by Mel Sherratt
‘What do you mean?’
‘You can still go to work and complete your college course when he comes out.’
Kelly huffed. ‘Yeah, right, and it’s as easy as that.’
‘Yes, it is. You’ll have to think of some good reasons why you should continue, get your ammunition ready. Besides, surely he should want you to try and better yourself? He should be proud of what you’ve done under the circumstances. You wouldn’t have lost your home if it wasn’t for him! You need to remember that.’
Kelly nodded. She would never forget how underhand Scott had been regarding the tenancy on Patrick Street – especially the position he’d put Emily in.
‘I’m scared he’ll want me to be the old Kelly,’ she said, ‘and I don’t want to be her again.’
‘No, you don’t,’ Josie agreed. ‘What night is your secretarial course?’
‘Tonight, six ‘til nine.’
‘I’m there every Wednesday too, so I can give you a lift home every week if you like? It’s on the estate, before you say that I’m going out of my way.’
‘Thanks, but I’ve managed to sort one out.’ Josie didn’t need to know that Jay had insisted on taking on the role of chauffeur.
‘Fair enough,’ said Josie, guessing rightly about what Kelly wasn’t telling her. ‘Just yell if you need me any time in the future.’
Kelly smiled with gratitude. Despite her job, Josie had turned out to be someone she liked. ‘Are you married?’ she asked, wanting to know a little more about her.
‘Yes, just over five years.’
‘Do you have any children?’
‘No, we’re quite set in our ways at the moment. We’re both only children; both sets of parents died when we were young.’ Josie knew it was a pathetic excuse. How could they bring a child into their relationship? She checked her watch and jumped up quickly. ‘I’d better be on my way. I’ve promised to cover the phones while some of the girls at the office go to the pub for their lunch.’
At the front door, Kelly thanked Josie for listening to her. ‘I’ve enjoyed talking to you this morning – I hope I haven’t said too much though.’
‘I don’t gossip,’ Josie reassured her. ‘Nor do I form opinions. What you’ve told me will stay with me only, if that’s what you mean.’
Kelly smiled shyly. ‘You change when you take off your coat. You lose your sense of authority.’
Josie was astounded at her perceptiveness. ‘In this job, I have to be two different people at the same time. It’s one of those things that only individuals who work with the general public face-to-face will understand. It stops you taking the insults personally.’
‘You still ask too many questions for my liking,’ Kelly continued, rolling her eyes to the ceiling.
‘Force of habit, I’m afraid.’
‘But I can run to a coffee whenever you can find a free minute in your full day?’
‘You mean you’d like to be one of my regular ‘tea-stops’?’ Josie teased. ‘Or ‘pee-stops’, as we often call them. I’m highly honoured. Most of them are above the age of seventy and only want me to call because they see no one else from week to week. But I suppose I can make an exception for you.’
‘How are you getting on with the course?’ Brian Walker asked, as he held open the door of Mitchell Academy later that night. He followed Josie out into the drizzle.
‘It’s great,’ said Josie brightly. Brian was the course lecturer. Although she hadn’t known him long, Josie had taken an instant liking to him. He was fair of face and nature and he spoke with a soft pitch.
‘Really?’ he continued. ‘I was certain that tonight’s topic had affected you more than you’re letting on.’
‘It is hard going. I know I’m only in my first month but it’s very much like counselling for yourself,’ Josie tried to explain. ‘The group we have has gelled so quickly, I suppose due to the nature of the course and the things we have to share. It’s quite draining actually, but very motivational when you hear what other people have gone through. Especially Tim.’
For part of the night’s session, Tim had been talking about his ex-wife and how their marriage had fallen apart from his lack of trust. Sometimes Josie had had to stop her mind from wandering as she tried to listen to him, at the same time listing in her head all the similarities he had with Stewart. Tim explained it was his need for control that eventually drove them apart – he had to be right every time. He found it hard to take criticism, found it hard to trust anyone, and so he pushed them away with his nastiness. Equally, he found it hard to communicate his love.
For Josie, it had been too close for comfort. When she’d met Stewart, she’d thought that her lack of self-belief would disappear, but now that she was married, it was worse than ever. She knew she had let him control her, just like she had let her mother do the same. It was one of the reasons she’d enrolled on the course – to see if she could learn more about herself, as well as to pick up a qualification. She realised she had her limits, but she wanted to gain more confidence.
It had been enough for her to question Tim about it during their break. What Josie had learned had made her heart beat wildly. Eventually, Tim had got help for his problem and now he was much better. He’d lost his wife in the process: they’d divorced a long time ago, but he was with another partner and – for the first time in his forty-nine years – he felt content.
Josie hadn’t been able to get the conversation out of her head. Feeling unable to ask him why he’d felt so insecure for the best part of his life, she wondered if Stewart could change if he got help, or perhaps she could find out exactly what was at the root of his problem. If she got him to admit there was a problem, she could help him, or try to send him in the right direction.
‘That’s the trouble with a small group, I’m afraid,’ Brian nodded, understanding Josie fully now. ‘We can only use ourselves as subject matter and sometimes it gets a little too close. I must admit, it’s given me quite a lot of food for thought over the years.’
Josie delved into her handbag for her car keys. ‘I thought we were going to learn how to be a counsellor, not to be counselled.’
Brian held up his hands in mock alarm. ‘Hey, don’t shoot the lecturer!’
Josie smiled. ‘Can I offer you a lift anywhere?’
‘I’m supposed to be meeting my son in the George and Dragon. No doubt he’ll want some of my hard-earned cash. I don’t suppose…’
‘It’s on my way home. Hop in.’
In the far corner of the car park, Stewart watched from the shadows as Josie stood deep in conversation with a man. He looked in his early fifties, dressed in a smart suit, small and round in stature with a mass of grey hair.
Stewart ground his teeth. Never taking his eyes from them, their laughter made his blood boil. Josie had lied to him last week. She wasn’t at a meeting, like she’d told him. Neither had she been tonight. He’d already been into the reception to ask where she was, but they hadn’t heard of any council meeting being held. They’d asked him if he had the right night, like he was an idiot. Of course he had the right night: Josie had gone to these so-called meetings for the last three Wednesdays.
It was obvious from what he’d seen – the bitch was having an affair.
As Josie reversed her car out of its space and onto the road, Stewart started up his engine. Not wanting to be spotted, he gave her a moment before pulling out after her. Maybe he could tail her in the dark, see where she was heading.
But then he stopped. He needed to think about this before he did anything too rash. Once he’d found out more details, she’d get his wrath.
There was no way he was prepared to lose everything after he had gone this far.
CHAPTER TWELVE
Kelly often wondered how her legs carried her through the gates of Miles Factory on that first Monday afternoon. At quarter to four, Doreen, her supervisor for the shift, showed her to the locker room where she was given a key and some overalls. At five to four, Kelly fo
llowed her onto the factory floor with a knot in her stomach and a lump in her throat. The first thing she saw was Sally’s welcoming smile. She had shown her what to do at her interview.
‘Hi, again,’ Sally shouted over the noise. A plump girl with blonde hair and freckles, she placed a cup on the conveyor belt and grabbed for the next one. ‘You’re sitting across from me – lucky you. Sometimes my talking can be drowned out by the racket in here.’ She nodded to the girl who had joined them. ‘That’s Julia. She’s okay for a laugh.’
Julia smiled at Kelly as she sat down behind Sally. She was in her late teens, with huge blue eyes almost hidden by her blonde fringe. Kelly smiled back and then glanced around the room. Women sat at most of the benches along the conveyor belt. There were three men in the far corner making up cardboard boxes and separators and a bunch of men playing air guitars while singing to the track belting out from the radio.
‘Can you remember what to do or do you want me to show you again?’ Sally offered moments later, when Kelly was sat still.
Kelly’s shoulders drooped. ‘Would you? Ta. You know how useless I was when I tried.’
‘We do the same for everyone who starts – here.’ She picked up another cup, gave it to Kelly and walked round to join her. ‘Dip your sponge into the water – not too much – and wipe it over one seam. Yes, that’s right, not too hard or else you’ll have to throw it. Then flick it round like this.’ Sally took Kelly’s wrist and turned it ninety degrees. ‘Right, do the same down that seam. Good, that’s much better. Quick, put it on the conveyor belt and grab the next one.’
‘How long have you been doing this?’ Kelly asked, once they’d finished a few cups together.
‘Now, let me see …’ Sally scratched her head in comical fashion. ‘Five, maybe six … years.’ She let the facts sink in before she burst into laughter again. ‘It’s easy once you get the hang of it. Too dry and the seam will still be visible; too wet and the cups will be soggy and have to be thrown. You’re doing great,’ she enthused.
Just then, Kelly noticed Doreen walking back towards the belt. She saw Sally slide a few of her own cups over towards her. Before Kelly could react, Doreen picked one up and examined it carefully. She ran a finger over the seam and raised a quizzical eyebrow.
‘Not bad,’ she said. Her eyes landed on Sally. ‘I don’t suppose you had anything to do with the quality of these?’
Sally feigned hurt. ‘You’ve got the wrong idea of me, Mum.’
Doreen smirked.
‘She’s not too much of a slave driver, my mother,’ Sally enlightened Kelly once Doreen had moved way again. ‘You could do a lot worse. Some of the women are right bitches, especially that Estelle over on the day shift. She gets away with murder because her mum works here.’
Kelly stifled laughter and hid her face. Sally was talking about her aunty – who had helped her get the job – and her cousin.
Sally pulled a face. ‘They’re not family, are they? I should have guessed – everyone’s related on here.’
Suddenly a young woman, her face as red as her long hair, rushed over to the bench and plonked herself down on the empty seat behind Kelly.
‘Bloody typical, I missed the three forty-five bus again. I got a right bollocking last week for being late, but is it my fault that Samuel won’t run for … oh fuck, don’t tell me you’re the new girl!’
Kelly looked up into the eyes of Leah, one of the women she’d met at the playgroup.
‘You two know each other!’ exclaimed Sally in delight.
‘Know her?’ Leah slipped quickly into her overall and sat down as if she hadn’t been twenty minutes late. ‘I don’t think so – she comes from Clarence Avenue. You know, the Clarence Avenue –’
‘Yeah, we all know Clarence Avenue, Leah,’ Sally interrupted. ‘Get to the point, what’s wrong with it?’
Leah’s eyes shot out as if on stalks. ‘Where have you been hiding for the past few years? There are dealers and prostitutes and loads of anti-social behaviour going on. I wouldn’t live there if my life depended on it.’
‘Like your street is far better, then?’ Sally turned to Kelly, who, by this time, had cheeks the same colour as Leah’s hair. ‘Leah lives in Stanley Avenue, two streets from you. Its tenants are – how shall I put it? – the devil’s offspring. Isn’t that what you usually call them, Leah?’
Leah huffed. She threw a scowl at Kelly before finally starting to work. Kelly bristled, but chose to ignore it for now.
Once they’d had a tea break at six fifteen, the night started to drag. Kelly lost count of the mugs she made a hash of, and the smirks that Leah threw at her every time she used too much water and the whole thing became too soggy.
At five past eight, she made her way back out of the factory gates with Sally. The young woman had taken an instant liking to her, which was more than she could say for Leah, who had stormed off in front of them. Kelly sighed as she realised that they’d probably be catching the same bus.
Sally said goodbye at the end of the street and Kelly crossed over towards the bus stop. A few minutes later, she rounded the corner to see Leah sitting down in the shelter. Leah folded her arms, then her legs, and threw Kelly a look that said, ‘stay well away’.
Kelly was fine with this. She had more pressing things to occupy her mind – the first thing she was going to do when she’d collected Emily was relax in a nice, hot bath to ease her aching shoulders and neck. God knows how those women stooped forward for so long during each shift.
Still, she sighed, while all the time feeling Leah’s eyes boring into her head, there’s always tomorrow. Maybe things will improve.
Josie stood in the middle of Philip Matson’s living room for what seemed like a lifetime, but in reality was all of ten minutes. The room was a complete tip; papers, beer cans and takeaway cartons littering any available space – far too much of it for her liking. Three Rottweilers sat at Philip’s feet while he stubbed out a roll-up cigarette, before immediately lighting up the next. The thick plume of smoke curling around Josie’s head started to make her feel light-headed. She wafted it away in vain.
Philip was a good-looking man – or he could be, if he ever took that scowl off his face. He was in his mid-thirties, with no work in him, no brain in him and no balls. Every time she saw him, he reminded Josie of one of the dirty detectives from any number of police television dramas.
They were in the middle of a standoff. Josie had no time for Matson: Matson had no respect for Josie. The threat of eviction seemed the only weapon left to use, and it would hardly be a threat if he didn’t pay something towards his rent in the next few days. She’d been trying for months to get him to understand the seriousness of his impending court hearing. She decided to try one more time.
‘Mr Matson, if you can’t be bothered to follow the correct procedure to claim your benefits, then how am I supposed to stop the eviction next week?’
Philip’s head flipped up at the last moment. ‘Eviction?’ he frowned.
‘I have the revenue team on my case. If you don’t comply with the court order set up last month, they’ll take you back to court and apply for an eviction order. Seeing as you haven’t kept up with the simple repayment scheme of four pounds a week, the judge will grant it for us. You’ve only yourself to blame. You must understand that –’
Philip stood up abruptly. ‘No, you’d better understand,’ he said. ‘I filled in the forms; you didn’t do your job properly.’
‘You didn’t provide proof of your bank account,’ Josie ticked off with her fingers. ‘You didn’t provide proof that you’re claiming sick pay. We don’t check all that out for you – you have to do some things for yourself. One of them is to get that lazy backside of yours out of that chair and to the office with the necessary paperwork.’
Philip scowled but Josie wasn’t perturbed.
‘You need to clear the account by 4 o’clock on Friday afternoon or we’ll be applying for the order first thing on Monday morning. Yo
u’ve really left it late this time.’
Josie stepped back as Philip moved towards her. ‘You won’t kick me out.’
‘If you pay what you owe, then –’
‘Fifteen hundred quid!’ he screamed. Josie started. One of the dogs jumped onto the floor and began to prowl the room. ‘Where the fuck am I going to get fifteen hundred quid?’
‘It wouldn’t have been anything if you’d taken the time to provide us with what we needed. That’s the sad thing. We’ve been asking you for over six months now to provide proof of your bank details – all you had to do was bring it to the office for me to photocopy. Letter after letter, visit after visit. You’ve been to court four times and been given chances to co-operate with us. What more could we have done?’
‘That’s right.’ Philip’s tone was sarcastic. ‘You’re doing what you’re paid to do, Mrs Jobsworth.’
‘Yes, that is right.’ Josie nodded. ‘I am.’
‘You chuck me out on Friday and it’s you who I’ll come after. It’ll only take a few days to follow you around and I’ll know where you live. You won’t feel safe in your bed because you’ll never know when I’ll come calling.’
‘Don’t be ridiculous. If you lay one finger on me, I’ll get you for it. It certainly won’t take me long to find out where –’ Josie’s phone rang and she reached for it quickly. ‘Hi, PC Baxter,’ she almost shouted the words.
‘Josie, it’s Charlotte Hatfield,’ said Andy. ‘The control room have had a call from her every minute or so for the past few minutes, but there’s no reply when they talk to her. All they can hear in the background is the kids screaming. I think her partner’s got to her.’
Josie took a sharp intake of breath. ‘Oh no! I – where are you?’
‘I’m in Brian Road. You?’
‘I’m in Bernard Place. Do you want to meet me there or do you want to come round to fetch me?’