The slap across the face and the sight of the gun had sobered her up.
‘It stinks in here,’ he’d said, taking her by the arm. He filled a grubby glass with water and gave it to her.
‘You’d better take those pills,’ he’d said.
‘But the gun, why do you …?’
He had sat her on the edge of the bedand Rita had been too weak to object.
‘Look Babe,’ he’d said with false laughter. ‘It’s nothing, right? Just forget you ever saw it.’
‘But …’
‘Look Rita,’ he’d said patiently. ‘There’re some dodgy people out there.’
Rita had tried to think of any dodgy people that she knew but she couldn’t think of any.
‘I like to be able to protect myself, that’s all. I’ve never used it.’
Rita nodded, although she didn’t know why. Who would Billy need protection from and supposing they, whoever they were, came to the house? Was she in danger?
‘Is it loaded?’ she’d asked.
Billy, of course, did mix with dodgy characters, she told herself. Rita wondered if she would know a dodgy character if she met one. She supposed Billy was a dodgy character himself. If he carried a gun, she surmised that he must be. Only dodgy characters have guns in their bathroom cupboards. It excited her in a strange way. She could bet a week’s wages that her friends wouldn’t know a dodgy character who owned a gun.
‘Of course not,’ said Billy, avoiding her eyes. ‘You mustn’t tell anyone about it, Rita. I’ll get into trouble if you do.’
Rita couldn’t help wondering if the gun was unloaded, why Billy had got so frightened. She couldn’t accidentally fire a gun that had no bullets.
‘Oh no, I wouldn’t tell anyone,’ she’d said.
‘I have to go,’ she’d said, standing up.
‘Already?’ He’d been taken aback. ‘Why so early? I said sorry, didn’t I?’
‘I’m still feeling sick,’ she’d said, aware of how much Billy hated sickness.
Billy had grimaced.
‘Yeah, better had then,’ he’d said but Rita had heard the disappointment in his voice, and it had made her feel guilty. But it hadn’t really been her fault. If Billy hadn’t thrown her on that smelly bed, she most likely wouldn’t have been sick. They’d have had fun on the couch like they always did. But that hadn’t happened. Instead, the gun had happened, and Rita had been all at sea.
‘How about another night?’ she’d said, while thinking there would never be another night if she had anything to do with it.
Billy’s eyes had lit up.
‘Yeah sure, what night do you reckon?’
‘I’ll let you know,’ she’d said.
‘Tell you what. I’ll take you to the dogs.’
‘Oh yes,’ Rita had said. She’d never been taken to the dogs.
‘Don’t forget now,’ Billy had wagged his finger in her face. ‘Don’t tell anyone about the gun.’
‘Oh no,’ she’d said.
*
