‘What about her?’ Pete tried to stop from snapping; had someone seen him going into her house? No, they couldn’t have - Gina was too calm. She would go ballistic if she ever found out.
‘Her kids have been taken into care,’ she told him triumphantly.
Pete sighed, with relief. ‘Is that it?’ he said.
‘That’s big news,’ snapped Gina. ‘I’ve been a cow but none of my kids have been taken into care.’
‘Why don’t you back off for once? Sometimes you don’t have the true story and you still go accusing everyone of all sorts.’
‘But I want to get to the bottom of this!’
‘You’re such a bitch,’ he told her, before switching off completely.
‘I’ll take that as a compliment.’
Gina smiled. Already she was looking forward to the showdown with Ruth; she’d try and collar her first thing, when she wouldn’t be expecting it.
Needing some fresh air, Ruth ventured out early the next day. She hadn’t had a drink the night before because she couldn’t be bothered to go and buy some. Instead, she’d cried herself to sleep and ended up with the same headache she would have had with a hangover.
She might have known Gina would be standing at her front gate when she set foot into the avenue. Ruth put her head down, hoping to scuttle past.
‘Oy!’ Gina shouted. ‘I want a word with you.’
Ruth paled - has she found out about her and Pete? She walked a little faster but Gina caught her up.
‘It’s not what you think,’ Ruth began. ‘I –’
‘Don’t come with your excuses,’ Gina spat. ‘You’ve had your kids taken off you, haven’t you?’
Ruth sighed with relief that the truth about her and Pete hadn’t got out but her eyes brimmed with tears. ‘Leave me alone. It’s got nothing to do with you.’
‘You live in Stanley Avenue so it has everything to do with me.’ Gina pointed a finger in her face. ‘Your business is my business now that you’ve moved in here.’
Ruth closed her eyes for a moment and pinched the bridge of her nose. Arguing with Gina again was the last thing she needed right now.
‘Why don’t you get on with it?’ she told her. ‘Say what you want to say and leave me alone. I’m tired and I have a headache, so if you don’t mind?’
‘People like you are not welcome in Stanley Avenue.’
‘You don’t know the full story.’
‘I know that you’ve had both boys taken into care. That means you obviously weren’t a fit mother.’ Gina folded her arms, warming up for the onslaught. ‘You obviously couldn’t take care of them.’
‘Well, you tell your gossip source that they’re wrong. My kids haven’t been taken into care.’
‘Yeah, right, like I believe you,’ Gina said, but her smile slipped a little. ‘Where are they, then?’
‘If you must spread malicious rumours, then get your facts right. My boys weren’t taken into care. I gave them over to Children’s Services myself.’
Gina frowned. ‘You let them take your kids away? That’s sick, if you ask me.’
‘No one’s asking you.’ Ruth looked up and down the street, suddenly not giving a damn who was listening in to their conversation or peeking out from behind their curtains. ‘I gave my boys up because it was the right thing to do, so don’t you, or anyone else in this godforsaken avenue, pass judgement on me because of it.’
Gina was momentarily stunned but it didn’t take her long to gain ground again. ‘Why, you cheeky little bitch,’ she cried. ‘I’m going to see to it that you can’t walk back to your house without everyone knowing what’s happened. Your life won’t be worth living by the time you get back from wherever it was you were rushing off to.’
‘Leave me alone.’ Ruth burst into tears and ran quickly down the avenue. Gina didn’t follow her, but her voice did.
‘We don’t like cruelty cases in Stanley Avenue,’ she heard her bellow. ‘If we take a vote on it, you’ll be banished. Do you hear me? I’ll walk you out of the avenue myself.’
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
Gina Bradley was true to her word. By the time Ruth came back from the shops, she counted no less than six women waiting at their gates for her to pass.
‘Bitch!’ Mrs Porter from number seventeen shouted across.
Ruth scuttled past, head down.
‘Yeah, someone should put you into care, you heartless cow,’ said Julie Elliot from number fourteen. ‘I’ve a good mind to slap some sense into you.’
Ruth gulped back tears but she continued. Up ahead, she could see her front door – her sanctuary from preying eyes and heckling women – and wondered if she’d get there without Gina or one of her friends throwing a punch.
Caren was in the garden, clearing a few bits of rubbish that had blown in during the rainy storm they’d had the night before. She stood up to see what all the shouting was about and then sighed - that bloody Gina!
‘Take no notice of her evil tongue,’ she said as Ruth walked past her garden. ‘We’re not all out to get you.’
Ruth caught Caren’s eye for a moment, noticing the concern as she walked on.
‘Don’t come past me,’ Sheila Ravenscroft shouted. ‘You’re not fit to tread on the pavement here.’
Ruth ran the last few yards into the house, slamming the door shut behind her. She gulped in air as she tried not to go into panic mode, then dropped to her knees in the middle of the hallway and sobbed. Every day seemed to get worse.
Would she ever get out of this nightmare?
When she heard someone knock at the door half an hour later, Ruth jumped. She couldn’t even remember crawling into the corner of the room, but her head throbbed from the number of times she’d banged it on the wall behind her.
The letter box lifted up. ‘Ruth? It’s Caren, from number twenty-four.’
‘Go away,’ said Ruth, realising that she couldn’t hide now. Caren had already clocked her sitting there.
‘I just wanted to see if you were okay?’
‘You obviously don’t listen to the gossip. If you did, you wouldn’t be here.’
‘I don’t care about gossip. Look, this is killing my back. Can I come in for a moment, please?’
‘This is a trick! I know Gina’s standing behind you – and some of them other women. If I open the door, you’ll all barge in and kick the shit out of me.’
‘Ruth, I can’t stand the sight of Gina so there’s no chance of me playing her stupid games.’ There was a pause. ‘Come on, what do you say I make you a cuppa?’
Ruth decided to answer the door. She peeped around the frame, eyes red raw, hair messy where she’d been pulling at it.
‘I didn’t think you knew my name,’ she said, her voice barely audible.
‘If anyone stands up to that bully, I make it my business to find out their name.’
They went through to the kitchen. ‘Sit,’ demanded Caren. She put the kettle on, searched around for two mugs and in a matter of moments had made coffee.
‘Do you want to tell me the real story behind the rumour?’ she asked once she’d sat down opposite her.
Ruth shrugged. ‘Most people have already made up their minds about me. What good will it do?’
‘I’m not most people.’
‘You still want to know what’s going on, though.’
‘Maybe I do but not for the reason you’re thinking. I’m not after gossip.’ Caren paused. ‘I’ve watched you since you moved in. I’ve watched you sink deeper and deeper into a dark hole and it upsets me to think that whatever you have to put up with in your personal life – which you should be able to keep to yourself without it being bawled around the avenue – you have that bleeding Gina Bradley to contend with.’
Ruth’s mouth formed into a glimmer of a smile. ‘You don’t like her either, I presume?’
‘She’s a nasty piece of work, hell bent on destroying anyone’s happiness. If she sees someone smile, she thinks she has the right to wipe it off
their face.’
‘What did she do to you?’
Caren blew on her drink to cool it down. ‘I was unfortunate to grow up with her. I knew her from school. We – that’s me and John, my husband – moved off the estate as soon as we could. Growing up on ‘the Mitch’ made us both want more. We didn’t want to end up like the losers on the dole, claiming we had glass backs so that we didn’t have to work for a penny.’
‘Glass backs?’ Ruth hadn’t come across that expression before.
‘As in you can see right through someone who is putting it on? Swinging the lead; nothing wrong with them really.’
Ruth nodded. ‘There seems to be a lot of that around here. I suppose you could say I was one of them.’
Caren tried to backtrack. ‘Oh, no, I meant that some people –’
Ruth held up her hand. ‘I know what you meant.’
Caren paused again, long enough to take a couple of mouthfuls of her drink. Then she started to talk again.
‘I found it really tough when I moved in here too. We – we had everything before John went bankrupt.’
‘A business deal gone wrong?’
‘Sort of – we lost a major supplier. Not only did they owe us thousands, they took away a lot of his incoming work. John’s a plumber by trade and over the years we’d built up a company that allowed us to have a little bit of financial freedom. We had a beautiful house off this estate, and we had a life with no worries.’
‘And then you ended up here?’ Ruth shuddered.
‘My worst nightmare.’ Caren nodded. ‘But it didn’t stop there. That’s when I found out Gina and her awful family lived right across from us.’
‘And I thought I had it bad when I moved in.’ Ruth smiled, warming to Caren.
‘What I’m trying to say is that no matter what life, or people like Gina, throw at us, we can get through it. Today will be a shit day for you: tomorrow might be the same. And the day after. But one day soon, it’ll get that little bit better; and brighter. Nothing lasts forever.’
‘I gave my children away.’ Ruth’s eyes filled with tears again.
‘And you had your reasons.’ Caren gave her hand a quick squeeze, ignoring the blood stained bandage around Ruth’s wrist. ‘You need to work through your problems in your own time and then you’ll come out the other side.’
‘I – I’m scared that I might not make it.’
‘You will – we’re all stronger than we think. I know what it’s like to move into Stanley Avenue and feel like you don’t belong here. Luckily for me, I have John to talk things over with. He picks me up when I’m feeling low. But you don’t have anyone.’ From a pocket in her jeans, she pulled out a piece of paper she’d written her mobile phone number on. ‘The next time something gets you down, maybe you could text me and if I’m free, I’ll pop down to see you.’
Ruth wiped at the tears that had fallen and smiled again. ‘Thank you,’ she whispered.
Caren smiled too. ‘Now, don’t lose that slip of paper.’
Pleased with herself after most of the neighbours had come out to hassle Ruth, Gina lit a cigarette and leaned on the gate, watching out for Pete. He’d gone out earlier, said he’d pay a couple of bills and then come home and take her for a cheapo lunch in Wetherspoons. Gina was hoping to get him merry enough so that he’d sub her a twenty so she could get some new shoes. She fancied a treat.
Jenny Webster wobbled her heavy frame across to her. Jenny lived in the corner house with her son and daughter from a previous marriage and an Afro-Caribbean man who made Gina’s neck ache when she addressed him. Jenny was the same height as Gina: she often wondered how they got it together.
‘Can’t believe that about Ruth Millington, can you?’ said Gina, the minute she drew level with her. ‘I didn’t know you could do that, give your kids back.’
‘Me neither.’ Jenny rested her hand on the gate while she caught her breath. ‘I’d have given my Leo up a long time ago if I had known,’ she laughed.
Gina did too for a moment. ‘She’s a sneaky piece of work,’ she added.
‘She is – I’ve seen some comings and goings at her place already.’
‘Oh?’ Gina realised she might be about to hear more gossip.
‘I don’t trust her.’ Jenny glanced up and down the avenue before turning back. ‘I was going to tell you earlier, then I wasn’t sure but I think you should know. I saw Pete going in to see her the other morning.’
‘WHAT?’ Gina roared.
Jenny nodded. ‘It was early, about nine-ish.’
‘Did you see what time he came out?’
‘Yes, just after ten.’
‘And was it the first time you saw him?’
Jenny paused. ‘It’s not my place to say – I’ve said enough already.’
Gina clenched her fists. ‘Tell me!’
‘I’ve seen him a couple of times. I don’t know what…’
But Gina wasn’t listening anymore. She was across the road and heading for number thirty-two. Jenny trotted behind her as quick as she could.
‘You’d better come outside, Ruth Millington!’ Gina hammered on Ruth’s front door. ‘I know you’re in there because I’ve just seen Caren coming out.’ She lifted up the letterbox but she couldn’t see anyone. ‘I’ll rip your fucking head off when I get hold of you. You’ve had it, do you hear?’
Behind the kitchen door, Ruth sat with her hands covering her ears. Damn that family. If it wasn’t Gina spreading malicious rumours and turning the neighbours against her, it was Pete coming to get his end away. Although she knew they shouldn’t have done what they did, he had taken advantage of her at her weakest moment and now it looked like she was going to pay for it in more ways than one. Still, at least Gina hadn’t found out about that yet. It could only be a matter of time but maybe all this other gossip would keep her off their trail for now. Then she could talk to Pete and see if he would back off.
‘You have to come out some time and I’ll be waiting.’ Gina shouted again. ‘No one messes about with my Pete and gets away with it.’
Ruth gasped: Ohmigod, she had found out! Were all the women in Stanley Avenue set up as spies? Pete had only called round twice.
Ruth pushed herself further into the corner of the room as the banging on the door continued. Why couldn’t everyone leave her alone?
Gina snapped down the letterbox and stared up at the windows. There wasn’t a movement from anywhere but she knew Ruth was in. She picked up a brick from the garden and threw it at the large windowpane in the living room. It bounced back onto the garden, narrowly missing her toes.
‘Gina!’
Gina turned to see her mum running towards her.
‘Leave me alone, Mum. I’m going to get her. She’s been –’
‘Never mind her. You’d better come quickly. It’s your Pete. He’s in a right mess. There’s blood everywhere.’
‘Pete?’ Gina stormed into her house. ‘Where the hell are you?’ She went through to the kitchen. ‘Pete!’
Pete sat on the floor, his back resting on the oven door. His face was a mishmash of bruising, swelling; thick blotches of red blood oozed down his cheeks, his neck, over his T-shirt. He was holding onto his ribs.
‘You should see the other guy.’ He tried to smile but winced in pain.
Gina wet a tea towel with cold water and dropped to her knees beside him. She held it to his nose.
‘Is this Lenny’s doing?’ she asked.
‘Ow, Gene, don’t be so rough,’ Pete moaned.
‘You knew full well this would happen if you went after him. He could have killed you. He’s a fucking idiot!’
Pete stopped her hand with his own. ‘I couldn’t let it rest; I knew he’d be after me. But I saw him across the shops. He shouted over, asking how the young ‘un was. Then he laughed. I just flipped. No one laughs at me or my family.’ He tried to smile again. ‘At least I got the first punch in.’
Gina held back her frustration. What was happening to her
family? Were they all hell-bent on fighting to get what they wanted? And since when had it started to control their lives, spiral out of control? No wonder people thought they were scum. They gave them enough reasons to think none the wiser.
‘We have to stop,’ she said after they’d sat in silence for a while. ‘All this fighting, it’s not good.’
‘If we don’t stick up for ourselves, people will walk all over us.’
‘People do that anyway. We’re the Bradleys; people think we’re shit. That’s why we fight, to get one in before someone knocks us down.’
‘It’s a beating, Gina.’ Pete withdrew the towel from his nose, trying not to retch at the sight of all the blood. ‘I’ll get over it. I always do.’
Gina rested her back on the unit beside him. ‘But what’s it doing to us? Our girls have turned into animals. Even I’m ashamed of them at times.’
‘They have your temper.’
‘What’s that supposed to mean!’
‘You’ll fight over anything. That’s hardly a good example to set.’
‘Don’t go blaming this on me. This is your doing, not mine.’
‘I know.’ Pete sighed. ‘We should try and talk to them, though. Let’s catch them when they come in later.’
But later, after school, Rachel and Claire were causing trouble outside Shop&Save. An elderly gentleman had been going about his business when Rachel pinched his tweed cap and raced off with it on her bike.
‘Come back, you little cow,’ he shouted, brandishing his walking stick and tottering after her.
‘Relax, Granddad,’ she taunted him, riding by but not near enough for him to claim back his cap. ‘You want it? Go and fetch it.’ She threw it into a huge puddle of water.
‘That’s my best cap!’ The man bent down and retrieved his soggy possession. He glared at Rachel. ‘You’re such an awful generation. This would never have happened in my day. You’d have been locked up and dealt with by the local bobby.’
‘Yeah, yeah, and I suppose you’ll tell me that you fought a war for me too.’
‘I’d have never fought a war for a piece of shit like you.’
Fighting for Survival (The Estate, Book 3) Page 18