his evil bitch of a mother would have won.
SIX MONTHS INTO Debbie’s pregnancy, the cracks in Billy’s resolve began to show. Spending most of her time in the flat alone, while Billy spent his in the pub, had become second nature to Debbie, so she was surprised when he insisted she attend a pal’s wedding reception, which was being held in a local pub.
‘Do I have to come, Bill? I can’t drink, and I feel so fat and frumpy.’
‘Aye, I want you to come. All my mates are taking their other halves, so I need you to be there for me.’
As she got ready that night, Debbie felt like shit. She’d made good friends with a couple of the neighbours, Sharon and Donna, and was usually quite happy to spend her time at home with them while Billy was out gallivanting. After powdering her face, she applied blue eye shadow, squeezed herself into the one black dress she possessed, and stood facing the cracked mirror which hung next to the wardrobe. The sight of her reflection didn’t do her mood any good. ‘Bleeding hell,’ she muttered. She’d overdone the bronzer and felt like an orange that had become too big for its skin. Studying herself, she picked holes in her appearance. Her shoulder-length brown hair looked thin and lifeless. Her nose was a bit too big for her face, and her teeth had always been crooked. When she’d been slim her features hadn’t bothered her so much, some people had even called her attractive, but now she was fat it was a different story. She felt unsightly.
‘You ready, babe?’ Billy stood at the bedroom door, looking smart in his light grey suit.
Plastering on a false smile, Debbie pecked him on the lips. ‘As ready as I’ll ever be.’
To her dismay, both lifts in the block were out of action, and by the time she’d walked down the thirteen flights of stairs she felt absolutely knackered.
The party was awful. The pub was a shit-hole, everyone was slaughtered and the DJ was a blind man. She’d have tried to enjoy it if only she could have had a drink, but standing in the corner on her own all night, with only a glass of Coke for company, wasn’t much fun. Billy had introduced her to everyone earlier. He’d even stood with her for the first hour, but now he was drunk and up at the bar with the lads.
Debbie found herself studying him. He looked really smart tonight. Like her, he was no oil painting. Billy was skinny and pale, with light brown hair and sharp features. Attractive in his own way, though. She loved his Glaswegian accent, it made her laugh, and he was always cool and self-assured.
‘It’s Debbie, isn’t it? Debbie Dawson?’
Swinging around to see who was talking to her, Debbie vaguely recognised the short lad with blond cropped hair, but couldn’t think where from.
‘Darren,’ he said, shaking her hand. ‘Darren Jackson. I was in your class at junior school.’
Once the penny had dropped the evening flew by for Debbie and she spent the rest of the night with him, discussing their classmates, teachers and old friends.
Billy stood at the bar, seething. Talk about making him look a prick in front of all his mates! With his blood at boiling point, he could stand it no more. Slamming his pint down on the bar, he walked over to where his slut of a bird and the blond-haired dwarf were standing.
‘Whaddya think you’re doing, you fucking slag?’
Terribly embarrassed, Debbie tried to smooth over the situation. ‘Stop mucking about, Billy. This is Darren. He’s an old school friend of mine.’
‘I couldnae give a fuck who the cunt is, we’re going home!’ Billy grabbed her arm and dragged her out of the packed pub.
As they walked back to the flat, Debbie felt more and more uneasy. Billy looked furious and hadn’t said another word.
‘Tell me what’s the matter, Bill? Has someone upset you?’ she asked him. When he still said nothing, she carried on, ‘Surely you’re not annoyed because I was talking to that bloke. He’s only someone I went to school with.’
Squeezing her arm fiercely, Billy pushed her ahead of him. ‘Get home, you slag. I’ll deal with you indoors.’
The nearer they got to the flat, the more worried Debbie became. She’d never seen him like this before and his behaviour was intimidating. With the lifts still out of action, Billy shoved her towards the staircase.
‘Get up them stairs, bitch!’
Coming down thirteen flights of stairs while pregnant had been bad enough, but going up was even worse. Unable to keep up with his pace, Debbie sat down on the landing on the eighth floor, panting for breath.
‘Please, stop pushing me, Bill. I need a rest … I can’t breathe.’
Billy grabbed her hair and pulled her to her feet. ‘You do as I say, you fucking whore! Get up them stairs, now.’
The look on his face told Debbie she had best do as he said. Petrified, she tried desperately to calm him down. She was frightened to go inside the flat with him in this state.
‘Billy, tell me what I’ve done? Please don’t be like this. I love you … why are you doing this to me?’
Ignoring her plea, Billy dragged Debbie into the flat and pushed her down on to the sofa. He put on a Simple Minds LP and turned it up full blast. He knew Debs was friendly with the neighbours and didn’t want the nosy bastards knowing his business. Then he walked into the kitchen, took a can of cider out of the fridge and gulped it down. Taking a deep breath, he ran towards Debbie who had started to get to her feet and pushed her back on to the sofa, using his full body weight to trap her there.
‘You acted like a slag tonight … making me look a cunt! If you ever, ever do that again, believe me, I’ll fucking kill ya!’
Not knowing how to handle the situation, Debbie loudly protested her innocence. ‘I’ve done nothing wrong, Bill. Honestly, he was an old school friend who …’
She got no further. Billy stood up, lifted his right foot and kicked her with such force between the legs that it brought tears to her eyes.
‘Nooooo, Billy, stop it! Why are you being like this?’ she screamed.
Billy snarled at her, ‘I can do exactly what I want, Debs, and do you know why?’
Debbie shook her head.
‘Because that is mine,’ Billy said, pointing at her crotch. ‘That also is mine,’ he said as he gestured towards her oversized stomach. ‘And, believe it or not, girl, you are mine. If I was you, I’d get that into your thick skull and start behaving appropriately.’
Debbie was stunned as Billy left the flat. She’d done nothing to deserve this treatment, absolutely nothing.
Lifting herself gingerly off the sofa, she staggered over to the record player. ‘Alive and Kicking’ was playing. After what had just happened to her, it was the last bloody song she needed to hear. At a loss as to what to do next, she climbed into bed. She was too frightened to knock at her neighbours’. If Billy came home and she wasn’t there, it would make the whole situation ten times
