Tainted Lives

by Mandasue Heller

  ‘Job Seeker’s Allowance?’

  She shook her head. ‘No.’

  ‘I can’t see you having any problem. Just go to the Job Centre in the morning and sign on. They’ll help you fill the forms out. I’ll sort the Housing Benefit.’

  She gave him a tired smile of gratitude. ‘Thanks, but if you don’t mind I’d rather pay. Like I said, I’m going to get a job, and I want to be straight from the off.’

  ‘No problem.’ Mr Gilbert smiled approvingly. ‘It’s seventy-five a week.’

  ‘Fine. What do you want now?’

  ‘Just a month for now. I usually take the same as a deposit, but I’m sure I can trust you not to run out on me. You’d be hard pushed to find anything else as nice as this in a hurry.’

  Smiling, Sarah reached into her rucksack, opened the box and brought out a wad of money. Counting out three hundred, she gave it to Mr Gilbert who handed her a rent book in return.

  ‘Right, I’ll leave you to familiarize yourself with your new home. You’ve got my number if you need me.’

  Showing him out, Sarah locked the door and leaned back against it. Looking around with a frown of disappointment, she released a weary breath. It was a shit pit! But, pit or palace, it was hers.

  She set about exploring and soon had a shopping list in mind – mainly cleaning products. She had a list of complaints, too – starting with the fridge, which was warmer than the flat and stank to high heaven. A tentative look in the tiny freezer compartment had revealed a black, shrivelled something stuck to the back wall – something very nasty that looked like a petrified human hand!

  Taking out some money for the shopping, Sarah looked for somewhere safe to stash the rest. She decided on the filthy cooker’s equally filthy grill-pan. If all the other tenants were male, the cooker was the last place they’d look.

  Mark stood beside Dandi in the TV room doorway, his arms folded, a frown darkening his good looks. He was annoyed beyond belief about his car. The garage had quoted nine-fifty to repair the gouge and do a respray. Reluctant to lose his no-claims bonus, he would have no choice but to stump up. He had a cat in hell’s chance of making the culprit cough up.

  He knew for a fact that it was one of the kids because it had definitely happened here. He’d filled up at the garage around the corner before coming back and the petrol cap was on the side that was now damaged. He would have noticed if anything had been wrong.

  ‘That car is Mr Chambers’s personal property,’ Dandi was saying, her voice cold as she glared at the kids. ‘He takes a great deal of care with it, and what for? So that one of you can come along and do this senseless, spiteful, criminal thing to it?’ Pausing, she placed her hands on her hips and looked slowly around the room. ‘I won’t rest until I find out who did it, but in the meantime, you will all lose one month’s allowance.’

  Holding up her hands to forestall the storm of protests, she said, ‘I’m sure those of you who are innocent won’t begrudge missing out on a few sweets in order to help Mr Chambers cover his repair costs. And the guilty party—’ she looked pointedly from Vinnie to Pete to Ollie ‘—can think themselves lucky not to be standing in front of a magistrate right now!’

  ‘What you looking at me for?’ Vinnie demanded indignantly.

  ‘I’m looking at all of you equally,’ Dandi replied. ‘But feel free to speak out if you know who’s responsible. That goes for all of you.’ She turned to include the others now. ‘If you know who did it, come and tell me and I will reconsider my decision.’

  ‘That’s bull!’ Ollie objected belligerently. ‘He probably done it himself in a rush to cash his aunt’s will! He ain’t the best driver in the world, is he?’

  ‘Nah, man,’ Vinnie agreed, smirking maliciously. ‘I’ve seen him. He’s crap. And why should we pay for his mistakes when he’s got all that money?’

  ‘What are you talking about?’ Mark demanded.

  Pulling him aside, Dandi whispered, ‘I, er, forgot to tell you . . . We had to explain your absence, so we said you’d gone on leave to look after a sick aunt.’

  Rolling his eyes, Mark shook his head. ‘So now they think I’m loaded?’

  ‘Sorry. It was the best we could think of at the time.’

  Mark chewed this over, then nodded. ‘Better than them knowing what was really going on. Shame it isn’t true, mind. I could do with a nice big inheritance about now.’

  Almost smiling, Dandi composed herself and turned back to the kids.

  ‘As a further punishment there’ll be no TV tonight, so switch it off, whoever’s nearest, and you can all go to your rooms and clean up, do any outstanding homework, read, or whatever. Off you go.’

  ‘Man!’ Vinnie grumbled, heading up the stairs. ‘The one time it’s got nothing to do with me, and I get stuck for it anyhow!’

  ‘It’s your face,’ Pete quipped. ‘You look like a thug.’

  ‘Better that than an arse-bandit like you!’ Vinnie retorted, smirking. ‘Here, watch this,’ he whispered then.

  Reaching the top of the stairs, he wheeled on Ollie and grabbed him by the throat, forcing him to jut precariously out over the handrail.

  ‘It was you, wasn’t it? You fucked up the man’s car and let the rest of us cop for it, didn’t you?’

  Squealing with fright, Ollie clutched at the rail. ‘It weren’t me!’ he spluttered, terror sending his voice into girly pitch. ‘Honest, Vin, it weren’t! I swear on me ma’s life!’

  Increasing his grip, Vinnie thrust his face to within kiss-of-death range of Ollie’s. ‘You hate your ma, you wanker, so why am I gonna believe that?’

  ‘On me dirty mags, then!’ Ollie gargled around the crushing constriction in his throat. ‘I swear on them I never done it!’

  Letting go, Vinnie stepped back. ‘Why didn’t you just say that in the first place? Would have saved you a choking, ’cos I know how much you love them magazines.’

  Dashing up the last step, Ollie leaned against the solid support of the wall and clutched at his throat.

  ‘Fucking hell, Vin. I thought you was gonna do me in then.’

  Throwing a mock punch that whizzed just a fraction of an inch past Ollie’s nose, making him screw up his face in anticipation, Vinnie laughed.

  ‘Now why would I do that when you’re innocent?’

  Ollie laughed, unsure of the seriousness of the threat, but desperate to believe it was a game despite the palpable air of menace emanating from his hero.

  ‘Good ’un, Vin,’ he said, his tone creepy and toadying. ‘You had me going there, mate!’

  Shaking his head, Vinnie hawked up and spat on the carpet. ‘Clean that up before Dandi sees it and fines us all!’ He slapped Ollie’s cheek none too gently. Turning his back, he set off down the corridor, jerking his head for Pete to follow.

  Harry came up the stairs just as Ollie pulled the sleeve of his sweatshirt down and began to wipe up Vinnie’s mess. For a moment he felt bad for having caused all this trouble, but then Ollie glanced up at him, a look of pure hatred on his face, and the guilt was gone.

  ‘What you gawping at?’ Ollie snarled. ‘Shift your gimpy arse before I make you lick it up!’

  Keeping his mouth shut, Harry strolled away without looking back. Another revelation. Not only had Vinnie turned on Ollie, he’d obviously warned him to leave Harry alone as well. There was no other explanation for Ollie making a threat without seeing it through. Things were definitely looking up. And while he wasn’t stupid enough to believe that his good fortune would last, he intended to enjoy it while it did.

  ‘Did you see the little wuss?’ Pete laughed, kicking the bedroom door shut. ‘Shit himself, good-style!’

  Smirking, Vinnie said, ‘It’s about time he had a slap-down. Thinks he’s some sort of hard man just ’cos he hangs out with us.’

  ‘You gonna give him a kicking?’

  ‘Soon.’ Vinnie threw himself onto his bed. ‘Might keep him dangling for a bit, though. It’s kind of cool having a slave.’

&
nbsp; ‘Tight get!’ Pete snorted. Reaching for his cigarettes, he lit one for himself and threw one to Vinnie. Leaning across the gap to give him a light, he said, ‘How come you’re laying off Mongo?’

  Blowing a smoke ring, Vinnie narrowed his eyes. ‘’Cos.’

  ‘’Cos what?’

  ‘’Cos of something someone said.’

  ‘Like what?’

  ‘Like none of your business, so shut it!’

  ‘I don’t get that, man. Since when has it bothered you what anyone says?’

  ‘I said shut it,’ Vinnie snapped. ‘And hurry up and get the light off.’

  Pete did as he was told and stumbled back to bed in the dark. He knew a warning when he heard one. Somebody had obviously got to Vinnie – and it didn’t take a genius to work out who. Sarah Mullen.

  What Pete couldn’t work out was why she had such a hold on Vinnie? She’d treated him lower than dog dirt the whole time he’d been here. Yes, she’d talked to him this morning – let him sit at her table, even. But that didn’t mean much when you considered that she’d taken off straight after without so much as a ‘See you in hell, sucker’.

  Still, whatever had gone down between them, Vinnie must have his reasons for doing what he was doing. And Pete wasn’t about to piss him off by questioning him about it.

  It was fully dark by the time Sarah finished shopping. Hurrying along the road towards the house, she glanced around her, nervous of the ominous shadows in the park to her left and the rustling noises coming from the hedges and gateways to her right.

  Making her way up the path, breathing a sigh of relief that she was safely back home, she had just pulled the keys from her pocket when the door was wrenched open and a pack of savage-looking dogs hurtled out and surrounded her.

  Dropping the bags, she stood stock-still as they rammed their drawn-back snouts against her legs, their eyes flashing crazily in the dim light. She was terrified that they would take chunks out of her if she moved, but they were obviously waiting for the go-ahead from the man who followed them out seconds later.

  ‘Back off, you stupid cunts!’ he yelled, kicking out at them indiscriminately. ‘Back off! NOW!’ Turning to Sarah when the last dog had scarpered to the safety of the yard, he scowled at her. ‘What d’y’ want?’

  Irritated by his rudeness, Sarah waved her keys at him. ‘I live here.’

  Narrowing his eyes, the man gave her the once-over, then set off down the steps, whistling his mutts to heel as he headed into the park.

  ‘Nice to meet you, too,’ she muttered, retrieving her bags and going inside, slamming the door behind her.

  The second door along the hall creaked open and an unkempt head appeared, the sliver of face visible through the strands of rat’s-tail hair gaunt and unshaven, the eyes sunken and bruised-looking.

  ‘Who are you? How’d you get in?’

  Sarah gritted her teeth. ‘I live here,’ she said. ‘Top flat.’

  ‘Oh, right,’ the apparition grunted, eyeing her suspiciously. ‘Well, you’d best give Dave a knock.’ He nodded towards the first door. ‘His dogs will have you if you don’t warn him.’

  ‘I’ve already had the pleasure,’ she muttered, starting up the stairs.

  ‘Hang about.’ Coming out into the passage the gaunt-faced man peered up through the stair-rails. ‘You haven’t got a spare fag, have you, only I’ve run out and me giro’s been nicked.’

  Rolling her eyes, Sarah took out her cigarettes and tossed one down.

  ‘Thanks, love. Don’t suppose you could make it two, though, could you? Only me mate’s on a comedown and he’s feeling a bit rough. Smack,’ he explained, rolling his eyes as if he never touched it himself. ‘Don’t dabble yourself, do you?’

  ‘No!’ she snapped, offended that he could think she was a junkie. She threw him another three smokes.

  ‘Sorter,’ he grinned, picking them up. ‘I’ll pay you back when me giro comes. It’s John, by the way.’

  ‘Sarah,’ she said, wondering why she was bothering. She was hardly going to become friends with the slum scum.

  ‘Later.’ Waving the cigarettes, John scuttled back into his flat.

  ‘Oh, for God’s sake!’ Sarah muttered, continuing on up the stairs. ‘What the hell am I doing here?’

  Hours of scrubbing and cleaning later, Sarah finally crawled into bed. She was exhausted, but the instant her head hit the pillow, the dogs started barking down below. And once they got going, they didn’t stop. They were at it all night and everything seemed to set them off, from a floorboard creaking to someone coughing or rolling over in bed, to someone daring to walk within a hundred yards of the house, to some distant dog annoying its own neighbours . . .

  She finally drifted off at three, her mind full of plots to kill Dave and his hounds.

  Vinnie was wide awake. Staring into the darkness as Pete’s snores rattled the glass in the window, he wondered what Sarah was doing right now.

  Was she lying in bed thinking about him? He’d bet his life she was. How could she not be? There was such a strong pull between them. A magnetic force – pulling them together even as it pushed them apart.

  He just had to keep his cool with Mongo – no matter how much he despised the little creep – and not give Sarah any reason to delay the inevitable. She’d better not take too long getting in touch, though. He could out-patience the best of them, but she’d sure as hell better make it worth his while when she did come through!

  13

  Sarah was beginning to feel desperate. She’d been independent for a month now, but nothing was going right. She still didn’t have a job, and her housemates were driving her mad – especially the damn dogs with their incessant barking. She had hoped it was her strange presence that was sparking them off, and that they would settle down when they got used to her. But they didn’t.

  They were an absolute pain, and ciggy-scrounging John was a nuisance best avoided, but Tony, in the flat immediately below hers, was a nightmare. Sarah still hadn’t seen him, but she’d sure as hell heard him. Every night at ten he would turn on his hi-fi and play heavy-metal music into the small hours. Her floor shook with the thudding bass, and her head throbbed with the screeching guitars, but no matter how many times she hammered on his door to ask him to turn it down, he never answered.

  Just as Mr Gilbert never answered his phone. He didn’t even come around to collect the weekly rent, sending a huge, menacing-looking man to collect on his behalf. She’d tried passing messages through this goon, but he either didn’t deliver them or Mr Gilbert ignored them. Either way, Sarah couldn’t reach him to make complaints, and had no choice but to put up with the men down below, the faulty fridge, the sockets that threatened to electrocute her whenever she plugged anything in, the wildly fluctuating water temperatures – scalding one day, freezing the next . . . The list was endless.

  And each night was worse than the last, knowing that the days ahead would leave her drained and frustrated as she traipsed from one interview to the next with ever-decreasing hopes of finding steady work.

  Jobs, Sarah had discovered, were not easy to find – not decent ones, anyway, when she had no qualifications and nobody to reference her but a worker in a care home. It was amazing how quickly interviewers lost interest when they learned these few facts, and she soon learned the value of truth-juggling.

  With her money frittering away, she was seriously contemplating shoplifting again as a means of surviving when she finally got lucky and landed a job as a receptionist in a massage parlour on a dingy back street in Ancoats. It was off cards and she’d be working nights, but she didn’t care. The pay was good, and they would send a taxi to pick her up each night and drop her off again in the morning. It was perfect.

  As long as they never discovered that she had lied about her age.

  The first thing Sarah would do when she had earned enough was find somewhere decent to live and move out of the hell-hole house. Free of the depressing gloom, she would really come into her ow
n and show what she was made of. Then, when she could be really proud of her achievements, she would write to Harry and invite him round for the promised visit.

  14

  Six months passed before Sarah knew it. She was so busy that she barely had time to think, let alone keep track of the date.

  She loved working at Silva’s. It was so different from how she’d imagined a massage parlour would be. Much more businesslike and classy.

  The reception area was subtly lit, with a curved desk, two black-leather couches, a complimentary coffee machine, and a private side room where the clients could watch a constantly updated range of imported hard-core porn while they waited for the masseuse of their choice.

  Six women worked a shift, each of them qualified in legitimate massage techniques and scrupulously clean – certifiably so. Self-employed, they hired the rooms and equipment for a set fee, then set their own rates for whatever ‘work’ they undertook above and beyond the house menu.

  Sarah was in awe of them all. They were so self-assured and sophisticated, with their own flats, expensive cars, and real diamonds. She’d expected junkie prostitutes, but there were no dark roots and greasy ponytails here.

  She particularly liked Jenny – the receptionist she’d been hired to assist. At thirty-two, Jenny was a lot older, but she had the vivacity of a teenager and chattered to Sarah as if she’d known her for years. And, dizzy as she made herself out to be, she knew the business back to front and inside out, and wasn’t in the least bit precious about sharing her knowledge.

  Sarah surprised herself with the ease with which she mastered the computer system. And to think that she’d been told she was a hopeless case at school! It was amazing what a little patience could achieve. Jenny only needed to explain things once for her to grasp it.

  The clients were nothing like she had expected. She’d thought there would be an endless stream of perverts and freaks but, apart from the inevitable drunks who managed to gain entry – only to find themselves swiftly ejected at the first hint of trouble by the two huge bouncers who stood guard outside the door – the majority of the men were respectable, well-to-do businessmen. Often married, they came for the assurance of discretion and high-quality service, and they were more than happy to include Sarah and Jenny in their gratitude, leaving some very generous tips.