Fighting for Survival (The Estate, Book 3) (14 page)

‘As long as it takes to win this fat fucker’s money.’

‘Less of the fat, you cheeky bugger,’ Pete laughed. He flicked his eyes up to Caren and then back to his cards. ‘He won’t be long now, so hurry back home, little wifey.’

John fanned his hand out on the table. ‘Beat that, loser.’

Pete looked back at his own cards before admitting defeat. He threw them down. ‘You are one hell of a lucky bastard.’

‘He won’t be, by the time I’ve finished with him.’ Caren waved a hand in front of John’s face. ‘Remember me? I’m standing by your side.’

‘Chill out,’ said Gina, sitting back down at the table. ‘We’re playing for ten pence pieces, not ten pound notes. He won’t bankrupt you again, if that’s what’s worrying you.’

‘I knew you shouldn’t have opened your mouth about it,’ Caren hissed.

Looking awkward, John shrugged the comment off. ‘I’m having a night out with friends. A few beers and a laugh, that’s all.’

‘Have you no sense of pride?’ Caren lowered her head to his level. ‘Why would you ever call these two friends?’

‘Hey!’ snapped Gina.

Pete shuffled the cards again. ‘I’d quit while you’re ahead, if I were you, Caz.’

‘All I’m saying is you’ve got to get up early in the morning and –’

John sniggered. ‘What do I have to get up for? All you do is nag, nag, nag.’

Caren baulked. ‘This isn’t the time to get into a full-blown row.’

‘No, I suppose not.’ John sighed. ‘You’ll more than likely keep that for tomorrow.’

Gina sat grinning as she watched the exchange with intrigue. A plan began to form in her mind, just exactly how she could get one up on Caren after all.

Silence engulfed the room as Caren stood fuming. When John didn’t look up for a few seconds, she snapped. ‘Fine, have it your way. But if you’re not home in fifteen minutes, the bolts will be across and you’ll have to sleep here.’

John looked up in alarm but Caren was already heading out of the room. He went to shout after her but noticing Pete staring at him, shrugged and grabbed the cards. He began to shuffle out a new game, hardly jumping at all as the front door slammed moments later.

‘Another beer, boys?’ Gina rushed over to the fridge.

‘Now, you see?’ Pete slapped her bottom as she went past. ‘That’s how a woman should treat you – with respect.’

John said nothing. He picked up his hand and gave it the once over. Typical; his luck had changed.

 As Gina removed the bottle tops, leaving the one that dropped to the floor, she turned back to the table and noticed the scowl on John’s face. Bleeding hell, she hadn’t realised how hen-pecked he was. Maybe she should try and persuade them to do this more often. Then, if she could get Caren to lock him out again, maybe she could take advantage of the situation. She smiled deviously. Caren had handed her husband over on a huge serving platter. Pretty soon, he’d be hers for the taking.

She held up her bottle in the air. ‘Cheers,’ she cried.

CHAPTER ELEVEN

Caren was in the kitchen when John came downstairs the next morning. It was nine thirty: she’d been up since six.

‘Can I come in?’ he asked, holding his hands up in surrender.

‘If you must.’

He tried to touch her arm as she moved past him but she slapped it out of the way. Noisily, she piled the dishes in the sink, glad that the radio was on to avoid the inevitable silence.

‘I’m sorry, I was out of order. I had too much to drink. I’m a total idiot.’

‘You missed off selfish bastard.’ Caren wiped at her hands with the tea towel. ‘And don’t forget the I
’
m with my mates again so fuck off wifey bastard. You made me look like a right nag.’

‘I didn’t mean to.’

‘You could have fooled me. Gina was relishing every second of it. I wish I’d leaned over and wiped that smug look off her face.’

John smirked: he knew that was never going to happen. Caren’s tongue was lethal but a fighter she wasn’t.

‘I am sorry,’ he said again. ‘Sometimes I want to forget things for a while. And where better to forget normality than across the road. It really is a weird place: all those boxes of stuff everywhere. And clothes piled high; magazines and mugs and… I couldn’t wait to get out, if I’m honest.’

‘I can’t understand why you have to forget things by going over there. I mean, why can’t you sit with me in the evening?’

‘After the mood you’d been in all day?’ John scoffed.

Caren sighed. He was right: she’d been in a foul temper yesterday. She hadn’t got a particular reason to feel angry, but she’d been really crabby with him. In fact, she recalled, ashamed at herself now, she’d wanted to pick a fight with him because she was so fed up. No wonder he’d slammed out to get some peace.

‘How about I make it up to you this evening?’ she offered. ‘I’ll cook up something special and we can check out the television, watch a film.’ She grinned. ‘I’ll even let you choose.’

‘I thought you’d be really mad.’

‘I am really mad, but I don’t want to fight. So…’ she reached for his hand and placed it on her breast. ‘A film and good food – unless you can think of anything else you might like to do?’

Rachel put a finger to her lips and turned to look at Claire. ‘Over there.’ She pointed into the distance.  By the side of Shop&Save car park sat two girls, their backs towards them.

‘Ready?’ she whispered to Claire.

‘Ready.’

It had taken five nights of stalking, coming out early to check on their prey, before they’d managed to get Hayley and Shell alone without Stacey Hunter. They knew Stacey wouldn’t be far behind but she didn’t need to be in this fight. This was payback for the two of them running to Stacey the minute their backs were turned.

They weaved in between the parked cars and across to where they were sitting. Before they could react, Rachel and Claire grabbed a girl apiece around the neck, pulled them backwards and down onto the gravel. Rachel tackled Hayley, the stronger one of the two. She sat astride her and punched her in the face. Hayley struggled to gain ground but it was a no-win situation. All she could do was buck her legs to see if she could knock Rachel off balance.

Claire, however, had failed to keep Shell down on the ground. As Shell landed a punch to the side of her head, she rushed at her, fists and feet flying at the same time.

Rachel aimed another fist at Hayley’s face and struck her in the mouth. She noticed a splattering of blood across her knuckles and looked up. Hayley’s top lip had split. Knowing she had the upper hand, Rachel took a moment to catch her breath. Then she punched her one last time before getting up to help out her sister.

Claire was pulling Shell around by the hood of her jacket, trying to knock her to the ground again. Rachel grabbed Shell’s hair as she swung past her and thumped her in the face. Shell dropped to her knees in an instant. Rachel drew back her foot to kick her but Claire put a hand on her arm.

‘NO!’

Rachel turned with a glint in her eye that Claire had learned to recognise as the danger zone.

Ignoring it, Rachel kicked Shell in the stomach. 

Claire pushed Rachel to one side. ‘Back off, Rach!’

‘Move out of my way.’

‘No. There are people everywhere!’

Rachel looked around her. A group of lads at the far end of the car park stood watching. A man and his dog walking past stopped to wonder what was going on. An elderly couple hurried to the safety of their car.

Claire held her breath, knowing enough to recognize the situation was hardly under control. She’d been there so many times before, thinking that Rachel had calmed down only for her to turn back and kick the unsuspecting victim and continue with the fight. But the lull in action was long enough for Shell to pull herself up, and stagger off with Hayley.

Rachel stared after them but didn’t move to follow. Claire let out her breath again. She clenched and unclenched her hands, felt the ache. Her left eye was swelling by the second; Shell had caught her good and proper. She glanced in their direction but they’d already disappeared out of sight. No doubt one of them would be on the phone to Stacey, telling of how the Bradley twins had caught them off guard. She wondered how long it would be before someone jumped the two of them. She sure as hell wasn’t looking forward to it. But for now, it was over.

Rachel, suddenly more calm and collected than she’d been in a long time, felt that feeling of superiority wash over her. ‘What the fuck are you lot staring at?’ she shouted to the lads who were still watching. They all turned away. One thing she knew, not a one of them would dare speak out, talk about the incident. They were too scared of what she’d do to them. She pulled her sister close and they walked off together.

‘So what shall we do now?’ she asked her.

‘I might go home and get cleaned up. Mum’ll kill me if she sees me like this.’

Rachel shrugged, knowing when she was beat. As they walked off, she felt that familiar stirring inside. The fight of their lives was brewing: she knew this was the beginning. It was going to be tough, for Claire especially, but right now, all she could think about was that she was ready.

Bring it on.

The following afternoon, Ruth sat at the kitchen table. The darkness was falling. Although she could feel and see the warning signs, she knew there wasn’t anything she could do to stop it. Being with Martin meant she’d had to hide it, control it; keep it well hidden. But since she’d moved to Stanley Avenue without him, it had begun to control her again. She knew it was going to consume her completely soon.

It was half past two: another half hour and she’d have to make the trek to fetch the boys from school. Well now, wouldn’t that be exciting? Yeah, a real bundle of laughs. Mason had hardly said a word to her since her outburst the other night, no matter how much she’d smiled, cajoled, apologised and pleaded with him. Jamie hadn’t been too bad; he was too young to understand why his mum was happy one minute and screaming at him the next. In his own little world, he was just glad when she was happy.

But Mason ignoring her made Ruth realise how terrible it must be for them. She ran a hand through unwashed hair. What must they think of her – a drunken mother who cut herself, screamed at them all the time when all they were doing was enjoying their childhood? Would they compare her to the mothers of the kids at school? The perfect mothers with their perfect lives, their perfect homes, their perfect husbands.

Glenn, Glenn, Glenn. That stupid cow Gina had brought him hurtling to the front of her mind again. She tapped a foot on the floor persistently. What would he think of her now? Would Glenn hang his head in shame? Would he grab her by the shoulders and shake her? Would he talk some sense into her or would he realise that it was too late? All she wanted was to feel his arms around her, be drawn into his embrace and held there. It was the only place she’d ever felt safe. Without that, there was nowhere to hide.

She reached for the small plastic bottle in front of her as the oppressive silence began to draw her in. Her hand clasped around it tightly. Next to it was the rest of the vodka that she’d started the previous night. She pulled that nearer too.

It would be so easy. A pill: a swig of vodka. Another pill: another swill of vodka. How long would it take? She peered at the clock: twenty to three. Who would care enough to see why she hadn’t turned up to collect Mason and Jamie? Who else knew of her existence? She thought of her mum, alone since her dad died two years ago. They’d fallen out over something so stupid, so trivial that she couldn’t remember what. It was probably about Martin, it usually was.

The knock on the front door made her visibly jump. She turned her head slightly. Through the open kitchen door, she could see through to the hallway. It was her way back into the real world.

She stayed sitting at the table.

Another knock: she ignored that too, watching as a white card came through the letter box and fluttered to the floor moments later. There wasn’t another knock after that. But, for now, the spell had been broken. Ruth hid the bottle and the pills, wiped a cloth quickly around her face and reached for her keys. She picked the card up on her way out. It was from the housing officer, that bloody Josie Mellor again.

Ruth threw it in the wheelie bin as she left the house.

Josie had her suspicions that Ruth was at home that afternoon. But, then again, it was near time for the school run. Maybe if she’d got there a little sooner as planned, she would have caught her. But she’d been dragged into another discussion about Susan Harrison in Derek Place, the state of her welfare as well as her two kids and the property. She’d tried to get in there too, on several occasions, but each time had been, well, shooed away, to put it politely.

With a sense of dread, she walked up the path towards Gina Bradley’s front door. She rapped on it sharply. As usual, Gina opened it in her own time.

‘For fuck’s sake, not you again,’ she cried.

‘Yes, it’s me –’

‘What have they done this time?’ Gina didn’t wait for an answer. She went back into the living room.