The Runaway Read Online Free PDF Page B

prided herself on her neat home, her neat figure and even neater bank balance. A woman whose husband had joked she could put elastic on a shilling and stretch it through to the next week, she had saved a tidy sum over the years and now added to this was his life assurance money, which meant she had a good sum and was comfortably off. Meeting Eamonn Docherty, her heart had been stolen from her breast by his smooth Irish tongue and impressive appearance. For the first time in her life, Junie was in love and it showed.
    Lying in the woman’s sweet-smelling bed, Eamonn savoured the aroma of the turkey cooking below and the full feeling in his belly from the eggs and bacon she had fried him earlier. The house smelled of furniture polish and Eamonn loved it. He and the boy would be well set on here. Junie was Irish by birth and understood a man’s need for a drink. As long as he worked at the docks and provided that at least for himself, he’d live the life of fecking Riley here. He was fifty-six, and the thought of going into his twilight years with Madge frightened him. He’d turn over a new leaf now, marry the little pickaheen in the kitchen below and look forward to an old age full of the finer things in life. Food, drink and a bit of the other now and again. What more could a man ask?
    Getting out of bed, he pulled on his trousers. He glanced idly towards the window and froze. Through the clean nets he saw Madge weaving unsteadily up the street, with Betty and Cathy in tow. Sinking down on to the edge of the bed, he put his hands to his head and said: ‘Feck!’ over and over to himself.
    Junie opened the front door with a wide smile on her face. She had been expecting these visitors for some time and was both frightened and exhilarated that the moment had finally come.
    ‘Can I help you, dearie?’ Her soft Cork voice was polite-sounding, with an undertone of pure steel.
    ‘I want my old man, and I want him now!’ Madge’s voice was loud, slurred and agitated.
    Junie smiled then. ‘Is it your husband you’re looking for? Only I wasn’t aware you had one.’ She put a finger to her lip as if thinking then said, ‘Would it be your lodger you’re after? Mr Docherty?’
    Cathy felt a moment’s pleasure as her mother went for the stuck-up piece. She and Betty watched the fight in stone cold silence, until Madge had gained the advantage and was straddling the other woman, banging her head on the pathway.
    ‘Where is he, the dirty Irish git? I’ll fucking kill him first, before I let him come to you!’
    At that moment the man himself arrived on the doorstep and lifted Madge off the little Irishwoman with easy grace.
    ‘Calm down, woman. Sure you’re making a show of yourself to the whole street. Have you no shame?’
    Cathy pulled her mother from his arms. ‘After her years in the docks, shame is the last thing she’d possess, don’t you think? Well, let me tell you something, Eamonn Docherty - you’re a rotten bastard for doing this to her! And as for her . . .’ She poked Junie in the chest. ‘If that’s what you really want, I wish you well, but she put her old man in the grave and hopefully she’ll do the same thing to you and all. My mother’s worth better than you, you drunken Irish ponce.’
    ‘I couldn’t have put it better meself,’ Betty chimed in loudly, enjoying the scene they were creating before Junie Blacklock’s neighbours. ‘And if I was you, lady, I’d get yourself to a pox doctor. Docherty’s normally dosed up to the fucking eyebrows!’
    Madge was still crying uncontrollably. Pulling herself from her daughter’s arms, she beseeched Eamonn: ‘Please come home, love. We’ll sort everything out, I promise you. Just come home, Eamonn, please come home.’
    The big man looked at her in disgust and said through his teeth, ‘Go home, woman. Would you look at yourself for once? What man would want you? Even one like me. You’re an old whore - look like one and smell like one.