Behind a Closed Door (The Estate, Book 2)

by Mel Sherratt

  ‘I don’t think so, though I can’t be certain.’

  Cathy Mason had been Josie’s saviour many times over the past three years. She’d been widowed at thirty-six, four years ago now. Josie had always liked Rich Mason. Although a trouble maker in his early years, he’d left his reputation behind in the prison cell he’d spent three years in for armed robbery. Once out, he’d made an honest woman of Cathy Riley.

  But until a few months ago, everyone was under the assumption that Rich had stumbled coming home from the pub one night. One drink too many and he’d taken a tumble down a flight of steps on his way back. His neck had been broken and he’d died instantly. Having found out since that the push had been deliberate and a couple of kicks to his head had finished him off, Cathy had been left traumatised. But as always, only people close to her would know that.

  It was a chance encounter that had started Cathy on the caring route. A child of the care system herself, she’d taken in her friend’s daughter after her friend had threatened to kick her out. The result had been a learning curve for Cathy and, as she’d told Josie on numerous occasions, it had been nice to have company again. When she’d been made redundant for the second time in as many years, she’d opened up her home to more of the same.

  Cathy only had room for four girls at a time, but she’d always help Josie out as much as she could, even if it meant giving up her room to spend the odd times on the settee. Sometimes the girls stayed a night, sometimes a week, sometimes – like in Jess Myatt’s and Becky Ward’s cases – months at a time. But since Matt had come onto the scene and Cathy had settled down with him, they’d been making enquiries into fostering children.

  ‘I wish we could collar this dickhead who’s been targeting the elderly on the estate. He’s the bloody bane of my life at the moment.’

  Josie sat down at the table and Cathy pushed a mug over to her.

  ‘I bet he is,’ she said. ‘But at least whoever did mine didn’t take anything of sentimental value. Other things I can replace, but not photos or jewellery – not that I have any jewellery that’s worth nicking. It’s all cheap tat from Primark.’

  ‘And your window’s been fixed, no doubt?’ Josie’s voice dripped with sarcasm.

  Cathy noticed it. ‘You’re joking, aren’t you? You lot have put a piece of plywood over the pane but that’s it. How’s that supposed to make a woman feel safe?’

  Josie reached for her folder. ‘I’ll make a note to chase it up when I get back. You know these things take time.’

  ‘Bloody budgets,’ said Cathy.

  The back door flew open and a skinny, young girl marched in, slamming it shut behind her. She peered across at them before getting a glass of water.

  ‘Hello, Jess,’ said Josie.

  ‘Hi.’

  ‘Did you get my shopping?’ asked Cathy.

  Jess held up a carrier bag. ‘They hadn’t got any of that cheese that you wanted so I got cheddar instead.’ She slung it down on the table and made for the door.

  ‘Haven’t you forgotten something?’ said Cathy.

  Jess turned back with an exaggerated sigh. She pulled some coins from the pocket of her jeans.

  Cathy held out her hand as she gave them to her. ‘Thank you.’

  Jess smiled sweetly and turned on her heel again.

  ‘And?’ said Cathy.

  ‘And what?’ Jess huffed.

  Cathy pointed to the bag on the table. ‘It won’t put itself away now, will it?’

  Tutting, Jess grabbed the bag. ‘Jesus, what did your last servant die of?’

  ‘Not doing as she was told. It’s your own fault. You should have gone in to college this morning with Becky and you wouldn’t have to do anything.’

  ‘I didn’t get up in time.’

  ‘Becky did.’

  ‘Becky’s a swot. Besides, I don’t like the lecturer this morning. He gives me the creeps the way he stares at me.’

  ‘I’ll give you a lift in tomorrow if you like?’ Even though Jess had the odd day off here and there, Cathy had been pleased that she’d stayed in college since September, and marks from some of her essays were good, surprising them both. Still, Cathy didn’t want to encourage her to skive off.

  Jess muttered something indistinguishable under her breath as she opened the fridge. Cathy rolled her eyes to the ceiling.

  Josie grinned at her. ‘Looks like another satisfied customer!’

  Cathy snorted. ‘At least I have some.’

  Kelly picked up the leaflet that Josie had left for her and shoved it into her coat pocket, then she bundled Emily down the stairs and out into the morning air. One turn right and two lefts would take them onto Davy Road, the main road which chopped the estate in half more or less through its middle. As February made way for March, the days were getting longer and lighter by the minute, and the weather had warmed up considerably after the past few weeks of frost and freezing winds.

  ‘Will I meet lots of other kids?’ Emily asked, as they made their way along Clarence Avenue.

  ‘Yes, you will.’ Kelly was pleased that Emily was looking forward to it. It wasn’t her idea of fun to go along to a pre-school club, but now that she had so much time on her hands, it seemed a good idea. ‘And it will be nice for you to have some friends ready for when you start school in September.’

  At the pelican crossings, they crossed over Arnold Road and took a short-cut through the park at the back of the health centre. The gravel that covered the play area was scattered with litter and beer cans. The rubbish bin had been kicked off its holder and Kelly noticed that the street light at the entrance had been vandalised too. The park was deserted but Kelly hurried through it anyway. A month ago, she never even knew this area existed. Now it amazed her how many streets on the estate she had never walked before, living at the bottom of the estate with Scott.

  As they emerged from the park, they came across a group of youths sitting on the wall of the health centre. They were all wearing hoodies, combats and jeans, dark and menacing even in the light of day. One of them was messing around on a skateboard.

  ‘Wha-hay, lads,’ another one shouted as he spotted Kelly. ‘Cop a look at the tottie coming past.’

  ‘What’s tottie, Mummy?’ asked Emily as she skipped along.

  ‘Never you mind.’ Kelly frowned as the lad walked towards her, his mates egging him on.

  ‘Tottie is what I can’t get enough of,’ the lad said. He was quite an ugly fella up close: wide-set eyes, scabby skin and what looked like bum fluff on his chin made him appear more menacing than he was. He wore a black cap with the initials IA on the peak.

  Idiot Arse, Kelly thought immediately.

  He placed his hand on his crotch and thrust it forward. ‘You fancy some of this?’

  ‘In your dreams,’ replied Kelly, pushing past him. ‘And they must be wet ones – what are you, fourteen?’

  ‘Old enough to make you groan,’ he replied cheekily. He patted her backside but let her pass.

  Kelly slapped his hand away and glared at him before turning back to Emily.

  ‘What’s a wet dream, Mummy?’

  Kelly groaned, hating this part of the estate already. Around the corner was Bernard Place. Two days ago she’d fetched Scott’s package from Philip Matson’s house. Kelly hadn’t liked him on first impressions either, and was glad that he handed it to her without any fuss. The parcel looked like an old shoe box, and was completely covered in duct tape. Annoyingly, there was no way she could look inside it without Scott knowing.

  Everything was good between them now. Scott had rung shortly after she and Jay had arrived home from the visit and apologised for being short with her. He said he was looking forward to her next visit, but Kelly wasn’t sure she could face going again.

  ‘Will there be lots of books?’ Emily broke into her thoughts.

  ‘You’ll have to wait and see,’ Kelly told her with a smile. Emily had become obsessed with a set of pink teddy bear books that Dot had given to her.


  It took them another ten minutes to walk to Mitchell Academy. Once she’d found the right way along the corridors, Kelly pushed open a door. The room was as bright as you would imagine: toys piled high, spilling out of red and green plastic boxes. Above them hung a colourful collection of alphabet letters made out of cardboard and screwed up pieces of crepe paper. Kelly spotted roughly fifteen children walking around in a circle, singing and shouting ‘ring-a-roses’ before stooping down on the floor. Emily’s eyes lit up as one of the leaders let go of a child’s hand and beckoned for her to join in. Immediately, her coat was unzipped and pressed into her mother’s arms.

  Feeling like a spare part as her daughter jumped up and down and pretended to sneeze, Kelly moved to the side of the room where there were four other women standing in a huddle. The one nearest to her nudged one of the others and they all turned to look. Kelly felt her stomach somersault until one of them smiled at her.

  ‘Hiya, I’m Leah Bradley, Samuel’s mum,’ she said. Like most of the women in the room, Leah was in her early twenties. She had red hair tied in a ponytail and a freckly complexion. Kelly turned to look at the children, instantly recognising Samuel among the many blondes and brunettes.

  ‘And I’m Sadie, Kurt’s mum,’ her companion said loudly over the shouting, as the children moved on to other things. On first glance, Kelly couldn’t tell which boy would be Kurt. Sadie was at least six foot tall, with three inch heels that made it painful for Kelly to look her in the eye. Her thin arms stuck out from the end of rolled-up sleeves.

  Kelly smiled back shyly. ‘My daughter’s name is Emily and she’s four. I’m Kelly.’

  ‘Where are you from?’

  ‘I’ve moved into Clarence Avenue.’ Kelly caught the look of disgust that shot from Leah to Sadie. ‘I used to be in Patrick Street, at the bottom of the estate,’ she added quickly.

  ‘Did I see you with Jay Kirkwell the other day?’ Sadie’s bird-like eyes flitted down to Kelly’s toes and back up to her face before she nodded, now convinced. ‘Yeah, it was you. At the DIY shop – he was carrying some boxes.’

  ‘How come you moved out of Patrick Street?’ Leah asked, before Kelly had time to reply to Sadie.

  ‘It’s a long story.’

  ‘I’ll bet it is.’ In a flash, Leah had turned to the others and filled them in on her thoughts. Suddenly, they all turned away. Kelly was left to look awkward again.

  ‘Who do I have to pay my money to?’

  ‘I shouldn’t think someone who lives in Clarence Avenue would have the money to pay,’ said one of the other women.

  ‘I always pay my way, you cheeky cow!’ retorted Kelly.

  ‘Hmm… and how do you manage that, I wonder?’ Leah laughed snidely. The other girls laughed with Leah so she continued. ‘Did Jay Kirkwell want paying too? What did you do for him in return for a favour?’

  Kelly wasn’t going to be judged by people who didn’t know her. She moved to a chair at the far end of the room. While Emily had a waterproof apron popped over her head, she took off her coat and pretended to be interested in some of the paintings on the walls.

  When they left the room an hour later, they stopped at the small coffee bar by the entrance. While they waited for their drinks, Kelly grabbed a prospectus. For the next fifteen minutes, with Emily engrossed in one of the books she’d brought along for her, she sipped her coffee and flicked through the pages. There was so much to choose from.

  Basic computer skills – she had those, surely. She knew how to surf the net and navigate around search engines. IT courses – no, she wasn’t technical.

  Cookery courses wouldn’t earn her any money. She’d never be able to rustle up anything spectacular on a regular basis and she wouldn’t be able to put up with the mess. Maybe she should get a job as a cleaner instead, she mused. Kelly knew she was good at that.

  But the course offering secretarial and general office skills was the one that caught her eye. It promised that she would be able to type properly at a fair amount of words per minute, lay out and present documents in a businesslike manner and enhance her chances of getting an office job. Kelly was sold, and her head suddenly filled itself with all kinds of possibilities.

  The course was on a Wednesday afternoon through to nine pm. Now that the flat was decorated, Kelly would enquire into a few shifts at Miles’ Factory. As long as her mum was still keen to look after Emily, Kelly could fit in four nights a week. While she brought a small amount of money in, it would give her the time she needed to gain some experience. Then, when Emily was at school for most of the day, she’d be able to work in an office with other people, be part of a crowd. Maybe, eventually, she could work as a personal assistant for some bigwig and get paid lots of money. By the time she got to the registration room, Kelly was practically hyperventilating.

  Full of renewed vigour, her steps home became lighter. Luckily, the gang of youths had moved on from the health centre to bother someone else. She even stopped off to push Emily on the deserted swings.

  ‘Do you know what, Em? Your mum’s going to college to learn how to be an office worker. I’m going to earn lots of pennies to buy nice things.’

  ‘And books,’ yelled Emily. ‘I’d like my own pink teddy bear books.’

  Kelly smiled. ‘Yeah, and books.’

  She pushed her daughter up towards the sky again and again, watching Emily stretching her little legs out to make herself go higher. She looked as free as Kelly felt. From that moment, she resolved that the sky would be her limit, too. So what if Scott wouldn’t approve of either of the things she was about to do? It was her life and she wasn’t going to let him live it for her. As well, she vowed to show the likes of all the Leahs and Sadies just what she was capable of.

  CHAPTER TEN

  Josie pulled the top off her pen with her teeth and wrote the date clearly at the top of her notepad. She was parked a few houses away from Mr Neblin’s house, her first call of the day. She needed to see if he had moved the pile of rubbish in his back garden that was in danger of reaching the kitchen windowsill. Bonfire night had gone months before and his excuses for not burning it or getting rid of it were wearing thin.

  As she drew level with number 78 Hector Walk, Josie let out a huge sigh in frustration. Even from the pavement, she could see that it was no better than the last time she’d visited. She unlooped the string from the post which was holding the gate in place and walked carefully down the mud-covered pathway. Well, it wasn’t a path as such, just an unofficial rut that Mr Neblin had made with the wheels of his car. No matter how many times she told him not to park his car on the garden area, he still left it rotting there.

  Josie examined the wreck more closely. The tax disc was two months out of date. She doubted it was insured either, yet only yesterday she had seen him hurtling along Davy Road in it. She reckoned it was time to have a word with Andy. If she couldn’t make him shift it, the law could impound it.

  When she got closer to the mound of rubbish, Josie noticed the other items added to it since her last visit: a smashed up wardrobe, a small television and more than a dozen rubbish bags.

  Josie hammered hard on the back door.

  ‘FUCK OFF!’

  Unperturbed, she banged on the door, harder this time. Moments later, it was yanked open and a small man with a prominent belly stood scowling on the doorstep.

  ‘Yes, it’s that time again, Mr Neblin,’ Josie said bluntly. ‘I told you to shift that pile of rubbish by the time I called a week later.’

  ‘Like I care!’ Mr Neblin leant on the door frame and folded his arms.

  ‘You will care when I –’

  ‘Yeah, please tell me, Mrs Housing Officer, what are you going to do about it anyway? I’m all ears.’

  ‘No, actually, Mr Neblin, you’re all talk. I think I’ve given you enough rope to hang yourself. I’ll get the association to remove this pile of crap and recharge it to you. It’ll cost you a fortune but at least –’

  ‘You won’t get nowt
from me. In case you haven’t noticed, I haven’t worked for seventeen years and you can’t get blood out of a stone.’

  ‘That isn’t a problem. I can get it stopped out of your benefits on a weekly order. I’m sure you won’t mind missing a few pints every week.’

  Mr Neblin took a step forward, his fists clenched at his sides. ‘You can’t do that!’

  ‘I can and I will.’

  ‘You’re a right fucking bitch, aren’t you? You think you’re so bleeding clever but you won’t get one up on me.’

  Mr Neblin looked like he was going to blow up. If he squeezed his cheeks in any more, she could envisage steam coming from his ears. She decided to walk away.

  ‘Do you know that people on this estate hate you?’ he shouted after her. ‘You haven’t got a friend to your name in this place and one day it’s going to come back and bite you right on your fucking fancy pants. Then what will you do?’

  Josie walked away from the drivel spewing from his mouth. Her job was done there, no need to take any further abuse. If the nicey-nicey approach didn’t work then she always had the option to hit him where it would hurt the most: his pocket.

  The slam of a door never failed to make her jump, no matter how many times she heard it. She’d thought she’d dealt with everything working as an admin assistant back at the office, but it was nothing like what she sometimes faced out on the estate, with no counter to hide behind and no panic button to press. Out on the patch, if the going got rough, all Josie could do was walk away from the likes of Mr Neblin – and Gina Bradley.

  Josie decided to call in at the newsagents for a bar of chocolate before heading back to the office. She smiled when she spotted Kelly flicking through a magazine, but wasn’t surprised when her expression remained blank.

  ‘Don’t worry, I’m not with any of the heavy mob today,’ Kelly muttered as she reached the cash desk.

  Josie hid a smile: she was definitely not forgiven.

  ‘On your own today?’ she asked.

  ‘Yes! Not that it’s any of your business.’