Broke
Page 18
When Yates dropped her off outside Hawaii a short time later, Amy rushed inside. As much as she still hated the actual work, she did enjoy coming here. Not only because it was the only time she ever got out of the house now that Yates had more or less moved in, but also because it felt good to talk to the other girls without being sneered at and looked down on.
‘Evening.’ Kelvin, the doorman, smiled as he let her in. ‘And how are you tonight?’
‘Fine, thanks.’ Amy smiled back. ‘You?’
‘Can’t complain.’ He shrugged. ‘See you later.’
‘Yeah, see you.’ Amy waved and tripped up the stairs.
Kelvin was a nice man, and very good-looking. The other girls were always flirting with him and going on about what they’d like to do to him given the chance, but Amy didn’t dare get too friendly in case Yates found out. She’d made the mistake of saying hello to a male neighbour a while back, and Yates had battered her before threatening to petrol bomb the man’s house. It had taken ages to convince him that she wasn’t flirting with the man, and she’d never made the same mistake again.
As usual, Betty Bullshit was holding court in the staffroom, ever-present cigarette holder clamped between her yellow teeth. She had been on the game for ever and swore she was only fifty, but they all knew she was closer to seventy. Rumour had it that she’d been the mistress of Mani’s father and that was why Mani kept her on despite it being several years since any of the punters had so much as sniffed in her direction. Whether or not that was true, her ludicrous stories brightened what would otherwise be a dismal job.
‘Ah, here she is.’ Betty broke off from her current story when she spotted Amy. ‘Shove the kettle on, there’s a good girl. And drop a nip of this in mine.’ She pulled a small bottle of whisky out from between her gargantuan breasts and tossed it to Amy. ‘So, where were we?’ She picked up her thread. ‘Oh, yes . . . Well, I was whipping Frank with my suspender belt, when Elvis wakes up . . .’
‘Know who she’s talking about, don’t you?’ Ella whispered, joining Amy at the sink as she filled the kettle. ‘Only reckons Frank Sinatra flew her to LA for a threesome with Elvis.’
‘Really?’ Amy raised an eyebrow.
‘As if!’ Ella snorted. ‘Must be fuckin’ nice being her, though, eh? Living in a land of total make-believe.’
‘She’s harmless,’ Amy murmured, glancing quickly back over her shoulder to make sure no one was eavesdropping. ‘Did you get it?’
Ella nodded and slipped a tiny wrap into her hand. ‘Don’t forget to pay us before you go, though, ’cos I need to pay my guy first thing.’
‘I won’t,’ Amy promised, slipping the wrap into her bra. If she’d been brave enough she’d have smoked some in the loo, but there was no way she was risking it while Mani was prowling around. The man had a nose like a sniffer dog on heat and, while anything else might go in here, drugs were an absolute no-no and anyone caught using on the premises would be out on their arse in a flash – and Yates would kill Amy if that happened.
‘Well, we laughed so much,’ Betty was saying when Amy handed her tea over a few minutes later. ‘I said, Elvis, you’d better bloody stop or I’m not gonna be able to walk by the time you’ve finished.’
‘Who’s Elvis?’ Trudy, the youngest girl, asked, still soaking it all up like a sponge despite having been told a thousand times that it was all rubbish.
‘Presley,’ Betty told her. ‘The undisputed king of rock and roll.’
‘You’ve shagged a king?’
‘Oh, for God’s sake.’ Ella shook her head and rolled her eyes at Amy.
Amy smiled and settled down to drink her tea.
Mani walked in a few minutes later and demanded to know why they were all still sitting here gassing.
‘Punters are queuing up round the block out there,’ he said, clapping his hands together. ‘Come on . . . get moving.’
Amy finished her brew and wandered down the corridor to her room. A few minutes later, a tap came at the door. Sighing, she said, ‘Come in, Jimmy.’
‘How d’you know it was me?’ the man asked as he sidled in.
‘You’re the only one who ever knocks,’ Amy told him. ‘What’s it to be?’
‘Usual, please.’ Jimmy closed the door and fumbled with his belt.
Amy turned her back to take her top off. When she turned round, Jimmy was already naked and lying on the bed, worm in hand, racing heartbeat causing his paper-thin chest to vibrate visibly. He was by far the gentlest and most polite of the punters, but his puny body and rotten teeth disgusted her.
‘Can you do a special?’ he asked huskily when she straddled him.
Amy swallowed the bile that had risen into her throat and shuffled up the bed on her knees until she was squatting over his face.
‘Do it,’ he gasped.
‘I’m trying,’ she muttered.
‘Please,’ he urged. ‘I’ll give you an extra twenty.’
Amy squeezed her eyes shut. This was so humiliating, but the extra money meant that she’d be able to pay Ella for the gear instead of sneaking out at the end of her shift as she’d intended.
‘Oh, thank you,’ Jimmy moaned as the hot liquid began to trickle over his ecstatic face. ‘Thank you so much.’
Kelvin was outside having a cigarette when Yates pulled up at five a.m. He waved, dropped the fag, and went back inside to tell Amy her ride was here.
‘You look done in,’ he said, watching from the staffroom door as she slipped her shoes on and reached for her jacket.
‘I’m wiped,’ she agreed, covering a yawn with her hand.
‘Your man don’t look too happy,’ Kelvin warned her quietly. ‘Gave me a right stare just now. You gonna be all right?’
Amy shrugged and stood up. There was no way of knowing until Yates showed his hand. Sometimes he was fine, but more often than not a wrong look or word could send him into a violent rage. The beatings she could handle, but it was torture when he punished her for whatever he thought she’d done by withholding her fix. Still, she had the wrap Ella had given her, so she’d be all right tonight.
‘Take it easy,’ Kelvin said now as he walked ahead of her down the stairs.
Amy nodded and rushed out with her head down. As soon as she climbed into the car she knew that Kelvin had been right about Yates being in a mood. He was drumming his fingers on the steering wheel, and his eyes had the too-bright gleam that told her he’d been doing coke. Aware that it pissed him off when she moved too much, she sat rigid in her seat.
Yates drove home in silence, then followed Amy inside and slammed the door shut.
‘How many did you do tonight?’
‘Eleven or twelve.’ Already trembling, Amy rubbed at her arms and gazed up at him nervously.
‘You taking the piss?’
‘No. That’s all the men who came. Honest.’
‘You lazy fucking bitch!’ Yates snarled, spittle flying out through his clenched teeth and splattering her face. He seized her by the throat and slammed her up against the wall. ‘Think this is a game? Think I ain’t got better things to do than chase after my fuckin’ money week in, week out?’
‘It’s not my fault,’ Amy squealed, struggling to breathe as he squeezed ever harder. ‘Please, Lenny, I did my best. But Mani rotates them so all the girls get the same.’
‘Well, it ain’t good enough!’ Yates was staring at her with such intensity that she felt physically sick. ‘You owe me, and I’m getting sick of waiting for it.’
Amy could have reminded him that, apart from the odd backhander, she never saw a penny of what she earned, because Mani always handed it straight to Yates. But she kept her mouth shut and braced herself for the beating that she felt sure was coming.
‘And what’s with that cunt back there eyeballing me?’ Yates asked now. ‘You been talking to him?’
‘No, course not.’
‘Liar!’ Yates punched her in the stomach.
‘I’m not!’ Amy cried, clutchi
ng at her midriff. ‘I don’t talk to anyone.’
‘Think I don’t know what goes on in there?’ Yates slapped her around the head and knocked her down to the floor. ‘Think I ain’t got people reporting back to me?’ He kicked her in the stomach. ‘Want me to shoot the cunt, do you? Want me to shoot you, then go after your brats? ’Cos that’s what I’m gonna do if you carry on taking the piss.’
Amy curled into a ball and covered her head with her hands as the kicks kept coming. Finally, what felt like an hour later, Yates stopped and stared down at her.
‘You’re mine,’ he hissed. ‘And if I catch you so much as looking at that black cunt, or any other man, you’re dead.’
Amy stayed where she was for several minutes after he walked out. Then, dragging herself up painfully, she reached into her bra for the wrap that Ella had given her. She was sweating with fear and the paper felt damp. Scared that the powder might be too, she hobbled into the front room and quickly tipped some out onto her foil.
The sound of muffled voices came to her through the wall as she was putting the Monopoly note into her mouth. Sneering, she sucked up the soothing dragon-smoke and lay down, pulling the dirty clothes that were heaped at the end of the couch over herself. Marnie and Yates would be on their way to bed any time now, and Amy had no intention of going upstairs and listening to them at it.
21
Woken by the sound of her mobile phone ringing the next morning, Amy rooted down the side of the couch cushions and dragged it out. Shocked to see Mark’s name on the screen, because they hadn’t spoken in weeks, she sat bolt upright.
‘Hello . . . Mark? What’s up? Are the kids all right?’
‘Like you care,’ spat Mark. ‘It’s your daughter’s birthday, but you’ve obviously forgotten.’
‘Course I haven’t,’ Amy lied, guilt washing over her like a red-hot wave. ‘But I couldn’t send a card ’cos you won’t tell me your address.’
‘Too right I won’t. Think I want you turning up and kicking off every time you feel like it? Anyhow, don’t worry about it, ’cos me and Jenny are doing a party for her.’
‘Can – can I see her?’ Amy’s chin had started to wobble, and tears were scorching her eyes.
‘I just told you, we don’t want you round here,’ said Mark. ‘And the kids don’t, neither.’
‘So why did you ring me?’ Amy cried, guessing that he’d done it to hurt her.
Mark didn’t answer. As it happened, he had only rung to rub it in that he wouldn’t be letting her see Cassie on her birthday. Long as they had been apart now, he was no less angry with her for betraying him. But if hearing about Cassie’s party had hurt her, his next news was guaranteed to cut her to pieces.
‘I wasn’t just ringing about Cassie, actually,’ he said, an edge of spite in his voice. ‘Me and Jenny are getting married, and the social worker reckoned I should tell you before you got wind of it and took it into your head to try and stop us. I wouldn’t, though, if I was you, ’cos Cass is proper excited about being a bridesmaid, and I’d hate for her to have her big day ruined.’
‘You bastard,’ Amy hissed.
‘Yep, that’s me.’ Mark laughed nastily. ‘Anyhow, got to go. Jenny’s baking a special cake, and I’ve got to go and get some candles and balloons, and that.’
When the line went dead, Amy buried her face in her hands and sobbed. She had completely forgotten that it was Cassie’s birthday, and it killed her to think that she wouldn’t be able to see her. She was the one who had always organised the kids’ parties in the past, and if Mark had even made it back from work in time to see them blow out their candles, he’d usually sneaked out again before the smoke had cleared. But all of a sudden he was the world’s best daddy, and he was letting that bitch play mummy and do all the things that Amy had always done. It wasn’t fair, it just wasn’t fair.
Unable to bear it, Amy went to the kitchen and rooted through the bin for one of the spikes that Yates had used on her. She was still terrified of needles, and never injected herself if she could get away with it. But she didn’t have enough gear left to wipe out the pain by smoking it, and desperate times called for desperate measures.
‘What did she say?’ Jenny asked when Mark put down the phone. ‘Did she say anything about me?’
‘She was fuming when I told her you were baking a cake,’ Mark muttered sickly. Jenny had been nagging him to ring Amy and tell her about the wedding for ages, and he’d got quite a kick out of it while he was actually doing it. But the satisfaction had been short-lived. He and Amy had been together for a long time and, however many times he’d cheated on her, she’d always been the one. Still, it was done now, so there was no point thinking about it.
‘She’s only got herself to blame,’ Jenny said self-righteously. ‘If she’d been a proper mum, the kids would still be with her. Not my fault I’m better at it than her.’
Mark didn’t think Jenny’s mothering skills were a patch on Amy’s, and if things had been different he’d have been happy to let the kids go home, because full-time parenting was much harder than he’d thought it was going to be. But that wasn’t an option since the social services had declared Amy unfit, so Jenny would have to do.
‘Best go and get those candles,’ he said, getting up and pulling his jacket on.
‘You won’t be long, will you?’ Jenny asked, kissing him on the cheek.
Mark shook his head and glanced at Cassie. It was Saturday, so there was no school, but far from looking happy at the prospect of spending her birthday at home Mark had never seen her so miserable.
‘What’s up, darlin’?’ He walked over to the couch and squatted down in front of her.
‘Nothing,’ she whispered, sad eyes downcast.
‘You don’t look very happy.’ Mark stroked her hair. ‘If you’re not feeling well, why don’t you go and have a little lie-down with Bobby while Daddy gets the stuff for your party?’
‘I wanted to talk to my mummy,’ Cassie mumbled, casting a wary side-glance at Jenny.
‘I know,’ Mark said quietly, the guilt intensifying and making him feel like a cunt. ‘But she’s not very well at the moment, so she couldn’t talk. Maybe later, eh?’
‘Don’t worry, I’ll cheer her up,’ said Jenny, touching him on the shoulder to tell him to leave Cassie be. ‘You go and get the candles. And don’t forget the pop. Can’t have a birthday party without pop, can we?’ She smiled down at Cassie.
‘Thanks.’ Mark stood up and gave her a grateful smile. ‘Won’t be long.’
Jenny waited until she heard the front door close, then turned to Cassie and scowled.
‘What do you think you’re playing at, you little bitch? Your daddy’s going to a lot of trouble to give you a nice birthday party, and I won’t be happy if you ruin it for him. You’d better get that look off your face and start acting like you’re having fun – or else.’
Tears welling in her eyes, chin quivering uncontrollably, Cassie whimpered, ‘I want my m-mummy.’
‘Boo-hoo! I want my mummy!’ Jenny mimicked nastily. Then, sneering, she said, ‘You’re a stupid little girl. Stupid and ugly, just like your precious mummy. Well, guess what . . . she doesn’t want you. That’s why she wouldn’t talk to you, and that’s why she gave you away, ’cos she can’t stand the sight of you.’
Cassie drew her knees up to her chin and buried her face in them. But Jenny was having none of that. She grabbed the child’s hair and dragged her head up, hissing, ‘You’d better stop this before your dad gets back, or you know what’ll happen, don’t you? Bobby will get hurt. And you don’t want that, do you?’
Tears streaming down her cheeks, Cassie shook her head.
‘Make sure you remember that,’ spat Jenny, letting go of her and heading for the door. ‘I’m going for a bath. Make sure that brat doesn’t touch anything of mine when he wakes up or I’ll chop his hands off.’
Her little chest still heaving, Cassie listened out for the sound of the bolt going across on the b
athroom door. Then, easing herself off the couch, she tiptoed across the room. Mark had left his phone on the arm of the other couch. Cassie had never used a mobile in her life, but she’d watched her mum and dad doing it loads of times, so she thought she knew what to do. Hands shaking wildly, she stared at the door, picked up the phone and pressed the redial button.
Amy had just finished preparing her fix and was trying to summon up the courage to inject herself when her mobile rang again. Red mist descending when she saw Mark’s name on the screen, she snatched it up and yelled, ‘Fuck off and die, you bastard! I hate you, and I never want to see you or hear your horrible voice again!’
Shocked and heartbroken, Cassie dropped the phone and ran into the bedroom, dived under the quilt, curled into a little ball and buried her face in the pillow to cover the sound of her sobs.
All she’d wanted was to hear her mummy sing Happy Birthday To You like she’d always used to do on their birthdays. And she’d wanted to tell her that she loved her, and missed her, and didn’t want to be a bridesmaid because she hated Jenny and didn’t want her daddy to get married to her. But more than anything she’d wanted to tell her mummy to come and get her and Bobby and take them home.
But that was never going to happen, because Jenny had been telling the truth. Her mummy did hate her.
22
As usual, Kelvin Brown was smiling when he opened the door for Amy that night. But his smile soon slipped when he caught sight of the bruise on her cheek and the livid markings on her throat.
‘Oh, my days,’ he murmured concernedly. ‘What’s he done now?’
Amy blushed and self-consciously covered her face with her hand, murmuring ‘I fell over’ as she rushed towards the stairs.