Fighting for Survival (The Estate, Book 3)

by Sherratt, Mel

  She wiped her mouth with the back of her sleeve. Then she waddled through into the living room with the rest of the vodka. She flopped onto the settee and reached for the remote control.

  Damn those bloody girls.

  ‘What’s wrong with you?’ Claire asked Rachel as they went into their room. ‘Have you gone totally barmy?’

  Rachel flung herself down onto her bed. ‘Leave me alone.’

  ‘But you were going to hit Mum!’

  ‘So?’

  Claire gasped. ‘So you should never hit your olds. I know she can be a pain at times, and an idle cow, but she’s our Mum.’

  Rachel buried her head in her pillow and pummelled the mattress either side. ‘Argh!’

  Claire sat down beside her. ‘You were way out of order.’

  ‘It’s that bitch’s fault, that Stacey Hunter. She started all of this.’

  ‘Maybe but you don’t have to be so nasty to Mum. She’s on our side; she just doesn’t want us to get involved in any more trouble.’

  ‘You’re only saying that because you’re scared of what Stacey might do.’

  ‘No, I’m not!’

  ‘Yes, you are. You’re scared of your own fucking shadow.’

  Claire got up and left the room then. There was no talking to Rachel when she was in this sort of mood; she’d have to wait for her to calm down. Instead, she went to the bathroom to inspect the damage done by Leanne. In the cracked mirror above the sink, she saw what a mess she looked. She pressed a hand to the swelling on her nose and winced. Charlie had thrown a really good punch: she’d never gone down so quickly before. She peered a little closer: there was a tiny cut at the side and one eye had started to discolour. She was going to have a right shiner tomorrow. Still, it meant legitimate time off school. They weren’t allowed to go in looking like they’d done ten rounds in a boxing ring. Besides if she did, it would probably be her who got detention for fighting, even though she hadn’t been the instigator.

  She cleaned herself up and went back to their room. Rachel was lying on her side, her face towards the wall. As she lay back on her own bed, Claire listened intently but she couldn’t hear anything. She knew Rachel wasn’t asleep but she didn’t seem to be crying either.

  ‘Rach?’

  Nothing.

  ‘Rach?’ A little louder but nothing again.

  Sighing, she grabbed a magazine from the floor and lost herself in a world of celebrity.

  Rachel wasn’t sleeping. She’d turned her back as soon as she heard Claire come out of the bathroom because she didn’t want her to see that she’d been crying. But even though she’d been expecting something to happen, she’d had enough tonight.

  Although she’d known that Stacey wouldn’t take things lying down and she’d been ready for a fight, she thought it would happen across on the square. So both she and Claire had been unprepared. They weren’t even on their bikes, or else they wouldn’t have caught up with them.

  But the way she was feeling was more to do with hitting out at her mum. She felt guilty. Claire was right; she shouldn’t have lashed out at her. Even though she always gave her lip, respect was respect. There were some things you didn’t do on the Mitchell Estate. Hitting your olds was one of them.

  Was she out of control, like Mum said? Was she going to end up going off her head like Stacey Hunter? She looked over at Claire. Her head was in a magazine, her right foot tapping away. She turned on her side to face her.

  ‘You have to stick with me on this,’ she said.

  ‘Meaning?’

  ‘Meaning that I’m going to stay top dog. I just need to get rid of Stacey.’

  Claire closed the magazine, threw it onto the floor and lay on her side, facing her sister. ‘How?’

  ‘I’m not sure. I’ll have to think about it. Have you got any ideas?’

  Claire thought for a moment, then shook her head. ‘I’ll have a think too. But you’d better make sure that whatever it is, you take Stacey out or she’ll be the one that’s always top dog.’

  ‘You don’t think we can do it?’

  Claire shrugged. ‘I’m not sure it’s worth bothering about, if I’m honest.’

  Rachel raised herself to one elbow. ‘But we –’

  ‘I’m not saying that I won’t help you. I’m just saying that we could go back to how it was.’

  ‘No.’

  ‘But it used to be a laugh!’

  ‘I said no, all right!’

  ‘Okay, okay, calm down.’

  ‘I need to know that you’ll be with me.’

  ‘Of course I’ll be with you, but –’

  ‘Good. We’ll sort her out and then we’ll take control again. It’ll be a doddle, you’ll see. Once we take Stacey down, the rest will follow. It’ll –’

  ‘What do you mean, once we take Stacey down?’ Claire interrupted.

  ‘It’s the only way. They got us tonight, they think we’ll retaliate. So instead we go for Stacey. She’ll never suss that out, until it’s too late.’

  ‘But we can’t fight her. Well, I can’t anyway. She’ll beat me to a frigging pulp.’

  Rachel frowned. ‘We can do it together!’

  ‘But that’s not fair!’

  ‘Was it fair what they did to us tonight?’

  ‘It was only because we did it to Hayls and Shell.’

  ‘But we’re known for doing everything together. If we attack Stacey so that she knows we mean business, she’ll be shit scared of us catching her again, she’ll back off and –’

  ‘– and then you’ll be top dog,’ Claire said.

  ‘Exactly.’

  Claire looked away. Everything was always about Rachel. It was Rachel who wanted to get back at Stacey. She’d come out head of the gang; Claire, however, having done some of the dirty work with her, would then have to play second fiddle. It wasn’t fair. That’s why she liked Stacey being in charge. For her, it meant not being undermined by her dominant twin.

  Rachel glared at her. ‘You’re not going to help me?’

  ‘Sure I’ll help you. I’m just not sure that I should.’

  ‘Because you are my sister; that should be enough.’

  ‘You’re my sister, too, but you never listen to me.’

  ‘Yes, but I look out for you.’

  Claire said nothing. There wasn’t any point.

  Across the street, Caren shuddered as she opened the back door and took out the rubbish. She lifted the lid of the bin and jumped as she heard a noise behind her. The only light coming from the kitchen window, she peered into the darkness.

  ‘Hello?’ she ventured.

  ‘Why, hello, gorgeous.’

  Caren sighed as Pete came out of the shadows.

  ‘John’s inside,’ she told him.

  ‘It’s not John I’ve come to see. It’s you.’ He grabbed her upper arm, roughly jerking her towards him. ‘What the fuck are you playing at?’

  ‘I don’t know what you’re –’

  ‘You told John to keep away from me, didn’t you?’

  ‘Let go of me!’ Caren tried to shake off his grip as he pushed her up against the wall of the house. He pressed against her, his leg between her thighs forcing her feet to widen. Then he grabbed her chin.

  Caren’s breath began to come in rasps. She banged her foot on the wall, hoping to alert John. But she knew he’d be watching the television: she’d only gone in the kitchen to make a cup of tea before the late evening news began.

  ‘I could have you,’ Pete said.

  Caren froze.

  ‘Right here; no one would see us. I’m sure we could be quiet.’

  ‘Leave me alone.’ Her arms stuck down by her sides, she felt her knees beginning to give way. Pete moved his face towards her. Caren squirmed as he kissed her. She clenched her teeth when she felt his tongue against them.

  He pressed roughly on her breast. ‘Don’t be a prick tease, now. I know you want me. I can tell every time I see you.’ He reached for her hand and placed it on hi
s crotch.

  Oh, God, she could feel his hardness.

  ‘See what you do to me.’

  Caren whimpered in fright. ‘John will be out in a minute,’ she whispered.

  Pete kissed her again. This time she moved her head to the side. He thrust his tongue into her ear. Then he grabbed her chin again.

  ‘If John wants to see his mates, catch up on old times and play a few card games, you won’t stop him. Do you hear?’

  Caren nodded.

  ‘And I don’t want John to know about this, or else there’ll be more where that came from. As you can see, there’s always a time when I can get you alone.’

  She nodded again, this time fervently.

  ‘Good girl.’ Pete kissed her one last time before moving away.

  CHAPTER THIRTEEN

  Caren sat in the living room, trying not to spill the tea she was attempting to drink. Instead of leaving after he’d groped her, Pete walked into their house as if nothing had happened and invited John out for a late drink. Caren faked a smile and told John to go out. Even though he looked on in surprise, he jumped to his feet and ran upstairs to get changed, leaving Pete in the living room with her. A frosty silence lingered in the air as they watched the news. Pete kept glancing across at her but her eyes stayed firmly on the television screen.

  It was a long ten minutes before John appeared again. She sent him on his way with a kiss. As soon as the front door closed behind them, she rushed upstairs and took a shower. She scrubbed her skin until it felt raw, shaking as she recalled what Pete had done, what he’d said, what he’d touched.

  Sitting on the settee afterwards, she realised that what had happened could easily happen again. Pete lived right across the road. If he wanted to, he could watch the house, see when John disappeared and come hurtling across. She’d have to lock the doors all the time from now on ;there was no way she could leave them open, in case he showed up unannounced again.

  She wondered – had he been waiting for her or had it just been good timing on his part? Had he been watching for her routine? She thought about telling John but immediately dismissed the idea. What if Pete denied it – what would she do then? Who would John believe? She’d like to think it was her, but after their recent arguments about the time he was spending over there, John would have his doubts. Who wouldn’t?

  Caren began to cry again. She was in a no win situation. Damn that man and his family. What chance did she have of keeping John on the straight and narrow now?

  Further down Stanley Avenue, Ruth was trying to get her boys to go to bed. She hadn’t realised the time after falling asleep on the sofa. After having a glass or two of wine, she felt exhausted, drained, a dark mood coming down quickly but she couldn’t be bothered to move.

  ‘Come on you two,’ she said. ‘You’ve school in the morning.’

  ‘Don’t want to go to school,’ Mason said, banging his feet against the wall as he lay on his back in the armchair.

  ‘You have to go to school.’

  ‘No, we don’t. We can stay at home and look after you.’

  Ruth smiled absent-mindedly. ‘That’s nice.’

  ‘We need to look after you because you’re mad.’ Mason made a circling motion by his temple. ‘You’re a mad mum. You’re a mad mum.’

  ‘You’re a mad mum!’ Jamie joined in, banging his toy car in time to his syllables.

  Ruth closed her eyes and pinched the bridge of her nose. ‘Bed, you two. Now!’

  ‘No,’ said Jamie.

  Ruth stood up quickly. ‘How many more times do I have to tell you?’ She pointed to the door. ‘Bed, now!’

  They scurried away quickly.

  Ruth sat down again. Once they were asleep, she could break out the bottle of Bacardi she’d bought. Get pissed on her own, fall asleep here on the sofa and end the day as she’d begun it. Jeez, her life was so exciting.

  The noise of the boys stomping around upstairs soon escalated. Jamie started to scream. Ruth pressed mute on the remote control.

  ‘Pack it in, you two!’ she shouted up to them. But the noise continued.

  ‘Mum!’ screamed Jamie, rushing into her. ‘Mason is hitting me!’

  Ruth ignored him. ‘La la la.’ She turned the sound up on the television, notch by notch by notch, until the sound distorted. Stuff them, she thought. She too could play stupid games.

  Suddenly, there was a bang on the wall beside her. Ruth jumped out of her trance and switched the volume down.

  ‘Are you fucking mad?’ a voice shouted from next door. ‘Pack it in or I’ll put your windows through.’

  Ruth switched the sound off completely. Jamie’s screams had turned to sobs now but she didn’t comfort him. They’d sort themselves out: they always did.

  In the kitchen, she reached for the Bacardi. Not bothering with a glass, she twisted off the top and swigged it neat from the bottle. Faster, faster, the liquid poured down her throat, spilling over her lips, down her neck in her hurry to get it all in there.

  Block out the pain.

  Block out the hurt.

  Block out the darkness.

  She stared at the bottle before throwing it at the wall. As it smashed, she screamed. It was much louder than Jamie.

  As soon as Gina’s back was turned the following evening, Claire and Rachel sneaked out of the house. They were on the prowl for Stacey. When she wasn’t across on Vincent Square, they waited outside her house until she came out.

  ‘Hunter!’ Rachel shouted when she spotted her. ‘A word.’

  Stacey tutted loudly. ‘What do you two want?’

  ‘You.’ Rachel punched her in the face before she had time to do anything about it. But it didn’t have the desired effect: Stacey stayed on her feet.

  ‘Is that all you’ve got, bitch?’ She taunted. ‘Or do I have to fight you both?’

  Rachel punched her again. Claire rushed at her.

  Stacey fell to one knee but stood upright again immediately. She screamed as her fists flew out in every direction.

  ‘Oy! What’s going on out here?’ A man in his thirties appeared behind his garden gate next door. He pointed down the street. ‘Fuck off out of here, Stacey. You wake my kids up and you’ll know it.’

  Rachel took the opportunity to catch her breath, holding on to her ribs where Stacey had caught her a blow. This wasn’t going to plan. They were supposed to take her down, kick the shit out of her and then drag her over to the shops where the rest of the girls would probably be waiting for her by then.

  Except Stacey wouldn’t go down. Even with the two of them, she stood her ground. Blood trickled from her nose but she had her fists up, ready to hit out again at any moment.

  ‘I said fucking move!’ The man opened his gate and ran towards them, a piece of wood in his hands raised in the air.

  All three of them ran. At the end of the street, Rachel and Claire headed toward the Square. Stacey doubled back and ran down the steps and along Peter’s Walk.

  ‘You fucking coward!’ Rachel shouted after her.

  ‘That was close,’ said Claire.’

  ‘I know; he was a nutter waving that wood around like that.’

  ‘I didn’t mean him.’ Claire turned to her. ‘We were lucky to get away then, Rach. Stacey took us both on and she was winning! If he hadn’t come out, she’d have hurt one of us and then have started on the other. She’s the nutter.’

  Rachel knew she was right. They’d have to think of another plan – and quickly. Other than that, Stacey would win the battle.

  ‘Let’s get over to the Square,’ she said, ‘and put our side of the story out first.’

  ‘Which is?’

  ‘We were winning, right?’

  While her twins were out fighting again, Gina lay soaking in the bath. A glass of wine balancing on the ledge, she ran a cheap razor over her legs. She found it tough going to get rid of the pale hairs growing there; they hadn’t seen a blade in ages. The water was turning positively murkier as she dipped the razor in a
nd left the scum behind.

  ‘Shit!’ She cried out as the blade nicked her again. She wiped away the blood as it emerged. At this rate, she’d need to cover up her legs and, for once, that wasn’t on the agenda. Tonight she’d be wearing easy clothes for easy access, because tonight she was going to have John Williams. She was going to sleep with him right underneath the nose of that snotty bitch he called his wife.

  She rubbed a hand over her right breast. Just thinking about what she was going to do was turning her on. Her hand moved lower as she imagined more of what they would be doing. John would take her in his arms and pull her onto his lap. She’d feel his hardness beneath her, rub herself up against him while they kissed. Long smoochy kisses that she and Pete had given up years ago. Then she’d move his hands to her breasts and he’d knead them while she climbed on top of him. He’d kiss her while he moved her up and down, up and down, up and down. The image in her mind became tuned into her body and as she felt the ripples of pleasure engulf her, she said his name aloud.

  Afterwards, she lay in the cooling bath water and smiled. She knew John wanted her. She’d seen the looks he’d been throwing her; sly, secretive looks that only she would have noticed. Pete was going out with John again so, once they’d come in from the pub, she would keep them drinking. She’d have to be careful though – she didn’t want him to suffer from brewer’s droop – but she needed to get them drunk enough so that he’d fall asleep on the sofa and Pete would head off for bed. It was a perfect plan, really.

  She reached for the shampoo, rubbed a dollop in her hair, and ducked beneath the water. Had she seen the scum forming, she might have thought twice about it.

  But things didn’t go to plan for Gina. Pete and John arrived back just after midnight and had wanted a fry-up. Although Claire had gone to bed, Rachel was up and sitting on the settee chatting to John as he gobbled down a bacon buttie.

  Pete slapped Gina’s bottom as she came back into the room with a sandwich for herself. ‘Great grub,’ he spoke with his mouthful. He laughed and looked across at John. ‘I suppose she’s useful for something.’