Fighting for Survival (The Estate, Book 3) (17 page)

As soon as Gina’s back was turned the following evening, Claire and Rachel sneaked out of the house. They were on the prowl for Stacey. When she wasn’t across on Vincent Square, they waited outside her house until she came out.

‘Hunter!’ Rachel shouted when she spotted her. ‘A word.’

Stacey tutted loudly. ‘What do you two want?’

‘You.’ Rachel punched her in the face before she had time to do anything about it. But it didn’t have the desired effect: Stacey stayed on her feet.

‘Is that all you’ve got, bitch?’ She taunted. ‘Or do I have to fight you both?’

Rachel punched her again. Claire rushed at her.

Stacey fell to one knee but stood upright again immediately. She screamed as her fists flew out in every direction. 

‘Oy! What’s going on out here?’ A man in his thirties appeared behind his garden gate next door. He pointed down the street. ‘Fuck off out of here, Stacey. You wake my kids up and you’ll know it.’

Rachel took the opportunity to catch her breath, holding on to her ribs where Stacey had caught her a blow. This wasn’t going to plan. They were supposed to take her down, kick the shit out of her and then drag her over to the shops where the rest of the girls would probably be waiting for her by then.

Except Stacey wouldn’t
go
down. Even with the two of them, she stood her ground. Blood trickled from her nose but she had her fists up, ready to hit out again at any moment.

‘I said fucking move!’ The man opened his gate and ran towards them, a piece of wood in his hands raised in the air.

All three of them ran. At the end of the street, Rachel and Claire headed toward the Square. Stacey doubled back and ran down the steps and along Peter’s Walk.

‘You fucking coward!’ Rachel shouted after her.

‘That was close,’ said Claire.’

‘I know; he was a nutter waving that wood around like that.’

‘I didn’t mean him.’ Claire turned to her. ‘We were lucky to get away then, Rach. Stacey took us both on and she was winning! If he hadn’t come out, she’d have hurt one of us and then have started on the other.
She’s
the nutter.’

Rachel knew she was right. They’d have to think of another plan – and quickly. Other than that, Stacey would win the battle.

‘Let’s get over to the Square,’ she said, ‘and put our side of the story out first.’

‘Which is?’

 ‘We were winning, right?’

While her twins were out fighting again, Gina lay soaking in the bath. A glass of wine balancing on the ledge, she ran a cheap razor over her legs. She found it tough going to get rid of the pale hairs growing there; they hadn’t seen a blade in ages. The water was turning positively murkier as she dipped the razor in and left the scum behind.

‘Shit!’ She cried out as the blade nicked her again. She wiped away the blood as it emerged. At this rate, she’d need to cover up her legs and, for once, that wasn’t on the agenda. Tonight she’d be wearing easy clothes for easy access, because tonight she was going to have John Williams. She was going to sleep with him right underneath the nose of that snotty bitch he called his wife.

She rubbed a hand over her right breast. Just thinking about what she was going to do was turning her on. Her hand moved lower as she imagined more of what they would be doing. John would take her in his arms and pull her onto his lap. She’d feel his hardness beneath her, rub herself up against him while they kissed. Long smoochy kisses that she and Pete had given up years ago. Then she’d move his hands to her breasts and he’d knead them while she climbed on top of him. He’d kiss her while he moved her up and down, up and down, up and down. The image in her mind became tuned into her body and as she felt the ripples of pleasure engulf her, she said his name aloud.

Afterwards, she lay in the cooling bath water and smiled. She knew John wanted her. She’d seen the looks he’d been throwing her; sly, secretive looks that only she would have noticed. Pete was going out with John again so, once they’d come in from the pub, she would keep them drinking. She’d have to be careful though – she didn’t want him to suffer from brewer’s droop – but she needed to get them drunk enough so that he’d fall asleep on the sofa and Pete would head off for bed. It was a perfect plan, really.

She reached for the shampoo, rubbed a dollop in her hair, and ducked beneath the water. Had she seen the scum forming, she might have thought twice about it.

But things didn’t go to plan for Gina. Pete and John arrived back just after midnight and had wanted a fry-up. Although Claire had gone to bed, Rachel was up and sitting on the settee chatting to John as he gobbled down a bacon buttie.

Pete slapped Gina’s bottom as she came back into the room with a sandwich for herself. ‘Great grub,’ he spoke with his mouthful. He laughed and looked across at John. ‘I suppose she’s useful for something.’

‘Hey, do you mind!’ Gina glared at him before knocking Rachel’s feet off the coffee table. Then she squeezed herself into the space between her and John.

‘Jeez, Mum,’ Rachel complained. ‘You’re too fat to sit on here.’

‘Oy!’ Gina felt her skin burning up. But when John joined in with the laughter, she smiled then, glancing surreptitiously at him. She knew it was an act to keep everyone from guessing what he really thought.

‘You like me just the way I am, John, don’t you?’ she couldn’t help asking.

‘Erm, yeah, course I do,’ said John.

Pete and Rachel burst into raucous laughter.

Pete checked his watch, stood up and stretched. ‘I’m off to bed now my belly’s full. I need to be up early in the morning. Got some work on at the builder’s yard. You up for it, John?’

John sighed. Even knowing Caren would give him hell didn’t stop him nodding. They needed the money.

‘Need to be gone by eight.’

John looked aghast. ‘Eight? I’d better be off.’ He stood up but had to steady himself on the arm of the settee. ‘Bloody hell, Bradley. How many have we had?’

Pete sniggered. ‘Dunno, I lost count.’

Rachel stretched her arms above her head. ‘I’m off too. Do you need a hand upstairs, Dad?’

‘Cheeky cow.’ Pete grinned. Then he looked at John. ‘Why don’t you crash down there tonight? You look a bit green.’

‘I’ll be fine in a minute.’ John held his head in his hands like it was going to fall off.

‘Sit there for a while. Gina’ll look after you, won’t you, bird?’

‘Sure.’ Gina tried to sound nonchalant. This was turning out to be perfect after all: John faking his head hurting was genius.

John stood up once the other two had gone. ‘I need some water.’

Gina followed him through to the kitchen.

John steadied himself on a cupboard door as he looked for a glass. He staggered back before opening another one.

‘Here, use this.’ Gina handed him a mug.

He belched noisily and grinned like a naughty schoolboy. ‘Ta.’

The sound of water gushing rang in her ears. It spurted everywhere as John tried to put the mug underneath the tap. ‘Fuck!’

Gina turned it off quickly. John looked down at his soaked T-shirt. He laughed; she began to laugh with him. Daringly, she took hold of the hem and shrugged the garment up and over his head. John laughed some more. Gina was a little put out then: he was more wasted than Pete. And the only way she could get to kiss him was if he leaned down. Five foot nothing against nearly six foot didn’t quite work out. Still, an opportunity was an opportunity.

She reached for his belt buckle, undoing it quickly. ‘I think these need to come down too,’ she said, ignoring the fact that John’s eyes were closing and he was leaning on the worktop as if his legs were going to give way.

She slipped her hand in and around him. Leaning forward as she began to stroke him to life, she dared to kiss his chest. Gentle butterfly kisses.

John gave out a groan. At long last, he began to come to life. Gina glanced up and saw him throw back his head. She laughed inwardly: at least he could get it hard enough after all that booze.

‘Oh, that’s good, Caz,’ he said.

And the magic was spoilt.

Gina’s shoulders drooped and she stepped away from him. ‘I’m not Caren,’ she snapped.

John’s eyes opened. For a moment, he looked dazed as he struggled to figure out his whereabouts. Then he saw Gina.

‘You have got to be joking!’

‘It’s no joke.’

John went to speak again but he couldn’t find the words. Gina smiled as he left in a hurry. She had him exactly where she wanted him. Although she recognised the shock on his face, she knew it was good for him. He’d sleep with her soon, she was certain of it.

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

The next morning, Ruth awoke from her nap as the door knocker banged down heavily. She checked the time: ten fifteen. After taking the boys to school, she’d slept on the settee, last night’s hangover taking its toll. She sat up but didn’t go to the door; she wasn’t in the mood for visitors – and it would more than likely be that Josie Mellor again. She’d tried to get in twice more since the last time she’d left a card. At this rate, Ruth would have a full deck soon.

‘Ruthie?’ A voice came through the letterbox. ‘Ruthie, it’s me.’

Martin!

Ruth staggered to her feet and rushed to the door. ‘Martin!’ She flung her arms around his neck. ‘Oh, it’s so good to see you.’

‘Good to see you too. Can I come in?’

‘Yes, I’ll make coffee.’

‘Great, although I’d prefer something stronger.’

She smiled at him. It was then that she saw what he had with him.

Martin stepped into the hall, chucking down the black bag full of his belongings. He shrugged off his holdall, leaving that to fall too. ‘I’ve got nowhere to go, babe. It’s only for a few days.’

Ruth frowned. ‘You can’t stay here. It’s not –’

‘Relax, I’ll be as quiet as a mouse. No one will know that I’m here.’

‘But –’

Martin leaned forward and put a finger over her lips. ‘Put the kettle on, there’s a good girl.’

As bold as brass, he took the stairs two at a time and disappeared. Ruth sighed and made her way through to the kitchen. By the time she’d boiled the kettle, Martin literally had his feet underneath the table.

‘What happened?’ she asked him.

‘Got evicted. Couldn’t manage without you.’

‘What are you going to do?’

‘Stay here for a couple of nights until I get settled somewhere else.’

‘You’ll have to leave then.’

Martin sighed. ‘Chill out, Ruth. I won’t be here for long.’

‘And you’ll have to sleep on the sofa.’

‘Don’t be daft. I’ll shack up with you until I find another bed.’

‘You’ll do no such bloody thing!’

Martin reached across for her hand, giving it a firm squeeze. ‘You’ve become quite the brave lady since we split up.’

Ruth pulled her hand away. She stared at him, wariness clear in her eyes. Martin hadn’t even tidied up his hair that morning. His clothes looked as though he’d been wearing them for a couple of days, his facial hair saying the same thing. In his heyday, he’d been a looker. Now, nearing forty, his dark hair was receding rapidly, his teeth decaying slowly. Prominent crow’s feet were visible even when he didn’t smile; eyes wide and beady like an owl.

 Martin reached for her other hand. This one, she didn’t move away. She knew she wasn’t strong enough to fight him right now. And maybe he’d stop her from self-harming, or from hurting one of the boys. Suddenly, she could see the positive to having him back for a while – providing he hadn’t bought Tracy Tanner along with him.

She smiled. ‘Something stronger now?’

Once she’d settled Martin in, Ruth realised she’d have to go to the shops. She needed food: she couldn’t remember the last time she’d cooked something that hadn’t come from a packet. Martin had given her twenty pounds – it wouldn’t go far after she’d bought him the cigarettes and lager he’d asked for as well, but it would get them something decent to eat.

Deep in thought, she hadn’t been prepared to bump into Gina.

‘Oy! You!’ Gina screeched as she spotted her. ‘I want a word with you.’

Ruth put her head down and continued, walking past another neighbour in their garden.

But Gina wasn’t going to be ignored. She let the gate bang shut as she rushed over to face her. ‘You want to watch your step, ignoring me like that.’ She grabbed Ruth’s arm. ‘I might lose my temper.’

‘What do you want?’ Ruth asked.

‘My mum said she saw you hit your little lad last week.’

‘I – I – we all do it,’ she replied. ‘He was obviously being naughty.’

‘But he’s too little to stick up for himself. You shouldn’t hit him.’

‘I didn’t hit him hard,’ Ruth decided to say, unsure of exactly what Gina had seen her doing.