Ruth smiled a little. She had always been house proud. When she was with Glenn, they’d had the best house in the street.
Pete was in front of her now. He touched her hair gently. ‘I can call again, if you like?’
‘I – I don’t think that’s a good idea.’
‘Why not?’
‘I’m sure Gina would have something to say about it regardless. She has a go at me practically every time I leave the house as it is. I don’t want to antagonise her any more than is necessary. She’ll flatten me.’
‘I’ll tell her to lay off.’
‘And she will?’ Ruth’s tone was doubting.
‘She’ll do exactly what I tell her to do.’ Pete looked pleased with himself. ‘So, that’s that, then. I’ll pop round every couple of days and see how you’re doing.’
After he’d gone, Ruth sat down and rested her head in her hands. She didn’t really want Pete coming around whenever he pleased. She didn’t like him that much, felt intimidated by him, but what could she do? Maybe he’d lose interest in her after a week or so and move on to someone not so close to home.
God, what a situation to be in! As quick as she’d lost one man, another came to take his place. And this one was Gina Bradley’s hubby. Could things get any worse?
But for now, she’d have to play the game. After all, she was in no fit state to do anything else.
Two nights later, Claire fancied some chocolate but Rachel didn’t want to nip to Shop&Save with her. It hadn’t quite been dark so she’d run all the way there and back. As she got into Stanley Avenue, she slowed down to a trot.
‘All alone for a change?’ Stacey said, jumping from the shadows. Before Claire could react, she punched her in the side of her face.
Claire took another punch before she managed to throw one of her own. It missed its aim, catching Stacey on the shoulder.
Stacey took another shot at her, causing her to stagger back against the wall. Then she pulled out a knife. Claire saw the glint of metal. Fuck! Stacey and fist fighting was more than she could take. But Stacey with a knife: she wouldn’t stand a chance.
‘Leave me alone,’ she said, hoping to sound more confident than she felt.
‘Tell that bitch of a sister to back off or else one of you will get it.’
Claire felt the sting of the blade cutting the delicate layers as Stacey brought the knife up to her cheek, pressing it against her skin.
‘This is just a warning,’ said Stacey, ‘because if she doesn’t back down, I’m going to come after you until she does.’
Claire squeezed her eyes shut, praying she wouldn’t draw the blade across her face and scar her forever.
But she didn’t. A car door slamming and an engine starting up brought her to her senses. She stared at Claire when she dared to open her eyes.
‘If I have to warn you again, next time I won’t stop before I mark you permanently.’
Before Claire could answer, Stacey punched her in the stomach.
‘Tell her,’ she said.
Claire doubled over. By the time she looked up again, Stacey was gone. She gathered her senses and ran; Christ, Mum would kill her for getting into this state again.
Rachel was lying on her bed when she heard the pebble strike the glass outside. She went to the window to see who it was, hoping that it wasn’t any of the Mitchell Mob as she didn’t feel like going out that night.
She was confused when she peered down and saw her sister. ‘What are you doing?’
‘I’m in a mess,’ Claire whispered loudly. ‘Stacey got to me. You’ll have to get me past Mum.’
‘Hang on a moment. I’m coming down.’
Rachel closed the window and crept downstairs. She squeezed herself past the stuff in the hallway, let her sister in and then popped her head around the living room door. Gina was curled up asleep on the settee. Her dad hadn’t come in yet. Quickly, she sneaked through, grabbed a glass, a couple of painkillers and rushed back upstairs.
Claire was sitting on her bed, a mirror in her hand, examining the damage.
‘She had a knife, Rach. Ohmigod, she had a fucking knife on me!’ She started to cry.
Rachel rushed over to her, comforting her while she sobbed. What the hell was going on? This was getting beyond a joke now; they couldn’t compete against weapons and she wouldn’t use a knife to hurt anyone, unless in self-defence.
There was no option to back off now. Even if Stacey reverted to gang leader, she would never let them be members anymore. Rachel needed the backing of the others, as well as Claire, to stand her ground.
But she was more annoyed with herself. Why the hell hadn’t she gone to the square with Claire? This had happened because she’d been in a mood and couldn’t be bothered to go out. Stupid, selfish cow.
‘I’m sorry,’ she said, handing her sister the glass of water and painkillers. ‘Here, take these.’
Claire burst into tears. ‘What are we going to do, Rach?’ she asked again. ‘We’re in big trouble.’
Rachel tilted Claire’s face up to look at the damage Stacey had inflicted. Claire’s nose was swollen, again. Her cheek was cut, it hadn’t been done to cause any lasting damage, but her right eye was swelling too, bruising already appearing.
‘Smile,’ she told Claire.
‘Fuck off,’ she replied. ‘There’s nowt to smile about.’
‘I want to check your teeth are okay.’
‘Oh.’ Claire smiled, wincing at the pain it caused.
‘Nothing out of place there,’ Rachel confirmed.
Claire looked in the mirror. ‘Shit, I look a right mess again. Mum’s going to mad when she sees me.’
Ruth sat on the settee with her head in her hands. She’d sent the boys to bed an hour earlier, having had enough of them playing up by seven thirty, but she could hear them banging away upstairs as they ran from room to room.
Why did they always act up for her? When she’d lived with Martin, they’d been sent to bed at eight and not a peep would be heard from them. Maybe he had persuasion tactics that she didn’t know about, like the bogey man in the wardrobe or underneath the bed.
Martin arriving and leaving within the blink of an eye had really unnerved Ruth. She couldn’t understand why he’d left so quickly. And why had he said that she was poison? At the back of her mind, she knew it must have something to do with Pete. Martin wasn’t the sort of man to look a gift horse in the mouth when it came to free food and lodgings, and sex on demand whenever he felt like it. And despite the way he’d treated her in the past, Ruth had enjoyed having someone around before he’d thrown her out: someone that she could talk to, look after, see to their requirements. For the first time in a while, she’d felt needed and not just as a mother. She dismissed his rough handling of her: sex was always for his satisfaction; he had no intentions of pleasing her. But just the closeness, the feeling of a man inside her, joined with her, made her feel wanted.
‘Mum, can I have a drink?’ Jamie popped his head around the living room door.
‘If you’re quick.’ Ruth didn’t look up. Emotionally drained from crying all day, she wished she could go to bed and sleep forever. Maybe it would be better if she never woke up, she surmised. The boys would have to go into care but surely that would be better than living with a lunatic for a mother. One minute she was acting the way she should: the next she’d be screaming at them, trying to stop from lashing out at them. The way she felt wasn’t their fault but sometimes she couldn’t help it. It was those times that scared her the most.
Suddenly, she heard muted laughter and then coughing coming from the kitchen. She pulled herself up from the settee to investigate. Opening the kitchen door, she saw Mason holding up a glass of wine to Jamie’s lips.
‘What the hell are you two doing?’ She swiped the glass from Mason’s hand, catching Jamie as she did so. The glass shattered as it hit the floor.
‘We only wanted to taste it!’ Mason protested.
‘It’s not for kids.’ R
uth grabbed him by the arm. ‘Have you any idea how dangerous that could be, you stupid idiot?’
‘But you drink it all the time!’
‘I’m an adult!’
‘He only had a little bit! Ow, Mum! You’re hurting!’
Ruth pushed him away roughly. ‘Get to your room, NOW!’
Mason shot out of the door. Jamie ran behind him but Ruth stopped him. ‘Whoa, little soldier. You’re going nowhere.’
‘Leave me alone,’ Jamie wailed.
She reached for the bottle. There didn’t seem to be too much gone from it; they had more than likely just had a taster. But she couldn’t be sure. She filled a large glass with water and held it to his lips.
‘Drink,’ she ordered. ‘And you piss the bed tonight and there’ll be trouble.’
‘No.’
‘I said, DRINK!’
Jamie knocked her hand away, the water spilling onto Ruth’s feet.
‘Why, you little –’
Jamie took the opportunity to run.
Ruth sprinted up the stairs after him, one time touching his heel. Jamie ran into Mason’s room and slammed the door shut. Ruth pushed down the handle but they held it steadfast on the other side.
‘Get away from the door,’ she screamed. She tried the handle again but it wouldn’t go down enough for her to get in. She banged on the door for a while before dropping to her knees.
Ohmigod, what was happening to her, she asked herself, as the fog began to lift and she started to come to her senses.
Why did she turn into a monster when she was with them? Martin had been right. She was poison and she hadn’t even had a drink tonight. She’d wanted to wait until later. What little wine she had wouldn’t last her long.
She wasn’t fit to be a mother, was she?
She never would be, would she?
As she sat crying, all of a sudden, it came to her what she had to do.
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
Gina woke up the next morning on the settee. She sat up slowly, stretching her arms above her head and moving her neck from side to side. It was eight fifteen and the third time that week she hadn’t made it to bed after having a drink. It wasn’t good for her bones. She wondered what had woken her. Then she heard movement in the kitchen.
‘You’re up early,’ she said to one of the girls, unsure which twin it was until they turned towards her.
‘Couldn’t sleep,’ a voice said.
Gina sat down at the table, reached for her cigarettes and lit one up. ‘Make us a brew, will you?’ she said.
Another mug was placed beside the two already there, a teabag shoved into it and a spoon of sugar added.
‘What’s up?’
‘Nothing.’
‘For God’s sake, will you turn around so I know who I’m talking too?’
Claire turned around.
Gina jumped out of her chair and across to her. ‘What happened?’
‘It’s nothing, Mum. It’ll heal.’
‘Who did this to you? Was it Stacey Hunter?’
‘I was in the wrong place at the wrong time, that’s all.’
‘I bloody knew it. Why didn’t you keep away from her, like I told you?’
‘I did! She jumped me.’
Gina saw red. This had got to stop.
‘I’ve had enough of this,’ she said. ‘I’m going round to see Maggie Hunter.’
‘No, Mum.’ Claire’s head turned abruptly. ‘Me and Rach will sort it.’
‘You’ll do no such thing. I’ll give her mother what for, letting her daughter attack one of mine.’
‘Mum, please!’ Claire pushed a mug of tea over to her before picking up the other two. ‘We can handle it ourselves.’
‘Claire!’
Knowing she wasn’t going to listen, Gina let Claire scoot off back to her room, She sipped at her tea and wondered what she had done to get a pasting like that; was it over some lad or another or were she and Rachel still playing this leader of the pack thing? She knew she could sort out Stacey’s mother if it became necessary. Gina might only be five foot two, but she’d been told she packed a mean punch, especially if her girls were in trouble.
‘Do you think this will be okay?’
Caren looked up to see John taking out a jacket from the wardrobe. She watched as he slid it on, fitting into it easily even though it was a few years old.
‘I don’t see why not,’ she replied. ‘It’ll save buying something new, which we can’t afford to do anyway. Here.’ She handed him a couple of ties.
‘Does anyone bother with these anymore?’
‘Maybe not but I think first impressions count.’
John placed one over each shoulder. ‘Any preference?’ he asked.
She pointed to the blue one with a faint check. ‘This one,’ she said. ‘Do you need a new white shirt? I can get you one from Tesco, if you like.’
‘Tesco?’
‘You can get anything from there nowadays – good quality too.’
John was in the wardrobe again, pulling another shirt from a coat hanger. ‘I reckon this one will be okay.’
Caren sat down on the bed with a thump. This was John’s first interview in years, having worked for himself for so long. She wondered if he’d cope with the pressure. The job was only for a service advisor on the parts counter of the local Landrover dealer but she knew it was what he needed. And what they needed to get themselves back on track – and away from that nasty Bradley family.
Since the episode with Gina, things had settled down again. John had spent more time with her. They’d talked about their future: their worries. She’d told him how scared she was at the thought of being stuck in Stanley Avenue forever. He’d told her that he felt inferior because he couldn’t provide for her; didn’t feel like a man she’d want around her anymore. It had done them both good to get their feelings out in the open. And then yesterday, he’d come home with a huge grin, telling her he’d got a job interview.
John twirled round to face her, the shirt underneath the jacket. ‘What do you think? Will I pass?’
Caren smiled, feeling her insides responding. Wow, she’d forgotten how good he looked in a suit.
‘I think you scrub up pretty well, Mr Williams.’ She gave him a hug, relishing the feel of his arms as he pulled her near. ‘What I actually mean by that is I’d far rather see you with no clothes on at all.’
She began unfastening the buttons on his shirt.
Ruth hadn’t slept much the night before. The idea had come to her in a flash; she’d thought about nothing else since, so much so that she’d started to pace the room in the early hours of the morning. It was the perfect opportunity, the only opportunity really. Should she do it? Would it be the right thing to do? It would certainly be better for the boys.
Then doubt crept in. She knew what she had to do but would she be strong enough to do it? What right did she have to inflict such pain? To walk away from her troubles – pass them on to someone else.
But it would be much better for them all in the long term. For Mason and Jamie, and for her. This way, she wouldn’t be able to harm them.
She was in the kitchen bright and early the next day. Mason and Jamie came downstairs, wary after the antics the night before. As she saw them creeping in sheepishly, she realised she was making the right choice. She gave them breakfast, keeping a cheery attitude that must have confused them after last night’s tricks. Then when they had finished their cereal, she sat down with them.
‘How would you like to go on an adventure today, boys?’ she asked, trying to muster enthusiasm into her tone.
‘No school?’
‘No school.’
Mason and Jamie looked at each other wide-eyed.
‘Cool!’ said Jamie.
‘Where are we going?’ asked Mason suspiciously.
‘It’s a surprise. I’ve packed you some clothes and I want you to pick a few of your favourite toys – not the big ones, mind – and I’ll put them in your bags too.’
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‘Are we staying out all night?’ Jamie wiggled his bottom about in the chair. ‘Can we go to a safari park? I want to see some lions. And wolves. And an – an elephant!’
‘We won’t be going to a safari park!’ Mason’s tone was scathing at his brother’s ignorance. ‘We’ll be going to stay with Martin.’
‘No, we’re not going to see Martin.’ Ruth gathered together the breakfast dishes. ‘Today we’re going somewhere else. And we need to be ready in twenty minutes. Can you do that?’
Jamie and Mason rushed upstairs. She sighed, trying to keep in her frustration: why were they so bloody noisy all the time? Still, it would be much quieter later when they weren’t around to bug her anymore. She squirted some washing-up liquid into the bowl and ran the hot water tap. Then she threw in the dishes, leaving them to soak. She needed to get herself ready quickly; she didn’t want her heart to get the chance to rule her head.
Less than an hour later, they were in the town centre. Ruth had taken them into the market to get a bag of pic’n’mix sweets and a comic apiece to keep them quiet. Then she walked into the Social Services offices, sat the boys down on the settee inside the window and went to speak to the lady on reception. The office was busy, but she bided her time in the small queue. As she reached the head of it, the woman gave her an unexpected smile.
‘Can I help you,’ she asked, whipping away her long blonde fringe to reveal friendly eyes.
‘I need someone to take care of my boys,’ said Ruth.
‘In what way exactly?’ The woman popped a form onto the counter. ‘Can you fill your details in here?’
‘No, you don’t understand. I’m leaving my boys here with you. The oldest is Mason and he’s ten. The younger one is eight and he’s called Jamie.’ The woman reached for the phone and dialled an extension number as Ruth started to cry. ‘Please,’ she sobbed, aware that people were beginning to stare. ‘Please don’t split them up. They don’t deserve that. It’s my fault, you see. I can’t be their mother. I can’t look after them. So you must do it for me.’ Then she turned away.
Fighting for Survival (The Estate, Book 3) Page 15