The Mersey Daughter (Empire Street #3)(93)
‘You wouldn’t!’ Rita sat up in horror, despite the agony in her leg, stomach and breast. ‘You wouldn’t hurt Michael!’
‘Wouldn’t I?’ He leered at her, loving her fear. ‘I’ve nothing to lose. He’s not mine, I know it, and nothing you can say will persuade me different. He’s nothing to me, I wouldn’t miss him. You would, though, wouldn’t you, Rita? You always loved those brats more than you loved me. Obvious from day one, that was. Well now you can miss him good and proper, because if you say one word he’ll be gone for ever and I’ll make sure it hurts him as well.’
‘No!’ Rita almost screamed it. ‘Don’t hurt Michael! He’s only a little boy; he’s done nothing wrong. I won’t say anything, of course I won’t. I’ll help you, I can make sure you get away without anyone knowing, I’ll give you food …’
‘You’ll help all right.’ His expression changed as he thought of another idea. He turned to Winnie. ‘Get me the stuff, will you?’
Winnie didn’t question him but walked unsteadily to the storeroom. She smelled strongly of sherry.
‘Right, you and me are going upstairs.’ Charlie spat the words in Rita’s ear. ‘You’re still my wife, I can do what I like with you. If you don’t scream out and let me do what I need to do, then I might just leave the boy alone this time. You understand me? You said you wanted to be a good wife, well now I’m claiming my rights as a husband, and if you dare to cry out or try to stop me I’m off to that farm. So you better be good. Spread your legs like you used to and pretend to enjoy it, though I don’t think you ever did, that was just more of your lies. You were spreading them all the time for that Jack, weren’t you, just having me on you loved me. So now it’s my turn and I’ll enjoy it all the more knowing you wished it was him.’
‘I … I …’ Rita’s stomach turned over at the idea of him touching her. He was filthy and smelled of sweat and fear, and his fingernails were black. She had tried to enjoy sex with him when they’d been living under the same roof, wanting to make the marriage work and keep the family together, but now the thought of it was deeply repulsive. However, she had no choice. She couldn’t risk Charlie harming Michael, and from the manic look of him she didn’t doubt he would do it. It was no empty threat. She had to get this over with for the sake of her son. Desperately she tried to think of anything that would make the ordeal more bearable. She knew she had to be strong and get through it, endure the next few minutes, or however long he decided it would take. Surely it wouldn’t be long – he’d want to get away. It might be no worse than it used to be, when he’d hurt her for his own pleasure in the knowledge that she wouldn’t cry out in case it woke the children. Perhaps it wouldn’t be so bad. After all, he was Megan’s father, and if she’d never met him then she wouldn’t have Megan, the joy of her life. She could do this. She could force herself to look as if she was enjoying it just so her children would be safe. It would be nothing really. She could manage this, she had to.
Looking at Charlie again, she found she pitied him. This was a man who had had everything: a fiercely protective mother, a decent home, a reliable job, a willing wife and two adorable children. Yet he’d lost it all, through his own cowardice and greed, thinking he could have any woman he wanted, bearing no responsibility for his family. Winnie had ruined him, spoiling him, making him think he was above everyone in Empire Street, as she had portrayed herself. It had done neither of them any good. Now she was a pathetic drunk, hardly able to get around her own shop, just her spite left to keep her going. She’d been able to siphon off some foodstuffs to feed her son, but she couldn’t help him now he was on the run. He’d brought that on himself – and yet he would never have had the backbone to knuckle down to army discipline. He was a desperately sorry creature. Maybe if she thought of him that way it would make what he was about to force her to do more bearable. She got to her feet, bracing herself against the pain.
Charlie lunged at her and groped her breasts under the jumper. ‘Let’s get a feel of what I’ll be having,’ he said, his voice uneven, his breath short. She could smell the foulness of it. ‘You’ve lost weight, Rita, it doesn’t suit you. You used to give me a nice handful, now there’s hardly anything there. Like that all over, are you? I shall have to check.’
She forced herself not to push him away, though his hands were hard and rough. She turned her face away from the stench of his breath, but he caught the movement and wrenched her head around, jerking her neck violently. ‘Look at me, Rita. I know you don’t want to but you’re my wife, you don’t turn your back on me. Not unless that’s how I want it,’ he added, with a grim snigger. She thought she would be sick but she looked at him steadily, this wreck of a man who had somehow fathered the most beautiful little girl. He was pushing her towards the stairs and she briefly shut her eyes at the thought of being in their old bedroom together, bringing back the painful memories of all she had endured there.
‘Don’t shut your eyes, I told you to look at me.’ He slapped her hard and the noise rang out like a gunshot. She staggered but didn’t fall as he had his cruel hands on her under her clothes, pawing mercilessly, twisting and pinching her flesh.
‘Up you go. Come on, I’m in a hurry.’ She could feel his body against hers and he was growing hard at the idea of causing her pain.