‘I never said she was.’
‘She’s trying to bring everyone together for a laugh. She’ll do your nails, if you want her to.’
Gina curled her fingers into a fist so that Rachel couldn’t see what a state hers were in.
Claire appeared, saving Gina from snapping a reply. They grabbed the bottle of wine Gina had got for them and in a flurry of giggles, they were gone. For a few seconds, she sat in silence until curiosity won her over and she ran upstairs. She stood in the bedroom window, hidden behind the grimy nets, watching as Rachel and Claire knocked on Caren’s front door. She saw Caren open it and smile, taking the wine from Rachel as they went in.
Over the next quarter of an hour, she watched most of the neighbours troop into Caren’s house: Julie and Sheila, Mrs Porter and Jenny Webster. Each time the door opened, she heard the music filter through until it closed again. Then Gina gasped, her mouth hanging open at who walked up the path next. That bloody bitch Ruth Millington had been invited.
Gina fumed in silence. This was Caren’s doing. She knew it would wind her up to see Ruth having fun with the neighbours – her friends! It was as if Ruth belonged in Stanley Avenue.
Her mind made up in an instant, she reached for her mobile phone and rang her mum. If Ruth was good to go, then so was she.
The party was in full swing at Caren’s house. Before John left them to it, he’d helped to rearrange the furniture in the living room. What could be pushed back was now around the walls. They’d also borrowed dining chairs from next door and brought in the chairs from the patio set. Looking around, Caren realised that most people who had been invited were there. She picked up a bottle of nail polish from the coffee table. ‘Ruby Red. Who’d like this one?’
‘Me!’ shouted Rachel, practically pushing Claire over to get up.
‘Hey, look out!’ Claire narrowly avoided spilling her drink. She watched as the liquid settled in the glass again.
‘She’s a live wire, that sister of yours,’ Wendy remarked once Caren and Rachel had gone into the kitchen.
‘No, she isn’t!’
‘Relax, honey, it was a compliment. She’s nice – and so are you, when you want to be.’
Claire was amazed when some of the other women in the room nodded their heads in agreement.
‘I thought everyone thought we were scum.’ She became hostile as the other women began to laugh. ‘That’s not fucking nice!’
Wendy smiled and tapped Claire on the thigh. ‘We’re not laughing at you. We’re laughing with you.’ She waved a hand around the room. ‘Everyone in here is known as scum. But we’re not, are we ladies?’
‘No, we’re not,’ said a lady with purple hair, a nose ring and a tattoo covering half of her arm.
‘Absolutely no way,’ said another, wearing a dress short enough for a five-year-old girl. Her hair had been bleached so many times it resembled white candy-floss, black roots peeping through. She wore red lipstick. Claire tried to remember her name but decided to call her freaky instead. She looked scary but at least she was smiling.
‘Well, I think they’re right!’ one dared to say.
A murmur echoed around the room and a cushion was flung at the culprit.
‘We are! But we make the most of what we have.’
‘And we stick together.’
Claire grinned, finally realising the woman was joking. Then everyone laughed.
‘You’re new, Ruth.’ Wendy turned to her next. ‘Tell us how you see us all.’
Ruth coloured instantly as all eyes fell on her. Oh God, if she had known she’d be the subject of interrogation, she wouldn’t have come.
Well, I, erm, think… I…’ she stumbled over her words. ‘I don’t know you well enough to comment really.’
Wendy glared at her before folding her arms and pulling back her head. She laughed, as did the other women.
‘I’m sorry, love, I’m pulling your leg. We only heard what her mother,’ Wendy jerked a thumb in Claire’s direction, ‘had to say about you. And ‘scum like us’ should really find out the whole truth before taking up a stance.’
Ruth lowered her head. She knew they were referring to the fight she’d had with Gina. She still had the remains of the bruising.
‘I wish Mum would change,’ Claire admitted, helping herself to a few crisps. ‘You might not think it but she can be really cool at times.’
‘Yeah, right,’ said Julie Elliot. ‘And I’ve got myself a sugar daddy.’
‘It’s true. She really does care; she just doesn’t know how to show it.’
‘No, she’s more interested in spreading rumours around than love. Isn’t she, Ruth?’
‘Maybe they aren’t all rumours,’ Claire said.
Ruth gulped. The spotlight was on her again. Why did they insist on doing that? There was no way she’d admit to sleeping with Pete, especially in front of one of his daughters.
‘She shouldn’t have had a go at you like that,’ said Wendy, noticing her discomfort. ‘And, I for one, am sorry that she did – and that I joined in.’ She picked up a wine glass, a smidgen of liquid left in its bottom, and raised it in the air. ‘So, how about we toast to new beginnings?’
Everyone raised their glasses. ‘New beginnings.’
‘New beginnings,’ Ruth joined in cautiously, not exactly sure if she was being swept into some sort of gang ritual to be explained later.
Back in the kitchen, Rachel sat opposite Caren at the table while she painted her nails. She’d already had her hands massaged; something she’d never had done before yet had instantly loved.
Caren finished one hand and Rachel gasped. ‘That colour! It makes my nails look really long.’
Caren smiled. ‘You have a lot to learn, my dear. Do you ever wear make up?’
‘No, I’d end up looking like a dog’s dinner if I put it on.’
‘Have you never experimented?’
Rachel shook her head. ‘We haven’t got anything to experiment with, although we could lift some.’
Caren looked up momentarily.
‘I mean we could buy some,’ Rachel said quickly. ‘I just don’t know what to pick. There’s so much of it.’
Caren stopped for a moment before painting Rachel’s thumbnail. ‘Would you like me to show you afterwards, give you a makeover?’
‘Would you?’ Rachel felt excitement fizz up in her stomach. ‘I’d love to know how to do it all. Some of the girls at school look like shi – look awful but some of them look really nice.’
Caren smiled. ‘Let’s finish these nails and before I shout anyone else in, I’ll do you a quick makeover. No doubt Claire will want me to do the same for her?’
‘I suppose.’
‘Right then, go and ask her. And see if anyone wants any more wine?’ she shouted after her.
Despite her earlier freak out, Ruth was beginning to enjoy herself now. The women in the group were making a conscious effort to get to know her. They’d asked questions about her boys but not in a nasty way, not trying to blame her for it, but in a women united kind of way. One of them, Denise, had even spoken of her miscarriage and her breakdown trying to cope with her four-year-old son afterwards. Half of the women were either alone or in unhappy relationships. And every one of them knew horror tales of kids that had gone into Children’s Services and why they’d had to. It was as if they were trying to let her know that what she’d done, what she thought was so wrong, was in actual fact right for her, as well as Mason and Jamie. Tears pricked at her eyes as she dared to bring their faces to the front of her mind. Wendy noticed and came to comfort her. As Ruth cried, she held her.
‘Pass me some tissues,’ she pointed to a box. Claire passed a couple over to Wendy and she gave them to Ruth. ‘Feel better now?’ she asked after a minute or so.
Ruth nodded.
‘Good. Let’s change the conversation and get on with having a good girlie night in. Let’s up the tempo of the music and have a sing song.’
‘I have a karaok
e machine,’ said Claire.
‘Oh, we don’t need any machine to sing, now do we girls?’ Wendy grabbed an empty lager bottle and held it an inch away from her mouth. ‘This’ll do. You can hear my voice over anything.’
As the women in the living room danced and sang along to an Abba CD, Caren was running around her kitchen. She’d moved the table to one side as best she could in the space provided and told Rachel and Claire to sit back to back. As she added foundation to one and then the other, she wouldn’t let them look.
‘No peeping!’ Caren cried, catching Rachel trying to see her sister as Caren swept blusher over her cheeks. She handed her a small black case. ‘Find me some brown mascara, would you?’
Rachel dived into the case. ‘Why have you got so much?’
‘I used to be a rep, selling it for parties, that kind of stuff. Most of it is old and out of date, but it’s great for experimenting on. Help yourself to anything you like. It’ll go back upstairs and be forgotten about after tonight.’
‘Have you finished after you’ve put mascara on?’ asked Claire, trying desperately not to laugh as Caren added colour to her eyelids.
‘Nearly,’ said Caren. ‘The piece de resistance is always your lippie.’
‘Hurry up,’ urged Rachel. ‘I’m dying to see what we look like.’
‘I reckon we’ll look like the ugly sisters from Cinderella.’
‘Hey,’ Caren said and tried to look hurt by Rachel’s remark. ‘I’ll have you know that I’m good at creating something out of nothing. Anyway, I’m done now.’ She stood between them. ‘Seeing as you look identical, even with make up on, you can look at each other. On the count of three. One. Two. THREE!’
Rachel and Claire turned to face each other and gasped.
‘Ohmigod!’ said Claire. ‘You look amazing.’
Rachel sat wide-eyed. She pointed at Claire, no words coming from her at all.
‘Say something!’ urged Caren.
‘I feel so – so grown up,’ said Rachel.
‘Wow!’ Claire clapped her hands in glee. ‘I can’t believe it’s us. Why haven’t we done this before?’
‘Maybe because you’re hell bent on causing trouble across on the square. There are other ways to get attention. I’m sure the boys will be queuing up soon.’
‘Do you think?’
‘I don’t think so – I know so!’
Rachel turned to Caren and smiled shyly. ‘Thanks,’ she told her.
‘My pleasure,’ Caren smiled too, glancing from one to the other. ‘You really do look great.’
‘We’ll have to practice,’ said Claire.
‘Just use the tricks I’ve shown you. Accentuate what you have and always make the most of everything. Then you can –’
‘Bleeding hell, what have we here?’
Caren turned to see Barbara in the doorway. Behind her mother was Gina.
‘Nan, Mum, look at us!’ exclaimed Claire. ‘Don’t we look gorgeous? Caren has made us up. She’s given us loads of freebies too.’ She twirled round. ‘What do you think?’
‘It’s such an improvement!’ Barbara nodded. ‘Although I’ve always thought my granddaughters were gorgeous.’ She winked at Caren. ‘I don’t suppose you could do anything with me to hide these wrinkles. Or this one behind me?’
‘Mum!’ said Gina.
‘Mum!’ said Rachel, spying her too. ‘You came across!’
‘I had no choice,’ Gina fibbed. ‘Your nan dragged me across.’
Barbara tutted. ‘I did no such thing. You wanted to –’
‘Here, you lot,’ Wendy shouted, appearing at the kitchen door. ‘If you’re not careful, we’ll all be pissed in here before we’ve had our nails done. We’ve eaten all the crisps too.’ She held out a bowl in Oliver style. ‘Please, miss. Can we have some more?’
‘Let me join you in the living room for a break first,’ said Caren. ‘Besides, I need to show off my work. Come on, girls. In you go.’
Gina lagged behind, standing in the living room doorway. Inside, the women were either talking or laughing. As everyone was having fun, the music had gone off momentarily. No one even noticed that she’d come in. She couldn’t even take pride in the fact they were too busy admiring her girls.
‘You look so grown up,’ said Ruth, joining in freely now she felt more confident with the women. ‘Your mum had better watch out; the boys will be going wild.’
‘Their mother is right here,’ snapped Gina. ‘I hope you, of all people, weren’t insinuating that my girls were going to get knocked up now that they look like tarts.’
‘Give over, Gina!’ said Barbara.
‘Mum!’ said Claire and Rachel in unison.
‘I – I didn’t mean that at all.’ Ruth’s temporary good mood crumbled in a second.
‘Calm down, Gina,’ said Wendy. ‘The atmosphere was great until you showed up. So either go back out with the chip on your shoulder or leave it at the door and come and join in the fun.’
Gina knew when she was beat. Somehow, in a couple of hours, Ruth seemed to have won over all her friends. Why hadn’t she come across right away rather than take an age to get ready? By the time she’d finally left her house and called for her mother, nearly an hour had passed. It was only just after nine but the party had started long ago. The women were all enjoying themselves so she’d have to do the same, even though inside she hated the thought of having to mingle with Ruth. She hoped Ruth wouldn’t speak to her or else she’d have to keep herself in check. She wasn’t done with her yet.
She perched on the arm of the chair next to her mother. Caren passed her a glass of wine and she smiled politely. Might as well get the night over with as quickly and pleasantly as possible – drink would make her feel a little bit better about it.
‘Let’s crank the music up again,’ said Wendy. ‘Then, you, my lady,’ she pointed to Caren, ‘can do me next. But don’t worry; I won’t expect a pedicure as well. The smell would knock everyone out if I took off my shoes!’
As Claire chose another CD to put on, Rachel heard her phone go off in her pocket. It was a text from Laila. It was short and sweet.
Gone with Stacey. So has Ashley. Hope 2 c u around. L&A
Rachel put her phone away and sat quietly as she digested the news. Fuck, they were in trouble. There was only Louise left now to go over to Stacey. Once Louise heard from Laila or Ashley, Rachel knew she’d join Stacey. She couldn’t blame her: if she was Louise, she would join Stacey too. It was too dangerous to be alone – or even around her and Claire now that Laila and Ashley had gone over as well.
She watched Claire as she began to dance, holding onto Nan’s hands, swinging her around gently. Nan was laughing and Claire looked so happy.
Maybe it would do them good to stay low for a while, watch out for each other. But would Stacey then think she’d won, without even fighting for top position? And could Rachel back down? For Claire it would be easy: she’d do whatever she told her to do.
What should she do next? Should she fight for the leadership and risk the wrath of Mum and Dad? Or should she back down and let Stacey win? Rachel didn’t know if she could let that happen. She was a Bradley through and through – and no one got the better of them now, did they?
CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO
Gina was awake early the next morning. She nudged Pete who was lying on his back and snoring like a train; he turned over in his sleep. She cuddled up into the duvet. The clock said half past five; she needed some sleep before she decided what to do. Today could be the start of a different life for her.
The nail party at Caren’s last night had turned out to be a disaster for her, but she seemed to have been the only one who hadn’t enjoyed herself. Rachel and Claire had stayed over there when she’d finally found time to excuse herself without fear of being accused of breaking the party up. They’d come in an hour later, for once high on life and not alcohol, thankfully. Gina had been lying on the settee in a sulk and told them to shut up as they were still singin
g. They’d tried to pull her up to join in their duo but she’d refused. Even when Pete returned home from the pub with fish and chips, she hadn’t managed a smile. She knew the reason why. It was because she’d seen the inside of Caren’s house. Ever since she and John moved back, Gina had imagined how their home would be, but her imagination was way off with this one. It had felt like walking into a television advert for a furniture store. The house was spotless; it was modern and fresh and inviting… it was all she’d ever wanted.
And all her so-called friends had been there – another thing that had annoyed her. They’d all been quick to accept invitations when something was free, she’d realised as soon as she’d walked into the living room, yet they seemed like they were really enjoying themselves. Gina couldn’t remember a time when the women in the avenue had got together like that. Sometimes there would be an impromptu barbeque when the weather was promising, where everyone’s families would join in for the night. But there had never been anything planned.
Worst of all, Rachel had told her they were going to make it a regular thing; go to a different house each month. And Claire had upset her by saying that it was obvious they couldn’t come there though - their house was too old-fashioned and even with a good clean wouldn’t be inviting enough. Gina had cried the minute they’d gone to bed.
The girls had startled her too – they’d looked so grown up after their makeover. The worry of one of them getting pregnant had popped into her head straight away - she didn’t want either of them to end up in the same predicament as her, pregnant by the only fella she’d ever slept with. Gina wanted much more than that for her girls.
And now it was Monday morning, the first day of her challenge to spend a week with Josie at The Workshop. Josie had been true to her word and arranged five, two hour sessions, one each morning this week, with different groups so that if she liked it, which she doubted already, she could decide which area she’d like to volunteer in. She hadn’t told anyone about her plans. Pete would go mad if he knew she was doing something for nothing. And even though, after joining in last night in a fashion, Rachel and Claire might think better of her for having a go at something, she wouldn’t tell them either. She wouldn’t tell anyone until it was over. She would do the week to keep Josie happy; then she’d either go back to being boring Gina or show an interest in something. She would have to wait and see how she got on. This morning she’d be helping out with the mother and toddlers group. Tomorrow was the self-assertiveness group. Wednesday and Friday mornings would be spent at the community house with the teenagers and Thursday was pensioners’ coffee morning.
Fighting for Survival (The Estate, Book 3) Page 22