Dividing Line Origins (Short story anthology - Dividing Line Series)

by Heather Atkinson

  Estelle smiled. She’d been waiting for this moment. “I’ll sort him out,” she said grandly.

  “Oh good,” replied Simmy, surprised. His mum rarely helped out in any way that didn’t involve shouting and swearing through the wall. She walked into the living room, ignoring Jamie sniffling and crying, exhausted because it was way past his bed time. Normally Estelle never went near the boys’ bedrooms, leaving them to clean and tidy up themselves, so when she walked into Ryan’s room to find it spotless, the beds neatly made while her own was a tip, she was very annoyed.

  Ryan lay face down on his bed, clutching the pillow, thin shoulders shaking.

  “You’re not crying, are you?” she said, closing the door behind her.

  He didn’t move or reply but his shoulders stopped trembling.

  “Not such the fucking big man after all,” she sneered.

  Ryan slowly pushed himself up to a sitting position. He turned to face her, eyes red and swollen and full of accusation. “You told them to do that to me, didn’t you?”

  “You needed a lesson. Maybe you won’t be so fucking lairy from now on. You’re turning into a proper bossy, stuck-up little prick and you need bringing back down to planet earth.”

  “Your boyfriend’s a pervert who likes boys.”

  “What the fuck are you on about?”

  “You don’t even know. They stripped me naked Estelle and touched me. Next time Jay said he’d go all the way.” His grey eyes narrowed. “You knew.”

  “I said to do whatever it took to get your head out of your arse.”

  “You don’t even care just as long as you get your fix. I hate you,” he screamed at her, eyes filling with fresh tears.

  “I warned you, you stupid little git. Why don’t you do us all a favour and fuck off? It would be one less mouth to feed.”

  “You wouldn’t cope without me. You’re useless.”

  “Simmy could easily take your place. I don’t hate him as much as I hate you. Since the day you were born you’ve dragged me down, stopped me living my life and then you have the cheek to back chat me at every opportunity. Just fuck off out of it.”

  Ryan jumped to his feet, skinny body shaking violently. Not even the agony in his eyes could stir an iota of maternal feeling or regret for a lost relationship in Estelle. All she felt was triumph and it shone out of her, breaking him even more.

  “Alright then, I’ll go if that’s what you want,” he cried petulantly.

  “Be my guest,” she smoothly replied, standing aside to allow him to pass. He flung the door open, ignoring his brothers, who were all waiting with pale, frightened little faces.

  “Ryan…,” began Simmy.

  He didn’t reply or even look in his direction as he stuffed his big feet into his shoes, threw on his leather jacket and rushed out of the flat, slamming the door shut behind him.

  “Is he coming back?” said Adam, staring at the closed door.

  “No, with a bit of luck,” smirked Estelle. “It’s just us now.”

  The boys all looked at each other with dismay.

  Estelle didn’t see Ryan for a full week and she began to hope that he had indeed done one, permanently. She was once again ruling the roost at home without any back chat or arguments. Simmy was now in charge of the boys and instead of complaining he encouraged her to go out, loving his new standing in the family. He couldn’t earn like Ryan had by doing a bit of ducking and diving but Estelle didn’t care, she had Jay for that. On top of that they were going through less food because Ryan, growing a mile a minute, had powered through everything they’d bought so she had more cash to spend on her own pleasures. Jay, pleased with the success of his mission, kept her supplied with everything she needed. He even offered to do the same to the other boys that he’d done to Ryan if they stepped out of line.

  Only once did it cross her mind to question him about his actions but only because she was worried that he might fancy boys. She liked her men to be all man. In the end she decided not to bother in case it rocked the boat. She’d asked him to do something and he had and that was all that mattered.

  Estelle received the shock of her life when she returned home one morning, exhausted and still half-drunk after a full night on the town. It was a relief to find the flat empty, all the boys out. She didn’t care where they were, all she wanted was to climb into bed and sleep.

  She stumbled about the living room, attempting to kick off her stilettos and shrug off her black PVC jacket.

  “What the…,” she said when one of the bedroom doors opened behind her. “What the fuck are you doing back? I thought you’d gone.”

  “I came back,” Ryan replied. “The boys are all at school, if you’re interested. I made sure they went. Apparently they’ve not attended all week.”

  “Why did you come back? You’re not wanted.”

  He didn’t reply. Instead he just stared back at her, hands folded together elegantly.

  “Answer me,” she screeched. “Oh bloody hell, what now? I’m fucking knackered.” She pulled open the front door and scowled at her best friend. “Freda, what is it? I was just about to get some kip.”

  “Estelle you have to come now. It’s Jay,” exclaimed Freda, fat face flushed. “He’s been murdered.”

  “Fuck me,” she exclaimed, dragging her heels and jacket back on before running out the door, Ryan entirely forgotten.

  “Bloody hell, who did this?” said Estelle as they stared at the massive patch of dried blood in the dank alley under the bridge where Jay had died. His body had been moved but the quantity of spilt blood testified to the savagery of the attack.

  “I don’t know love,” replied Freda sadly. “Some bloody maniac. Harry Staples who found him said it looked like a bear had had a go at him, cut to ribbons he was. Sorry,” she added when she heard the enthusiasm in her own voice. This was the juiciest bit of gossip that had occurred in a long time. “You must be so upset.”

  “I am,” she murmured, mourning the loss of her drug and cash supply. “Oh Christ, that’s all I need,” she said when a large, rotund figure ambled up to them.

  “Good morning Estelle,” grinned Detective Sergeant Bacon.

  “What do you want Piggie?” sighed Estelle. This bastard had nicked her more times than she could count over the course of his long career for prostitution, drunk and disorderly and possession of drugs and she delighted in combining his surname with pig jokes, his great bulk only enhancing the reference. He’d heard them all so many times he didn’t pay attention anymore.

  “I heard you and Jay Weston were close. Can you think of anyone who’d want to kill him?” said Bacon.

  “Loads of people. He was a prick.”

  “Charming thing to say about your dead boyfriend. Plenty of people are pricks but they don’t end up stabbed to death under a bridge. So far we’ve counted over twenty stab wounds. Who hated him that much Estelle?”

  “I don’t fucking know. He must have stepped on someone’s toes, someone bigger and tougher.”

  “There’s plenty of them about. Looks like I’m going to have a long suspect list. Where were you between one and four last night?”

  “You think I did it?” she cried.

  “I wouldn’t put it past you. You’ve got a nasty temper. Now, where were you?” he said, expression darkening.

  “At the fucking Trop Bar,” she retorted. “I only got home an hour ago.”

  “Yeah, right.”

  “It’s true,” said Freda. “I was with her.”

  Bacon regarded Freda distastefully, who was still dressed in her going out clothes, fat stomach spilling over the top of her skirt, which was far too small, huge breasts exploding from the sequined top. She swayed slightly, still drunk and the stink emanating off her was a mixture of sweat, sex and Guinness. Estelle had only just noticed all this about her, the shock of Jay’s death sobering her up.

  Bacon was unconvinced by this alibi. “I will be confirming that.”

  “You can. It’s true,�
�� said Estelle.

  “You wouldn’t know the truth if you farted it out of your arse,” he replied. “When did you last see Jay?”

  “Yesterday evening about half ten in the pub round the corner,” said Estelle. “He must have been coming home from there, he always went this way. Everyone knew that,” she added when he raised his eyebrows.

  “And how was he?”

  She shrugged. “ Just Jay. Nothing weird happened.”

  “Did he ever tell you anything about his business?”

  Estelle thought of the bags of coke hidden under the floorboards back at her flat and her heart leapt. It was all hers now. “Course not,” she told him. “I wouldn’t want to know.”

  Bacon frowned at her before slowly nodding. “Alright Estelle that’s all for now but I need you to come down to the station to make a formal statement and I will be checking your alibi.”

  “Whatever. Why don’t you go and stuff your face in a bag of truffles.”

  “You really need to extend your repertoire Estelle. It’s getting boring,” he said before ambling back to the crime scene.

  Estelle stared thoughtfully at the dried blood on the ground, mingling with the litter and dog shit and wondered if Stuart Cutter had been responsible, she knew Jay had been encroaching on his territory. But Stuart didn’t like big, splashy murders. He liked to make people disappear quietly without a fuss. She’d seen a lot of bad shit in her time and knew this murder stank of hatred and desperation. No, this wasn’t Stuart. This was someone else but for the life of her she couldn’t think who. Jay had been known for being a bit of a mental case, it had taken huge balls to take him on.

  “Come on Estelle love, let’s go to mine and have a stiffener,” said Freda.

  But Estelle was eager to return home to check the stash hidden in her room and work out how long it would last her, so she mumbled some excuse about wanting to be alone with her grief and rushed home, attempting not to look too ecstatic. If she played the sympathy card right she might be bunged a few quid to tide her over.

  “Jesus, you made me jump,” she said when she walked into the flat. Ryan was still standing in his bedroom doorway, quietly composed. In fact he was so calm it was creepy. He just stared at her with his grey eyes that suddenly seemed to know a whole lot more.

  “Where have you been?” she said. Not that she cared, she only asked to fill the awkward silence and because she got the feeling he was waiting for her to ask.

  “At Claire’s.”

  “Claire Craig? She your girlfriend now?”

  He nodded.

  “Don’t go knocking her up. You’ll regret it.”

  “I’d never regret a child of mine. I’d only love them.”

  “What do you know about love? You’re not capable.”

  “I might be if given the chance.”

  She lit a cigarette and spluttered with laughter. “You won’t. No one will want you. So have you just come back for your stuff then? Are you going back to Claire’s?”

  “No. I’m here to stay.”

  “Oh no, I’m not having it. When you left you left for good.”

  “I’m staying.”

  “Get your stuff and clear out.”

  “No.”

  Something had changed in her eldest child. The petulance and anger were gone and he was the picture of composure. His voice no longer shook with rage, in fact she’d never seen anyone so in control of themselves before. He’d gained a new depth and maturity in the short time he’d been away but she was determined to stamp it out.

  “Get your gear and fuck off out of it, you’re not welcome,” she snapped, pointing at him with the cigarette.

  “I’m not going anywhere.”

  “You are.”

  “Enough,” he hissed.

  Estelle shut her mouth. He hadn’t shouted, in fact he’d spoken very quietly but something in the tone of his voice, the look in his eyes that had taken on the appearance of steel encouraged her to obey, which went right against her nature.

  “Jay’s dead so how are you going to possibly provide for this family?” he said.

  “You think you can?”

  “I know I can and there is no way on this earth I’m leaving my brothers in your care, especially not after what you allowed Jay to do to me. That revolting pervert got what he deserved.”

  Estelle staggered backwards on her high heels, as though an invisible hand had punched her in the chest. “You did it, you fucking killed him.”

  Ryan didn’t speak.

  “I’m going to tell Piggy Bacon, he’ll lock you up for life you fucking psycho.”

  She made for the door, wanting to throw up and released a scream of surprise when he ran round her and blocked her exit.

  Estelle stared up at her son, for the first time in her life scared of him. Finally she saw he was becoming a man, recognised the long willowy limbs would soon be thick with muscle and his height would only increase. He was going to be a big bastard like his dad and she cursed herself for a fool for not seeing it sooner.

  “You killed Jay,” she repeated, still unable to believe it. She’d spawned a murderer. Fifteen years old and already he’d surpassed Jay in sheer lunacy, who hadn’t gone beyond beating people up.

  “Prove it,” he said with a chilling smile.

  “I won’t be able to, you’re far too fucking smart. Always were a clever little sod, weren’t you?” she replied, putting the cigarette to her lips with a shaking hand.

  “Oh yes. Now, here’s what’s going to happen. I’m going to make this family some money, which will be spent on food and rent and clothes. It is not for you to stuff up your nose or inject in your veins. I will give you an allowance.”

  “An allowance? I’m not a fucking kid.”

  “Yes you are and you’ve forced me to become the man of the house because you’re so woefully inadequate as a parent.”

  “I hate how you talk. You sound like a fucking poof.” His fancy words were so at odds with his Mancunian accent, as though he was ashamed of where he came from and was trying to hide his roots.

  “Let me assure you that I am far from it. Just ask Claire Craig. Are we clear on how things are going to work from now on?”

  “Oh yeah, I’m clear. You are a murdering little shite,” she said, taking a frantic tug on the cigarette, “and you think you can scare me into being what you want me to be.”

  “I’m fully aware that nothing is capable of that. Frankly I don’t care what you do but my brothers do and that’s the only reason I’m not throwing you out on your backside.”

  She took another deep drag on her cigarette and blew the smoke in his face. “I’d like to see you fucking try.” She followed this up with a demented laugh, going silent when he took an aggressive step towards her, looming over her with his murdering hands bunched into fists.

  “I’d like to see you stop me,” he said in that quiet, scary voice that was entirely new to him. Estelle flinched when his hand went into his jean’s pocket but he pulled out a wad of notes and her eyes lit up greedily. “Here,” he said, throwing the money at her feet. “That’s yours. Make it last because you’re not getting any more for another two weeks.”

  She snatched it up and counted it greedily. “There’s five hundred quid here. Where the fuck did you get…” Her eyes widened and without finishing the sentence she dashed into her bedroom and wrenched up the loose floorboard by her bed to reveal an empty hole, the drugs gone. “You took Jay’s stash, you thieving bastard.”

  “Yes I did. There was a lot of it too. I negotiated a very good price and used some of the proceeds to buy more. You won’t get your grubby hands on it,” he said when her eyes lit up. “Do you think I’d keep it anywhere near you? No, it’s quite safe and well away from this flat. It’s to sell on. It’s distasteful to me to sell drugs and have to deal with people like you on a regular basis but it’s the best way of finally putting some decent food on the table and keeping the wolves from the door. You will stay out of m
y business and you will keep everything we have discussed to yourself. If you don’t then you will quietly disappear.”

  All the colour drained from her face, despite the heavy make-up. “Are you threatening me?”

  “Oh yes. You see, Jay had to be got rid of in a big, showy way to make you understand what I’m capable of.” His eyes sharpened, glinting like steel. “Don’t fuck with me Estelle because I will not tolerate it any longer.”

  With that he spun on his heel and exited the flat, gently closing the door behind him. Estelle remained where she was, shaking as she listened to the sound of his footsteps fade away. She remained like this for several minutes until the numbness of shock had worn off and she could move again.

  Desperately needing a fix to blot out this fresh horror, she stuffed the money Ryan had given her into her bra then rushed outside, determined to track down her old dealer. She needed some brown in her veins to send her into oblivion, into a world where Ryan didn’t rule her life.

  She came to a screeching halt, skidding on her heels when she saw Ryan in the courtyard of the flats chatting with some lads several years older than him. He looked serious and mature as he spoke and they were hanging on his every word. They all made a point of shaking his hand before walking away.

  Fifteen years old and he was already prince of the Montford Estate. Maybe Jay’s death wasn’t so bad after all? If she played Ryan’s game she’d still have her meal ticket and she wouldn’t have to shag anyone to get it. She’d kiss that boy’s arse for a bit, help big him up around the estate but she knew in her heart that no matter how high he soared she’d always hate him, he’d always be that arrogant, snivelling little brat calling her name as she’d walked out the door, leaving him in her boyfriend’s hands.

  FRANK AND MARTINA MAGUIRE

  “Michael’s on his way out, he can’t hang on much longer,” said Frank Maguire grimly. He was deeply troubled. His boss, Michael Granger, was dying of lung cancer and already the scavengers were circling, salivating over his empire. Frank was determined they wouldn’t get a single piece of it.