More than two hours after arriving, during which time she’d been questioned, examined, and then questioned again, she emerged from the nurse’s room with her face ashen. Linda had been sitting in the waiting room the whole time. Dropping the magazine she’d been reading, she leapt up from her seat.
‘What’s happening? Have we got to wait, or come back, or what?’
‘Keep your voice down,’ Chrissie muttered, pushing her towards the door. ‘People are listening.’
‘I don’t give a toss about them,’ Linda retorted loudly. ‘I want to know what’s happening with you.’
‘Nothing.’ Chrissie trotted down the stairs and yanked the door open. ‘I need a fag,’ she said, lurching out onto the pavement.
‘Here.’ Linda lit two and passed one to her. ‘Now tell me what she said. When are they going to do it?’
‘They can’t,’ Chrissie told her, swiping at a tear that was trickling down her cheek. ‘I’m too far gone.’
Linda was confused. ‘How come? I thought you said you were only twelve weeks.’
‘Yeah, well, I was obviously wrong,’ Chrissie muttered, pulling a tissue out of her pocket and dabbing at her eyes. ‘What am I going to do?’ she moaned, looking as forlorn as Linda had ever seen her.
They’d never been particularly huggy-kissy, and Chrissie especially didn’t like being touched when she was upset, so Linda settled for patting her on the arm.
‘Only one thing you can do, love. You’ll have to have it.’
‘How can I?’ Chrissie wailed. ‘Me and Eddie are arguing all the time. How can I bring a baby into that?’
Linda gave her one of her looks. ‘You already know what I think. If it’s that bad, move out.’
‘And bring it up by myself?’ Chrissie gasped, horrified by the thought.
‘I brought you and your brothers up on my own,’ Linda reminded her. ‘And it’s way easier these days, with all the benefits they chuck at you.’
Sniffling into the tissue, Chrissie shook her head. ‘I don’t want to bring up my baby like that. I want it to know its dad.’
‘Oh, so I wasn’t good enough for you, wasn’t I?’
‘I’m not saying that,’ Chrissie mumbled, moving away from the door. The sign was discreet, but they might as well have been done with it and written ‘Abortion Clinic’ in foot-high letters because everyone knew that was what it was.
‘You’re going to have to tell Eddie,’ Linda said firmly, figuring that there was no point pussyfooting around Chrissie at a time like this. She’d taken this long to decide she wanted rid, and now she knew she’d left it too late she still seemed to think that she had options. But she only had two, as far as Linda was concerned: tell Eddie and hope that he’d be man enough to step up to the mark; or cut her losses and get on with it by herself – like Linda and millions of other women had done before her.
Chrissie tutted and flashed her mum a dirty look. She knew she was right but she wasn’t about to tell her that. Anyway, it was all very well for her to tell Chrissie to talk to Eddie, but she had no idea how difficult it was to pin him down for any kind of conversation, never mind one as important as this. He’d been up and down like a yo-yo recently, moody as hell one minute, jumping about like an excited firecracker the next. He was still doing way too much coke for her liking, smoking too much weed and drinking himself stupid. But he insisted that it wasn’t a problem and the more she nagged, the more he did it to spite her.
Linda looked at her daughter’s miserable face and decided that it was probably best to back off for now and give her time to get used to the idea that she was going to be a mother. Finishing her cigarette in silence, she turned to stub it out on the wall.
‘Let’s go home and get a cuppa,’ she suggested when she turned back. But Chrissie was already halfway down the street. ‘Oi!’ she called, rushing after her. ‘Where you going? Wait for me.’
‘I need to be alone for a bit,’ Chrissie said when Linda caught her up.
‘So you just thought you’d take off?’ Linda said indignantly. ‘Stuff me, ’cos it’s not like I put my own life on hold to come with you or anything. And not everyone’s mum would do that for them, you know. None of them girls back there had theirs with them.’
‘You know I appreciate you coming,’ Chrissie told her. ‘But I can’t deal with this right now. I need to do some thinking.’
Linda sighed. ‘Look, I know this is hard for you, love, but it’s just as hard for me. I can’t bear to think of you going back to the flat and getting no support. So why don’t you come home and let me look after you? It’ll be easy, the two of us together. We can get that cot off our Neil and—’
‘Mum, stop.’ Chrissie cut her off. ‘This is my baby – mine and Eddie’s. And we’ll bring it up together, like we’re supposed to.’
Linda struggled with her own emotions as she saw the determination flare in her daughter’s eyes. She wanted to be a real, valuable part of her grandchild’s life but she knew that Eddie would block her. Just like he’d blocked her and Chrissie from being as close as they had used to be. But Chrissie was a grown woman with a mind of her own, and if this was what she wanted then Linda was just going to have to swallow it.
‘Good luck,’ she said, conceding defeat. ‘You know where I am if you need me.’ With that, she turned on her heel and walked back down the road to the bus station.
Chrissie exhaled wearily and set off in the direction of home. But she didn’t go straight there: she needed to think about what she wanted to say first, make sure she got it right first time. So she went to a café and wasted a couple of hours there, drinking coffees that she didn’t want and could barely stomach. And then, when she knew that she’d overstayed her welcome, she wandered into the park and sat on a bench for a couple of hours more, staring unseeingly at the ducks on the dingy crap-littered lake.
It was almost seven by the time she finally plucked up the courage to go home and she was still no clearer about what she would say.
Eddie was in the bedroom, getting ready to go out. Instantly suspicious when she got a heavy blast of aftershave and saw the dressy clothes, Chrissie asked where he was going.
‘Clive’s,’ Eddie told her, stuffing his shirt into his jeans and admiring himself in the mirror.
‘Is that new?’ Chrissie asked, trying to make it sound casual.
‘Nah, I’ve had it for ages,’ Eddie lied, hoping that he hadn’t left the tag hanging out the back. ‘Where’ve you been?’
‘To my mum’s, like I told you,’ Chrissie replied. ‘What are you going to Clive’s for?’
‘A bit of business I need to sort out,’ Eddie told her, rubbing some gel between his hands and smoothing it through his hair.
‘Is that all?’
Eddie glanced at her in the mirror and caught the suspicion in her eyes. ‘What’s that supposed to mean?’ he demanded.
‘Nothing,’ she muttered. ‘Just wondering why you’re getting all dressed up if you’re only going to Clive’s.’
‘It’s called being respectful,’ Eddie snapped. ‘Do you expect me to turn up looking like a tramp when his missus is good enough to make dinner for me?’
‘Dinner?’ Chrissie said, giving him a tight smile. ‘Oh, good, I haven’t eaten yet. I’ll come with you.’
‘You can’t,’ Eddie informed her, going back to his grooming. ‘I just told you me and Clive will be talking business.’
‘Don’t worry, I won’t get in your way,’ Chrissie came back smoothly. ‘I’m sure me and what’s-her-name will be able to amuse ourselves while you’re talking. Women can always find things to chat about. Hair, nails, handbags, shoes, men . . . other women.’
She’d said that last bit so meaningfully, as if she actually knew something. And she’d stared at Eddie as she said it, hoping that he would betray himself in some small way. But there wasn’t so much as a flicker of guilt.
‘You wouldn’t get on,’ he said as he sat down on the bed to pull on his trainers.<
br />
‘Oh, and why’s that?’ Chrissie demanded.
‘Because you’re white,’ Eddie told her bluntly.
‘So are you,’ she gasped.
‘That’s different.’
‘How?’
‘It just is. Anyway, some of the other guys will be there and we’re going for a drink after we’ve finished – no birds allowed.’
‘Not even Clive’s wife?’ Chrissie asked jealously. ‘After she’s gone to all that trouble to make your dinner?’
‘Put a sock in it,’ Eddie said irritably. ‘You ain’t coming – end of.’
‘So it’s all right for you to go and eat some racist woman’s food but I’m not good enough?’
‘First off, Letty’s no racist,’ Eddie informed her. ‘She just ain’t fond of trashy white birds, ’cos she’s got class.’
‘You’re calling me trashy?’ Chrissie hissed.
‘No, course not,’ Eddie said wearily. ‘But that’s how she’d see you, ’cos you wear short skirts and low tops and that. You know what women are like about each other. I shouldn’t have to tell you.’
Flaming with indignation, Chrissie marched into the living room and sat on the couch with her arms tightly crossed and her foot jiggling wildly. There was no way he was getting dressed up just because Clive’s wife was cooking for him. There was more to it than that. But there was no point calling Eddie a liar, because he’d only lie again to cover himself. And then he’d get angry and use it as an excuse to stay out all night – again.
He was getting good at that lately: starting arguments, and then twisting it around so it looked like she was to blame. Clive’s couch must have a permanent Eddie-shaped hollow in it by now, the number of times he’d claimed to have slept on it.
Eddie walked in a few minutes later and pulled his jacket on. Forcing herself not to sound as if she was nagging, because she needed to keep the lines of communication open, Chrissie asked what time he thought he would be back.
‘Don’t know,’ he answered offhandedly, standing in front of the living-room mirror and running his hands through his hair again to make sure it was in place.
‘Can you try and give me some kind of idea?’ Chrissie persisted, her nostrils twitching as the tears began to sting the backs of her eyes. He looked so handsome, and it killed her to think that he was doing it for some other woman.
‘What do you keep hassling me for?’ Eddie snapped, snatching his cigarettes and lighter off the table.
‘I’m not,’ she protested. ‘I just need to talk to you.’
Sighing, as if the thought of talking to her was a massive ball-ache, Eddie said, ‘What now?’
‘It’ll keep till you get back,’ Chrissie said quietly.
Closing her eyes when he’d gone, she dug her nails into her thigh and pinched it hard to prevent the tears from falling. She wouldn’t fall apart; she was stronger than that. She would just wait until he came home, then sit him down and tell him that he was going to be a daddy. That – maybe, if she was really lucky – he was going to have a son. A little boy who would look just like him. He’d have to be over the moon about that, because men always wanted boys. And once he knew he’d be sure to stop messing around and make an effort to get things back on track for the sake of his new family.
The dog wandered in from the kitchen and licked Chrissie’s ankle. Opening her eyes, she sighed and patted the couch beside her. Then, reaching for the remote as the animal snuggled up next to her, she switched on the TV and settled down to watch EastEnders.
Twenty minutes later, just as an interesting fight was kicking off, Chrissie heard raised voices coming through the wall from the flat next door. Leaning her head back, she yelled at them to shut up but they were making too much noise to hear her. Annoyed, she pushed the dog aside and got up, intending to bang on the wall. But as she passed the window a blue light flickered across her face, and when she glanced out she saw a police van driving through the car park below.
Forgetting the girls and their argument for the moment, she pressed her face up against the glass. The van went all the way down to the block at the far end and, seconds later, a squad car followed with its sirens blaring. When six uniformed officers got out of the vehicles a man rushed towards them and started pointing animatedly back to where the land dipped into a boggy field beyond the perimeter fence.
Chrissie craned her neck to watch as two of the officers climbed through a gap in the fence and disappeared from view. When one of them reappeared seconds later and started waving his arms and shouting to his colleagues she pushed the window open in the hope of hearing what he was saying. She was too far away to catch any actual words, but it was clear from the urgency of his tone that something serious was going on.
More of her neighbours had begun to lean out of their windows by now, and yet more were gathering in little groups outside the main doors of their blocks, their cigarettes glowing like fireflies in the darkness. As a couple of officers began to tape off a wide area around the gap, one of the women in the group that was closest wandered over to talk to one of them. Rushing back to her friends a few minutes later, she excitedly relayed what she’d heard, and word soon began to spread as people ran around passing the news on and shouting up to those above.
Chrissie leaned further out of the window and attracted the attention of a man leaning out a few windows down. ‘What’s happening?’ she asked.
‘They’ve found a body in the brook,’ he told her.
‘No way!’ she gasped. ‘Who is it?’
‘No one knows yet,’ he said. ‘They’re calling forensics in, so no doubt they’ll be doing house-to-house inquiries in a bit. They’d best hurry up if they want to talk to me, though, ’cos I’m off out.’
A loud thud sounded on the wall from the girls’ side. Jumping, Chrissie pulled her head back in and closed the window. This wasn’t good. The girls were making way too much noise, and if the police did start calling round they’d be bound to hear them. And then they’d be bound to wonder why they weren’t answering the door. No, it wasn’t good at all. She had to call Eddie.
Chrissie ran over to the table and snatched up her phone, but Eddie’s went straight to answerphone. Cursing him under her breath, she ran into the kitchen as another thud shook the wall. She snatched the keys off the hook. Telling the dog to stay when it tried to follow her, she took a cautious peek into the corridor before going next door.
20
As usual, it was Tasha and Elena who had been making all the noise. And, as usual, Hanna had fled to her bed at the first sign of conflict, leaving Katya to try and keep the peace.
And she had tried. But to no avail, because the tension which had been simmering between the two for months had finally erupted into a full-blown fight. And it was over an egg, of all things; one stupid little egg that Elena had decided to eat, to the annoyance of Tasha who had argued that Elena should have asked if anybody else wanted it first.
‘You’re just pissed off because you wanted it and I got to it first,’ Elena had sneered. ‘And you’re so greedy and selfish that you actually think you had more right to it than me.’
‘You had one yesterday,’ Tasha had shot back.
‘So did you,’ Elena had reminded her.
‘Yes, but I did more punters than you last night,’ Tasha had pointed out. ‘So I earned it.’
Elena had laughed in Tasha’s face at this, so Tasha had slapped her and Elena had responded by slapping her back. And then they had both leapt on each other, so now their faces were covered in scratches and red marks from where each other’s punches had landed, and the faded rug on the floor had a layer of hair coating it.
Katya was standing over them when Chrissie burst through the living-room door, shouting at them to stop as they rolled around on the floor biting each other’s arms.
‘OI!’ Chrissie yelled. ‘What the hell do you think you’re playing at?’
Shocked, Elena scrambled to her feet and gazed past Chrissie in dread of s
eeing Eddie behind her.
But Tasha was still in a fighting mood, so she leapt up and glared at Chrissie with naked contempt in her eyes.
‘Have you got any idea how much trouble you’d be in if it’d been Eddie who’d heard you and not me?’ Chrissie hissed.
‘We’re sorry,’ Katya apologised. ‘It won’t happen again.’
Chrissie flicked a cool glance at her but didn’t say anything. This one wasn’t like the others, with their aggressive body language and venom-filled eyes. She was much more polite, and a lot prettier with her long glossy black hair and massive brown eyes. But that just made Chrissie resent her all the more, because she suspected that she would be the one Eddie would go for if he had to choose.
Not that he ever would, because he’d always said that he would rather die than go with a prostitute.
‘He’s on his way back,’ Chrissie lied now. ‘So you’d best keep it zipped or there’ll be hell to pay. And you’d better quit looking at me like that, you cheeky bitch,’ she added, glaring back at Tasha.
‘Or you’ll do what?’ Tasha challenged her, the adrenalin that was still coursing through her body making it impossible to keep her mouth shut.
‘Excuse me?’ Chrissie snapped, unable to believe that the girl was daring to talk to her like this.
‘You heard,’ Tasha snapped right back. ‘You think you’re such a fancy lady, don’t you? Coming in here and talking down to us as if we’re the dog shit you’ve trodden in.’
‘Tasha, stop,’ Katya hissed, clutching at her arm.
But Tasha shoved her roughly away. This had been a long time coming and she had no intention of stopping until she’d had her say.
‘What makes you think you’re so much better than us?’ she demanded, her eyes flashing with spite as she approached Chrissie. ‘Coming in here and throwing the rubbish you call food at us, and expecting us to be grateful. Snatching our money from our hands as if we owe it to you, when we owe you nothing.’
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