Wives at War by Jessica Stirling Read Free Book Online Page A

circumstances.
    Babs drew in a deep breath and, retreating, seated herself in one of the armchairs that flanked the fireplace. She sat back, crossed her bare legs, and modestly adjusted the folds of the housecoat.
    â€˜Nice guy,’ Christy said.
    â€˜For a copper, you mean.’
    â€˜I’ve nothing against coppers.’
    â€˜I told my sister about you,’ Babs said. ‘That was a mistake.’
    â€˜Which sister would that be?’ Christy asked. ‘Polly, or Rosie?’
    â€˜Polly.’
    â€˜Manone’s wife?’
    â€˜You’ve a good memory, haven’t you?’ Babs said.
    â€˜Pays off in my business.’
    â€˜Kenny’s married to Rosie. She’s the deaf one.’
    â€˜Children?’
    â€˜Not yet.’
    He nodded, approached the armchair, looked down at her. She waited for him to brush her hair with his fingertips or tip up her chin and kiss her with all the courteous aplomb of a William Powell or a George Sanders. He took the cigarette from his mouth, coughed into his fist, and backed off.
    Babs sat up. ‘You okay?’
    â€˜Fine. Frog in my throat, is all.’
    The whisky seeped warmly into Babs’s chest. She had bathed in four inches of water, sponged herself down using the last bar of scented soap from her store. She could smell the fragrance rising from her body, the tang of Jackie’s shaving soap too, and realised that even in the cooling air of the living room, she was beginning to perspire.
    â€˜How come she married a cop?’ Christy said.
    â€˜Why shouldn’t she marry a cop?’ Babs said.
    â€˜It must’ve been awkward if Polly was already married to somebody from the other side of the street.’
    â€˜Did I tell you that?’
    â€˜Guess you did.’
    â€˜I don’t remember telling you that. Still, you’re right. It fair put the cat among the pigeons, our Rosie falling for a police officer. He was on Dom’s case, you see, that’s how he met Rosie. It’s a long, boring story.’
    â€˜I like long boring stories.’
    â€˜I don’t,’ said Babs, ‘not at this time of night, anyway.’
    â€˜You don’t much care for your sisters, do you?’
    Babs hesitated. ‘How did you figure that out?’
    He shrugged. ‘Shot in the dark.’
    Babs had never discussed what the family meant to her, had never told anyone that she longed to turn back the years and share again the closeness of the slum tenement when Polly had been her chum, not her rival.
    â€˜We were dragged up the hard way,’ she said. ‘My old man bailed out when we were really young. My mammy worked her fingers to the bone to keep us fed and clothed. There was more to it, a lot more, but – yeah, you’re right; Polly an’ I don’t see eye to eye. Since her husband took the children off to New York, she’s changed a lot.’
    â€˜Changed? How?’
    â€˜You can’t really talk to her any more. It’s the war. It’s always the war, isn’t it? Anyway, that’s my excuse for falling out with Polly.’
    â€˜You still see her, though?’
    â€˜We go over the river to visit Mammy whenever we can find time. We pretend everything’s all right for Mammy’s sake.’
    â€˜This farm where your kids stay, isn’t that Polly’s property?’
    â€˜Dominic signed it over to someone else.’
    â€˜Why did he do that?’
    â€˜I can’t imagine.’
    â€˜Polly looks after it, though?’ he asked.
    â€˜Polly looks after a lot of things,’ Babs answered, ‘mainly herself.’
    He waited, watching her from the side of his eyes, then after a moment or two got up and uncapped the bottle. ‘More?’
    Babs shook her head.
    She finished the whisky in her glass and got to her feet.
    â€˜Time I was off.’
    â€˜Stay,’ Christy said. ‘Talk some more.’
    â€˜I need my beauty