Fighting for Survival (The Estate, Book 3) (2 page)

Gina pushed Josie across the living room and along the hallway. She yanked open the front door and shoved her through it. Josie just about kept her balance as she flew down the steps.  

‘I’m warning you, Josie Mellor, stay away from here. Stay away from me and stay away from my family. Because if you don’t, I’ll come after you. Just you remember that.’

‘Gina, you’re making a big mistake! I can help you if –’

‘Just keep your nose out of my fucking business!’ Gina slammed the door so hard that paint chips fell to the floor. She stomped back through to the kitchen, grabbed the whisky bottle from where she’d left it the night before and took a huge swig. Then another. And another.

She wiped her mouth with the back of her hand and took in a huge gulp of air. How dare Josie come round here and accuse her girls! Oh, she knew deep down that they must have had something to do with the drama last night. If not two incidents, they would more than likely be involved in one of them – probably the boy falling down the steps.

Damn that Josie Mellor. And damn that stupid housing association and its rules. No one would turf her family out. They wouldn’t dare mess with the Bradleys.

Caren Williams shivered involuntarily, her legs feeling heavy as she leaned her back against the windowsill. She glanced around the large, family kitchen that she’d painted a welcoming yellow earlier that year but its brightness was wasted on her: this was the last morning she’d be walking into it. 

Holding back tears, she realised that in less than three hours she and John had to be out of there. The bailiffs were calling at 2pm: neither of them wanted to be there when the locks would be changed and a notice pinned to their front door. Even though they’d voluntarily given the keys back to their mortgage company rather than wait for the inevitable, it still amounted to the same thing. They were being slung out because they couldn’t afford to pay. Besides, Caren didn’t want to see the pitying looks that were bound to come from their neighbours.

Bankruptcy – not a word she thought she would ever need to speak aloud in her life. She cast her mind back two years. John’s plumbing and heating business had been going strong. It had been a struggle at first, as were most businesses during their first years, but as time went by, regular customers came on board and gradually it grew into a resounding success. Caren, who had worked full-time with John, taking care of the administration, the accounts, a little sales and a lot of PR, had even been able to reduce her working days to four a week, freeing time up to think about starting her own business. But then one of John’s major clients had gone under. Not only did it leave them owed thousands of pounds, it created a cash flow problem that the bank wasn’t willing to help them out with. The business also lost a vast percentage of its incoming work. John cut staff down to the bare minimum but in the end, the loss was too much to bear. Within months, everything they’d worked so hard to achieve was gone.

John walked into the room a few minutes later, sagging shoulders indicating his mood. Caren felt her heartbeat quicken again. She watched as he buried his face in his hands.

‘John, don’t –’

He opened his arms and she ran into them. He smelt of shower gel, his short, dark hair still wet. It was so comforting.

‘I can’t believe this is happening,’ he cried. ‘I’m so sorry.’

‘It wasn’t your fault,’ she told him, tears running down her face.

‘I should have seen it coming; shouldn’t have put all my eggs into one basket. I should have reached out for more clients when I had the opportunity but I didn’t think it would get this bad – to the point of no return.’

‘We weren’t to know that Carrington’s would go into administration.’

‘I know, but –’

‘We’ll get through this; in time you can start up again and I can get my business idea up and running.’

‘It took us years to build up what we had! And now, look at us – at the bottom of the pile again.’

‘Look on the bright side,’ she encouraged. ‘The only way is up; we can’t get any lower than this.’

Despite their gloomy prospects, John smiled. ‘You can always see the positive,’ he said. ‘I wish I shared your optimism.’

‘We’ll pick ourselves up and start again, you’ll see.’

But John’s buoyancy soon died. ‘Sure, we only need a few thousand pounds that we don’t have.’

‘We’ll find it again.’ Caren wouldn’t let him slide down – because if he did, she would no doubt go down with him. ‘Besides, anything is better than sitting rocking in a corner thinking nothing will change. It will – eventually, it has to.’

John shook his head. ‘Where would I be without you?’

There was so much pain in his eyes that Caren had to look away for a moment. She and John had been an item during her last year at high school. He was two years older than her at thirty-seven and she’d had a crush on him since the first time she’d seen him. Once she’d walked out of the school gates for the very last time, she’d done her utmost to keep him on the straight and narrow. The Mitchell Estate could drag even the most positive of people down with it after a while. She wasn’t going to let that happen to them. 

It took them two years to save for a deposit on a house and as soon as Caren finished her hairdressing and beauty course at college, they were on their way. Their first had been a two-up two-down terraced in a long, long row of ex-miners houses. Four years later, they’d swapped that for a semi-detached property that was hardly bigger but had three bedrooms. Next had come the three bed pre-war semi, closely followed by the four bedroom detached house they were going to lose today. It was her pride and joy, and it had all gone in a blink of an eye.

John looked at her. It was twenty years ago that she’d first fallen for those eyes; the blue-grey speckles in the dark ponds of sapphire, and those long, black lashes. There were a few faint laughter lines around them – not that she’d heard him laughing much since the eviction notice had arrived. Until recently, he’d always been her knight in shining armour. This had ruined him – it wasn’t fair – but she wouldn’t let it ruin them.  

‘We’ll get through this,’ she reiterated. ‘You and me; we’ll survive.’

Gently, he cupped her face in his hands. ‘Do you think so?’ he whispered.

‘I know so.’

Caren lowered her eyes then, before she gave away how tense she was feeling. John enveloped her in his arms again, where she felt strong in his embrace.

She loved him with all her heart.

No matter what happened, they’d get through this mess.

CHAPTER TWO

Gina lay in bed, the rain lashing down outside her window hardly giving her any incentive to get up. She hadn’t got anywhere to go anyway. She turned over, hoping to get more sleep.

If it wasn’t for the noise going on downstairs, she would have stayed there much longer than an extra few minutes. But there was no chance of that; Rachel and Claire had been bickering for fifteen minutes now. She covered her head with the duvet, praying they would stop.

‘It’s mine, you cow. I got it first!’

‘I only want to wear it today! Then you can have it back.’

‘No, I want to wear it. Mum got this one for me; you’ve got the blue one.’

‘I want the pink one!’

‘Well, you CAN’T HAVE IT!’

Gina stormed to the top of the stairs and hung her head over the banister. ‘If you two don’t stop screaming at each other, I’ll take both T-shirts from you.’

‘Chill out, Mum,’ Rachel shouted up to her. ‘Claire is just being a moody cow.’

‘No, I’m not!’

‘Yes, you are!’

‘No, I’m NOT!’

‘For crying out loud!’ Gina dressed in whatever piece of clothing came to hand from the floor before marching down the stairs. ‘Are you two six or sixteen? Why can’t you ever act your age?’ She looked at the clock. ‘Actually, why aren’t you two at school?’

‘Spare period,’ said Rachel, the lie rolling off her tongue with ease.

‘You’re only two weeks into a new term.’ Gina clipped her ear as she walked past. ‘More like you’ve skipped it again. Move your arse, the pair of you. I’m not having that school woman on my doorstep, going on at me as if I’m not capable of looking after my own kids.’

‘You’re not,’ muttered Claire. It earned her a clip too.

‘Ow! What was that for?’ Claire rubbed at her head while Rachel laughed at her.

‘Less of your lip, young lady.’ Gina pushed past them, into the kitchen. This morning’s and last night’s dishes were piled precariously in the sink, congealed grease swimming in the murky water that they soaked in. Her hand moved to cover her nose. ‘God, it stinks in here. Has someone killed a cat?’

‘We would have killed it by now if we had one,’ giggled Rachel.

Claire nudged her. ‘Don’t be stupid. I wouldn’t do anything to hurt an animal. They’re defenceless creatures.’

‘That’s not what you said when Loopy Leonard’s dog nearly had hold of your ankles last week.’

‘That was your fault. If you hadn’t been a stupid cow and told me to –’

‘Girls! Put a lid on it!’ Gina lit up a cigarette and took a huge drag, coughing and spluttering the side effects of twenty years on the weed. ‘Where’s your father?’ she asked once she’d caught her breath. ‘Is the idle bastard in or out?’

‘Left about an hour ago,’ stated Rachel. ‘Which you would have known if you’d bothered to get out of bed earlier.’

Both girls ran out of the room as Gina lunged towards them, her hand raised again. Their laughter followed them out of the house with a bang of the back door. Gina sighed: peace at last in the Bradley household.

She wondered what work on the side her husband was up to today as she made herself a mug of milky tea. Then, without another moment’s thought, she settled down in the chaos of the living room to catch up with the shenanigans on
Jeremy Kyle.
Today’s show was about a mother who’d had a family early in life and was now having a mid-life crisis by sleeping with a boy of sixteen. Gina switched it off after a few minutes. It reminded her too much of her own life to be called entertainment. She felt much worse than the fat woman with the huge boobs and mini-skirt that looked no wider than a belt, because at least she was having sex. Gina couldn’t remember the last time she and Pete had got down and dirty. Was it last month, August? Was it July or June? Nope, she couldn’t recall any special occasions.

She pushed a pile of magazines off the coffee table to make way for her feet. Then she put them out of sight. Even her white socks were the colour of dirty dish water. What was going on with her? She’d chosen this life so she didn’t have to go to work so why the long face all the time? Just lately, she found she could raise her hand easier than a smile. Mind you, what had she got to show for her life so far? She had a wayward husband who didn’t know the meaning of working legally for his money, a twenty-year-old son going the same way and sixteen-year-old twins who were regular visitors to Mitchell Housing Association to be interviewed by the local police. Gina hardly had time to live her life for the worries of the ones she’d brought into this world to fend for themselves. That woman on Jeremy Kyle had nothing on her.

She hauled herself up from the old and worn settee and went upstairs to the bathroom. The broken mirror above the sink showed a scary reflection. She ran a hand through red, greasy hair, not bothering to brush her teeth or wash her face. The clothes she’d picked up from the floor were two days old – or were they three? Gina sniffed cautiously at her armpits. She pulled away sharply - no wonder Pete wouldn’t come anywhere near her with that smell!

She sat on the side of the bath while she filled it to the brim with hot water. She could do with a long soak and at least she could lie back in her muck alone for once. Only on rare occasions would the house be this quiet.

A few minutes later, submerged in the water, she tried to remember what had gone down last night to make her head ache so much. She remembered having a few cans of lager and a couple of whisky chasers but she was at a loss after that. Oh, yes, she recalled. Pete had phoned for a takeaway; that had been the smell from the kitchen and the mess down the front of her jumper.

Not for the first time, she wished she could turn back the clock and start her life again. Gina had lived in Stanley Avenue, on the bottom half of the Mitchell Estate, all her life. Her parents lived across the road; her sister Leah and her son, Samuel, lived next door but three. Even her brother had lived there until he’d given up his flat to live courtesy of Her Majesty’s pleasure for the past year.

She often wondered if her parents hadn’t moved onto the estate, would she have turned out this way? Would it only have taken another street, on another estate somewhere to make her life turn the happy way, rather than the path to nothing she was following now? From the moment she had seen Pete at high school, she had wanted him. Very soon, she’d had him. Very soon, she’d become pregnant by him. At fifteen, when all the other girls at school were discovering cigarettes, cheap cider and ecstasy tablets, she’d discovered the joys of sex behind the bus shelter. A quick blow job, a quick fumble and a quick fuck; that was all it had taken for Pete to belong to Gina. Yet she often wondered why he’d stuck with her. After all, she wasn’t a catch. She was a plump, thirty-five-year old mum of three who didn’t give a shit about herself anymore.