Shape of Snakes

He raised his eyes briefly to Sharon's. 'Kept saying the tart had hit her ... so Mike goes apeshit and kicks her till she shuts up. After that we went down the arcade, and Mike says he'll kill me if I ever breathe a word about his mum ... and I say, 'Who cares? It's good riddance, whoever did it...' '

'I told you it wasn't us,' jeered Maureen with a gloating smile on her face. ' 'Look to the tart,' I said. It was her and her son did it between them.' She jabbed two fingers in the air at Geoffrey. 'That's why you shoved the mad cow in the gutter-because she told you who'd hit her.'

I felt physically sick. Even though I'd suspected Michael had known how Annie had died, I'd always hoped he hadn't been involved. But could a 'kicking' at 8:30 have caused the sort of blood-seepage into Annie's thighs that was so obvious in the photographs? I looked at Sharon. 'Stand up for your son,' 1 wanted to shout at her. Tell them how small he was for his age ... and how murderous kicks like that must have come earlier... from someone who was stronger...

'Is that true, Geoffrey?' asked Wendy in shocked tones.

'No,' he muttered, looking at Sharon in sudden disbelief. 'She didn't say anything ... just kept grabbing at my sleeve, trying to hold herself up ... so I pushed her away...' His voice petered into silence as he began to question how many lies Sharon had fed him. 'No wonder you let me think it was my fault,' he said resentfully. 'Who were you protecting? Yourself or that bloody son of yours?'

But Sharon's only response was a tiny gesture of denial as the last vestiges of color fled from her face.

'If she faints she'll hurt herself,' I warned.

'Let her,' said Maureen spitefully. 'It's no more than she deserves.'

'Oh, for God's sake,' I sighed wearily, standing up to help Wendy support the limp body. 'If you believed that then why didn't you tell Mr. Drury the truth at the time?'

But it was a stupid question, which she didn't bother to answer. She had no regrets over Annie's death. Indeed her only goal had been to steer retribution well away from herself so that she could indulge her spoils to good advantage. And if that meant exploiting men's baser instincts to instill terror in women, then so be it. In a bizarre sort of way I could even admire her for it, for hers was a vicious world, where greed-be it material or sexual-was a way of life, and by her own standards she had made a success of it. Certainly she was the only person in that room who owned her house through the quickness of her mind.

I touched a hand to Sharon's peroxide hair and it felt dry and dusty beneath my fingers. 'The worst thing this lady ever did to Annie was pour a bucket of water over her head and make a few complaints to the council,' I told Geoffrey, 'but if you can't believe that then you should bugger off and give her a chance to get her son back. Wendy's right. All you've ever done is make her a prisoner to the truth.'

'But-'

'But what?' I snapped. 'Would you rather trust Maureen's version of events? Mine come free, remember, and hers come at a price.' I grabbed his elbow and forced him to look at Sharon. 'This woman has stood by you for over twenty years-how much longer do you need to know her before you trust her? Or must she always be judged by the rotten standards that you'-I gestured toward the sofa-'and this vermin over here choose to live by?' I spoke as much for myself as I did for Sharon, for I knew all too well the pain of living in an atmosphere of disbelief and distrust. You sink or swim ... fight or give in ... and whichever route you choose, you take it alone.

Geoffrey gave an uncertain shake of his head.

I knelt down abruptly in front of Sharon and took her hands in mine. 'Sell your house and move,' I urged her. 'Cut this man out of your life and start again. Make friends with Bridget ... help Michael go straight. He needs his mother's love just as much as he needs his wife's ... and you owe him that much. He thought you were a murderer, Sharon ... but he protected you ... and he doesn't understand why you were so quick to abandon him. Fight for him. Be the mother he wants you to be.'

She was too dazed to grasp what I was talking about and stared helplessly from me to Geoffrey, her subservience to men so ingrained that she would do whatever he told her to do.

Maureen's triumphant voice came at me from the sofa. 'There's only ever been one tart in this street, and she's gone down like a sack of potatoes because she's been found out. So go tell that to the police and see if they care about the few bits of trash we pilfered.'

I wanted to kill her. I wanted to squeeze her scrawny throat between my fingers and choke the venom out of her. Instead, I stood up with a sigh and reached for my rucksack. 'Annie never called Sharon a 'tart,' Maureen, she called her a 'whore.' You told me that yourself.'

Her mouth dropped open, for once unable to find words, because she knew I was right. I longed to be strident ... to scream and yell ... to stamp my feet ... to roar my frustration to the winds. I had hoped for the miracle that would prove me wrong, but instead I just felt desperately sad and desperately weary.

'And I wouldn't rely on the police letting you get away scot-free if I were you,' I went on with commendable steadiness, exercising the sort of ladylike control that would have brought a smile of approval to my mother's face. 'The only protection you've ever had was other people's silence. As long as they had secrets to hide you were safe.' I shrugged. 'But there aren't any secrets anymore, Maureen. So where does that leave you?'

Derek gave an unexpected laugh. 'I told her you'd never give up,' he said, 'but she wouldn't listen. Said schoolteachers were too prissy to get up off their knees and fight.' Maureen pursued Wendy and me to the door, demanding answers, which I refused to give. Who did it if it wasn't Sharon? How much was I going to tell the police? What proof had I of anything? Her lip had fattened from the punch I'd delivered and she caught at my sleeve to hold me back, threatening me with prosecution if I didn't give her some 'fucking explanations.'

I pulled away from her. 'Go ahead,' I urged. 'I'll even tell you where I'm going-I'll be with Mr. Jock Williams at 7 Alveston Road, Richmond-so by all means send the police 'round to arrest me. It'll save me having to call them. And, as for giving you answers'-I shook my head-'no chance. What you don't know can't help you, and I'm damned if I'll be party to Derek and Alan telling any more lies for you.' I raised my eyes to where Alan was standing in the shadows of the hall. 'I have every reason to hate and despise you,' I told him, 'but I think your wife is the one woman in a million who can rescue you from your mother. So my best advice is, go home now and take your father with you. If Beth hears the truth about you from Derek, then she may understand and forgive. If she hears it from your mother, she won't.'

'Goodness me!' Wendy gasped, patting her fluttering heart as we walked away. 'That's the first time I've seen her afraid.'

'Are you all right?' I asked in concern, reaching out to support her under the elbow.

'Absolutely not. I've never had so many shocks in my life.' She lowered her bottom on to the garden wall of