Written in the Scars (The Estate Series Book 4)

by Mel Sherratt

  ‘Even coming back here was better than staying there,’ she continued. ‘Marley’s parents live in Manchester now, so we can’t see each other much at the moment. Still, we text and call each other – and we chat over Skype.’

  Keera missed Marley as much as Ibiza: the camaraderie in the bar, dozing in the shade of an umbrella on the beach while they caught up with their sleep after working until three a.m. every night, chilling out with a group of friends they’d made who worked the bars too, always around for happy hour before starting over in the bar, the music blasting out enough to make their ears ring. If it weren’t for what happened, she would go back tomorrow.

  ‘Don’t you have any other friends? I’m sure a young girl such as yourself must have lots of them.’

  ‘Yes. There’s a group of us who meet in the local pub, but it’s not the same without Marley. I feel like I’ve lost my shadow.’

  ‘And now you’re working here!’ Derek’s tone was singsong.

  ‘Don’t say it like that!’ Keera slapped him playfully on his shoulder. ‘A friend told me there were jobs going. And before you say it, I’m not naïve. I know what some of the girls get up to but I have my limits.’

  ‘And so you should.’

  Keera stopped for a moment. She couldn’t believe how much she had opened up to Derek. She wasn’t usually that forward. He obviously had a comforting affect on her. She wouldn’t talk to any old client!

  ‘Blimey,’ Keera grinned. ‘I thought I was supposed to listen to your problems, not the other way around.’

  ‘I like that you find me so easy to talk to.’ Derek smiled as he sat up. He stretched his arms to the ceiling before stepping off the bed.

  Even long after Derek had gone, Keera couldn’t stop thinking of their conversation. She could get off the estate if she wanted to but she hadn’t got the qualifications needed to get anything more than a menial job.

  Keera knew she wasn’t like a lot of the women who lived on the estate though, always scrounging off the social or getting by on knock-off stuff from the bloke they were shacked up with at the time. She’d wanted to earn her keep since she’d left school. It was one thing her mum had instilled in her after her dad had left. The need to provide for herself, to never rely on anyone else.

  When Derek had asked her what she fancied doing, she couldn’t answer, because she hadn’t got a clue. And that had upset her. She didn’t want to be one of the people who went through life without a purpose, like her mum. Life was too short to be running around after everyone the way she did.

  And, unlike her brother, Keera wanted to work to pay her way. She wanted money in her pocket, a decent flat, nice clothes, and good holidays.

  She wanted a future, something to look forward to – but she wasn’t going to get that around here, now was she?

  Chapter Twelve

  Megan was pleased to see that Sam was still on her rounds when she went into work the next morning. He’d been moved to number seventeen, one of the more recently refurbished wards. It still had that sense of newness about it and was a pleasant place to be, rather than having the old feel of ward twelve.

  Most things were fresh and shiny, as if not used before. There were only a few scuffmarks on the painted cream walls, the curtains decorated with retro patterns, flashes of yellow, coral and beige. Megan often wondered if the nicer surroundings helped people to get better; if the older wards prolonged illnesses by leaving their patients in a state of despair.

  She gave Sam a friendly wave.

  ‘How are you feeling?’ she asked, as she dragged over the cleaning trolley.

  ‘All the better for seeing your pretty face.’

  ‘You’re a relation to Mary Marshall, aren’t you?’

  ‘Yeah, she’s my nan. Do you know her?’

  Megan nodded. ‘I work at Poplar Court in the afternoons. She’s a resident there, isn’t she? She hasn’t been there long.’

  ‘God, you’re a nosy one.’ Sam’s tone was jokey, so Megan smiled.

  ‘I know your mum, too,’ she admitted.

  ‘Lucky you. Do you still live on the estate then?’

  Startled by his bluntness, she decided to be nonchalant. ‘Yes,’ she said. ‘You?’

  ‘If I told you, I’d have to shoot you.’

  ‘Really?’ She raised her eyebrows.

  ‘I live in Benedict Road.’

  Megan knew it was near to where she lived in Rosamund Street. ‘That’s on the ‘hell, isn’t it?’

  ‘Just about.’

  ‘Ouch – I live on the mitch.’ She said it without thinking, then cursed inwardly for giving personal information out when she didn’t know him very well.

  Sam laughed.

  ‘What’s so funny?’

  ‘I should have realised.’

  ‘Why?’

  ‘Because if you didn’t live on the Mitchell estate, you’d be a nurse rather than a cleaner.’

  Megan pouted. ‘I don’t think that’s fair, and it isn’t true, either.’

  ‘You don’t want to be a nurse?’

  Megan shook her head. ‘I’d hate to work with all that blood and sick and poo.’ She wrinkled up her nose. ‘Not me, no sirree.’

  ‘Isn’t that what you clean up anyway?’

  ‘Sometimes but not often.’ She began to mop again. ‘Only if anything happens when I’m on my rounds. Other than that, someone else gets to do it. I have set rounds, you see.’

  ‘Well, in that case … Oh, fuck.’

  Megan looked up to see a policeman walking towards them. As he stopped at Sam’s bed, she moved away to give them a bit of privacy.

  Sam swore under his breath.

  ‘Mr Harvey.’ PC Andy Shenton nodded in greeting as he stopped in front of him. ‘Mind if I pull up a chair and have a word?’

  ‘Yes, I do mind. I’m waiting to see the doctor and you’re only going to give me grief – like every other time I see you.’ Sam went to fold his arms, then realised with the bandages on that he couldn’t.

  ‘Likewise,’ said Andy. ‘How’s the hand?’

  ‘Hurts like fuck.’

  Andy pulled a chair from a stack of three and sat down next to the bed. ‘I suppose you know what I’m here for?’

  Sam said nothing.

  ‘Do you want to tell me what you were doing on private property?’

  ‘We weren’t – I mean, I wasn’t.’

  ‘So you were on your own when the accident happened?’ Andy raised his eyebrows.

  ‘Yeah, I was.’

  ‘Oh, come off it, Harvey.’ Andy folded his arms next. ‘Do you really think I’d believe you attacked yourself with a chainsaw? You were with Scott Johnstone, weren’t you?’

  Sam frowned. How the hell had he got that information so quickly?

  ‘I checked the hospital CCTV to see who brought you in. Nice of him to abandon you on the car park, though.’

  ‘That says nothing,’ said Sam. ‘I could have gone home and then Scott brought me here when he saw the state I was in.’

  ‘What were you doing there?’

  ‘I’m not admitting to anything.’

  ‘We have a witness who said—’

  ‘Okay, okay.’ Sam sighed. ‘We were clearing land.’

  ‘To plan a getaway?’

  ‘What?’

  ‘Let’s face it, if things had gone better than they had, you might have been going home that night with a van full of … let me take a guess, electrical goods to sell on? That would be quite some tidy profit.’

  Sam shifted on the bed. He’d better be careful what he said, there was too much of a notion there already.

  ‘Are you arresting me?’ he wanted to know.

  ‘Just routine questions for now,’ Andy smiled.

  ‘We were just helping a mate to clear his land.’

  Andy got out his notepad, smiling at a nurse as she walked past the bottom of the bed. ‘This mate of yours, was he there?’

  ‘No.’

  ‘So he didn’t
actually know you were clearing it?’

  ‘Of course he did. We were helping him—’

  Andy threw that day’s copy of the local newspaper down beside him on the bed. ‘While you were in here, it looks like your fellow criminals decided to do the haul without you.’

  Sam snatched up the newspaper and read the heading on the page it was turned to.

  Robbery of electrical goods.

  The sneaky bastards. They had only gone and done the job even though he was in hospital.

  ‘Still, like you said, it had nothing to do with you.’ Andy stood up. ‘Wouldn’t be like you, profiting from anything like that.’

  Sam couldn’t look at him. His features were stuck in a glare.

  Andy made his way to the end of the bed. ‘I’m off to catch up with Johnstone now, see what he knows about things. I’ve missed him while he was inside. ‘Course, if you hadn’t had your accident, I might never have found out who was cutting back the trees.’

  ‘Wait!’ Sam called after him but Andy kept on walking.

  When the policeman had gone, Sam got off the bed and headed down the corridor. The television room at the end of the ward was empty, the TV switched off, so he dived in out of the way. He sat down with a thud on a small settee.

  That bastard! After all Sam had gone through to clear the land so they could get decent access to the back of the industrial estate, Scott had gone ahead and done the job without him.

  Why hadn’t Scott been in touch? Was he trying to keep it from him? Sam got out his phone, keeping it on his knee while he punched in Scott’s number with his left hand.

  ‘Yeah?’ Scott answered.

  ‘I’ve just seen the paper. You did the job without me?’ Sam’s tone was incredulous.

  ‘’Course we did.’

  ‘So when were you going to tell me about it?’

  ‘You’ve been under a lot of stress, what with the accident and—’

  ‘Don’t fucking patronise me!’ Spittle flew from Sam’s mouth. ‘You’d better save my cut or else.’

  ‘Looks like you’ve already had one.’ Sam heard Scott snigger. ‘You were the stupid fuck that nearly cut his hand off.’

  ‘But you’re the one who caused the accident!’ Sam felt his body tense as he sat forward in the seat.

  ‘You’re no good to me now, so you’re off the team.’

  ‘What the—’ Sam stood up and paced the room. ‘You’re chucking me because I’ve had an accident?’

  ‘You won’t be able to do much for a while. You can always join us again once you’re back to normal.’

  ‘Things will never be normal again because of you. I’m scarred for life!’

  ‘Stop with the whining. It can’t be that bad.’

  ‘What would you know?’ There was a silence between them. Sam couldn’t trust himself to speak or else he would lose it.

  ‘You’ll get your cut,’ Scott spoke eventually.

  ‘I’d better, because if—’

  ‘Of course, it will only be equivalent to what you did, which wasn’t much.’

  ‘What?’

  ‘You only did half the job so you only get half the pay.’

  ‘I nearly lost my fucking hand because of you!’ Sam lowered his voice as two nurses walked past the room and glanced in. ‘That money is my compensation. I want what’s mine.’

  The door to the room opened and a woman in pink stripy pyjamas and fluffy white slippers walked in, pushing a drip in front of her. She smiled shyly, then let it drop as she caught his eye.

  ‘I want my fair share,’ he repeated.

  ‘You’re no use to me as damaged goods.’

  ‘What did you say?’ Sam gasped but the phone had gone dead. Glaring at the woman before storming out of the room, he flounced down the corridor and back to his bed. Damaged goods? How dare Scott say that to him? It was all his fault. He’d make him pay.

  But in the back of his mind, Sam knew he’d do no such thing. Scott Johnstone was above his league. He’d realised that as soon as he’d hitched up with him after Scott had been released from prison. Maybe this might work out better for him.

  He lay down on the bed. ‘Fuck!’

  ‘Language, Sam, please!’ A nurse turned to him with a sigh.

  ‘Yeah, pipe down,’ said the man in the bed opposite. ‘My dog makes less noise than you.’

  ‘Piss off,’ Sam said.

  ‘Mr Harvey! Show some respect.’

  Sam glared at the nurse before turning on his side, his back towards them. He wished he could go home, just walk right on out of there and sort this mess out. He could if he wanted to, discharge himself. But he knew that it would be to his own detriment. He didn’t want to be disfigured if another operation could save his finger.

  He’d just have to bide his time until he was able again, and think about how to get out of this mess.

  Chapter Thirteen

  Donna had her head down when Owen walked into Shop&Save, so didn’t even notice him coming in. It wasn’t until he came to the till that she looked up.

  ‘Hi!’ she almost croaked, then coughed to clear her throat.

  ‘Well, hello.’ Owen handed her a newspaper and a bar of chocolate. ‘Fancy seeing you in here.’

  ‘Fancy.’ Donna felt her skin flushing immediately. Christ, what was it with her and this man?

  ‘It’s a bit late for a morning paper,’ she added. ‘It’s nearly lunchtime.’

  ‘Precisely why I thought you might like to go and grab a bite to eat?’ He placed a few coins in her outstretched hand, lingering to curl her fingers around them. ‘If I don’t come to you, you’ll never find time to meet me. I can have you there and back in an hour, if they can spare you?’

  ‘I … I … well, yes, I suppose they can.’ Donna ran a hand through her hair, glad that she always made an effort to look smart, even if she did have to wear a green overall.

  ‘Come on, Donna,’ a voice came from behind them. ‘Hurry up, won’t you? I’ve got a bet on a horse at twelve and I want to be back at the bookies to watch it.’

  ‘Wait your turn, Bernard.’ Donna ran Owen’s things through the till. ‘It’s not often you’re kept waiting, is it?’

  ‘I’ll be dead at this rate before you’re done.’

  ‘That doesn’t sound like a bad thing,’ Donna muttered under her breath. Owen was trying to keep his face straight as she shooed him away. ‘If I can get off, I’ll see you in … thirty minutes?’

  ‘If you can get off?’ It was his turn to speak quietly. Owen moved closer so that only she could hear. ‘Now, that sounds like something I’m very interested in seeing.’

  Understanding his meaning, her skin flushed even more. As Owen pulled back his head and roared with laughter, she noticed black hair curled up over the top of his T-shirt again. She gulped: she shouldn’t be having the thoughts that were running through her mind right now.

  ‘Away with you,’ she told him.

  ‘I’ll be waiting outside.’

  He winked at her before leaving, making her blush again. ’Right, then, Bernard,’ she turned to him all of a fluster, ‘your usual is it?’

  ‘Yes, and about bloody time.’

  Donna served him and sent him on his way.

  When she’d finished refilling a shelf nearby, Sarah tapped her on the shoulder. ‘Who was that I saw you talking to?’

  ‘That was the guy I was telling you about.’

  ‘You mean … him?’

  ‘Yes, it was Owen.’

  ‘Ohmigod, he’s divine.’ Sarah practically squealed. ‘Are you sure he’s interested in you?’

  ‘Oi, you cheeky cow. Yes, he is.’ Donna grinned. ‘Actually, I can hardly believe it myself. It’s a bit strange, don’t you think? Someone like him wanting to go out with someone like me?’

  ‘What on earth do you mean by that?’

  ‘I’m not exactly a catch, am I? Forty-two years old, living in rented accommodation, with nothing to call my own.’

  ‘Aw.�
�� Sarah gave Donna’s arm a gentle squeeze. ‘You will always have hope, my friend.’

  ‘I will. He’s asked me out for lunch!’ Donna smiled. ‘That’s okay, isn’t it?’

  ‘I’m sure I can cope without you for an hour or so.’

  ‘I’m only down for a half hour break as I—’

  Sarah interrupted her. ‘We may be busy and rushed off our feet but if you want an extra thirty minutes, I won’t tell anyone you’ve been gone longer than you should.’

  ‘Oh, thanks!’

  ‘It’s only fair. You always help me out whenever we’re short-staffed. Now, freshen up in the back room and go and spend some time with your dream man.’

  ‘Before I wake up, you mean.’ Donna laughed as she walked off.

  After his mum had mentioned that Daniel had been around to see him, Lewis had arranged to meet him for a burger. As it was the school holidays, half of Stockleigh must have been in the takeaway shop they went to. Everywhere he looked there were children. Mothers shouting at them to behave, babies screaming, toddlers making a noise. Lewis could feel it grinding on his nerves already. He tried to shut everything out as he gave his order and waited for it to be prepared.

  Daniel had gone to sit down while Lewis stood in the queue for food. A couple of minutes later, he sat across from him and passed him his burger and chips. Despite the surrounding noise, Lewis could still feel the silence between them as they ate.

  ‘Is that good?’ he asked Daniel, after he’d eaten a few bites of his nondescript burger.

  ‘Yeah, thanks.’

  Lewis laughed. Teenagers, they’d eat anything you gave them.

  ‘Do you want to come for tea later, Dad?’

  ‘Not right now, Dan.’

  ‘Why not?’

  ‘Well, was it your mum’s idea?’

  Lewis watched as Daniel went the colour of the tomato ketchup bottle on the table.

  ‘You haven’t asked her, have you?’

  Daniel shook his head. ‘But I know she’d like you to.’

  ‘Next time, maybe.’