Fighting for Survival (The Estate, Book 3) (23 page)

BOOK: Fighting for Survival (The Estate, Book 3)
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‘Let me make it better for you,’ he whispered.

Ruth stared at him for a moment. Up close he wasn’t that good-looking but she didn’t care about that. Right now, she just wanted to be loved, feel a man’s arms around her, comforting her. Surely it wouldn’t do any harm? No one would know.

She nodded.

Pete kissed her, gently at first, then more persistent. His hand roamed over her bare legs. Until then, she hadn’t noticed she’d gone to the door in only her dressing gown. He pulled the belt undone, his hand finding her breast this time, tweaking the nipple to erection. Ruth gasped as his mouth followed his hand. She ran her hands down his back, pulling out his T-shirt, urging him to remove it. They pulled it off together, then the rest of his clothes. Coming back to her, he knelt down in front of her and buried his head between her legs.

Ruth was in a daze, headache forgotten. She heard a moan and realised it had come from her.

‘Does that feel good?’ Pete stopped for a second to look up at her. It was all she could do to nod.

He pulled her onto the floor, gazed for a moment at her nakedness before pushing himself into her. She wrapped her arms around him, moving with him as his thrusts became longer and quicker. Then he stopped.

‘Turn over.’

Ruth obliged. He pushed into her from behind but this time he didn’t thrust. Instead his hand moved over her stomach and down into her pubic hair. He found her clitoris and gently began to massage it. Ruth gasped again. She pressed her buttocks into him, begging him to thrust.

‘You want it, don’t you?’ Pete said, his fingers never stopping.

‘Yes.’ His touch was so pleasurable. ‘Yes, oh, God, yes!’

Pete thrust into her, taking her to a moment where she could forget all her problems. Who cared what was going on in the world while they fucked? She had love; that was all she needed.

Pete bucked for one last time and then collapsed on top of her. ‘You are one horny bitch,’ he grinned.

As she turned her head to smile at him, Pete smirked. She’d got the nice Pete today but fast, rough and selfish sex was his thing. From now on, he’d show no consideration towards her needs. He’d have her exactly how he wanted.

 

For the second night in two weeks, Gina heard a commotion in the kitchen. She rushed through to find the girls in a flurry of banging doors and swearing. She swore loudly when she saw Rachel’s face covered in blood.

‘What the hell has happened now?’ Gina marched Rachel over to the sink. ‘If this is Stacey Hunter’s doing, I’m going right round to her house.’

‘It wasn’t anyone,’ said Rachel. ‘I fell down the steps on Frazer Terrace. I’m a right dozy cow at times.’

‘This is serious, you two!’ Gina sighed loudly as she tended to Claire’s face. ‘Someone is going to get hurt if you don’t stop playing these stupid games.’

‘We’re not playing games!’ Rachel raised her voice.

‘Shut up or you’ll wake your father.’

‘Too late, you already have.’ Pete came into the room. ‘What’s up?’

Rachel knew there wasn’t any point in trying to cover anything up now. Dad could clearly see what state she was in.

He rushed across the room. ‘Who did this?’ he wanted to know.

‘That mad cow, Stacey Hunter,’ replied Gina. ‘I told you she was trouble last week. She needs teaching a lesson. I’m going –’

‘No!’ said Claire. ‘Leave it, Mum!’

Pete tilted Rachel’s chin up to inspect the damage but also to look his daughter in the eye. ‘Who was it?’

‘I told you, I fell,’ Rachel insisted.

But Claire had had enough. ‘You’re right,’ she said. ‘It was Stacey Hunter.’

Gina watched Pete’s face darken. He’d had many a run in with Stacey’s step-father, Lenny Pickton, over the years but Lenny had a whole bunch of his cronies and a prison reputation to fall back on. Pete wasn’t strong enough to fight him. Lenny’s methods were evil, cruel and despicable.

Right now, none of that bothered Pete. His face contorted with rage. ‘I’m going to kill him,’ he said. ‘No one does this to my daughter and gets away with it.’

‘Don’t be stupid,’ said Gina. ‘I’ll end up with two of you to look after at this rate.’

‘Stacey can’t get away with this.’

‘I said no!’

‘Mum’s right, Dad,’ said Rachel. ‘We need to think this through first. There’s too much shit aimed at us as it is. We don’t want to watch our backs every time we set foot outside the front gate.’

‘Me neither,’ said Gina, although secretly she was counting down the days until she could confront Stacey Hunter’s mother. She’d rip her hair out before slapping her around. This had all gone too far.

 Pete frowned. If he stood up to Lenny, he’d get his head smashed in. If he didn’t stand up to Lenny, then his daughters, and maybe his wife, would think he was a coward. Lenny did scare him but he couldn’t sit back and let Stacey get away with it.

‘I’m going to find him,’ he said.

‘No!’ Three women spoke in unison.

‘Leave it be, Dad,’ urged Claire, taking hold of his arm. ‘For me, please.’

‘I can’t.’

‘He won’t stop if you hit him,’ added Gina.

‘Maybe not, but it’ll give me great satisfaction,’ said Pete. ‘He’s had it coming to him for a long time.’

‘Let me speak to Maggie Hunter first; see if I can’t calm this whole situation down.’

‘If she’s anything like her daughter, she won’t listen.’

‘It’s worth a shot before you go and –’

‘You don’t have faith in me, do you?’ Pete glared at her.

‘Of course I do,’ Gina lied, noting the hurt in his eyes. She moved closer to him. ‘But I want my family to be safe. If you go after Lenny, it’ll start up something bigger. If I talk to Maggie, then maybe things will settle down.’

‘I doubt it,’ said Rachel.

Pete stared at them all in turn. Suddenly, he shook his head. ‘No,’ he said.

‘But –’ Gina began.

‘I’m not having it.’

Gina grabbed for his arm as he pushed past her. He was out of the house before she could stop him.

‘Pete!’ she shouted after him. ‘Leave it for now.’

Pete stopped halfway down the path, turned back for a moment. ‘If you think that I’d let anyone – ANYONE – get away with doing that to my kids… I’ll be back when I’ve kicked that fucker around.’

 

‘There’s some sort of commotion going on over the road,’ Caren told John as he came through from the kitchen.

‘Oh?’ John joined her at the living room window, in time to see Pete marching down the path towards his car. Gina ran after him, but he screeched off before she had time to get to the driver’s door.

‘Just another day on the scummy side of the street,’ said Caren, unable to keep a smile at bay. It was always good to see Gina and Pete arguing, no matter what trivial matter it was over.

John laughed. ‘You shouldn’t say that,’ he told her, wagging his finger. ‘One of these days, you’ll slip up and have all the neighbours on your back. And then what would you do?’

Caren watched Gina run back into the house: she looked really upset. If things had been different, she would have gone across to see if she could help, showing genuine concern. But, as it was, Gina wasn’t a friend of hers so she didn’t really care.

A woman walked past their house. She stopped for a moment at the gate and then pushed it open.

‘There’s someone here.’ Caren watched her for a moment before moving to answer the door.

‘It’ll be a sales rep trying to flog us something we either don’t want or can’t afford.’ John buried his head in the evening newspaper, not the slightest bit interested.

‘No, I’m sure I recognise her but I can’t quite put a name to her face.’

 ‘I’m looking for John Williams,’ the woman said after Caren opened the door. ‘I was told he’d moved into Stanley Avenue?’

‘That’s right.’ Caren eyed her warily. ‘And you are?’

‘Is he in?’

She was a brassy woman – bottle-blonde hair and make up that didn’t suit the age of her face. Her clothes were stylish but far too tight for her small frame. She had a huge bust underneath her cropped leather jacket and thin legs covered by leggings. Her heels were stacked ridiculously high: Ah – now she recognised her.

‘Donna?’ she said. ‘Donna Adams?’

 Donna nodded. ‘Yes. Well, I used to be. I’m married now.’

‘I thought I recognised you.’ Caren moved to one side so that she could step in. ‘John!’ She waited for him to appear before speaking again. ‘It’s Donna –’

‘Donna Adams!’ he exclaimed, a little surprised to see her.

‘Hi, John,’ said Donna. ‘Long time no see.’

‘She wants to see you,’ Caren said pointedly.

John frowned. He glanced at Caren who seemed just as puzzled at her appearance.

Donna paused for a moment. ‘I thought you might like to know now that you’re back on the estate again, that you and I have a son.’

Caren paled in an instant. Thoughts of the anguish she and John had gone through to try to conceive a child together came hurtling to the forefront of her mind. Christ, no – it was the one thing she hadn’t been able to provide him with. Please don’t let this be true. 

Donna handed John a photograph.

‘I had no idea,’ said John looking down at it, realising how it might seem different to Caren.

‘Let me see.’ She took the photograph from him. Then she almost laughed out loud with relief. ‘This is a man!’

‘Yes, Sam’s twenty-one this year,’ said Donna.

‘Sam?’ John’s voice came out in a whisper.

‘I thought - I thought you meant a little boy.’

‘You thought I’d had an affair!’ John looked hurt.

‘You can’t blame me for being suspicious. When someone comes to your house and tells you that your husband is the father of her son, what do you expect me to think?’

‘It was a long time ago,’ Donna explained. ‘We were only kids. I was sixteen when I found out I was pregnant.’

‘Me and you weren’t together, Caz,’ John added hastily. ‘It wasn’t a long relationship.’

‘It doesn’t matter,’ said Caren. For some reason, she was immediately suspicious of Donna. ‘If you were sixteen, you weren’t much more than a child yourself.’ She turned back to Donna. ‘How did you find out that he was back? Or where we lived?’

‘I saw you turning into Stanley Avenue the other day – I was going to follow you but I lost my nerve and drove on.’

‘How did you know which house we lived at?’

‘The car was parked outside,’ she said. ‘And when I drove past a few minutes ago you were both in the window.’

Caren shrugged. It was a feasible answer: they had been watching Gina and Pete.

‘You haven’t changed much, either of you,’ Donna spoke into the silence that had developed.

‘But why now?’ John gave the photo back to Donna. ‘You could have told me before I left the estate; before I married Caren.’

Donna shrugged.

Caren watched as she spoke to John for a few minutes. Donna had started to look a little awkward at all his questions. Something wasn’t sitting right with her – call it gut feeling but she couldn’t help thinking that this whole thing was a set up. Why now, after all this time? She decided to play along with it.

‘Does Sam want to meet his dad?’

Donna frowned. ‘I’m not sure.’

‘It’s understandable after all this time. I suppose he’ll be nervous and… you haven’t asked him, have you?’

‘Not yet. I – I wanted to talk to you first,’ she looked at John, ‘to see if you wanted to meet him.’

John had been leaning back on the wall but stood upright again. ‘Of course I want to meet him. But I’m a little annoyed that you’ve come to see me without telling him. What happens now if he doesn’t want to know?’

‘Well, I –’

‘John, why don’t you give Donna your mobile number and she can pass it to Sam,’ Caren took charge of the situation. ‘Then he can decide if he wants to see you or not.’

Donna smiled at Caren but it wasn’t genuine. 

As soon as she’d gone, Caren turned to John. ‘What the hell was all that about?’

‘I’m not sure.’ John scratched his head. They moved back to the living room. ‘Do you think she was telling the truth?’

‘No, but I’m not sure why.’ Caren sat down. ‘She looked practically distraught when we didn’t start arguing.’

They sat in silence as
EastEnders
drew to a close for the night.

‘It was a long time ago, Caz,’ said John. ‘You do believe me?’

Caren smiled. ‘Of course I believe you.’ Then she frowned. ‘But I certainly don’t believe her. We need to work out some dates.’

 She headed for the kitchen to find a notepad.

 

An hour later, Pete stormed up the path to his front door. Despite asking around, he hadn’t managed to find Lenny and had come home with his tail between his legs. He supposed that was better than coming home with several broken ribs, which is what he’d probably end up with when Lenny got wind that he’d been after him. But he couldn’t let it ride again.

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