Broke

by Mandasue Heller

  ‘Nothing.’ He ripped the tab off the can and swallowed a mouthful of§ beer.

  Irritated that he was being so cagey, Amy said, ‘You can’t get sacked for nothing. Stan must have given you a reason.’

  Mark gripped his can and gritted his teeth. ‘If you must know, I’ve been late a few times. Now drop it – I’m not in the mood.’

  A frown of confusion creased Amy’s brow. ‘That can’t be right. I always wake you up in the morning, and I make sure you’re out of the house in plenty of time to catch your bus, so how could you be late? He must have got it wrong. Ring him. Tell him to check.’

  ‘He’s not talking about mornings,’ Mark said quietly. ‘He’s talking about lunchtimes.’

  ‘You’ve been back late from lunch?’ Amy’s frown deepened. ‘Why? What have you been doing? And what about Steve? You always have lunch with him, so has he been sacked as well?’

  ‘No.’

  ‘Why not? That’s not fair.’

  Mark groaned and ran a hand over his eyes. He wished he hadn’t told her now. Wished he’d just stayed out until it was his normal time to come home, then she’d be none the wiser and he wouldn’t be getting earache.

  But Amy wasn’t about to drop it. She wanted answers, and she wanted them now.

  ‘If you don’t tell me what’s going on, I’ll ring Stan myself,’ she threatened. ‘Or, better still, I’ll ring the head office. This is blatant favouritism, and I’m not having it. Where’s that address book with the number in it?’

  ‘Just leave it,’ Mark groaned when she started rifling through the kitchen drawers.

  ‘And let Stan get away with sacking you but not Steve? No chance!’

  ‘It’s got nothing to do with Steve. Stan’s been looking for an excuse to get rid of me for ages, and now he’s found one – end of.’

  ‘That doesn’t make sense.’ Amy rounded on him, the address book in her hand. ‘It’s only a few weeks since he gave you that bonus for being employee of the month. Why would he pick you for that if he was planning to get rid of you?’

  ‘Because he’s a cunt!’ Mark hissed, annoyed at himself for not thinking this through properly. ‘Now put a sock in it, for fuck’s sake. I’ve got a headache.’

  ‘A headache?’ Amy drew her head back and stared down at him in disbelief. ‘You come home and drop a bomb like this on me, then tell me to drop it ’cos you’ve got a headache? Are you serious?’

  ‘Back off,’ Mark warned. ‘I really don’t need this.’

  ‘You don’t need it?’ Amy squawked. ‘What about me? And the kids – or have you forgotten about them?’

  ‘Will you just shut the fuck up?’ Mark yelled. ‘I’ve had a shit day, and I just want to have a beer in peace.’

  ‘Oh, I’m sorry! Pardon me for disturbing your beer, just ’cos I’m worried about how I’m going to feed my kids!’

  Mark couldn’t take any more. He lurched to his feet, kicked his chair across the kitchen and marched out, punching the door on the way.

  ‘Oh, that’s right, smash the place up,’ Amy cried, running after him. ‘And don’t think you’re going out,’ she yelled, hurling the address book onto the living room table when he snatched his jacket off the couch and headed for the front door. ‘We’re going to talk about this whether you like it or not. Are you listening to me, Mark? . . . Mark!’

  Furious when he walked out, slamming the door behind him, she yanked it open again and screamed, ‘If you don’t come back right now, we’re finished! I mean it, Mark!’

  He ignored her and carried on walking. Conscious of net curtains twitching at windows all along the road, Amy balled her hands into fists and cursed his retreating back. The bastard was lucky that Bobby was asleep and she couldn’t leave the house or she’d have gone after him and given him what for.

  The door of the house directly opposite opened and Amy’s neighbour Gemma came out and waddled up the path. She dropped a plastic bag into the wheelie bin and then paused to wipe her hands on her jeans, before doing a comical double take.

  ‘Oh, hello, Amy love. Didn’t see you there. Everything all right?’

  ‘Fine,’ Amy snarled, seeing right through her little act. The bag had been practically empty, and it was obvious that the fat cow had only brought it out as an excuse to watch the show. Well, tough, it was over!

  The phone started to ring. Amy slammed the door, marched into the living room and snatched up the receiver. ‘What?’

  ‘Er, hi, Amy,’ Steve said cautiously. ‘Is Mark there?’

  ‘No, he bloody well isn’t,’ Amy snapped. ‘And if you see him before I do, you can tell him he’d best come straight back or he needn’t bother coming back at all!’

  She smashed the receiver back onto its cradle and slumped down on the couch with her face in her hands.

  ‘Don’t cry, Mummy.’ Bobby’s little voice came from the doorway.

  Shocked, because she hadn’t heard him coming down the stairs, Amy quickly pulled herself together and wiped her eyes on her sleeve.

  ‘I’m not crying,’ she lied, smiling as he clambered up onto the couch beside her. ‘I’ve just got something in my eye, that’s all.’

  ‘I kiss it better,’ said Bobby, holding her face in his hands.

  Amy closed her eyes and let him kiss her on both eyelids. Then, giving him a cuddle, she glanced at her watch. ‘Oh God, look at the time. It’s lucky you woke up or we’d have been late for Cassie.’

  ‘Cassie!’ Bobby yelled, bouncing in excitement at the mention of his adored big sister.

  Determined not to let this latest disaster affect him or Cassie, Amy strapped him into his buggy and set off for school with a smile on her lips. But it was hard to maintain the front when she felt as if she was clinging to the edge of a cliff by her fingertips. She couldn’t wait for the day to be over.

  Steve had been on his afternoon break when he rang Amy and she’d sounded so upset that it had made him feel like shit, even though it wasn’t his fault. This was totally down to Mark, and Steve was pissed off with him for screwing up again. It was the fourth job he’d been sacked from in the last year alone, and Steve had warned him time and time again to stop pushing his luck. But the idiot had ignored him.

  Still annoyed when he arrived home that evening and found Mark waiting for him on the communal stairs outside his flat, he gave him a disapproving look. But Mark was too busy feeling sorry for himself to notice.

  ‘About time,’ he grumbled, making a show of getting up stiffly. ‘I’ve been sat here for hours. Can’t even feel my arse, it’s that cold.’

  ‘Should have stayed at home in the warm, then, shouldn’t you?’ Steve said coolly.

  ‘Don’t you start,’ Mark groaned. ‘I’ve had enough shit off Amy already. Just make me a coffee and give us a fag. And hurry up with the door – I need to thaw out.’

  Steve felt like telling him to go home. But there was no point, because Mark never did anything until he was good and ready. So he kept his mouth shut and let him in, then left him to wallow on the couch while he got changed and made a brew.

  ‘Stan’s a right cunt,’ Mark complained when Steve handed his cup to him. ‘I should have smashed his fucking head in. Should have seen him, sitting there giving it the big I am. You’ve had your warnings,’ he mimicked. ‘I’ll give him fucking warnings.’

  ‘You were warned,’ Steve said bluntly, sitting on his chair by the window. ‘You had more chances than you deserve, if you ask me, and you’ve proper taken the piss these last few weeks. I’m surprised he didn’t do it ages ago.’

  ‘Oh, cheers.’ Mark flashed him a hard-done-by look. ‘Nice to know I’ve got your support.’

  ‘It’s not just about you, though, is it?’ Steve reminded him. ‘You’ve got Amy and the kids to think about, an’ all. Don’t you think it’s time you knocked the gambling on the head if it’s causing this much grief?’

  ‘Fuck off!’ Mark sneered. ‘Making out like I’m some kind of junkie, when all I’v
e done is had a few bets on the horses. Everyone does that – even you.’

  ‘Yeah, once a year on the Grand National. Hardly the same thing, mate. Anyhow, it’s not just the horses with you. I’m always trying to get you off the fruit machine when we’re at the pub. And what about all the scratch cards you left in your locker? There must have been about fifty when I looked, and they’re all duds. How much did that cost?’

  ‘Jeezus! What are you, my fucking therapist?’ Mark sniped. ‘If I wanted a lecture, I’d have stayed at home.’

  ‘Maybe you should have,’ Steve shot back. ‘Amy sounded really upset when I spoke to her.’

  Mark pulled a dismissive face. ‘She’s always upset about something. She does my head in, moaning all the time. And she wonders why I can’t stand being around her.’

  ‘Don’t make out like this is her fault,’ Steve berated him. ‘She’s put up with a lot of shit off you over the years, and she’s stuck by you when plenty would have walked.’

  ‘Careful, you’re starting to sound like a woman,’ Mark sneered.

  ‘Say what you want about me.’ Steve shrugged. ‘It don’t change the fact that you’ve messed up again. And that’s not Amy’s fault, it’s yours.’

  ‘Since when did you care about her?’ Mark asked. ‘If I remember right, you were the one who kept telling me to break it off with her before we got wed.’

  ‘Only ’cos I knew you were messing around, and I didn’t see why you couldn’t just be honest if you didn’t want to be with her.’

  ‘Oh, yeah, ’cos you’ve never cheated on a bird, have you?’

  ‘I’m not saying I haven’t, but at least I’ve always finished with them before they found out. I haven’t married them and made their lives a fucking misery.’

  ‘Well, aren’t you the shiny little saint?’

  ‘This isn’t about me. It’s about you, and that problem of yours. And you can deny it all you want, but it must be a problem if you’ve gone and lost your job over it.’

  ‘I’ve had enough of this.’ Mark slammed his cup down on the table and jumped to his feet. ‘You’re supposed to be my mate, not my bleedin’ mother. See you when you remember where you left your dick.’

  ‘You’ll have to face up to it sooner or later,’ Steve called after him as he marched out. ‘Think about the kids. They’re the ones who are going to suffer.’

  Mark slammed the door, stomped down the stairs and hit the pavement, anger propelling him towards the pub.

  It was one thing Amy having a go – she was his wife, and that was what they did best. But mates were supposed to have your back in times of trouble, not make you feel worse. And as for Steve suggesting that he had a problem, that was just stupid. He didn’t wake up sweating and shaking of a morning, desperate for a gambling fix; he just liked the occasional flutter. And Amy hadn’t complained when he’d bunged her that extra cash the other week – even if he had lied about where it had really come from. The greedy bitch had almost snatched his fucking hand off.

  Still brooding when he reached the pub, Mark bought himself a pint and headed defiantly for the fruit machine. Fuck Steve, and fuck Amy. It was his money, and if he wanted to blow it, it was none of their business.

  Ginger Jenny was getting ready to meet up with her friends Fiona and Katie. Although she was no longer ginger, having finally shaken off the last shackles of her mother’s control and visited a hairdresser.

  She had pleaded with her mother for years to let her change her hair colour, convinced that it would make the bullies stop picking on her, make the boys fancy her, and make everybody in general realise how great she was and want to be her friend. Her mum had point-blank refused to spend money on something that she considered frivolous, so Jenny had been forced to suffer. And, even after her mother had died, she hadn’t dared to do it, unable to shake the feeling that her mother was still there in spirit.

  That feeling had eased after the council had taken the house back and moved her into a flat, and she had finally taken control of her life. A brunette now, with a style that was both trendy and easy to manage, Jenny felt pretty for the first time ever. And, having invested in a whole new wardrobe to complete her new image, she was ready to show herself off to the world, so when Katie and Fiona had asked her to go for a drink, she’d said yes – even though she’d never liked either of them.

  Spurned and ridiculed by the cooler kids, the three of them had stuck together at school like a little band of lepers. Jenny had dropped the other two like a hot brick after leaving, and hadn’t contacted them since. But Fiona had got back in touch after hearing about her mum passing away, and the pair of them had been bombarding her with phone calls ever since, seemingly convinced that she needed support and comfort.

  When the carriage clock on the mantelpiece chimed softly, Jenny slipped her feet into her new stiletto heels and stepped back to check her reflection in the mirror, turning this way and that to make sure there were no unsightly bulges, or labels hanging out. As she preened, she glimpsed the urn on the windowsill out of the corner of her eye, and flashed it a sly smile.

  ‘Something wrong?’ she asked, as if responding to an unspoken muttering of disapproval from the ashes within. ‘Skirt too short? Too much make-up?’ She paused and cocked her head, as if waiting for an answer. Then, shrugging, said, ‘Oh, well, it’s not up to you any more, is it?’

  Jenny felt great as she made her way to the pub, but her good mood dipped when she saw that Fiona and Katie weren’t waiting outside as they had promised. She pulled her phone out of her bag and brought up Fiona’s number.

  ‘Where the hell are you?’

  ‘Sorry,’ Fiona apologised. ‘But I’m sure we said half past, and it’s not quite ten past yet.’

  ‘What am I supposed to do now?’ Jenny demanded. ‘I only agreed to come because you begged me, but I wouldn’t have bothered if I’d known you were going to let me down.’

  ‘We didn’t know you were going to be early or we’d have made sure we were there before you,’ said Fiona, still apologetic even though it wasn’t her fault. ‘Look, we’re leaving right now. We’ll be there in ten minutes – I promise.’

  ‘You’d better be,’ snapped Jenny, disconnecting the call and shoving the phone back into her bag.

  Annoyed, she reached out to open the pub door – at the exact moment that Mark pulled it open from his side. Their gazes met, and Jenny broke out in a cold sweat.

  Mark was flat broke – and nowhere near drunk enough to forget his woes. But a pretty face always cheered him up, so he smiled, stepped back, and waved the girl in.

  ‘After you, darlin’.’

  ‘Thanks.’ Legs like jelly, Jenny stumbled over the step.

  ‘Steady.’ Mark reached out and caught her. Then, cocking his head to one side, he peered at her closely. ‘Do I know you?’

  ‘It’s Jenny,’ she told him in a tiny voice. ‘Jenny Abbot.’

  Mark stared some more, then shrugged. ‘Sorry. Doesn’t ring any bells.’

  Before she could stop herself, Jenny heard the words that had plagued her entire childhood coming from her mouth: ‘Ginger Jenny?’

  Mark drew his head back and gave her a disbelieving look. ‘You’re joking!’

  Pleased that he remembered her at last, albeit at the expense of her pride, Jenny nodded.

  Mark looked her up and down. ‘Wow, you look well different. I would never have recognised you.’

  Jenny reached up and self-consciously touched her hair. ‘It’s been a long time,’ she murmured. ‘How’s Amy?’

  ‘All right,’ Mark grunted, his good humour slipping at the mention of his wife.

  ‘And the baby?’ Jenny went on. ‘Lassie, wasn’t it?’

  ‘Cassie,’ Mark corrected her. ‘Yeah, she’s good. I’ve got a son now, an’ all,’ he added proudly. ‘Bobby.’

  ‘Wow, two kids. That’s great. How old are they?’

  ‘Five and two. What about you?’

  ‘Me?’ Jenny laughed sof
tly. ‘God, no! Still young, free and single. Not that I’m anti children, or anything,’ she added quickly, fearing that she might have offended him. ‘It’s just not for me, if you know what I mean.’

  Mark knew, all right. He’d lost count of how many times he’d wished he could go back to when he’d first met Amy, because if he’d known back then what life as a husband and father was going to be like he wouldn’t have touched her with a rubber-coated barge pole.

  Neither of them spoke for several long moments. Jenny shifted her handbag onto her other shoulder. Mark hadn’t made any move to leave yet, and she wondered if it was possible that he wanted to talk some more. She might as well have been invisible for all the notice he’d paid her at school, and he’d completely blanked her on the night of her mum’s funeral. But a lot had changed since then. She certainly had. She might never be as pretty as Amy, or any of the other girls who Mark had knocked about with back then, but she looked bloody good tonight.

  ‘Look, I’m supposed to be meeting my friends,’ she said, taking the bull by the horns. ‘But I’ve got time for a quick drink if you fancy it?’

  ‘Er, nah, best not.’ Mark shuffled his feet. ‘I left my wallet at home.’

  ‘I’ll pay,’ Jenny offered, blushing as soon as the words left her mouth. ‘Unless you’ve got to get back to Amy?’

  Mark pulled a face and made a soft snorting sound. ‘She’ll see me when she sees me.’

  ‘Oh, right,’ Jenny murmured, her heart jumping for joy at the thought that maybe his marriage wasn’t so perfect after all.

  Mark was staring at her again. He’d been ashamed after having sex with her at his wedding, and had never dreamed that he would ever want to go there again. But he had to admit that she didn’t look half bad now she’d sorted out her hair and put on some make-up. And, unlike Amy who had totally let herself go since having the kids, she was slim, and her tits faced him instead of the floor.

  ‘You still live down by the Addy?’ he asked, toying with the idea of persuading her to take him back there for a drink – and whatever else might be on the menu.