‘Oh, right.’ Steve looked suitably contrite as he put down the shopping bags and sat down. ‘I just thought . . . Well, you know what I thought. How’s she been?’
‘Bit subdued. But it’s to be expected, considering what she’s been going through.’
‘Why, what’s she said?’
‘You need to talk to her,’ Layla said quietly. ‘She only told me a bit, but her side of the story is nothing like Mark’s version.’
They stopped talking when Amy walked in, and Steve smiled up at her. ‘I believe we’re going to have the pleasure of your cooking tonight?’
‘It’s been a while, so you might not think it’s such a pleasure when you taste it,’ said Amy, putting two cups of coffee down on the table. ‘I heard you coming in, so I made you one. Hope you still take two sugars?’
‘Yes, he does. And I’m sure whatever you make will be lovely,’ said Layla, standing up. ‘Now, if you’ll excuse me, I need a wee.’
She touched Steve’s shoulder as she walked past the couch, and gave a surreptitious nod in Amy’s direction.
Steve grinned at Amy when she’d gone. ‘Think that’s her subtle way of saying we should talk.’
Amy smiled and twisted her wedding ring around on her finger. She felt shy all of a sudden, and that was weird because she’d known Steve for ever. But having spent a bit of time with his wife, she’d realised that she didn’t really know him any more. It wasn’t just the house that was new, his whole life seemed to have changed. He was a married man now, with a beautiful wife, and a baby on the way. But one thing definitely hadn’t changed: he was still rock solid, reliable, honest and lovely.
Steve had been watching Amy closely as she sank into her thoughts, and it saddened him to see how troubled she looked. The Amy he knew had been feisty and bubbly, and more than capable of dealing with whatever life threw at her. Hell, she’d survived all the shit Mark had put her through during their ill-fated marriage when lesser women would have crumbled. But the light seemed to have been extinguished from her eyes and there was an air of hopelessness about her, as if she’d taken as much as she could take and was just waiting for the final blow.
‘Want to tell me what’s been going on?’ he asked, his voice soft and low.
Amy gave a non-committal shrug and gazed down at her entwined hands. She’d already said too much to Layla, and she didn’t want to drag Steve into the mess.
‘At least tell me about last night,’ Steve persisted, sensing that he was going to have to drag it out of her slowly and gently. ‘You don’t have to go into detail if you don’t want to, but I can’t get it out of my head that you tried to get yourself killed. Is it really that bad?’
Amy’s eyes flooded with tears. Steve saw them and reached for her hand. ‘Look, we’re mates, so anything you say to me stays with me. I’m not an idiot. I know you’re scared of something – or someone. Is it Mark? Has he been hassling you?’
‘No.’ Amy shook her head and swiped at a tear. ‘I haven’t spoken to him in months.’
‘Well, is it your boyfriend, then?’ Steve probed. ‘Mark told me you were seeing someone. Has it finished? Is that what’s up? ’Cos you know no man’s worth trying to kill yourself over, don’t you?’
‘Oh, God,’ Amy moaned. ‘Stop being so nice to me, I don’t deserve it.’
‘Why?’ Steve frowned. ‘What have you done that’s so bad? If you’re talking about the drugs, we’ve all dabbled. That doesn’t make you a bad person.’
‘You don’t know the half of it,’ Amy said in a whisper.
‘I know you,’ said Steve. ‘And I know you’re not the kind of girl to do what you’ve done without a bloody good reason. You love your kids too much.’
The mention of the children broke the dam, and when the floodgates opened in earnest Steve pulled Amy into his arms and rocked her. ‘Talk to me,’ he urged. ‘Let me help you.’
Amy hadn’t told even Kelvin half of what came pouring out now. But Steve had always had the power to make her feel safe, and before she knew it she had told him everything, from Mark borrowing the money and running away, to Yates shifting the debt onto her and making her work the streets, to him getting her hooked on smack and setting her up in the brothel, to the fire and Kelvin getting shot.
‘A girl I thought I could trust told Yates where I’d been staying last night,’ she finished. ‘And I knew he was never going to give up, so I decided to put an end to it before he caught up with me.’
‘Why didn’t you come to me?’ Steve asked, his broad chest heaving with the rage he was struggling to contain.
‘I didn’t want to get you involved,’ Amy told him. ‘Anyway, I was too ashamed.’
‘You had no reason to be ashamed. None of this was your fault. I could kill Mark.’
‘It’s not his fault. Not all of it. He didn’t know what was happening after he left – I never told him.’
‘He shouldn’t have put you in that position in the first place,’ said Steve angrily. ‘And after what you’ve been through, there’s no way you should be defending him. He took your kids off you and made everyone think it was your fault. Shit, even I thought they were better off with him. Some mate I am.’
Feeling stronger now that she’d got it all off her chest, Amy said, ‘Don’t feel guilty. Everyone else has turned on me, but you brought me home and gave me a bed for the night even though you thought all that stuff was true. And Layla doesn’t even know me, but she’s been brilliant. You both have.’
‘I’m still sorry for taking Mark’s word as gospel without even asking you,’ said Steve. ‘I should have known something was wrong. But now I do know, I’m going to make sure no one ever hurts you like that again.’
Amy sighed, and pulled herself out of his arms. ‘That’s what Kelvin said, and look what happened to him,’ she murmured, wiping her eyes. ‘I’d never forgive myself if you and Layla got hurt. It’s best I just go.’
‘You’re going nowhere,’ Layla said firmly, walking into the room just then and sitting on the other side of Amy. ‘Sorry, I wasn’t eavesdropping, but I heard some of what you were saying, and I’m with Steve . . . this isn’t your fault.’
‘It doesn’t matter whose fault it is any more,’ Amy said wearily. ‘It’s gone way past that. Yates thinks he owns me, and I got away, so now he wants me dead. I just thank God he doesn’t know where Cassie is. But she’ll be safe as long as the social services are involved, ’cos he won’t go near the authorities.’
Steve and Layla exchanged a hooded glance. Amy saw it and frowned. ‘What?’
‘The social services have closed the case,’ Steve told her. ‘Now that Mark and Jenny have set the date, they reckoned they didn’t need any more intervention. They said they’d reassess if you decided to get back in touch, but they’re in the clear for now.’
‘Oh, God,’ Amy murmured, fear leaping into her eyes. ‘They’ll be in danger if Yates finds out. He’ll get at Cassie to get to me.’
‘I’m sure they’ll be fine.’ Layla patted Amy’s hand reassuringly. ‘Mark would never let any harm come to them.’
‘Mark’s terrified of Yates,’ Amy reminded her. ‘He won’t be able to stop him. No one can. He’s a maniac.’
‘Sounds more like a bully to me,’ Layla said dismissively. ‘And bullies are only strong when they’re threatening vulnerable people. The police would soon sort him out.’
‘You don’t know what he’s like. He’s not scared of anyone.’
‘I’m sure if the police heard about the gun they’d soon pick him up.’
‘No, Amy’s right,’ Steve interjected. ‘Knowing the police, they’ll go wading in and cock it up. Then he’ll know they’re onto him and he’ll have nothing to lose. Probably best to try and sort it out ourselves.’
‘How?’ Layla gave him a worried look. ‘You can’t go after him.’
‘I’ll think of something,’ Steve said quietly. ‘Till then, Amy stays here. And I’ll have a word with Mark – warn him
to keep a close eye on the kids.’
34
Mark had never been so bored. The wedding was still three weeks away, but Jenny had been like a woman possessed for months and it was seriously doing his head in. He wouldn’t have minded so much if he actually wanted to get married again, but he just couldn’t summon up any excitement, and the dread increased as the day drew ever nearer. He was sure he had an ulcer, because he seemed to have constant stomach ache. Then again, it was probably a reaction to all the ibuprofen he’d been taking to tackle the constant headaches.
It was said that getting married was one of the most stressful things you could do in life and, boy, was he finding that out the hard way. He didn’t remember feeling half as stressed in the run-up to his and Amy’s wedding, but he’d only been a kid that time and had treated it all like a big party, little knowing how bad things were going to get after the partying stopped. Now he knew exactly what to expect, and he was dreading it.
Jenny, however, seemed to have no such worries about the future, and she was going all out to make this wedding as spectacular as possible. Although why she was bothering, considering no one from her side was coming apart from two dorky old schoolmates and a couple of batty old aunts who hadn’t even confirmed yet, Mark had no idea. His side wasn’t exactly going to be packed out, either; just his mum, a handful of aunts, uncles and cousins, and some of his mates and their birds. But the way Jenny was going on, anyone would have thought they were catering for half of Manchester. Everything had to be just so, from the reception venue, to the choice of starters and mains, to the ridiculously expensive dress she’d set her heart on.
The dress was a real bone of contention for Mark. It was going to cost more than the rest of it put together, but every time he asked where the money was coming from Jenny fobbed him off and changed the subject. He had a horrible feeling she’d got herself another credit card behind his back, but he’d searched all the drawers for statements and hadn’t found anything. Jenny kept telling him not to worry about it, but that just worried him even more, because he just knew it was all going to come crashing down around his ears once the day was done and reality set in.
‘Mark!’ Jenny’s voice cut into his thoughts. ‘Mark! Are you listening to me?’
‘Uh?’ He looked up at her.
‘I said, what do you think?’
‘Of what?’
‘Your daughter’s dress.’ Jenny pushed the child forward. ‘You don’t think it’s too long?’
‘It’s fine,’ Mark said with absolute lack of interest. The dressmaker had been here for two hours now, measuring and snipping and sewing, and he’d long ago switched off from it all.
‘It hurts my neck,’ Cassie mumbled tearfully.
‘Oh, stop being such a mard.’ Jenny tutted and turned the girl roughly back around. ‘You’re just sulking because you wanted pink and I chose peach. But this isn’t about you, it’s about me.’
‘She said it hurts her neck,’ Mark said protectively. ‘She didn’t mention the colour.’
‘No, but that’s what she meant,’ Jenny countered, smiling as if she wasn’t really annoyed about it. ‘I know, ’cos I’m the one who’s had to put up with her tantrums while you’ve been out having fun with your mates. But not to worry, she’ll be happy on the day. Won’t you, darling?’
When she smiled down at Cassie now, the little girl shivered and nodded.
‘Good, that’s sorted, then,’ Mark said, standing up.
‘Where are you going?’ Jenny frowned when he picked up his jacket and slipped it on. ‘Maggie needs to take your measurements.’
‘No, she doesn’t. I’m hiring that suit I looked at last week. See you in a bit.’
‘Can I come, Daddy?’ Cassie gave him an imploring look.
‘Nah, best you stay here,’ said Mark. ‘Bobby will be awake in a bit, and he’ll only cry if you’re not here.’
Cassie’s chin quivered, but she said no more.
Jenny followed Mark out into the hall and pulled the door shut. ‘You promised to stay in today, so where are you going?’
‘I need some fags,’ Mark told her, trotting down the stairs. ‘And I’ve got a headache, so I wanted to get a bit of air.’
‘Can’t it wait?’
‘No, I’m gagging. Anyway, I thought I wasn’t supposed to see the dress before the day.’
‘No, but . . .’
‘But nothing. Unless you want to jinx it?’ Smiling when Jenny shook her head, Mark pulled the front door open. ‘Won’t be long.’
‘You’d better not be,’ Jenny warned. ‘You’ve been out every night this week, and I’m starting to think you only want me as a nanny.’
‘Don’t be stupid.’ Mark frowned. ‘Where’s all this coming from? Are you due on, or something?’
‘No, I’m just worried you’re not taking this seriously,’ Jenny said sulkily. ‘You’re treating me like you used to treat Amy, and I don’t like it.’
‘Am I hell,’ Mark sneered, stepping out onto the path. ‘Anyhow, hadn’t you best get back to Widow Twanky before she messes about with your colour scheme?’
Jenny gritted her teeth and clenched her fists when he turned and walked away. She felt like slamming the door and kicking it, but pride refused to allow her to reveal that they weren’t quite the perfect family she’d made them out to be. So she took a deep breath and reminded herself that Mark was probably just suffering last-minute nerves. His and Amy’s wedding had been a farce, so it was understandable that he would be reluctant to get involved in the preparations of this one for fear of history repeating itself. He was only a man, after all, and everyone knew that women were the true force behind the marital throne. All she had to do was put her plans into place, and then lead him through the event by the metaphorical dog collar.
But woe betide that little bitch of a daughter of his if she dared to try and put the mockers on it. She never misbehaved when Mark was out, but the minute he was around she seemed to think she could act up and nothing would come of it. Well, if she thought she was getting away with today’s little stunt, she was wrong. The dress hurt her neck, did it? Just wait till the dressmaker had gone . . . Jenny would give her something to make her forget all about that other little pain.
And the same would go for Bobby if he dared to wreck his suit trousers on the day by soiling himself. Mark might keep excusing the little moron, but Jenny knew he was doing it on purpose, and if he carried on . . .
Well, he’d better not, that was all.
Mark had forgotten to take his mobile phone, and it was ringing when Jenny walked back into the front room. She picked it up and smiled at the dressmaker when she saw the name on the screen. ‘It’s Mark’s friend. Won’t be a minute.’
She walked back out into the hall to answer it, but it went to voicemail before she had a chance. Ordinarily, she’d have left it for Mark to pick up, but curiosity got the better of her as it occurred to her that it might be something to do with the stag party Steve was supposed to be organising. Mark had assured her that it would be just a few of the lads going out for a quiet drink, but she had a sneaking suspicion that his loutish friends might have lined up a stripper. And if Steve mentioned it now, there would be no stag – full stop.
‘Mark, it’s me,’ Steve’s message began. ‘I’ve been talking to Amy and she’s a bit worried about the kids. Give us a ring when you get this and I’ll bring you up to speed. Till then, just keep an eye on them, yeah?’
Jenny’s nostrils were flaring when the message finished, and her teeth were so tightly clenched it made her jaw ache. The bitch! How dare she think she could walk back into their lives after all this time. And right before the wedding, too. No, it wasn’t happening. Jenny had to get rid of her before she threw a spanner into the works.
Chin raised, Jenny went back into the front room and put Mark’s phone back where it had been before reaching for her own. ‘Just need to make a quick call,’ she told the dressmaker who was adjusting the straps on
Cassie’s dress. ‘Then I’m all yours.’
35
Yates leaned forward in his seat and tipped a thick line of coke onto the coffee table. It was the first time he’d been back to his flat in days, and it reeked of stale smoke and sweat. It was cold, too, and a gang of flies kept dive-bombing him as if he’d intruded on their territory. He slammed his fist down on one that landed next to his line, and snorted the powder up through a rolled-tenner straw. His eyes immediately started to water, and he threw his head back to wait for the acrid burn in his nose and throat to ease.
He felt like he had a ticking bomb inside his head, and he needed it to explode so that he could think clearly again. The pressure had been building for weeks, but after missing Amy last night it had swelled to the extent that there was no room in his mind for anything else. The only thing that would relieve it was to get his hands on her, but he’d had Keith drive him around for ages last night only to find that she had vanished into thin air, and his rage had escalated to blind fury to think that she had escaped him again.
Forced to stop the hunt when a cop car started following them, he’d had Keith drop him off at Marnie’s. But, too wired to sleep properly, he had tossed and turned all night and had woken in an even more foul mood this morning. Almost losing it when Marnie started nagging him for staying out so late again, he’d picked his car up and come back to the flat to get his head together. But several hours and numerous lines of coke later, he was no less angry.
Keith had been right when he’d accused him of having fallen for Amy. He’d denied it at the time, and had even tried to convince himself that it wasn’t true. But it was, and it infuriated him that he’d been so weak. Blonde, blue-eyed and feisty, Amy was exactly the kind of girl he’d always fantasised about. Their courtship had been short, and it might have appeared at times as if he was being overly rough on her. But she ought to have known that it would have got better if she’d just stopped fighting him. He’d have given her the world, and maybe then it would have been her who was carrying his child now instead of that slapper Marnie.
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