Fighting for Survival (The Estate, Book 3)

by Sherratt, Mel

  She reached a bottle of wine from the fridge and poured a large glass. At least they could pay for small luxuries, although she knew they wouldn’t even be able to afford those if John didn’t get some sort of work soon. This past week, they’d spent a lot of time doing the vast list of odd jobs needed to get the property to a decent standard. Everything else, she was sure, would mostly be completed over the next few days. At least then they could both start looking for work. And maybe John would meet new people: there was no way she was going to make tonight’s meet with Pete something that happened on a regular basis. Pete would bring John down and she wasn’t going to have that.

  She rummaged in the cupboard for a bag of crisps, thinking that she’d get the local newspaper tomorrow evening and they could scour it together. She wasn’t afraid to go out to work for someone else again. She’d cook, she’d clean, she’d shine shoes, clean up the muck from… well, maybe not that last one. Caren took a quick look at her manicured nails, splaying one hand out in front. They were her pride and joy, her nails. Personally she thought a woman wasn’t dressed properly if her nails were shoddy. She wondered: maybe now it was time to get the business she’d been planning up and running.

  Across at number twenty-five, Gina was flat out on the settee when John walked into her living room. She’d been watching some reality TV crap but her eyes flitted from top to toe in a second to take in his clean shoes, designer clothes and the crispness of his white shirt. Immediately, she felt her cheeks burn, the smell of his aftershave having the same effect on her as it had on Caren a few minutes earlier.

  ‘Hi, Gina,’ John said, moving aside a pile of magazines before sitting down on the armchair. He stared at the overflowing coffee table, before putting them down onto the floor.

  ‘Hi, John.’

  Pete handed John a can of lager before rushing upstairs to get changed. He’d only got in minutes earlier. It was obvious what today’s cash in hand job had been: he smelt of petrol.

  She swung her feet round to the floor, trying to pull in her stomach as she sat upright. ‘How are you doing?’ she asked, running a hand through hair she knew hadn’t been washed for five days. ‘Getting settled now?’

  John nodded after taking a slurp of his drink. ‘It’s not so bad on Stanley Avenue. Caren was dreading coming back, though.’

  I bet she was, the snotty cow, Gina thought but kept it to herself.

  ‘I suppose it will take a while for you both to settle,’ she said instead.

  John shook his head. ‘Not me. I feel like I’ve never been away.’

  ‘Oh?’ Gina sensed an information giveaway.

  ‘I’ve always liked The Mitchell Estate. It feels like coming home again to me.’ He grinned. ‘It’s great catching up with Pete and seeing old friends.’

  Gina sat forward more, hoping to feign polite interest rather than curiosity. ‘What does Caren think? I heard you had a lovely house.’

  ‘We did. It was a corker, I have to admit. Caren is a real homemaker.’

  Ouch.

  ‘She can turn anything into a better place. I suppose in theory we can live anywhere and she’ll make it into far more than it is.’

  ‘So Caren isn’t happy about the move, then?’ Gina dug deeper, cursing the fact that she was talking to a man. Hadn’t he got any idea what information she was after!

  John took another swig of lager. ‘No, she hates it right now – says something about us moving off here within twelve months but I can’t see that happening.’

  ‘Why’s that?’

  ‘Well, we’re in far too much debt and –’

  ‘Right, Johnno,’ said Pete, appearing in the doorway. ‘Sorry about that – didn’t get in from work until late.’

  Compared to John, Gina didn’t even want to look at Pete in his farmer-checked-shirt that hadn’t seen an iron since she’d bought it for him from the market, jeans that weren’t faded for style but from age and white, dirty trainers. His hair was gelled back like a clone of Dracula.

  ‘Work?’ She huffed. ‘Siphoning petrol and diesel from vehicles isn’t earning a decent living like normal people do.’

  ‘Pays for your fags, doesn’t it, you moody cow.’

  Pete leaned forward to take one from amongst the detritus on the coffee table but Gina slapped his hand. ‘Piss off. It looks like the girls have already helped themselves, the cheeky mares. And you can get your own after that sarcastic comment, Pete Bradley.’

  ‘Suits me.’ Pete smirked as he pulled out a handful of notes, throwing a tenner into her lap. ‘Here, I’m feeling generous. Buy yourself another pack.’

  John laughed and stood up. ‘Nothing’s changed with you two, I see? Still bickering all the time.’

  ‘She wouldn’t have me any other way,’ Pete replied. ‘She knows where her bread is buttered.’

  Gina faked a yawn. ‘Oh please,’ she said. ‘Go now before I slice you in two with my razor sharp tongue.’

  The door closed behind them a few moments later and the house felt instantly gloomy. Gina pulled her feet up onto the settee again, reached for the remote and switched the volume up on the television. God, that had been embarrassing. Trust Pete to try and make a fool of her. You’d think that over twenty years together, she’d be used to his put downs by now but still they hurt – especially when said in front of John, who she hadn’t seen for so long. Who, she realised, she still had a massive crush on. But then again, that wasn’t hard when you stood him next to Pete. To Gina’s eyes, John had got better with age.

  It just wasn’t fair.

  ‘It’s quarter to nine. Do you think she’ll show?’ Claire asked her sister as they sat on the low railing outside Shop&Save with the other girls. Although it had been raining for most of that day, it had stopped now but the wind had picked up instead. Crisp packets and chocolate wrappers over by the doorway created a mini tornado. They closed their eyes momentarily as a cloud of dust flew up into the air.

  ‘She’d better, if she knows what’s good for her,’ Rachel said with a scowl.

  Just before nine, Charlie Morrison came running around the corner, not stopping until she was level with them. She sat down on the railing next to Claire, holding her side as she caught her breath.

  ‘Soz I’m late,’ she said eventually. ‘Mum wanted me to look after my baby brother. I told her to get lost so she clouted me one. I ended up getting locked in my room.’ Charlie ran a hand through short, blonde hair, messing up her carefully styled spikes. ‘I waited ‘til I heard her on the phone and legged it through my bedroom window, out onto the porch.’

  Rachel grinned. ‘Nice one. Won’t she wait up for you, though?’

  ‘Don’t care – I’m always getting lamped when I get home anyway, so I might as well have some fun while I’m out.’ She smiled shyly at the others, suddenly her nerve deserting her. Her gaze dropped to the floor.

  It didn’t go unnoticed by Rachel. She stood up and nudged her sharply. ‘You still up for it?’

  Charlie nodded. ‘What do you want me to do?’

  ‘Ever robbed anyone?’

  ‘No.’

  ‘Then that’s what you can do.’

  Charlie swallowed. ‘Can I pick a victim?’

  Rachel shook her head slowly. ‘No, we’ll choose.’ She looked at the others. ‘Won’t we, girls?’

  Some of the group nodded.

  ‘Yeah, let’s not make it too easy,’ said Ashley. ‘I remember my initiation. It was hell.’

  ‘Only because you were such a wimp,’ Claire teased, squeezing in between her and Louise on the railing.

  ‘Me? A wimp?’ Ashley faked a hurt expression. ‘You,’ she pointed to Rachel, ‘chose a hard knob for me and I got a good kicking.’

  ‘We got our hands on some good booze though,’ Shell sniggered, ‘while you were on the floor.’

  As the girls continued to cajole and laugh, Rachel watched the shop doorway to see who was coming and going. It was a good fifteen minutes before she spotted two girls, on
e of whom had given her lip at school, and she knew the initiation could go ahead. Time to kick ass as The Mitchell Mob.

  ‘Charlie, get their bags and see what’s in them,’ she told her.

  Charlie grinned when she saw who Rachel had picked out for her. She interlaced her fingers, pushed them back and stretched them out in anticipation. ‘Which one shall I do first? Or shall I do them both?’

  ‘Both!’

  ‘Okay. Oy, you two!’ Charlie shouted as she ran towards them. ‘Care to join us for a moment?’

  The two girls stopped in their tracks as Charlie reached them, the others not far behind.

  ‘It’s Sarah, isn’t it?’ Charlie spoke to the younger one. ‘Sarah Syphilis.’

  The girls burst into laughter and circled the sisters.

  Sarah glanced at her older sister, just before her bag was whipped off her shoulder.

  ‘Whatcha doing out here, all alone, at the shops?’ asked Charlie.

  ‘Give that back to her,’ the older girl said.

  Charlie grabbed the collar of her jacket and pulled her close. ‘Don’t push your luck, Jill Crawford, if you know what’s good for you.’

  ‘If you know what’s good for you, you’ll back off right now,’ Jill dared to speak again. ‘I’ll get my brother on you and then you won’t be so sure of yourself.’

  Charlie slapped her hard across her cheek. ‘Do you think I’m scared of a brother coming after me?’ She punched Jill in the stomach, watched her face crumple a second before her knees. While Sarah’s bag was searched and the contents thrown into the road by Claire and Hayley, Charlie laid into Jill. Twice she elbowed her in the back, then she brought her fist up underneath and caught her in the chin. Jill tried to grab Charlie’s hood but Charlie was too strong for her. Another punch in the stomach and she curled up in a ball, trying to fend off the remaining blows, praying that Charlie wouldn’t use her feet. All the time, Sarah screamed as she watched what was happening to her sister, the rest of the girls in the gang egging Charlie on. People began to appear at the doorway of Shop&Save. Someone shouted over angrily at them.

  ‘Punch her lights out,’ said Louise, ignoring them.

  ‘Yeah, kick her in the head so that she can hear bells ringing,’ added Hayley.

  ‘Give her one for me,’ cried Claire, tossing Sarah’s purse on the ground in disgust. ‘There’s hardly anything in here, just a few measly coins. Next time, Rachel, we need someone with a wallet.’

  Rachel shot her twin a warning look. ‘Don’t tell me what we need to do,’ she hissed. ‘Or you can take down the next victim.’

  ‘No way! It’s not my turn again. I did –’

  ‘Well, shut the fuck up then.’ Rachel moved towards Jill, who by now was crawling away, and pulled her head up sharply by the hair, delighted to see fear in the girl’s eyes. It was a perfect time to reiterate what they were all about.

  ‘So, your olds – who do you tell them attacked you?’ she asked.

  ‘I – I didn’t see who it was,’ Jill muttered.

  ‘And who do you tell everyone else who attacked you?’

  ‘The Mitchell Mob,’ Jill sobbed.

  Rachel shoved her forward head first and Jill fell to all fours. For good measure, she kicked her up the backside. ‘Now, get out of my sight, you pathetic loser.’ She turned to Charlie, who had returned after chasing Sarah away, and grinned.

  ‘You’re in.’

  CHAPTER FIVE

  Caren padded across the dark red quarry tiles, being careful to avoid the chunk missing from the corner of one right in the middle of the kitchen floor, and yanked the cold water tap clockwise as much as was physically possible. The bloody thing wouldn’t stop dripping. Drip, drip, drip, all day, every day since they’d moved in. She leaned on the kitchen worktop and sighed loudly.

  Two weeks they’d been in this dump and, despite the jobs they’d carried out, she hadn’t begun to make a dent in making it feel like home. She looked out at the tip of a rear garden: she could just about make out a pathway through the jungle of grass and overgrown hedges. A mass of green, apart from the huge pile of rubbish left by the previous tenant – she’d been onto Mitchell Housing Association and been told that she’d have to shift it herself! Compared to the house they’d left behind, this garden could have fitted onto her decking area before heading towards the well-maintained, landscaped gardens.

  Even the late September day was trying to be cheery. She squinted as the autumn sun peeked out from behind a rain cloud. It was ten thirty. After coming in at 2am the night before and waking with a hangover, John had taken the car to have two new tyres because it had failed its MOT. Not able to stand another minute alone with the few remaining boxes left to unpack, she grabbed her keys and bag and headed for the door. It was too depressing to face right now; she had to get out. A trip across the shops would do her good, even if just for a bit of fresh air.

  She walked down the front path and came face to face with Gina Bradley. She cursed silently underneath her breath.

  Gina spotted her at the same time. Fuck! If she’d known she was going to bump into Mrs Frigging Perfect, she would have made more of an effort before she’d left the house. As it was, she was only nipping out for some fags to get out of Pete’s hair. They’d been arguing for well over an hour; she’d stormed out with a slam of the back door. So, wearing antique leggings that sagged absurdly at the knees, slippers and a black T-shirt, her hair unkempt and not a flicker of age-defying make up on, she was looking dire to say the least.

  She walked slowly down the path, glancing in Caren’s direction but trying not to make eye contact. Damn, she looked as good as she had when she’d watched her moving in. Her hair hung straight like a velvet curtain, framing her face on either side. She wore make up to enhance her beauty, black trousers and a smart jacket that looked like it had cost a fortune. Gina could hear her heels tippy-tapping down the steps from here. Finished off with a Burberry scarf knotted around her neck, to Gina, she oozed class.

  They reached the street at exactly the same time.

  Caren knew it would be awkward when they first met again but she wasn’t going to be the one who was discourteous. Brought up with manners, she knew it would give her the upper hand if she used them. Gina would assume she wouldn’t want to bother with her. Well, she didn’t, but she could at least hide it well.

  ‘Hi, Gina,’ she smiled falsely.

  ‘Hello,’ said Gina, giving her the once over in as intimidating a manner as she could muster.

  A silence followed as both women stood still. Caren wondered what to say next while Gina stared at her.

  ‘Where are you off to?’ asked Gina sharply.

  ‘To the shops. I fancied a bit of fresh air.’ Another silence. ‘You?’

  Gina shrugged. ‘Off to my mum’s – you remember, she lives at number twenty-eight? My dad died but she’s going strong, the old doll.’

  ‘Oh.’ Twenty-eight was next door but one. Caren hoped there wouldn’t be any more of the Bradley clan in Stanley Avenue. One was more than she could bear right now.

  But Gina picked up on the ‘oh’ like a dog with a rabbit.

  ‘What do you mean, oh?’

  ‘Nothing.’ Caren took a step forward, wondering how quickly she could get away.

  ‘I suppose this avenue is too low down for you and your precious John,’ Gina spat out nastily. ‘Me and my family have quite a few houses here. My sister, Leah lives at number thirty-three – not that she’s home much now since she started seeing her fella. So, that’s three of us. Is that enough scum for you in one place?’

  Even though she’d half expected it, Caren was taken aback by Gina’s hostility. ‘I didn’t mean anything,’ she said.

  ‘Good, because there’s nothing to worry your little head about. We won’t be bothering with the likes of you.’

  ‘And what exactly is that supposed to mean?’

  Gina pointed at her. ‘You… you think you’re so high and mighty but you’re as lo
w as the rest of us. What brought you back to the Mitchell Estate, hmm? Remember what you said? Because I do. ‘I’m never coming back to this shit-hole’, you said.’

  ‘I wouldn’t be back if it wasn’t for…’ Caren’s words faltered as she realised she was about to give away more than she’d intended.

  ‘If it wasn’t for you going bankrupt?’ Gina smiled, loving the look on Caren’s face.

  ‘How did you find out?’ Beneath her make up, Caren paled. She couldn’t believe John had blabbed about that. How dare he tell everyone their problems!

  ‘He told me and Pete last night, when they came home pissed.’ Gina smiled even more when she saw Caren’s eyes widen. ‘Didn’t he tell you that he stopped by our house afterwards? I was going to go to bed because it was so late but I’m glad I stayed up now. They brought back fish and chips and shared it all with me. I did loads of bread and butter and we opened some cans. You’re not mad with him, are you?’

  Trying to keep her emotions from spilling out, Caren shook her head. ‘No, I’m not his keeper. And you know John, he can look after himself.’ She made a big deal about checking her watch. ‘Look, I’d better be going, I’ll be late back else.’

  Gina popped up a hand and waggled her fingers. ‘Ta-ra for now,’ she said to Caren’s disappearing form. Watching her scurry away, she smiled and congratulated herself. Even looking like she did as opposed to Caren’s picture of beauty, she’d managed to get the upper hand. She opened the gate to her mum’s house and practically ran up the path. Suddenly the need for a cigarette had gone.

  Ruth Millington turned the key in the lock of number thirty-two Stanley Avenue, pushing open the door quickly so that she could put the bags she had carried down. She stood upright and rubbed at the small of her back. God, they had been heavy. She shouldn’t have tried to carry that many but she hadn’t realised how far away she was here from the bus stop. Her fingers had ridges where the bags had dug into them. She clenched and unclenched them to get back their circulation.