First published in Great Britain in 2010 by Hodder & Stoughton
An Hachette UK Company
Copyright © Mandasue Heller 2010
The right of Mandasue Heller to be identified as the Author of the Work has been asserted by her in accordance with the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act 1988.
All rights reserved.
No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form or by any means without the prior written permission of the publisher, nor be otherwise circulated in any form of binding or cover other than that in which it is published and without a similar condition being imposed on the subsequent purchaser.
All characters in this publication are fictitious and any resemblance to real persons, living or dead is purely coincidental.
A CIP catalogue record for this title is available from the British Library
Epub ISBN 978 1 444 71294 0
Book ISBN 978 0 340 95418 8
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To Carolyn Caughey and Betty Schwartz Courageous, inspirational ladies – may you both continue to be blessed by the angels
All of the usual love to my partner Wingrove; mum Jean; children Michael, Andrew, and Azzura (& Michael); grandchildren Marissa, Lariah & Antonio; sister Ava; Amber & Kyro, Martin, Jade, Reece; Auntie Doreen, Pete, Lorna, Cliff, Chris, Glen; Joseph, Mavis, Jascinth, Donna, Valerie, Natalie, Dan, Toni – and children.
And to the rest of our kinfolk – here and abroad, past and present.
Hello to the good friends who have been there from the start, and those we’ve re-connected with along the way. And never forgetting those we have loved and sadly lost.
Also, Liz, Norman, Ronnie, Wayne, Martina, and Jessie Keane.
Thanks to Cat Ledger, Nick Austin, and everyone at Hodder – Jamie, Lucy, Emma, Auriol, Aslan, Francine – to name but a few of the wonderful team.
And, lastly, as ever, immense gratitude to the readers, buyers, sellers, and lenders of my books – without whom none of this would be happening.
1
Shivering in the doorway, Katya gazed miserably out at the rain bouncing off the puddles. It had been lashing down all night, the wind driving it every which way so no matter where you tried to hide you still got soaked.
No wonder it’s been so slow, she thought, pushing her chin deeper into her collar to let her breath heat her face. Only an idiot would come out on a night like this.
An idiot, or a beast – intent on having his way without paying, safe in the knowledge that nobody was around to stop him. Like that last punter. The ugly pig had lured her into his car by paying up front, then he’d driven her to a car park and forced her to do things that she would never have agreed to before taking the money back, headbutting her and kicking her out while the car was still moving. That had really hurt. Her cheekbone was grazed and swollen, and her shoulder was throbbing from the impact.
But at least he hadn’t found her other money, or she’d really be in trouble.
A sliver of silvery-grey light began to slice through the darkness. Stamping her feet to wake her frozen legs, Katya gritted her teeth when the burning pain rushed through her. Her friend Elena thought it might be herpes and had told her to get it sorted before it got really bad. But how could she go to the clinic when she wasn’t allowed out in the daylight? And she couldn’t risk going to one of the night drop-in centres because Eddie would go mad if he caught her taking time off from the street and losing him money.
His money – her body, his money.
What a sick joke that was. But there was nothing she could do about it because he’d already warned them what would happen if they tried to escape. And, even if they had the courage to try, where would they go? They knew nobody in this country. And they definitely couldn’t ask the authorities for help because they all knew what would happen if they got hold of them.
A thin-sounding whistle floated up from the other end of the road: Elena’s signal that it was time to go. Katya’s stomach cramped. Horrendous as it was standing out here in the freezing cold, doing disgusting things to nasty men, it was almost preferable to going back to that prison.
Elena’s mouth fell open when Katya joined her at the corner. ‘What happened?’ she demanded, turning her friend to face the dim street lamp so that she could see the damage more clearly. ‘Who did this to you?’
‘Red car,’ Katya said, wincing when Elena touched her shoulder. ‘Don’t. It’s really sore.’
‘He didn’t get your money, did he?’
‘Only his own.’
‘How much have you got left?’
‘One-sixty. You?’
‘Two-forty. But don’t worry – Hanna’s bound to have done worse than you.’
‘Hope so.’ Katya felt guilty for even thinking it but they all knew that the one who went home with the least was the one who would get the worst beating.
Elena saw the guilt and pursed her lips. ‘Don’t waste your pity on her. She’s in the same boat as the rest of us but you don’t hear us crying and going on about killing ourselves all the time. It’s like she thinks she’s—’
‘Sshhh!’ Katya hissed, nudging her friend when she spotted Hanna coming around the corner.
The girl looked awful. Her eyes were dark-ringed and dull and she was getting skinnier by the day. If Katya didn’t know better she’d swear that Hanna was on drugs. But that was one luxury none of them could afford. Their money wasn’t their own, and they all knew better than to risk trying to keep any back.
‘I’ve only had one all night,’ Hanna said when she reached them, her eyes already wide with the fear of what would happen when she got home. ‘A few stopped, but Tasha kept jumping out and stealing them. She’s such a bitch.’
‘Maybe so,’ Elena agreed unsympathetically. ‘But it’s your own fault for letting her do it.’
Hanna looked wounded. ‘What am I supposed to do?’
‘Stop being such a pushover and stand up for yourself,’ Elena snapped, sickened by the pathetic whining.
‘How?’ Hanna’s eyes were swimming with tears. ‘I’m not like her; I don’t want to fight.’
‘None of us wants to,’ said Katya, trying to calm the waters before the dam burst. ‘But sometimes you have to. It’s the only way.’
Before Hanna could reply to this Tasha yelled, ‘Police!’ And, seconds later, stiletto heels clipping furiously on the pavement, she hurtled around the corner, screaming, ‘Run, you stupid bitches!’
‘I can’t!’ Hanna wailed as Katya and Elena set off after Tasha. ‘I’m scared!’
Turning back, the girls grabbed Hanna by the arms and hauled her along. Given a choice they would have left her there but they both knew that she would tell the police everything if she was picked up. And the consequences would be terrible for them all.
2
At just gone six a.m. the sky had brightened enough to show the Grange estate up for exactly what it was: a run-down dump consisting of four shabby high-rise blocks of flats, each one identical to the next apart from the faded painted panels beneath the windows: one block red, one blue, one yellow, one green.
They looked as if they had been flung up in the 1970s and left to get on with it, never to see the bristles of a paintbrush or the lick of a window cleaner’s rag again. And there were bin bags littered around the pathways with rotten food spewing out of them, and empty beer cans dotted around the sparse grass like home-made daisies.
Driving slowly in through the gap where the gates should have been, Joe Weeks wondered if the high fence encircling the blocks and isolating them from the surrounding ar
ea had been designed to keep trespassers out or residents in.
Deciding that it was probably the latter, he pulled up to the front of the green block and gazed up at the grim façade.
Welcome to your new home, kiddo.
Shaking off the feeling of gloom that had begun to settle over him, Joe reversed up to the door and propped it open with one of the numerous bricks that were littered about. Unloading his stuff, he stacked the first boxes outside the lift at the end of the corridor. Hearing footsteps when he went back for the next lot he glanced around and saw four young girls hurrying towards him through the rain.
‘Morning.’ He flashed them a friendly smile.
Shielding their faces with their hoods they rushed past without acknowledging that they had heard him.
‘Sorry about that lot,’ he called after them. ‘Give me a sec and I’ll shift it so you can get in the lift.’
Bypassing the lift, one of the girls tugged open the door to the stairwell and they all disappeared through it.
Odd, Joe thought, wiping the sweat off his brow with the back of his hand. Most clubs stayed open until at least four in the morning these days so it wasn’t that unusual to see a group of scantily dressed girls on the streets at this time. But, in his experience, girls who’d been out on the lash were usually at their flirtatious best if they came across a lone man on their way home and they hadn’t so much as glanced at him.
But then, he was hardly looking his best right now, he supposed, and his old Vauxhall estate couldn’t exactly be described as a babe magnet. In fact, compared to the Beemer and Audi parked up behind him it was a heap of old shit.
Those cars intrigued Joe because they just didn’t fit in with the general air of neglect on the estate. He guessed that there had to be a couple of serious moneymakers living here – and with any luck it wouldn’t take long for a friendly guy like him to meet them.
A few feet away, Cheryl Clark was checking Joe out through the nets of her living-room window while her two-year-old son Frankie sat cross-legged on the couch behind her, watching Ben 10 and noisily gobbling his Sugar Puffs.
He was the reason that Cheryl was up so early today – the reason she was up so early every day while her friends had the luxury of sleeping in till noon and beyond. Much as she adored him, she wished the little bugger would stay in bed of a morning instead of always dashing into her room and bouncing up and down on her belly demanding breakfast. But she could have kissed him for waking her today because if he hadn’t she’d have missed the arrival of the new tenant.
Cheryl watched him closely now as he took his things out of the car, and she guessed that he was in his mid to late twenties. Dark-haired and handsome, he was of average height and build but he had good strong thighs, which told her that he obviously took good care of himself. And he had an absolutely gorgeous smile – which he’d just wasted on the ignorant bitches from upstairs.
Impulsively snatching up her keys when he went to park up, Cheryl ran into the kitchen and yanked the half-full bag out of the bin.
‘What doin’?’ Frankie asked, a look of alarm on his little face as she rushed past the couch heading for the door.
‘Stay there,’ she told him firmly. ‘Mummy’s just putting the rubbish out. Look . . .’ She pointed at the TV to distract him. ‘Dora the Explorer’s coming on.’
Peeping through the spyhole, Cheryl waited until the man came into the corridor. Then, smoothing her hair into place, she casually stepped out – feigning shock when she bumped right into him.
‘Oh my God! You scared the life out of me.’
‘Sorry,’ Joe apologised. ‘Didn’t think anyone would be up yet. Didn’t wake you, did I?’ he added, taking in the dressing gown and unbrushed hair.
Cursing herself for not thinking to get dressed before rushing out, Cheryl shook her head. ‘No, you’re all right – I’ve been up for ages. I was just taking this out.’ Showing him the bag of rubbish, she caught a whiff of the week-old curry she’d only remembered to throw away last night and quickly switched it to her other hand. ‘You moving in, then?’
‘How did you guess?’ Joe quipped, dropping his stuff and pushing it toward the lift with his foot.
‘I suppose it was a bit obvious, wasn’t it?’ Cheryl rolled her eyes. ‘What do you make of it so far? Bit grotty, isn’t it?’
‘It’s not that bad,’ Joe lied. ‘Mind you, I haven’t seen the flat yet so I might change my mind in a minute.’
‘Didn’t you come and see it before you signed for it?’ Cheryl asked. ‘They won’t give you anything else now you’ve accepted it, you know.’
‘It’ll be fine,’ Joe said more confidently than he felt. ‘And if it’s not, it’s my own fault for winding my girlfriend up and getting kicked out. Ex-girlfriend,’ he corrected himself quickly. ‘Got to stop calling her that.’
Cheryl bit her lip, wondering if he’d said that to let her know that he was single. She kind of doubted it, considering what a sight she looked, but she could always dream.
Joe glanced at his watch. ‘Well, it was nice meeting you but I’d best get this lot upstairs before the van gets here.’
‘Sorry, didn’t mean to hold you up.’ Smiling, Cheryl walked backwards towards the door as he summoned the lift. ‘Hope you like the flat, and you know where I am if you need any cleaning stuff. Oh, and I’m Cheryl, by the way.’
‘Joe,’ he said, waving as the lift opened behind him.
Cheryl wasn’t the only woman on the block to have noticed the arrival of the handsome newcomer. Molly Partridge had been tracking his every move from the vantage point of her tiny balcony up on the fourth floor. Sheltered from the rain by the umbrella her son had tied to the washing line as a sun-shield on one of his rare visits that summer, she’d sipped at her tea and watched him through her compact binoculars.
He was a bonny one, all right, with his sparkly eyes and cheeky Jack-the-lad smile. And he had a fabulous backside – all nice and firm like her Archie’s had been when they were courting. Forty-odd years they’d had together, and she hadn’t half missed the sex when he’d gone and died on her. Not that she was supposed to remember stuff like that at her age but, hell’s bells, she wasn’t in her coffin yet. Although some of the youngsters around here seemed to think she should be and made no bones about telling her so.
When the young man finished what he was doing, Molly popped the binoculars back into the hanging basket and pushed the cat off her knee. Shuffling inside with the arthritic creature weaving stiffly around her ankles she brewed herself a fresh cuppa, then went to get washed.
It was brunch and bingo down at the centre today and she wasn’t looking forward to it. The old biddies bored her and the young carers irritated the hell out of her with their patronising baby talk. But the nosy buggers would only come and bang the door down if she didn’t show her face, sure they were going to find her lying face down in a pool of her own piss.
Or, rather, hoping that was how they’d find her, if it was that Ruth who came, because she’d have her pockets filled and the bank account emptied before she bothered calling the doctor, her.
Eeh, there was no dignity in death these days.
Carl Finch woke with a start when his girlfriend elbowed him in the ribs. ‘Fuck was that for?’ he demanded, giving her a dirty look.
‘I heard a noise,’ she hissed, pushing him towards the edge of the bed.
‘What time is it?’
‘They’re at the door, Carl! What difference does it make what time it is?’
Knowing that she wouldn’t quit bugging him until he’d checked it out, Carl shoved the quilt off and reached for his baseball bat. He couldn’t blame her for panicking after those guys had booted the door in a few weeks back and ripped him off for two ounces of weed and near enough a grand in cash – and given him a good going-over while they were at it. But the bastards wouldn’t be catching him out like that again.
Morning glory leading the way, he padded quietly out into the hall and
pressed his eye up against the spyhole. The door of the flat directly opposite was standing open and he could see a stack of boxes lined up in the hallway. Jumping when a man suddenly came into view carrying a load of bin bags, he smacked his knee on the door frame. Gritting his teeth in pain, he threw the bat down angrily and hopped back to the bedroom.
‘Who was it?’ Mel was sitting bolt upright in the bed, chewing on her nails.
‘No one,’ he snapped, climbing in and rolling over to nurse his knee in peace.
‘Can’t be no one,’ she argued, prodding him in the back. ‘You sure they weren’t hiding?’
Carl squirmed in disgust at the little wet spot her chewed fingertip left on his skin. ‘It’s just someone moving into Cynthia’s old place.’
‘Someone’s moving into Cynthia’s? Who? What do they look like? Have they got kids? Carl . . . ?’
‘How am I supposed to know? It’s just some random bloke – okay?’
‘Anyone we know?’ Mel persisted. ‘Is he from round here?’
‘For Christ’s sake, go and ask him if you’re that interested!’ Carl yelled, losing patience as the pain throbbed. ‘And quit eating yourself ’cos you’re making me fuckin’ heave!’
Joe had heard the noises behind the facing door and guessed that someone was checking him out. Conscious that he was disturbing people, he tiptoed the rest of his stuff in, glad that the lift was right beside his door so he didn’t have too far to drag the bigger boxes.
The short hallway was crammed once it was all in and he couldn’t close the door. Figuring that it would be easier to take the stuff out here and put it where he wanted it instead of clogging the other rooms up with packaging, he knelt down and started peeling the tape off the boxes.
Hearing a shuffling sound behind him a few minutes later, he snapped his head around. A middle-aged man wearing a tartan dressing gown and slippers and holding a steaming cup was staring in at him from the corridor outside.
‘Tea,’ the man said by way of explanation. Thought you could probably use one.’
Standing up, Joe dusted his hands on his jeans. ‘Cheers, mate. That’s really decent of you.’
The Driver Page 1