be blessed with even in her younger days. Now in her early seventies Nessa was convinced that she had shrunk with age, whereas Sophia was very tall and skinny: ‘all limbs’, as Nessa liked to say. But it was the young girl’s personality that reminded Nessa so much of her own. Sophia had the same inner strength that Nessa possessed, and they both knew their own minds as well as sharing a sense of humour. It deeply saddened Nessa that one day, if Jamesie carried on the way he was going, he would break the poor girl’s spirit with his outbursts and acts of intimidation.

“Your father was always a stubborn eejit, even as a lad, it was always ‘his way or no way’.” Nessa sat down at the table, and spread honey onto the soda bread. She had no idea why Jamesie had turned out like he had, but she often wondered whether things would have been different if her late husband, Patrick, had been around while her son was growing up. Nessa had been widowed when Jamesie had been just eight months old, and it still felt like yesterday. Patrick had been killed in a car accident, his death brutal and sudden, and Nessa had never really got over his loss, he had been one of the kindest men she had ever known. After his death, she had been forced to leave Dublin. Being a single mother in Ireland during the recession of the sixties was nigh on impossible. There was no money to bring up a child so after a lot of wavering she finally decided that it was time to leave. Hackney had been her home ever since. It had been hard for her at first, but she had managed to find herself a cleaning job and a little place to rent. Working almost every hour that God sent and raising a son alone had been an uphill struggle. Nessa had had no time, nor desire for a man in her life, and maybe, she thought to herself now as she looked into her granddaughter’s sad eyes, that had been her downfall. Maybe that had been what Jamesie had needed all along: a strong male role model? Nessa had dedicated herself a hundred percent to her son and had tried to be the best mother that she had known how to be. She wasn’t sure where it had all gone wrong for Jamesie, but one thing she did know for sure was that she hadn’t raised him as someone who would think that it was okay to treat women in such a vulgar, despicable way. Hitting women was disgraceful, and Nessa was deeply ashamed of her son’s behaviour. She had very little to do with him these days because of it. In fact, if it wasn’t for her beautiful granddaughter, she would have cut all ties with him long ago. Nessa was baffled at how some mothers condoned their son’s abusive behaviour, making up excuses for them like ‘he was driven to it’ or ‘she probably deserved it’. They were too blinded by denial to admit that their own sons were a disgrace: well, not Nessa. With her a spade was a spade, she would rather disown Jamesie than join that delusional crowd.

“Mm, this is really lovely,” Sophia joked, as she popped the buttery piece of bread that her nan had smothered in honey into her mouth. Her nan looked deep in thought; the last thing Sophia wanted to do was cause her more worry. “You keep giving me food like this, Nan, and I might have to move in.”

“Well, pet, if I had the room you’d be more than welcome. You know you can have the sofa whenever you need it. It ain’t much, I know, but it’s the best that I can offer, what with this place being so blooming pokey. Either that or you could ‘top and tail’ with me, but... I would strongly advise against that option. I’ve enough wind inside of me to launch a few kites some nights.” Nessa giggled and once more Sophia rolled her eyes, although she couldn’t help but smile: her nan cracked her up.

“So, I guess I’d better get home and get my uniform on. I’m so tired I really don’t know how I’m going to concentrate...” She left her words hanging in the air; her Nan would take the hint, she was sure.

“You can’t keep taking time off, Sophia,” Nessa said sharply. Her granddaughter’s education would be affected if Jamesie’s antics kept on driving the poor mite out of her own bed every night. Nessa had already given Sophia a key so that the poor girl could escape here for some respite if things were bad at home, and she always left a blanket out on the sofa. Nessa was glad that she could offer Sophia somewhere to run to, and she knew that Kaitlin was glad of it too. It was an unspoken arrangement that was supposed to be a means to an end: Nessa had truly hoped that Jamesie would stop his appalling conduct, especially if he managed to find himself another job, but it was becoming a habit. Jamesie seemed to be getting worse.

“Ah, okay... I’ll write you a note just this one last time, Sophia,” Nessa said, unable to say no to the large puppy-dog eyes that Sophia was now turning in her direction. “But this really is the final time. Your father and I will be having words about this, if this carries on, mind! I don’t know what he thinks he’s playing at.”

Sophia hugged her nan. She really did feel exhausted today, and a day chilling out with her nan would be just what she needed.

“Actually, it’ll help me out if you’re here. You’ll do a few chores for me, won’t you my lovey? Rascal could do with a walk, and if I give you some money you could just pop in to the Co-op and grab me a few bits.” Nessa was already planning the shopping list. Albert would probably pop in again later with his next meal that would give Gordon Ramsey a run for his money, but she did need a few bits and pieces too, such as lunch for her and Sophia.

“Of course, Nan. Come on, Rascal, shall we go for a little walk?” Sophia pulled her trainers on as Nessa went and fetched the dog’s lead from a drawer. “I’ll take him down to the Lea, Nan; wear him out a bit for you.”

Nessa smiled as Rascal once again started jumping about the place as soon as he saw the lead. A walk down to the river would be just what the little mite needed to burn off all that energy and knowing how fond Sophia was of Rascal, it would do her the world of good too.

“Pick me up a pint of milk, a loaf of bread and some cheese, make sure it’s a mild one, my stomach doesn’t agree with those strong whiffy ones, and get yourself some lemonade and some chocolate too.” Nessa rummaged around in the bottom of her handbag for some change before handing the coins to Sophia. She watched her walk down the front path with little Rascal at her side, waggling his tail as he went.