Fiancee's Fuck Up

I used to feel bad after beating Val. Afterwards I'd buy her flowers, some chocolates. I always kissed and made up. She knew I didn't mean any of it; that it was just the booze talking. She also knew that she deserved a good smacking a lot of the time. But my head would take me to the worst places when I was pissed, and I'd lash out at anyone bothering me. I was always haunted by the memory of the other bastard, the one that I had held in my arms in the hospital and had honestly thought was mine. Three months later Val announces that I ain't the father after all, that some bloke from Windsor is. I know that Val never forgave me for making her relinquish that baby, but I could not have lived under the same roof as that kid. No fucking way. I would have strangled it with my own bare hands. I couldn't believe that anyone's fiancee would fuck some other bloke behind the back of the person they claim to love. I married Val, but I knew I'd never trust her again. I always felt like she was looking at other men or flirting with them. She was a nice looking woman, so men were drawn to her like bees to honey.

Knocking Some Sense Into Them

The atmosphere at home hit an all-time low after Juliet turned thirteen. She came back from school one day and told Val that she had broken into her classroom during break time and gone through the kids' school records that were on the teacher's desk. She had found her records and read them. The records stated that I had adopted her, and so Juliet wanted Val to tell her if that was true. She also wanted to know whether Val was really her mother or whether she had adopted her too. Juliet kicked up a right hullabaloo. Val tried to comfort her, but Juliet kept saying that she'd always known there was something wrong. She said that I picked on her and that it was obvious that I only loved Carol and Patrick. When I got back home from work there was all this yelling and screaming going on in the kitchen.

I'm knackered after a day at the fire station, especially after having worked a double shift. All I wanted was to come home and have a bit of peace and quiet. I wanted to eat my dinner and go to bed. But when I got in, I find Carol's crying, Patrick's crying, and Val and Juliet are at each other's throats. I thought we'd been robbed. I just couldn't imagine what all the commotion was about. Anyway, there's no fucking dinner cooked, and I'm bloody well starving. Once I got some sense out of Val and learned what had happened, I belted Juliet around the head. She then started getting all cocky with me, giving me the two fingers and saying that I'm not her father and can't lay a finger on her, or tell her what to do.

"I wish you'd never adopted me," she screamed, "I should have gone to strangers like Susan. I bet Susan is happy and having a wonderful life."

Well, I just snapped. I was ready to tear her apart. Val tried to come in between the two of us, but I shoved her on the floor and then I grabbed Juliet by the hair and threw her across the kitchen. Val leaped up and was beating me with all her might, so I punched her in the face. It wasn't that I hit her so hard really; it was just like knocking a feather out of the way. Mother and daughter lay on the floor sobbing. Blood was gushing from Val's nose. I had broken it. In between sobs she was calling me a bastard.

"Look, I'm tired. Get up and make me my dinner, you stupid cunt." I kicked Val in the stomach. "I'm fucking sick of both of you." I barged out of the kitchen and went into the living room. Patrick was watching the telly but he took one look at me and scurried upstairs. I flopped out on the sofa with the paper. Forty minutes later, Val comes in all sheepish carrying a tray with my dinner on. I snatched the plate of egg and chips and told her to keep out of my way for the rest of the night. I didn't hear a squeak out of anyone for a few days, and Juliet steered clear of me for a good while after that.

Juliet Runs Away From Home

But it's difficult to avoid people when you live in such a small house. Then, all of a sudden, Juliet stops coming home at night. The next thing we knew she has completely disappeared. To be honest, I didn't give a fuck. I don't think I would have cared much if she had turned up dead. Of course, I didn't tell the police that. As best as I could I explained the situation to the cops. I told them Juliet was rebellious and out of control. She had nicked money from Val's purse, so I hoped the Old Bill would charge her, pin something on her, if they did find her. I even suggested that they should have her sent to a borstal for girls. I wasn't able to handle her. But deep down in my heart I really hoped that they would never find her, and that she wouldn't bother coming home. None of us had any idea where she might have gone. We'd lived in Bristol for most of her life and I could only imagine that she had to be somewhere nearby, maybe shacking up with some friend. Juliet had always been close to Val's mother, but she hadn't gone to Slough to stay with her gran.

Living in a Squat

Unfortunately, the police did find her. After Juliet was reported as a missing child on the television news, and some photos of her appeared in the press, there were a number of calls to the police from people claiming they'd seen her. A lot of the sightings turned out to be nothing more than wild goose chases, but before I had chance to celebrate, the police phoned us to announce that she'd been found in London, in Balham, in a squat. She spent three weeks living with a bunch of drug addicts and prostitutes. Val was beside herself with worry when she heard this. She was convinced that Juliet had started using drugs, that she must be shooting up Heroin, and that she probably had been been pimped out. Val's mind was working overtime. She was worrying that Juliet might be pregnant or that she must have caught syphilis or the clap. I told her to shut up about it; she should just be thankful that they'd found her bloody kid. Juliet came home. She came home all quiet as a mouse, and she insisted that she hadn't done anything worse than smoke some grass. I just hoped that Juliet would piss off again soon, and not be found next time. I really hated her for all the trouble she had caused. I despised Val too. Val was fussing over Juliet more than even before. It made me sick.

The Big Bust Up

Before you could say Jack Robinson, Juliet was back to her old tricks. She was testing me and testing Val. She started dressing like a right tart and was hanging around with an older crowd – a real bunch of delinquents – and she stopped coming home at night again. Or, if she did come back, she was either as pissed as a rat or fucking high on glue. I came home from the pub Christmas Eve and there she was snoggin' some bloke at the front gate. I couldn't even get passed them to get to my own front door. Juliet was snoggin' the face off this geezer. He had his hand up her mini skirt, and I'm feeling the rage rise in me. I want to slug the fellow and smack some fucking sense into her. But I started to get these other feelings too. I felt that this bloke had no right to be feeling her up; that if anyone had any claim to her, it was me. I'd put up with Juliet for years now, hadn't I? I kind of decided that night that I would be the one who was gonna get her first. Well, I hoped I'd be the first. I couldn't really be sure if she was still a virgin or not, even though she was only fourteen. She's a fucking whore, just like her mother, I muttered to myself as I headed down the alley to get through the back garden gate. She came in not that long after me, all innocent like nothing had been going on outside. I hit the bloody roof. I slapped her around the face and sent her spinning across the lounge. Val told me to stop. She said I was drunk and should go to bed, but I was sick of these two bitches bossing me about. I head-butted Val in the face and because I was drunk, I lost my balance and fell into the armchair. But I saw Val keel backwards and crack her head on the mantle piece. She slumped to the floor and a framed photo of us on our wedding day toppled off the mantle piece and smashed in the hearth. I then went for Juliet, but she fled upstairs and locked herself in her bedroom. I stumbled back down the stairs and into the living room to find Val hauling herself up onto the sofa. She was shaking and crying. "That's it, Johnny Jameson! That's the last time you ever lay a finger on me." I laughed at her. "I'm leaving you right now, tonight, you bastard," she screamed in my face.

"Yaaargh, fuck off then and stop wasting my time. And, take that fucking kid with you too." I went to the kitchen, cracked open a bottle of whiskey and took a slug from it. "Bitch! I'll be glad to see the back of you," I bawled, not caring whether I woke up Carol and Patrick or the neighbours. "You fat, ugly slag," I screamed. I could hear Val thumping around in our bedroom, pulling things from the wardrobe and the dresser. She was crying. I heard her go into Patrick's bedroom and then Carol's room. I could hear voices and crying, but I couldn't make out what was being said. Unsteadily, with my bottle scotch in hand, I started to make my way upstairs. Val was knocking on Juliet's door. "Take that cunt with you," I yelled. Juliet opened her bedroom door. She was crying and the anger and terror on her face excited me. Juliet and Val were yelling at each other.

"Mum, you can't leave me with him. It's not safe here."

"No, Juliet, I can't take you. I'm going to your Aunt Anne's. There's no room for you there. I'll be in touch as soon as I've found my own place."

"Mum, please, no." Juliet was clinging to Val's arm and pulling her towards her. "Don't leave me. I'm scared. I know he'll hurt me."

"I'll kill him if he touches one hair on your head. Just keep out of his way as much as you can."

I had just a few more steps to climb and then I'd be within arms length of Val. I was getting read to crack the whisky bottle over her head. Val saw me coming and pushed Juliet inside her room. "Ask Sarah if her parents will let you stay there. I love you darling, but I have to go now. I need to catch the last train."

The next thing I knew Val kicked me in the balls and sent me tumbling downstairs. She then hurled her suitcase down after me. The bitch legged it down the stairs and trampled over me in her panic to grab her suitcase and coat and flee out the front door. "Goodbye and good riddance to fucking rubbish!" I slurred towards the slammed front door. "You cunt, you fucking whore, that's all my whisky gone." I was drenched and bruised and exhausted. I burst into tears, pissed myself and then passed out. It was 11 a.m. when I came round the next day. A blanket had been thrown over me, but I was stiff with cold. I staggered into the living room and flopped out on the sofa. I had a blinding headache and was sore all over. I called out to see if I could get Carol to make me a pot of tea. She came down stairs all sheepish, Patrick trailing behind her. It broke my heart to see her terrified face. I drove them over to their nan's and we spent a few hours there. I was in a real mess though. I was shaking like a leaf. I was scared that Val might have suffered some fatal injury. The most horrific scenes span through my head, and so I gave Carol some money to call her mother.

I'll Survive

I thought Val would return in a couple of days, but she didn't. After three days I called her sister Anne and was told that Val didn't want to speak to me. Carol was only ten then, but she was quite mature, so I told her that she had to take charge of things around the house and that she should make sure that Juliet pitched in.
“You let me know if she causes you any trouble at all, eh?” Carol was a sensible kid. I knew I could trust her. Patrick was seven at the time, and I couldn't expect much from a lad that age, but he did muck in. He cleaned the kitchen. He washed the dishes. He vacuumed the rooms and made the beds. Somehow we managed to get by. We did have to eat a few disaster meals, but that was really no different from when Val was cooking. The kids looked after the house and I went out to work, brought home the money, paid the bills, and tried to show the kids that it was possible to survive and be happy without their bloody mother.

She Should Beg To Come Back

The kids were good, even Juliet was getting along with everyone and pulling her weight for once. Carol and Patrick didn't even ask about their mum. Maybe they were scared to ask me, but I told them she would come home any day now. I really thought she would at first, but after a week had passed, I was starting to fear that that was really it, that she wouldn't ever be coming back. Carol asked me if I couldn't go and drag mum home. I know Val called and spoke to the kids on the phone, but when I pushed to find out what she had said they all clammed up. I did think about driving to Bracknell and dragging Val back by the scruff of her neck. But really, I wanted to hear her plead for me to take her back. I reckoned she'd have to come back begging eventually, because I couldn't see how she could possibly survive on her own. She didn't have any skills. She hadn't worked since having Carol. And, even if she found a factory job, or a job in a shop, she would end up having to live in some dump on some God awful council estate and I knew she couldn't stand that life any more. She'd grown up on the Britwell estate in Slough and there was no way she'd ever live like that again. She'd gotten used to having her own house and garden, and although where we lived wasn't posh or anything, it was safe, it was comfortable, our neighbours were pretty decent on the whole.
At least a month past before Val showed her faced. She came back to get some photos and other bits and pieces that she wanted. Val stayed with a friend down the road for a few days and then she pissed off to Feltham, where she had found work and a bedsit. Juliet wanted to go with her, but Val said she would have to wait until she could afford to move to a bigger place.