Meet the Newells, a big family of good lookers and hard grafters. From
their sleepy working class backwater, the siblings break into Oxford
academia, London’s high life, the glossy world of magazine publishing and
the stratospheric riches of New York’s hedge funds.
Then there’s Paddy, the wrong’un in their midst, who prefers life’s
underbelly.
As things fall apart around his sister Bea, is Paddy behind it all? And why
does matriarch Edie turn a blind eye to her son’s malevolence? Will she
stand by and watch while he wrecks the lives of her other children? Just how
much is she willing to sacrifice to protect her son?
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Excerpt
Edie, now elderly,
looks back on a childhood incident involving her five sons and her youngest
child, Bea, then a baby. It’s apparent that Paddy bullies and victimizes the
smaller children, but Edie turns a blind eye to his behaviour, as she is
plagued with guilt. She had Paddy while still single, and gave him up at birth
before she met and married her husband, George. She admits this to George only
after their first child together is born. George agrees to adopt Paddy, who
joins the family when he is four years old. Paddy’s behavior becomes a serious
source of tension between them.
The boys were
always ranged against Paddy.
I remember
hearing one of their fights breaking out in the garden. I was edgy that day.
Maybe I had the curse. Will and Sam were yelling at Paddy. The other boys all
stood around Sonny, who held a crying Bea in his arms.
‘How would you
like it if I stomped on your hand?’ Sonny screamed.
‘She was in
the way,’ Paddy said. ‘She’s always in the way.’
‘She’s a baby!’
Ganging up on
Paddy again. I couldn’t bear it.
‘What’s going
on?’ I took Bea from Sonny’s arms. She kicked off again for my benefit.
‘Paddy stomped
on Bea’s hand,’ said Sonny in righteous fury.
‘I’m sure it
was an accident,’ I said. ‘Paddy, come and say sorry to Bea.’
I lowered Bea
to Paddy’s level so he could kiss her. He puckered up but she whipped her head
away from him. The others started in.
‘That was no
accident. I’m telling you, Mam, he did it on purpose,’ said Sonny. ‘He’s always
hurting her. And Colin and Will. Anyone smaller than him.’
‘You’re
smaller than me,’ said Paddy.
‘Yeah, but I
can fight back, can’t I?’ His eyes blazed.
‘Enough!’ I
cried. ‘Now. I’m putting Bea down here, out of the way. Play nicely, all of
you. Paddy, be more careful with the little ones. And the rest of you stop
pointing fingers.’
‘But Mam—’
said Will.
‘No buts!’ I
said. ‘More fighting and I’ll make you play inside.’
Sonny muttered
something. I rounded on him.
‘Sonny, what
did you say?’
He glared at
me, then looked away. It wasn’t five minutes before war broke out again.
‘Every time
you jump over her, you kick her one.’
‘Shut up,
twat. It’s not my fault she moved.’
I’d told the
boys time and again they shouldn’t be jumping over Bea’s head. Paddy was a bit
accident-prone where she was concerned, but all the same. They were always
leaving him out. I marched downstairs again. I decided to pretend I hadn’t
heard Paddy’s language. George was always on at him about it. It was a drag on
my soul knowing where he’d learned it, and more besides.
‘What are you
warring over now?’ I asked. The boys looked sheepishly in my direction.
‘They jumped
over Bea’s head,’ said Paddy. ‘I told them they mustn’t.’
‘Liar!’ Sonny bellowed.
‘Enough!’ I
cried. ‘How many times have I told you not
to jump over Bea’s head? And don’t call your brother a liar. I won’t have
it, d’you hear me?’
I looked at
the faces of my simmering brood. ‘And Paddy, don’t tell tales.’ I added lamely.
The boys seized on what I’d said.
‘Yeah, Paddy
you arsewipe,’ said Sonny.
I grabbed him
by the shoulder. ‘What did you call him? Do you want a mouthful of
soap?’
We glared at
each other.
‘Read my
lips,’ I hissed. ‘I’ll not have any screaming, nor any fighting or jumping over
the baby’s head. Understand?’
‘But Mam—’
said Paddy.
I rounded on
him too. ‘I said shut it!’ I was hoping they’d be united by being ranged
against me. A country at war, and all that. ‘I don’t want to hear another
word.’ They glowered at me. I looked at their little frowning faces in turn.
Nobody said anything at first. Then Will piped up.
‘He likes
hurting her,’ said Will. ‘Why d’you let him, Mam?’
I felt like
he’d slapped me. So I slapped him. Right across the face. Bea started
bellowing, as if I’d hit her, which set Colin off. Will stared at me, then he
lifted his hand to his cheek. I looked down at my stinging palm as if it
belonged to someone else. If he’d only cried I could have done something, put
my arms round him, said sorry; but he didn’t. Sonny stared at me too. He put
his hand on Will’s shoulder. Sam picked Bea up and tried to shush her and put
his free arm round Colin. Colin turned to him and clung to his leg, bawling for
all he was worth. Paddy gave nothing away, as per usual.
I stalked back
inside. I willed Paddy to stay with the others but he followed me in, marking
himself out even more.
Author Bio – Catherine Evans is the author of The Wrong’un, and Editor of
fictionjunkies, which publishes book and short stories online by authors
around the world. She’s a trustee of the Chipping Norton Literary Festival,
and lives in Oxfordshire. She’s married with a daughter and three
stepdaughters.
Social Media Links – Instagram: https://www.instagram.com/catxevans/ , Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/catxevans
Twitter: https://twitter.com/fiction_junkies
Website: www.cathyevans.com
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