Mrs Smith Celebrates

Mrs Smith Celebrates
By Pamela Maunsell
2235 words

"Moody, do come down off the curtain, there's a dear."

She's loves those curtains, you know, and if it's not the curtains it's the sofa and if it's not the sofa it's the bed. Claws into everything. Silly cat. "A little dignity wouldn't go amiss, miss" I say to her. I've had her, oh six years now. I got her just after Mimsy, died. The doctors said it was cot death but I had my suspicions.

She wasn't strong - born at eight months - two days after Jack kicked me in the stomach.

"Let it die" he said slamming the front door.

Jo, my besty, found me passed out in the hallway, blood everywhere.

You know what hospitals are like. Just the smell of them turns my stomach but this time it was fine. Mimsy was born within 3 hours and weighed in at 4 lbs. They kept us both for a few days to "Toughen us up" as one of the nurses put it. I think Jo had a hand in that.

"What did you say" I asked.

"Not a lot, just that you needed some rest. I'm guessing the black eye and bruises did the rest."

A social worker arrived. "Tell me about your home life".

"Not much to tell" I replied. "There's Jack and me and now Mimsy."

He did his sums and worked out that I was pregnant when I married.

"Did you want to marry him?"

I just said I was tired and he should go and he said he'd visit me at home and there'd be a health visitor too and I could call him if I needed anything. Oh yeah, I thought.

Did I want to marry Jack? Hell no. I hadn't even wanted to have sex with him. Christ I didn't even know what sex was back then, I was that naive. Oh dear god, I'd been so proud when he'd chosen me, little, silly me, to take out that day.

But no one believed me.

"If you didn't want to, then why you go down the canal with him".

Or "Did you really think he wanted your cheese and pickle sandwiches?"

I cried enough after he raped me but nothing like I did when I realised how alone I would be.

"He'll have to marry you" was all my mam said.

"You slut; don't expect me to pay for your wedding" was my father's contribution.

"You've ruined your life, so why ruin Jacks as well?" said my nearly-new-mother-in-law.

"Three months? Looks more like six to me" said her husband "who else you been screwing?"

And all Jack would say was "I'll marry you because I have to, but remember this, all your getting is my name."

And so it was.

When she died there was a full investigation. I told them straight up it was him but there was no evidence, no bruising, no fractures, no signs of shaking, just a tiny corpse. They said I was bitter and in shock. They were right.

That was the first time he hit me "Keep your mouth shut or you'll be joining her".

"Why don't you kill me then?"

"You're not worth doing time for."

The next 18 months passed in a daze. All I remember is that Jack got used to using his fists. Jo would take me to causality. The staff quickly grew impatient.



It was my parents' deaths that brought me out of my apathy. An asthma attack took my mother one week and my father's heart gave out the week after. Jack saw it as a new beginning, he wanted to use my inheritance to train as a butcher; a full-time course at the local collage with work placements at the weekends. I agreed to pay for it and to buy the old butcher's shop on the High Road. It was for me as much as for him.

Life at home became quiet and restful, just Jo and me. Slowly, I started to get out again and take an interest in things - nothing big - but I was beginning to heal.

Once Jack got his qualifications he worked hard and his business grew, we were both proud of his achievements. His success made him more even tempered and his violent outbursts came to an end. It didn't last long though; sadly for us Tesco's opened up next door and took most of his customers.

"I need to increase turnover, so you've got to help"

I could hear the desperation in his voice but still I refused, butchery wasn't for me. It was only the kicking that changed my mind.

Honestly I tried, but the smell, no, the stench of meat literally made me throw up. I could barely quarter a sheep before I had to rush to the bathroom.

"You'll get over it" he said.

But I didn't, and after three months I walked out.

"Can't you do anything" he screamed.

After that I couldn't look at meat again. Jack had put an old freezer in the garden shed which was supposed to be for house meat but I never used it. Jo had been vegan for years, so she was really pleased.

Honestly I don't think I've ever pleased anyone but her.

Of course Jack took it personally and when he saw a picture of Jo in her "Meat means Murder" T shirt he went straight to the tattoo parlour and had "Meat means Money" engraved onto his shoulder.

"Not a great sight for your customers" I said.

He punched me straight in the face, breaking my nose.

About three months later Jack had found himself a regular girlfriend.

"She might not be a looker but she's not a frigid old bag like you".

I did some investigating. Her name was Clara and she was married to a squaddie serving in Afghanistan.

Life calmed down again.

I really started to come out of my depression in late March. The upswing in mood was accompanied by a strong urge to sort out the garden, to grow some vegetables and a wild garden that would bring in bees and butterflies. Jo came round to help and we sat around the kitchen table with squared paper drawing up patios, planting boxes and the like.

It was whilst we were deciding where to put the spinach that I realised how much I loved her. We held hands across the table and then gently kissed.

It felt good.

It was strange that what seemed to be such a momentous change in our lives hardly affected our routine. We were already in the habit of sleeping in each other's houses and all we did was move into the same bed. But something must have changed in the way we were with each other and whatever it was sent the neighbours gossiping to Jack.

"Fucking lesbians, that's all I need, you get out of my house and don't ever come back". He slammed his fist hard down on the table making the crockery dance.

I just looked at him "Who are you talking to?"

"Her, you bloody fool, who else?"

You know, whatever people say, most changes in life don't come little by little, they come in gigantic steps and so it was that I changed from mouse to tiger in the space of a moment.

I looked at him full on "No, she stays. We're lovers and we'll go on being lovers and that's how it'll be."

"Not in my fucking house, you won't" he yelled raising his fist.

I ignored the physical threat "Actually it is our house but" I stopped for a dramatic pause "the butcher's shop is mine."

"And?" he said.

It was quite unnerving how strong I felt.

"This is the deal. If you leave now I'll give you the shop in return for your half of the house."

"Think you can blackmail me then?"

"No, it's a bribe" I retorted.

He turned to walk out the door.

"Jack, this is a now or never deal, take it and you keep your business, walk out that door and its gone."

He could barely speak, he was so angry.

"You won't kill me looking like that" I said

"Bitch, I'm going now because I can't stand to spend any longer in a house with perverts like you, but I'll get you, don't you forget that." He packed some stuff and within half an hour was gone.

Jo had to hold on to me to stop me shaking.

"You were wonderful" she said as we fell asleep.

That night we planned our future. We'd got a taste for gardening and agreed to sign up at the local horticultural collage for a three year diploma. In the meantime we'd grow loads of veggies and stock up the shed freezer. We'd live the good life until our business took off.

Simple dreams.

And then Jack returned.

"Yes" I said opening the door on its chain.

"Let me in" he yelled, totally pissed.

I yelled for Jo "His foots in the door. I can't shut it."

"I'm calling the police".

She turned to reach for her mobile just as Jack crashed through the front door catching her such a blow that she crashed to the floor. Unconscious or dead I had no idea.

I ran - I knew he'd chase me and it was her only chance.

"Come here you slut - come here."

I threw myself into the kitchen and we circled around the solid, oak table.

"Jack what the hell is going on? What's got into you?"

"She left me. She said I wasn't man enough for her. Said even my wife preferred another woman. She laughed at me, laughed and laughed." He stopped to draw breath, looked me straight in the eye and said "and it's all your fucking fault."

He lunged forward arms stretched out - reaching for my throat.

I stepped backwards, out of range - safe for a second or two but with nowhere to go.

"You think you don't want a man - I'll fucking show you" and he shoved the table forward trapping me against the kitchen range.

"Got ya" he cried, and as his fist came hurtling towards me I reached behind grabbing the copper frying pan and with every ounce of my strength smashed it into the side of his head.

He dropped like a rock.

There was silence.

I stood shaking until I could hear movement in the hallway. "Jo?" I screamed out "Jo" and with all my strength pushed the heavy table away from me and ran to help her.

"It's okay, it's okay, calm down honey. I'm okay, just a bit stunned. Where is he?"

We went back to the kitchen.

"Dead?" I asked

"Most definitely" she replied taking her hand away from his neck.

"Oh my god the police"

Jo laughed "Nope, luckily he knocked me out before I finished dialling."

We stood paralysed for a few minutes looking at the body and then Jo, ever the practical one, said "What about that freezer in the shed"

"He'll never fit" I said

"He will if you..."

"If I what?"

"You're a trained butcher."

"Oh my god, that's gross" I said "simply gross."

We decided on mince.

First I brought the big cleavers from the shop to get him into manageable sized pieces and then took the bits back to the shop to mince up.

Butcher's shops are easy to clean and we'd soon hosed away the evidence.

Returning home we filled the freezer, there was a surprising amount of meat on him.

"What next?" I asked

"Wait and see"

I laughed ""Wait and see" was what mam gave us for dinner every night".

Jo just grinned at me. I knew she was plotting something.

Weeks passed. We never opened the freezer or even referred to it again. The police came and asked a few questions but said he'd most likely run off with someone else or to avoid the debts owing on the shop. Massive debts, they said.

Three months later they returned.

"Definite case of fraud" the tall one said. "We've taken him off the Miss. Pers. List and added him to Wanted for Questioning. I'd suggest a divorce lawyer." He added, before driving off.

"Celebration time?" Asked Jo.

"Too right" I agreed.

"You wine, me food" said Jo. I nodded. We knew our strengths.

We laid the table together, remembering to bring in Moody's bowl so she could celebrate with us.

Jo's meal was a surprise. Besides the candles, there were two bowls of steamed vegetables at one end of thetable and a platter of roast potatoes and parsnips at the other but it was the centrepiece that stunned me. "What's that!" I asked "Some sort of fake meat?"

"Wait and see" Jo laughed, bending down to fill Moody's bowl. Moody reacted strangely, backing away and growling softly. "It's okay Mood, you're safe now, eat your fill" and she did.

We sat down and Jo handed me the carving knife.

I looked closely at the roast "What is it? Looks familiar but strange at the same time".

"You need to flip it over before you cut it."

I did, and laughed so hard I had to sit down.

I wiped the tears from my eyes and settled down to the task of carving. The first cut was precise, straight down the middle, splitting the words "Meat means Money" cleanly in two.

"That's gross" I said, "Simply gross".