Born Evil. Kimberley Chambers

she had any visitors. ‘As soon as I feel well enough, you can be my first visitor,’ she’d promised.

      Now, as the phone was answered, Debbie did her best to sound happy and jovial. ‘I feel much more like meself now, Mick, and little Charlie can’t wait to meet his uncle. When do you wanna come round?’

      ‘Tomorrow lunchtime okay, sis? I’ve got little Charlie loads of presents, and I’ve got a surprise for you as well.’

      ‘Great,’ Debbie said unenthusiastically. ‘See you tomorrow then, Mick. Come after one.’

      She replaced the receiver, put her head in her hands and cried. She really didn’t feel like playing happy families, but knew she couldn’t avoid it.

      The last couple of weeks had been hard for her, bloody hard, and since she’d come out of hospital she’d had very little sleep. It wasn’t Billy, he’d been fine. It was Charlie who was causing her untold worry. The kid just didn’t stop crying, and since she’d brought him home he’d got worse and worse.

      She would feed him, rock him, cuddle him, but nothing seemed to work. Now she was at the end of her tether. He’d been fully checked over at the hospital and a health visitor had popped in to see him at home, assuring her that the baby was just fine and things would become easier in time.

      Debbie flopped down on the bed, feeling thoroughly exhausted. Billy had gone back to work today and she felt a failure trying at coping alone. The baby seemed to respond better to his father than to her. If Billy picked Charlie up, his tears subsided. When she tried, they worsened. The child hated her, she could sense it. Either that or she was being paranoid and imagining things. Perhaps she had that post-natal depression.

      After another night with virtually no sleep, Debbie’s mood was no better the following day. Her brother was due in a few hours and she was absolutely dreading it. She still hadn’t forgiven him for the day he’d had a beer with Billy and earned her a bloody good hiding.

      Debbie wasn’t in the mood to do anything, but forced herself to have a bath. The sight of herself in the cracked mirror did nothing to lighten her mood. She looked dreadful, and even though most of the baby weight had disappeared, still had rolls of fat around her middle, which looked disgusting.

      She tried on her old Levi jeans, but they wouldn’t do up so she chucked on a pair of old black trackie bottoms and a baggy black T-shirt. Feeling frumpy and ugly, she applied some lipstick and eye shadow. The end result was awful. She felt even more hideous. As she was about to get changed once again, Charlie began screaming his head off. Time for his bottle. Feeling physically drained, she shuffled into the kitchen.

      Debbie was just about to feed her son when the buzzer went. Unfortunately for her, Mickey had arrived half an hour early. She felt like tearing her hair out as she laid Charlie back in his cot and answered the door. As if things couldn’t get any worse, to her horror, not only was her brother standing there, but her mother was as well.

      ‘I told you I had a surprise for you,’ Mickey announced, not noticing her anguished expression. Laden with bags of presents for the baby, he dumped them all in the hallway and walked back towards the door. ‘I’ve gotta go down to the car, sis, to get his big present out. Have a chat with Mum for a minute, eh?’

      Completely taken by surprise, Debbie went on to autopilot and offered her mother a cup of tea. Picking up screaming Charlie, she took him into the living room and thrust him towards his nan.

      ‘Meet your grandson, his name’s Charlie. Oh, and by the way, I must be a shit mother as he doesn’t stop fucking crying!’

      Debbie stomped out into the kitchen and waited for the kettle to boil. She was gonna have her Mickey for this. Fucking cheek, bringing Mum round here without her say-so!

      June Dawson sat down on the battered old sofa and tried to soothe the distressed child. As she studied him, she felt there was something unusual about him. She had expected to melt at the sight of her first born grandchild, but instead felt no maternal stirring whatsoever. Maybe it’s because its Billy’s child, she thought, noticing that the poor little mite had inherited his father’s rat-like features.

      Looking around the living room, though, June understood the child’s misery. ‘Shit-hole’ did not even begin to describe this place. The furniture was threadbare, the curtains ill-fitting, and it didn’t look as if any housework had been done for weeks.

      June smiled as her daughter brought in the tea. ‘He’s gorgeous, Debbie,’ she lied as she offered the child back to her. ‘So, apart from him crying, are you coping okay, love?’

      Debbie took Charlie from her mother and looked defiantly into her eyes. ‘What are you really doing here, Mum? I thought you wanted nothing to do with us. Why the change of heart?’

      June took a sip of her drink before answering. ‘Mickey asked me to come. I’ve been so worried about you and was desperate to make sure you were okay. You are my only daughter, Debs, and believe it or not, I love you very much.’

      Debbie went straight on the defensive. ‘Don’t give me that old bollocks,’ she said, as she gently laid her son over her shoulder to rub his back. ‘I bet you love me so much, you haven’t even told Peter you’re coming to fucking see me.’

      Unable to meet her daughter’s stare, June was saved from answering by Mickey returning with the most expensive buggy he’d been able to find.

      ‘What do you think, sis?’ he asked casually.

      ‘Thanks, Mick, it’s a beauty.’

      He smiled. ‘Give us the little bruiser ’ere, I’m dying to meet him.’

      As Mickey took Charlie into his arms he felt himself shudder. The situation reminded him of the episode of Only Fools and Horses when Rodney had first looked at Del boy’s kid. Difference was, the guy who played Rodney had been fucking acting! ‘He’s a belter, Debs,’ lied Mickey. Desperate to get rid of the child, he handed him over to June. ‘Go see Nana,’ he said in a silly voice.

      As Debbie watched her son bond with his family, she felt her mood lighten. Both granny and uncle were obviously besotted and she was overjoyed to see it.

      * * *

      Billy McDaid thanked his two punters, sat back on his barstool and sipped at his pint. He had his shitty old workman’s clothes on today because he’d told Debs he had a few days’ graft on a building site. It wasn’t true, he’d just wanted to make a good impression, let her know he was trying hard to change. Selling a bit of gear was easy money for Billy and he was fucked if he was jacking it in. He needed the money now, anyway, what with three mouths to feed. What Debs didn’t know wouldn’t hurt her, and after a week or so he’d tell her there was no more work and he’d gone back to serving up, just to keep the wolf from the door.

      Things had been going really well since she had come home from hospital and he found he was thoroughly enjoying being a father. Obviously with babies you were limited as to what you could do with them, and secretly he couldn’t wait until Charlie was that bit older. Billy was gagging to introduce his son round the local pubs, take him to football and do the whole father-and-son routine. He was over the moon that Debbie had decided to give him another chance and was determined not to fuck it up this time. Since telling her about all the shit he’d endured in his childhood, he felt as if he’d unloaded some of his problems, shared the burden. Although his past would never go away, he felt that by offloading himself to Debs he had brought them closer together. At least now she could finally understand him as a person.

      She still drove him mad at times and probably always would. She was always moaning and getting on his case about work and shit, but he’d come to the conclusion that all women were the same. If they opened their mouths, they whinged. Simple as that. On the other hand, he knew his Debs was one of the most decent birds he’d ever met and that he’d struggle to find a better one.

      ‘Do ya want another drink, Bill?’

      He politely refused. ‘Nae thanks, mate, I’m gonna get meself home to Debs and