The door opened so violently that it splintered against the wall and Fallon stood there, one side of his face still lathered, the cut-throat razor open in his right hand.
Billy turned from the girl, mouthing incoherently, clutching at his trousers, and as he stood up Fallon took two quick paces into the room and kicked him in the privates. Billy went down like a stone and lay there twitching, knees drawn up to his chest in a foetal position.
The girl adjusted her clothes as best she could and got up, every last shred of decency stripped from her, tears pouring down her face. Fallon wiped lather from his cheek mechan-ically with the back of his hand and his eyes were very dark.
She could hardly speak for sobbing. “He made me go into your room tonight. He was watching.”
She gestured towards the wall and Fallon crossed to the peephole. He turned slowly. “Does this kind of thing happen often?”
“He likes to watch.”
“And you? What about you?”
Tm a whore,” she said and suddenly it erupted from her. All the disgust, the self-hate, born of years of degradation. “Have you any idea what that means? He started me early, his brother.”
“Jack Meehan?”
“Who else? I was thirteen. Just right for a certain kind of client, and from then 00 it’s been downhill all the way.”
“You could leave?”
“Where would I go to?” She had regained some of her composure now. It takes money. And I have a three-year-old daughter to think of.”
“Here – in this place?”
She shook her head. “I board her out with a woman. A nice woman in a decent part of town, but Billy knows where she is.”
At that moment he stirred and pushed himself up on one elbow. There were tears in his eyes and his mouth was flecked with foam.
“You’ve had it,” he said faintly. “When my brother hears about this you’re a dead man.”
He started to zip up his trousers and Fallon crouched down beside him. “My grandfather,” he began in a conversational tone, “kept a farm back home in Ireland. Sheep mostly. And every year, he’d geld a few to improve the flavour of the mutton or make the wool grow more – something like that. Do you know what geld means, Billy boy?”
`like hell I do. You’re crackers,” Billy said angrily. “Like all the bloody Irish.”
It means he cut off their balls with a pair of sheep shears.”
An expression of frozen horror appeared on the boy’s face and Fallon said softly, “Touch this girl in any way from now on,” he held up the cut-throat razor, “and I will attend to you personally. My word on it.”
The boy scrambled away from him and pushed himself up against the wall, clutching at his trousers. “You’re mad,” he whispered. “Raving mad.”
“That’s it, Billy,” Fallon said. “Capable of anything and don’t you forget it.”
The boy ducked out through the open door, his feet thundered on the stairs. The front door banged, Fallon turned, a hand to his cheek. “Could I finish my shaving now, do you suppose?”
She ran forward, gripping his arms fiercely. Please don’t go out. Please don’t leave me.”
“I must,” he said. “He won’t be back, not as long as I’m staying here.”
“And afterwards?”
ùWe’ll think of something.”
She turned away and he grabbed her hand quickly. Til be an hour, no more, I promise, and then we can have that glass of whiskey. How’s that?”
She turned, peering at him uncertainly. The tears had streaked her make-up, making her somehow seem very young. “You mean it?”
“On the word of an Irish gentleman.”
She flung her arms about his neck in delight. “Oh. I’ll be good to you. I really will.”
He put a finger on her mouth. “There’s no need. No need at all.” He patted her cheek. Til be back, I promise. Only do one thing for me.”
ùWhat’s that?”
Wash your face, for God’s sake.”
He closed the door gently as he went out and she moved across to the washbasin and looked into the mirror. He was right. She looked terrible and yet for the first time in years, the eyes were smiling. Smiling through that streaked whore’s mask. She picked up a flannel and some soap and started to wash her face thoroughly.