by Susan Lewis
She made several more calls, most ending more or less the same way, and trying not to become any more despondent than she already was, she started the engine and headed for the church. It was the lunch hour by now, so probably a good time to return the ‘borrowed’ key to the office. If anyone was there she’d say she’d picked it up by mistake, but no one was, so she was soon at her desk checking emails.
There wasn’t a single one offering a shred of hope that her life was about to change for the better, not even a spam message inviting her to ring a number to claim thousands she hadn’t won. Nor were there any replies from the supply agencies she’d submitted applications to the day before, but it wasn’t realistic to expect anything more than an automated response so soon.
It wasn’t realistic to expect a message from Martin Stone either, but to her amazement one arrived in the middle of the afternoon, stunning and thrilling her all in one go.
Hi Angie, thought you’d be interested to know that Yeddon Farm is starting up a new training scheme for cider-makers. Any use for your guys? M
It was a great opportunity, there was no doubt about that, but right now all the residents were gainfully employed. She gave herself a moment to think before replying, aware of how good it felt to know she’d been in his mind, even for such a prosaic reason. She laughed out loud when she imagined what Emma would say if she knew what she was thinking.
She texted back: Thanks very much. Really kind of you to remember us. We’re all taken care of for the moment, largely thanks to you, but I’ll give the farm a call anyway to ask them to think of us in the future. She paused, trying to summon something witty to say at the end, until she realized she was trying to engage him in something more personal, so she simply tapped in her name, pressed send and put the phone down again.
Moments later another message arrived. Understood. Don’t forget to be in touch if there’s anything else I can do for your guys. How’s everything with you?
Her heart gave a jolt of surprise that turned rapidly to concern. Surely he didn’t know what was happening to her? Was this his discreet way of trying to find out if it was true? How was she going to reply? She’d almost rather die than let him know she was homeless. Worse would be to tell him, if he didn’t already know.
Realizing she was going into this far too deeply, she sent a brief text back saying, Everything’s good, thank you. Hope it is with you too.
Several minutes ticked by with no response so reminding herself that she hadn’t actually asked a question, she put her phone aside again and went back to what she was doing.
With her mind still so full of him it was hard to concentrate, but eventually she forced herself to let go, and just as she did he texted again.
Everything good here. Working too hard as usual, but off for a break with the family tomorrow. Looking forward to getting out of this weather.
She stared at the words, feeling their casual warmth and friendship fading into the cracks of her sadness, and she couldn’t help wondering about his family, what his wife was like, how old his children might be, where they lived. She thought back to the first time she’d met him, at his father’s funeral when most of the town had come to pay their respects. She was sure she could remember a dark-haired woman in the family party, and two teenagers, a boy and a girl, but there had been so many people there it wasn’t possible to know who was related to whom. She read his message again and considered asking about his children, in a chatty way, but decided not to. She needed to get a grip on herself now and return to her own world.
Hope you have a lovely time, she texted back briefly, and turning her phone off she resisted entering his name into Google to find out more about him and instead opened up a new email that had just arrived from a supply agency.
Apparently an Airbnb cleaning service was increasing its staff by four to work on zero-hour contracts. Her housework skills were required to be of a very high standard, she would have to go in at an hour’s notice if needed, and in all cases she would need to recycle the rubbish after the guests left, and take the linens to the laundry.
She wondered what Martin’s wife did for a living, and guessed it probably wasn’t cleaning for Airbnb.
Deciding she had to give the job a go even though she already knew she couldn’t be that flexible, she arranged to meet the company manager on Wednesday, noted down the time and location and clicked through to start updating the BtG accounts.
An hour later the sound of Emma’s voice outside woke her with a start. She had no idea how long she’d been asleep, she only knew that her neck was stiff and she was so hungry she was ready to eat her laptop.
‘Are you still here?’ Emma asked, coming in the door. ‘I thought you were viewing a studio flat for Alexei at three?’
Seeing it was already ten to, Angie shot to her feet. ‘Is the washing machine fixed?’ she asked, reaching for her coat.
Emma grimaced. ‘For now, but he reckons I need a new one, and guess what, he can do me one for under three hundred quid. I think I’ll wait for the old one to break down again, and I’ll try to get at least half out of Ben. Is Grace with us for tea later? She said something about going to Lois’s again tonight, but I haven’t heard from her.’
‘Me neither. I’ll find out and let you know. You’re picking the boys up from after-school club?’
‘Yes, at five. I promised to pay today, is that going to be OK for you?’
Swallowing anxiously, Angie said, ‘How much do I owe?’
Emma consulted her phone. ‘We’re a bit behind,’ she admitted, ‘so it’s twenty-five for me and forty-five for you.’ Her eyes went to Angie’s, and seeing the look on her face, she said, ‘I’ll see if I can put it off until your benefits come in.’
Relieved and mortified, Angie said, ‘Thanks. They’re due at the end of the month so not long now.’ And as soon as they were paid into her bank account they’d sink into her overdraft like raindrops into an ocean.
‘By the way,’ Emma said as Angie turned to the door, ‘I had a text from Melvin today saying the cake was delicious, thank you very much.’
Angie turned, eyebrows raised. ‘So you messaged back to ask if he saved you a piece?’ she teased.
Emma blinked in surprise. ‘As a matter of fact I did, as a joke, and now I see you’re taking the whatsit, so ha ha and off you go. I’ll see you at home around six.’
Angie was ten minutes late for the viewing and could have wept when she was told that the studio she’d hoped to reserve for Alexei had already gone. She was falling down on her duties, and her residents who were working so hard to improve their lives deserved far better.
‘Oh, is not-not a problem,’ Alexei stammered when she stopped by Hill Lodge to break the news. ‘I am happy here with my father,’ and Angie had to laugh at the wicked grin he gave Hamish and Hamish’s roll of the eyes in response.
‘How come you’re not at work today?’ she asked Alexei, sipping from the tea Hamish had handed her as soon as she’d come in. She’d called ahead to let them know she was on her way, and clearly Hamish had immediately put the kettle on.
‘Sunday and Monday my days off,’ Alexei reminded her. ‘It is a very g-good job. I am liking very much to be with John Lewis. A better class of person, but-but not everyone polite.’ He shrugged, showing that bad manners didn’t particularly upset him. ‘I have promise of more eggs next time I deliver to farm, so I shall sh-share with Hope House if enough.’
‘That’s very kind of you,’ Angie smiled. Aware of the rumble in her tummy, she added, ‘Maybe you’ll invite me for an omelette.’
Both men lit up at the prospect of having her as a guest and immediately Hamish was suggesting all sorts of fillings, sending her hunger pangs into a frenzy and practically making her drool when he promised home-cooked chips as an accompaniment. ‘None of your frozen nonsense,’ he added with scorn.
Reminding herself that she was getting one good meal a day with Emma, and these men weren’t much better off than she was, sh
e said, ‘I wasn’t being serious, but it’s lovely of you to offer.’ Changing the subject, she asked, ‘So how’s Craig getting on entertaining the folks at the care home?’
Hamish chuckled fondly. ‘I think he finds it hard to tear himself away. You should have heard him this morning, he left here at ten on the dot singing “Blue Suede Shoes” like he was Elvis himself.’ He grimaced. ‘OK, that’s overstating it, but it wasn’t half bad, for him. He’s like a sponge where songs are concerned; he only has to hear the lyrics once and it’s like he’s always known them. Pity he doesn’t always get them in tune.’
Smiling, Angie finished her tea and said, ‘No more hallucinations?’
Hamish shook his head. ‘Everything seems fine, although he says he’s writing a song for Sasha, so real or not she’s apparently back on the scene.’
Since Hamish didn’t seem concerned about that she decided not to be either, and moving on she asked how Mark Fields and Dougie were getting on at the building site.
Hamish shrugged. ‘I’m guessing no news is good news,’ he replied. He gave a short sigh and began clearing the table. ‘You know I don’t like telling tales out of school,’ he continued, running the hot water and waiting for the boiler to ignite, ‘but Fields brought a woman back here on Saturday night. I didn’t see her, but I heard her …’
‘I see her,’ Alexei interrupted, ‘she was, y-you know.’ He drew big balloons in front of his chest.
Hamish said, ‘I’m not against anyone having a sex life, good luck to him if he can get it, but we have rules here about bringing women in …’
‘We do,’ Angie confirmed, ‘so I’ll talk to him.’
‘While you’re at it you might remind him he has duties around here too,’ Hamish added. ‘He’s not the most hygienic person we’ve ever had, far from it in fact, and no way do the rest of us want to clean up after him.’
Angie’s heart sank as she sensed an eviction warning looming. She’d never liked that part of her job, no matter how bad someone’s behaviour might be, for she knew very well that an actual eviction could very easily put them back on the streets. Their struggle to reclaim a decent life would be doubly difficult a second time around.
As soon as she got to the van she made a quick check of her emails. Please please let there be some good news from the housing office. Even if there wasn’t a place for her and the children to go to this week, next week would do, or even the week after, just as long as there was somewhere.
There was nothing from them, or from potential employers, but the message she’d been dreading since Friday had finally arrived.
Taking a breath, she forced herself to click it open.
Please contact this office to discuss payment of outstanding rent and the removal of items remaining at 14 Willow Close. Ashley, PA to Roland Shalik.
Closing the screen down, Angie started the engine and headed off along the street towards town, doing her best not to torment herself with where this was all going to end.
Grace and Lois pushed open the door to Mrs Hedges’s classroom and made their way to the back, where they slipped behind two desks set slightly apart from the others. Several of their year group were already seated, unpacking books or madly finishing text messages before they were told to put away their phones.
‘If I don’t hear back from her today,’ Grace said miserably as she checked her WhatsApp for the umpteenth time that day, ‘it’ll be too late. My contract runs out tomorrow …’
‘But you told her that in the message you sent on Saturday,’ Lois pointed out, ‘and if you give her the number of your new Sim she’ll be able to text.’
Grace nodded and Lois couldn’t have looked more sympathetic. This was the worst thing that had happened to Grace so far, after losing her house, obvs, but at least she’d still be able to make calls and send texts. Being without the Internet though, no Instagram or Facebook, no YouTube, no apps at all … It was going to be a total nightmare.
‘Let me see the message you sent again,’ she said, holding out her hand.
Grace turned her phone round so they could read it together.
Hi Anya, thanks for the lovely things you said. I would like to help my mum and if you think it’s possible for me to be an actress – I mean one that gets paid – please can you tell me how to go about it? Thank you, Grace Watts. PS I can only text and phone after Monday because my contract is due to expire then.
She ended with the number for her new Sim card.
Though she knew instinctively that her mum would go mental if she had any idea about this, even if Anya did know her dad, she quickly reminded herself that her mum wasn’t really in a position to be overly cautious about anything right now.
As though picking up on her doubts Lois said quietly, ‘Listen, I’ve been thinking, and I know it would be great and everything if this Anya is genuine – and if she is I’m totally with you, like one hundred per cent – but what if, like you said before, she turns out to be some sleazeball bloke using a female profile to get to schoolgirls?’
Grace’s face paled. She wasn’t stupid, she’d known all along there was a risk, but Anya looked really nice. Lois had said so herself enough times, so why was Lois trying to spoil it all now?
‘Don’t be upset with me,’ Lois urged. ‘I’m only trying to look out for you, and honest to God, I think she’s for real. I’m just saying, that’s all. If you like, I’ll come with you if you decide to meet her.’
Grace looked up as a burst of laughter erupted over the other side of the room, and felt her cheeks begin to burn. It was obvious the Northsider gang – kids from the Temple Fields estate and surrounding areas – were laughing at her. There were only five of them in this class, but there were a hundred or more of them spread all over the years like a nasty disease. This wasn’t the first time they’d mocked Grace, they often made her the butt of their jokes, though luckily they’d never gone as far as to smack her around or try to force her to buy drugs the way they did with some of the younger kids.
The way they had with Liam.
‘Hey Gracie, found anywhere to live yet?’ Cortnie Jenkins sang out, her coarse, nasal voice dripping with sarcasm, her smile shot through with meanness.
‘You should be over here with us,’ Jordan Bates informed her, her thickly made-up face peering out from behind a hand mirror. ‘I mean, you’re going to be living up our way soon enough, so why not start hanging with us now? We could all do with someone to take on our homework.’
‘Especially Darren,’ Mason O’Farrell jeered, cuffing the flaxen-haired boy next to him, who immediately twisted O’Farrell’s arm in a brutal grip. ‘Got the real hots for you, has Darren,’ Mason told her, laughing as his friend swore viciously into his face.
‘Heard from your brother Liam lately?’ Cortnie asked, tearing open a bag of crisps.
Although Grace flinched, this wasn’t the first time they’d mentioned Liam, they did it quite often, and she knew better than to rise to it, for she was well aware that Jordan Bates’s cousin, Moggie Merino, was one of the guilty five serving a life sentence for murdering her father.
Her father. Thinking about him was suddenly making her want to cry.
‘We can tell you where your brother is if you like,’ Jordan offered with a smirk.
‘Keep ignoring them,’ Lois whispered.
Grace delved into her bag and took out the books she needed for this lesson, wishing it could be a gun so she could make them all shut the fuck up.
Mrs Hedges entered and wished the class good morning. Grace liked her a lot. She’d become something of a hero around the school – apart from with the Northsiders – after one of their mothers decided to sock her in the face for telling her daughter she dressed and behaved like a slut. Mrs Hedges always did tell it like it was, and clearly not even physical intimidation was going to change her. ‘OK,’ she continued breezily, ‘“Dulce et Decorum Est” by Wilfred Owen. I hope you all read it over the weekend and have something intelligent to say about
it by now. Who’s going to start? Jordan, how about you?’
‘Oh Miss,’ Jordan complained. ‘I hate reading poetry, it’s like total BS to me.’
Moving on, Mrs Hedges invited George Trevors to share his insights into the poem.
Used to the way this particular teacher never tried to persuade the Northsiders to engage, preferring to focus on those who wanted to learn, Grace opened her notebook and did her best to look as though she was paying attention. She’d learned the poem by heart and could discuss it if Mrs Hedges asked her to, she’d even worked out what the similes were, one of the teacher’s favourite challenges, but right now she was transfixed by the message she’d just received from Anya.
Holding the phone in her lap, she nudged Lois and turned it so she could see the two short lines displayed on the screen.
You shouldn’t be without your phone. If you let me have the name of your service provider I’ll take care of the contract for you. A PS Stand by for some very good news.
CHAPTER TWENTY
Angie left the warmth and family cheer of Emma’s just after nine, and drove through mizzling rain and a thickening ground fog to her new refuge for the night.
It wasn’t so bad really, she told herself as she headed to the outskirts of town. She’d just had a lovely meal – though strangely had been unable to eat much in spite of her hunger – and she’d been able to spend a few hours with her children before it came time for her to go back out into the night. Some people had no family at all, and no shelter either.
It almost made her smile now to think of how much she’d enjoyed working through a pile of ironing while listening to the boys thumping around upstairs and Grace, seated at the kitchen table in front of her, memorizing a monologue that she and Lois were planning to post on YouTube. She’d always detested ironing before, but now she was just glad to be warm and fed and feeling as though she was helping Emma to cope with the increased burden of two more children, as well as the worry about Angie’s situation.
‘Mum, are you listening?’ Grace asked without looking up.