Fighting for Survival (The Estate, Book 3) (22 page)

She began to cry again. She’d let her boys down; she’d had to or else she might have killed one of them instead of herself. But what right had she to give her children away, like the booby prize of a raffle? How would they feel later, realising that she had abandoned them? Right now, they were probably thinking that she was coming back for them; she’d had a bit of a breakdown and once she was better they’d be home again.

She leaned forward, picked up an empty vodka bottle and put it to her lips. There wasn’t even a drop left for her to devour. On the drawers beside it, she noticed the craft knife covered in blood. She held her wrist up and then dropped it. It too was covered in blood, so were some of the covers around her. She couldn’t remember hurting herself last night; couldn’t remember the feel of the blade splitting her skin, the blood oozing out. And that upset her, because to take away the pain, she had to feel it. And if she didn’t feel it, she couldn’t make things better. Hurt heeled hurt. But not this time.

She reached for the craft knife and placed it on her wrist. It would be so easy to draw it across and go to sleep. Really, it was the arm that was a better place. Just above the elbow. She’d seen that on a television program. It bled just as much as slashing at the wrists and looked easier to do as it was fleshier. Simple, clean, and effective. It was perfect. But she knew the blade might not be strong enough to do the job properly. Maybe she needed a Stanley knife for that – or a heavy duty pen knife. Or maybe it didn’t have to be heavy duty. Maybe it was the action of drawing the blade across her skin that needed to be heavy duty.

She threw the craft knife across the room. It stuck in the wall before falling to the carpet. Next went the bottle. This too hit the wall but fell without smashing.

She screamed in frustration. ‘I can’t even break a fucking bottle!’

The following day as Josie drove along Davy Road towards The Workshop, she decided to call into Stanley Avenue and see if she could catch Ruth. But after banging on her door three times with no answer she left, disappointed yet again. She was getting back into her car when she spotted Ruth walking towards her. She went to meet her.

‘Hi, Ruth,’ she smiled. ‘I’ve been meaning to catch you but you’re always out. I wondered if I –’

‘No, I’m not.’

‘Sorry?’ Josie frowned.

‘I said no, I’m not.’ She looked up at Josie with glazed eyes. ‘I’m not always out. I’ve just been avoiding you.’

‘Oh!’ Jose was taken aback. ‘Well, I’m here again,’ she laughed nervously. ‘Might I come in for a chat?’

‘Please yourself.’ Ruth walked through the gate, letting it fall back in place. Josie sighed, opened it and followed her into the house.

‘I heard about what happened with your children,’ she said. ‘I’m really sorry that you felt that way. I wish I could have helped you.’

‘What could you have done?’

Josie paused. Ruth’s tone wasn’t scathing but she was right. What could she have done?

‘Maybe I could have talked to you, offered you a friendly ear? Maybe I could have got some help for you.’

‘I didn’t need help.’ Ruth switched on the kettle.

‘Do you mind if I sit down?’ Josie pointed to a seat at the table.

Ruth shrugged.

As she made coffee, Josie studied her. It was so obvious she’d been taking something. Not heavy drugs but some kind of a sedative to calm her down. Trouble was, it had calmed her down so much that she was acting like a zombie.

‘Why give the boys to Children’s Services?’ she asked once Ruth was sitting opposite her. ‘It must have been a hard decision to make?’

Ruth shook her head.

‘Was this place getting to you so much?’ Josie clocked the sparse kitchen. ‘I’m sorry. I could have done more, got you some help with the decorating. I’ve been so busy lately and –’ she stopped herself. ‘Hark at me. Ruth, I don’t have any excuses. I should have been here for you.’

‘You’re not my keeper.’

Josie faltered. ‘I know, but I do feel responsible for you. Only in the same way I do for all my tenants’,’ she added hastily as Ruth began to glare at her.

‘It isn’t easy living my life,’ she spat out.

Josie shook her head. ‘No, I don’t know. Why don’t you tell me?’

‘So you can go running back to the office and tell everyone my business?’

‘I would never do that!’ Josie looked horrified. ‘What you tell me is confidential as long as it is within the law.’

Ruth opened her mouth to lay into Josie again but she saw the concern on her face. She was being genuine. She felt her shoulders droop.

‘I didn’t know what to do,’ she admitted finally. ‘And I was afraid of myself, that I might hurt one of them and live to regret it. Did you know that I’m a widow?’

Josie nodded: she’d seen it on Ruth’s paperwork.

Tears misted over Ruth’s eyes. ‘Me and Glenn were so happy. I could cope when he was around. We had a really great relationship. I lost my soul mate when he died, yet I had to go on with my life. I had two children to look after. They took up all of my time, and I was coping, in a fashion, until I had my breakdown. If it wasn’t for my mum and dad, the boys would have been in care a long time ago.’

‘Had you spoken to your parents about how you were feeling?’

‘My dad’s dead and my mum hasn’t spoken to me for ages now – not since I started seeing Martin. She didn’t like him.’

Josie sighed. It must be so hard to live the lives of these women.

‘I can’t have them back,’ Ruth said matter-of-factly. ‘I can’t have it on my conscience that I was the one who ill-treated them; I was the one who didn’t look out for them; I was the one who made them into the anti-social thugs they would have turned into. They’re a handful now: imagine how they’d be when they got to their teens.’ Ruth shook her head. ‘It’s not fair on them.’

‘It’s not fair on you, either,’ said Josie.

‘I don’t care about me.’

‘But this is –’

‘They won’t make me take them back, will they?’ Ruth rang her hands together over and over. Then she began to pick at the top of the bandage around her wrist. ‘I couldn’t do that.’

Josie knew that wasn’t about to happen. Ruth hadn’t even asked about the boys yet.

‘But don’t you want to know where they are? Who they are with?’  

‘Yes, but please don’t make me have them back.’

It wasn’t often in her role that Josie was lost for words. Most of the time she could talk someone around to her way of thinking, but that was easy to do when she wanted them to attend a mother and toddlers club because she knew they were lonely; when she wanted to help them sort the house out, get it cleaned and decorated to an acceptable standard; when she needed a tenant to pay their rent or just a little bit more off their arrears every week to stave off eviction proceedings.

But this was different. She didn’t know what to do, what to say, to ease this woman’s pain. There were only so many words she knew but none of them were good enough for this situation. Sometimes it was best to sit and listen. Make some sense of it when she had left the property.

‘Is someone nice looking after them?’ Ruth spoke, her voice barely audible.

Josie nodded. ‘They haven’t been separated and have gone to live with a foster family who I’ve met several times. There are three girls there at the moment too. Every time I’ve visited, there’s always been a happy atmosphere.’

Ruth nodded through fresh tears. ‘I just want them to be happy.’ She began to sob.

Josie felt tears welling in her eyes too. How the hell was she going to deal with this case?

On his first morning at his new job, John had been hoping to sneak out of his house early without Pete seeing him but was dismayed to see him in the front garden. He tried not to catch his eye, knowing he wouldn’t be happy with him, but Pete spotted him eventually.

‘Hey, John, haven’t seen you lately,’ he shouted across the street to him. ‘You up for a cash in hand job, later in the week?’

 ‘Can’t mate,’ John shouted back. ‘I’m a bit busy.’

‘What’s more important than making a bit of dough?’

John stopped before getting into his car; he might as well tell Pete now, get it over with.

‘I’ve got a job, mate. I needed something steady.’

Wearing baggy grey joggers spotted with stains and a particularly nasty scowl, Pete crossed the road. As he reached him, he threw his hands up in the air.

‘You’re deserting me?’

‘It’s regular hours.’

‘I bet you can make more with me in one day than what anyone will pay you for a week’s work.’

‘It’s not that.’ John paused. ‘I just want to get into a routine.’

‘This is Caren’s idea, isn’t it?’ Pete pointed to his forehead. ‘She’s put ideas into your head. She thinks she’s better than anyone else. I can’t believe you’ve fallen for it.’

‘Got to keep her happy.’

‘By selling your soul to the devil?’

John laughed nervously. ‘It’s not that bad.’

‘You don’t need a job when I’m around. She’s got a fucking nerve; you should show her who the boss is. Don’t you wear the trousers in your house?’

‘It’s only a job,’ John stated. ‘We’ve been through a shit time lately so I’m trying to make things better. What’s wrong with that?’

Pete shrugged. ‘You’ve joined the other side, pal, not me.’

‘I need the security!’ John shouted as Pete walked off.

‘Pussy whipped, that’s what you are,’ Pete shouted back. ‘Under the thumb good and proper.’

As John drove off down Stanley Avenue, Pete glanced across the road. Spotting Caren standing at the front window, he shook his head at her slowly, laughing as she moved away quickly. Women! He and John had something good going on; he’d never get half of the gigs without two of them going together. And he’d been wrong about Caren. He thought she’d heed his warning when they’d had their little chat but it seemed not. He wondered for a moment. There must be a way that he could teach the interfering bitch a lesson; something to upset Miss High and Fucking Mighty over there?

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

Ruth ignored the front door that morning when someone knocked at half past nine. She sat at the kitchen table nursing a hangover: she seemed to have been in constant headache mode for the past few days.

Another knock – why couldn’t everyone leave her be!

‘Ruth? It’s me, Pete.’

Ruth groaned inwardly. What did he want? Because he’d left her alone for a few days, she was hoping he was going to stay away for good.

‘I know you’re in there. Come on, let me in.’

Ruth dragged herself to the door.

‘Hi, I was wondering – Christ, you look rough.’ Pete’s smiled dropped. ‘Are you okay?’

Ruth shook her head. ‘I – I –’ She felt herself sway, her knees buckle.

Pete stepped in and caught hold of her arm. ‘You’ve gone the colour of pea soup.’ He guided Ruth into the living room and sat down next to her on the settee.

Ruth began to gulp in big mouthfuls of air as panic took over.

‘You need to calm down. Breathe easy, in, then out. In then, out. Look at me.’

She did as she was told.

‘In, then out. In, then out.’

A few minutes later, panic subsiding, she gave an embarrassed smile. ‘Sorry,’ she eyed him nervously, ‘I haven’t eaten anything since last night.’

‘And that’s all?’

Ruth looked away. How could she tell him that she’d drunk a bottle of vodka and taken a few happy-clappy pills? The pills had been prescribed to her a couple of years ago. At the time, she’d stopped taking them because they’d made her act irrationally. Now she’d decided to give them another go – anything to make her feel better.

Pete took hold of her hand. ‘You can tell me anything, Ruth. I’m a friend, that’s what I’m here for, to listen.’  

Latching on to his caring manner, Ruth nodded. Everything came spilling out; about her life, losing Glenn, Martin, and how she hadn’t been able to cope with the boys. Forty minutes and two mugs of coffee later, Pete was still there and Ruth felt like a weight had been lifted from her shoulders. Pete was telling her how taxing it had been bringing his own kids up.

‘Little bastards they were,’ he said. ‘Still are, if you ask me. Those twins are evil. I swear they must have mixed them up in the hospital.’ He pointed at himself. ‘How could such naughty kids come from such a sweet and innocent man like me?

Ruth giggled.

Pete nudged her playfully. ‘Oy! Are you mocking me?’

‘No!’ Ruth giggled again. Pete nudged her again.

They smiled at each other shyly.

Pete gently wiped the fringe away from Ruth’s forehead. ‘You have beautiful eyes when I can see them,’ he said.

Ruth blushed.

Pete leaned forward and kissed her lightly on the lips.

‘So.’

He kissed her again.

‘Blue.’

And again.