She stilled and looked at him with relief. ‘Rockers.’ She’d never been so pleased to see anyone in her life. ‘Bloody hell, open the door.’
As soon as he did she chucked up in the gutter. Her body heaved until it hurt. He drew her gently back inside. Sixteen-year-old Dexter Ingram, nicknamed Rockers by his mates, was another entry on her mum’s list of things to stay well clear of. She didn’t understand what the problem was but there was bad blood between the Millers and the Ingrams. Surprisingly, it was her Nanna Babs who really flew off the handle anytime the Ingrams were mentioned. But she’d clicked with Rockers when they were at little school. It wasn’t just that he was a beautiful boy, with a skin tone a similar shade to her Aunty Dee’s and a gorgeous face. He was so kind hearted. They’d bonded years ago when she was seven and some flash Harry of a kid in the playground had smacked her and made her cry. He was the one boo-hooing after Rockers had finished with him, earning a two-day suspension. He’d gone at the kid so hard that some of the other children had said he’d been off his rocker, and the name Rockers had stuck. He’d been her secret good angel from that day.
His hands eased away as he checked her out. ‘How you feeling?’
She shrugged and blinked a few times before answering, ‘I’m alright. I’m a big girl.’
Anger covered his face. ‘You’re thirteen years old and if I hadn’t busted up the party . . .’
She sent him a sheepish look. She didn’t like to pee him off. Truth was she had a crush on him the size of Blackwall Tunnel. But she knew he didn’t feel the same about her, probably because she was so much younger.
‘Alright Daddy,’ she let out playfully.
But he wasn’t amused. ‘How many times have I told you to steer clear of that place, eh? Most of the people who go there are off their nut—’
‘I can take care of myself.’ She loved him to bits but his finger wagging was getting on her nerves big time.
‘Oh yeah?’ He pushed his face close to hers. ‘That’s why I found you almost comatose. That dirty ole man you were with spiked your drink. He was going to have it away with you.’
‘Nah.’ She didn’t want to believe him despite knowing full well the dangerous situation she’d ended up in. ‘Tash wouldn’t have let him cop a feel.’
‘Are you for real? She was gonna let him cop more than a feel and you wanna know why?’ She stared bug-eyed at him. ‘You were her payment for money she took to buy drugs. That’s the type of mate you have. Tash is trash and the sooner you get that through your thick skull the sooner you’ll stop knocking around with the bitch.’
Courtney burst into tears at the sorry situation she’d allowed herself to get into. It hurt to think that her closest mate was no pal at all.
Rockers put his arms around her and hugged her tenderly. ‘What’s going on with you Court? Ain’t nothing wrong with having a bevvy or two now and again, but you’re hitting the bottle like Christmas is every day of the week.’
‘I . . . I . . .’ She so wanted to tell him the secret. Some days she felt the terrible thing was going to crush the life out of her. Courtney wanted to tell Rockers so bad . . . As she opened her mouth again her grandmother’s words came back to haunt her: ‘Whatever questions anyone asks, you’ve got to stick to our story. If you don’t, things will get worse. Much worse.’
She clamped her lips together. ‘You can tell me,’ he urged.
‘No I can’t,’ she wanted desperately to scream back. Instead she asked, ‘What were you doing up The Devil’s Playground anyway?’
He pushed away from her. ‘Never you mind.’
She’d heard that he’d jacked in school last summer and was running gear for some Face. But she didn’t pursue it; he wanted to keep his secrets just as she wanted to keep hers.
‘I need to get you home,’ he said. ‘Well as close to home as I can without your mum seeing me.’
Courtney looked down at herself. She was a right mess. ‘Nah, if I come home like this my mum’s gonna blow her top and want chapter and verse about what happened. Don’t fancy that.’
‘Can’t take you to mine coz once my cousin Mel claps eyes on you she’s gonna start playing up.’
Nanna Babs and his cousin Mel hated the very sight of each other. Courtney had been at Whitechapel Market with her mum one Saturday when they nearly collided with Rockers’ cousin. Both women had blown up and would’ve come to blows if the guy on the fish stall hadn’t pulled them apart.
‘So where else can you go to get cleaned up?’ he asked.
‘I dunno.’ Her face fell. ‘My mum’s gonna kill me.’
Tiff knew it wasn’t going to be long before someone called the coppers. She was down The Roman but not as a punter; she’d got her own little ‘stall’ going, raiding her wardrobe as soon as she’d got back from visiting her mum. It was a hastily laid out blanket with her designer clothing looking like knock-down toot. She’d stuck on prices that probably wouldn’t recover a tenth of what she’d paid. It was painful what she’d been reduced to but she needed the money or those two bully boys were going to do her.
Right, better get some fanny going! She launched into some OTT patter, careful not to look people in the eye so their gazes went to what she was selling not her. ‘Everything is a steal! And I don’t mean they’ve fallen off the back of a lorry neither. No, ladies and gents these are a steal coz I’m practically giving ’em away. Yeah, you heard right, giving ’em away. It’s almost breaking my heart.’ She placed her hands over her chest dramatically.
‘Oi.’ She looked across at the stallholder who’d shouted. ‘You got a licence from the council?’
‘Do you mean a licence to sell?’ Coming out of her mouth it sounded like a James Bond movie. She shrugged him off; he wasn’t the market police so he could get stuffed. ‘I’ve got all my receipts.’
He sneered. ‘Yeah, that’s what all the crooks say. You can’t just pitch up without a licence. It’s illegal.’
‘So is your face!’ Tiff dismissed him, pleased to see a small crowd hovering. One woman pointed at a pair of shoes and asked, ‘Are they real Blahnik?’
‘Yeah, of course they are.’
‘Are you sure?’
Tiffany drew breath. ‘What do you want, Manolo himself to sign them for you? They’re real, OK?’
The woman did a deal. Tiff started hustling more, her sharp talk drawing people to her wares. Someone said, ‘This new is it?’
‘As a baby’s bum.’
The items started flying off and the cash rolling in. Tiff couldn’t help chuckling at her good fortune. The money might not cover her whole debt but it was a start.
‘Babe,’ a flashy woman squealed to the man she was hanging off, ‘get me those sunglasses. I always wanted a pair like that.’
Grinning for all she was worth – which wasn’t much – Tiff looked at the man. The smile vanished in an instant when she clocked his face. Tommo, one of the nutters she owed. She didn’t even think; she legged it leaving her prized goods behind. She could hear the bastard running after her. He might be faster but she knew all the nooks and crannies to duck into. Back alleys, side streets, a house being done up where the builders yelled at her. She finally managed to lose him as she entered the back of The Devil near the cemetery. She slumped against a wall puffing hard. That was a close one. There was no point going back to get her stuff; it would be long gone by now.
She dug her hands in her pockets and counted out her cash. Nearly two hundred quid. Not bad for fifteen minutes’ work, but not enough to get Tommo and Co off her back. She shoved the cash away and started walking. She passed a car and then did a double take. She went back and peered inside. ‘Why ain’t you at school Court?’ She looked at the young man with her – Stacey’s nephew, Rockers.
Fifteen
Jen hammered her fist against her sister’s door for the second time. What was taking her so long? Typical Tiff, always doing things in her own time.
‘Is that you Jen?’
‘No, it’s a car
ol singer with a dodgy calendar.’ For crying out loud, just open the feckin’ door!
The sound of a lock pulled back and then another and yet another again. Where did Tiff think she was living? The Bank of flamin’ England?
‘So where’s Court—?’ Jen stopped, concerned, when she saw Tiff’s face. ‘What’s up with ya? You look whiter than a movie star’s teeth.’
‘Forget about me.’ She waved her sister’s concerns away and led her towards the den. ‘We need to talk about Courtney.’
Jen groaned inwardly. That’s all she needed, more bovver. ‘What’s the little madam been up to now? And where is she?’ Her daughter wasn’t in the den when they entered.
Her mouth curled as she clocked the expensive gear spread all over the place. Well, well, well, look how the other half lives. She wasn’t a bitter woman. She’d always been the good daughter, the good sister, the good mum. Always lived on the right side of the law, whereas Tiff had been a chancer at heart, riding her luck, ducking and diving. And look where it had got her – an Aladdin’s Cave. And while Tiff was buying this, buying that, she didn’t have her arse hanging out of her trousers like Jen felt most of the time. No one had to tell Jen nowadays she was looking more Dot Cotton than Kate Moss. Her skirt and top had seen better days and she had deep, dark circles under her tired eyes. Back in the day, Jen would’ve never let herself go in such a way. Looking the bizz had always been her thing. It wasn’t fair. Life wasn’t fair.
‘Been on the rob again?’ Jen couldn’t help having a snide as she stared at the unopened DVD box.
Tiff sent her a pointed look. ‘You know I ain’t been part of that world for donkeys. My good fortune is down to hard work and clean living.’
Jen scoffed. ‘What hard work’s that then? You chucked in the job at the garage yonks back.’
Tiffany folded her arms. ‘Your girl is in my bed fast asleep, looking like her world’s about to end, and all you wanna do is give me the needle.’
Jen’s cheeks stung with shaming heat. Tiff was right. She should stop getting in her face and find out what was up with Court. Tiff wandered off into the kitchen and came back with a couple of cans. She passed one to Jen as she sat down next to her.
‘Did the school call you?’ Jen’s shoulders slumped with the weight of trying to bring up a teenage daughter. ‘She’s been playing up something chronic, giving me lip and not listening to a word I say. And the other day—’ Her mouth snapped shut.
‘Let me guess,’ Tiff started knowingly, ‘she got caught doing the five finger discount in some shop.’
Jen’s mouth fell open. ‘How do you know that? You psychic or something?’
‘Come on Jen, you know the kind of stuff I got up to when I was a young’un. Tea leafing is one of the first rules in the how to be an obnoxious teenager guide. We all do it.’ A sly grin spread on her face. ‘And if I remember rightly you swiped a thing or two from Woollies back in the day.’
Jen shifted uncomfortably. ‘What did the school have to say this time?’
‘The only person who gave me a bell was Court. She just wanted a bit of Aunty Tiff time.’ That didn’t go down well with Jen. She didn’t stop Tiff from seeing her girls, but she put the brakes on Courtney coming to visit her. No way did she want her daughter coming back home pissing and bitching about how much dosh Aunty Tiff had, while they had sweet FA.
A serious expression settled on Tiff’s face. ‘Look, it ain’t my place to tell you how to bring up your girl,’ you got that right, ‘but there’s something up with her. She looks like she’s hurting.’
Maybe it was because Tiff was younger than her but Jen resented her baby sister giving her parenting classes. Like Tiff knew anything about how to bring up kids. About responsibility. She spent her life gallivanting around doing what the hell she damn well liked.
Tiff hitched her leg off the sofa. ‘Why don’t you send her over to mine this weekend? If there’s something bugging her I’ll find out what it is. I took on Dee’s Nicky and won.’
The words twisted Jen’s insides. Made her feel less than a mum. ‘No thanks. I can take care of my own kids.’
Her sister stared at her, baffled. ‘Have you got a cob on or something? Coz you know what? I don’t need it. I’m only trying to lend a helping hand here. I’ve got enough problems.’
Jen could barely contain her anger. ‘You don’t look like you’ve got any problems.’
‘We’ve all got them love.’
Jen’s eyes narrowed. ‘Yeah, but problems are far easier to handle when you’re living it large, don’t you find?’
Tiff placed her drink on the table carefully. ‘But you could be living it large too.‘ Her voice was barely above a whisper.
Jen frowned. ‘How do you figure that out?’
Tiff shuffled closer. ‘Mum’s wasting time getting those houses done up. What she needs to do is put ’em on the market and get ’em sold, quick time.’ Her eyes lit up. ‘Then cha-ching! The readies start rolling in.’
Jen gazed at her closely. ‘But that don’t make no sense. If they’re tarted up we’ll get a whole heap more money.’
‘Come on Jen,’ Tiff coaxed. ‘You need to get your hands on some quick cash—’
‘But you don’t. You’re set up like the Queen of Canary Wharf here.’ Jen studied her sister hard. What was going on here? But then Tiff had always been a greedy little mare.
‘I think we should arrange to see Mum and make her see sense,’ Tiff pressed on. ‘She’s already said she don’t wanna cash in herself, so we should be the ones telling her what’s what.’
Jen pushed out her chest slightly. ‘I agree with you, we should see Mum about the houses.’ Tiff couldn’t help a knowing grin slipping out. It promptly vanished when Jen dropped her bombshell. ‘But I’m gonna ask her to split it five ways.’
‘You fucking what? She ain’t got any other strays out there, like Dee?’
Jen set her face stubbornly. ‘Course she hasn’t—’
‘So where’s this number five coming from?’
Jen took in a deep punch of air. ‘My Courtney and Bea should be getting their own cuts—’
Tiff didn’t let her finish. ‘Hold up a mo. Mum wants to leave something for her children, not her grandchildren.’
‘Actually what she said was she wanted the girls to have cushy lives in the future.’
‘And they will.’ She stabbed her finger at Jen. ‘From your share.’
Jen stretched her neck. ‘Well, I don’t see how it’s right that I end up with the same share as you.’ She ran her gaze sharply over her sister’s designer pekpek shorts and leggings, her layered silver and gold chains. ‘You’re doing alright, plus you don’t have the responsibility of kids.’ She threw her arms out to emphasise the words spitting angrily from her mouth. ‘You don’t have a care in the world. Well, I do. I need that money and so do my children and that’s why it’s best that those houses get spruced up, sold on and divvied up five ways.’ She cocked her head suspiciously at her baby sister. ‘Why all the urgency to get your mitts in the cookie jar? What are you up to?’
Tiff gulped. ‘Nuthin. I just think it’s better all round – for the three of us,’ she emphasised, which made Jen curl her lip, ‘that we get those houses sold pronto. What if there’s a property slump and we lose out?’
Jen folded her arms. ‘You’re up to something, aren’t you? Trying to buy into a dodgy deal or something? That’s what all your hard work usually involves.’
Tiff reared forward. ‘Excuse me?’
Both women shot to their feet. Jen gazed at Tiff with scorn. ‘None of this would’ve happened if you hadn’t decided to believe our old man when he appeared like Dracula out of his coffin, claiming to be spreading the love. But, oh no, Tiffany Miller has to get her mum and sister to believe the shit he’s spewing from his mouth. It’s all about you, isn’t it? It always is.’
Tiffany took a menacing step towards her sister. Her voice rose. ‘You’re getting fucking dangerou
sly close to the line here.’
‘I haven’t said the half of it,’ Jen ground out. ‘You’re the reason Dad got back into Mum’s life.’
‘No way—’
‘Yes way. She saw through him straight away but you convinced her otherwise.’
Tiff scoffed loud and hard. ‘Oh, and you didn’t do your own bit of persuasion along the way?’ Her lips twisted with disgust. ‘That’s your problem Jen, always playing Miss Little Innocent.’ She slapped on a mimsy high-pitched voice. ‘It weren’t nuthin to do with me, I’m a good girl I am.’
‘Mum? Aunty Tiff?’ Courtney’s startled voice called from the doorway but neither of them took a blind bit of notice.
Jen’s face flamed nasty red. ‘You’re the reason our mother got banged up behind bars for five fucking years. I don’t want my Courtney turning into you.’
Tiff reared back as if Jen had struck her in the face. ‘That’s charming that is. I take your daughter in when she’s half off her face—’
‘What do you mean?’ With alarm, Jen turned to her daughter. She gasped. The only words to describe her girl were a right state. She was wearing her school uniform but her hair was a total mess and there were deep circles under her bloodshot eyes. If Courtney had been on the bottle she was going to swing for her. ‘I’ll deal with you later,’ she snapped out and then snarled, ‘Well if she’s been on the lash we know who she learned that from. That’s why I don’t want her coming up here to see you. You’re the type of bad influence my kid don’t need.’
That stung. Really stung. People might be able to point at Tiff about many things, but not those girls, they were like daughters to her. She clenched her fists. ‘Do you want some, sis? Eh? Do you want some? Don’t think you’re too grand to get a kicking.’
‘I should’ve figured out sooner where my Courtney learned to give me lip and cuss me. I should’ve never let my kids anywhere near a piss poor human being like you.’
‘You ungrateful bitch. I’m warning you, pack it in—’
Jen got right into her face. ‘What? What you gonna do? Bring it fucking right on coz I’ll take you down.’
Blood Daughter: Flesh and Blood Trilogy Book Three (Flesh and Blood series) Page 9