Fighting for Survival (The Estate, Book 3) (28 page)

Several minutes later, they were chatting around her kitchen table. Rachel’s foot was tapping away to a tune on the radio. Claire was telling Caren about her latest favourite band.

‘Your nails are so lovely,’ she said, pointing at Caren’s hands. ‘Are they real?’

Caren nodded. She splayed her fingers to display them to their full glory. ‘They’re hard work to keep like this but,’ she curled up her fingers now to inspect them for herself, ‘it’s worth it. I love them. I go ballistic whenever I break one.’

Rachel splayed out the fingers on both her hands. They were bitten down, dirt under the tiny rims. ‘I’d love to have nails like yours. As soon as mine get long, they start to snap off.’

‘But you bite them, don’t you?’

Rachel nodded. ‘With a life like ours, you’d bite them too.’

Caren smiled inwardly. If only they knew how different, or difficult, life would be for them in ten years time. Then she wondered…

‘I’m having a nail party,’ she told them. ‘Would you like to come?’

‘What’s a nail party?’ asked Claire.

‘I’ve started doing manicures and beauty treatments on a mobile basis. And to get to know the neighbours a little better, I’m going to do free manicures for the evening. I’ll get a few bottles of wine and some nibbles. If I have time, I’ll do everyone’s nails. If not, some will have to settle for a hand massage.’

‘We could both come?’ asked Rachel.

Caren nodded. ‘Yes.’

‘What about Mum?’

‘She can come too – I suppose.’

Claire giggled. ‘You don’t like her that much, do you?’

‘Is it that obvious?’ Caren tried to make light of it. ‘You’re right. We’re not exactly the best of friends but, yes, if she wants to come, she can.’

Rachel shrugged in a non-committal manner. ‘We might be busy.’

‘No, we bloody won’t!’ Claire nudged her sharply. ‘I fancy having my nails done, especially for free.’

‘What about my nan? Can she come too?’

Caren sighed inwardly - and Nan made four. Four Bradleys under one roof. Her fun party atmosphere was beginning to sound like a disaster waiting to happen. Maybe they wouldn’t all be able to make it.

But this wasn’t about making enemies. This was about breaking barriers down for Ruth and, now that she had them here, trying to get these girls to realise there was more to life than causing trouble. Caren decided to kill two birds with one stone. She opened the kitchen drawer and pulled out a pile of envelopes.

‘Would you two like to post these for me? I’ve already written them out.’

‘There isn’t one for us,’ said Rachel as she flicked through the names of all their neighbours.

‘That’s because I didn’t think you’d want to come,’ Caren admitted.

Both girls looked at her.

‘I’ve enjoyed your company today. What do you say?’

Both girls looked at each other.

‘Yeah,’ they replied.

‘Great!’ Caren picked out a blank invitation, quickly wrote their names on it and shoved it into an envelope. ‘These will be like gold dust. Every woman in Stanley Avenue has been invited but no one else has. I’m hoping once word gets round the estate that I might get a few clients. But this will be a one-off free party.’ She gave the envelope to Rachel. ‘And you two are invited.’

Caren smiled – how easy was that! Suddenly, her plan to engage Ruth with the women in the avenue had taken a turn for the better. By having Rachel and Claire go on about their invite to the party, Gina might be curious enough to turn up. Then she could really get going on Ruth’s return from the dark side. Once Ruth had a friend or two, everything might not seem so black.

Later that evening, Rachel turned the corner out of Stanley Avenue onto Davy Road. She was heading for the shops, a little earlier than usual as she and Claire were hoping to stick to their promises they’d made to their mum and dad. Rachel had sent a text message to Laila and Ashleigh saying that they needed to talk. Claire had nipped back home because she’d forgotten her phone.

‘Frigging hell!’ She blurted out as someone came out of the shadows. She held onto her chest. ‘Laila, bird, you nearly gave me a heart attack.’

Laila stood in front of Rachel, not realising that, although she appeared to be alone, she wasn’t. Behind her, she could see Claire running to catch up.

‘What’s up?’ Claire asked as she drew level with them both. She looked from one to the other.

Laila chewed at a fingernail.

‘What’s up?’ said Rachel, although she’d already guessed.

Laila swallowed. ‘I don’t know how to say this, because I know you’re my mates, and I know I’ll probably get a good bollocking off you, and I’ll probably deserve it for giving up on you, but I don’t want to be in the Mitchell Mob anymore. I’m joining Stacey.’

The words were said so quickly that it was hard to decipher where one sentence finished and the next began. Laila stood there, her breath coming in short bursts. She clenched her fists in readiness for the fight to come.

After a few seconds, she realised nothing was going to happen. She dropped her hands.

Claire placed a hand on Rachel’s arm as she took a step nearer to Laila.

Rachel looked back with a smile. ‘It’s okay; I’m not going to do anything.’ She looked next at Laila. ‘We were coming to tell you that we’re not fighting anymore.’

‘What?’ Laila frowned.

‘We’ve had enough – of all the fighting, of all the ganging up on each other. We were coming to tell you and Ashleigh first and then go and find Stacey – see if we could have some sort of truce.’

‘Are you mad? She hates you two.’ Laila pointed at Rachel. ‘Especially you. She’s only waiting for us all to go back to her and then she’s going to beat the fuck out of you.’

‘I’d like to see her try!’

‘Rachel!’ said Claire. ‘We promised.’

‘Promised who?’ said Laila.

‘Never you mind,’ snapped Rachel.

‘She’ll find out eventually,’ said Laila. ‘Stacey always does.’

Suddenly Rachel clicked in. ‘You’re the snitch in the camp! While Stacey gathered together the rest of the mob, you were in on it all the time!’

‘Not all of the time.’ Laila looked down at the pavement for a moment. ‘She’s too hard for me, Rach. I can’t deal with her by myself. You two will always have each other. Stacey doesn’t like that. You know she wants to be top dog –’

‘More like top bitch,’ Rachel spat out.

‘I wouldn’t let her hear you saying that.’

‘She doesn’t bother me,’ said Rachel.

They all knew she was lying.

Across the street, music started up from inside the Reynolds’ house. Someone inside had cranked the volume to full.

‘So what happens now?’ Laila shouted above the noise.

Rachel got out her phone. ‘I’ll text Ashley, see where she is. Then we’ll have a meeting.

Caren paced up and down the living room. It was nearly half past eight and Sam was supposed to have arrived for eight. Surprised that he was coming at all, she now had her doubts reaffirmed. Something was wrong.

‘He’s not coming, is he?’ John said for the umpteenth time.

Caren was about to reply when the doorbell rang. John glanced at her before going to the door. Donna came into the living room first, followed by a man who fitted the image of the photograph they’d been shown last week.

Caren stood up, unsure how to greet him. ‘Hi, Sam.’ She held out her hand. ‘I’m Caren, John’s wife.’

Sam shook her hand slightly before slumping down on the settee.

‘Can I get you anything to drink?’ said John, for want of something to do.

‘Lager.’ Sam’s eyes flitted around the room before turning to watch the television.

‘We’ll have coffee,’ said Donna.

Before Caren could offer to help, Donna beat her to it. She watched her follow John into the kitchen, realising too late that it left her sitting with Sam. She smiled at him as he caught her eye. He raised his chin slightly in acknowledgment before staring intently at the next product that came on.

Bloody typical, thought Caren. An advert for panty liners.

‘John says that you live over in Graham Street?’ She made small talk. ‘Have you got your own place?’

‘You have to have kids to get a decent shack on this estate, so I live at home with the olds,’ Sam replied, without taking his eyes from the box. ‘I ain’t got any kids. Well,’ he sniggered. ‘None I’ll admit to, anyway.’

Caren smiled but inside she was horrified. Suddenly all the suspicions she’d had began to rise to the surface again. Surreptitiously, she studied him. Sam was supposed to be twenty-one but he looked younger than that. His eyes were blue: John’s eyes were brown. His hair was blonde: John’s was dark brown. And Donna’s hair was bottle blonde: her roots were dark. He was quite small: John was tall. At a guess, Donna was around five foot four, give or take a heel; neither small nor tall. It wasn’t easy to surmise.

Sadly, she realised, Sam’s whole demeanour spelt out loser. This didn’t look good; it looked suspicious. Was John being set up to believe this was his son? And if so, what on earth for? She couldn’t put her finger on anything.

John and Donna came back into the room, carrying two mugs apiece.

John placed his down on the coffee table.

‘Why didn’t you use a tray?’ Caren asked.

‘I didn’t know where they were kept.’

Donna giggled. ‘Like father, like son. Sam isn’t domesticated either.’

‘John’s not too bad.’

‘Sounds like you’re under the thumb mate,’ Sam snorted.

John smiled a little. ‘Where do you work, Sam?’

‘I don’t.’

‘Oh, I see. Finding it tough to get something? I did too. I haven’t been at my current place for long but I hated every day that I didn’t have a job.’

Sam shook his head. ‘I don’t want a job.’

‘But what do you do with yourself all day?’ questioned Caren. ‘This estate hasn’t got a lot to offer.’

‘I do a bit of this; a bit of that.’

‘Maybe you could put a word in at your place for him, John.’

‘I’d be pleased to, if anything else comes up.’

‘I’m happy as I am.’

‘Yes, but –’

‘I hear you’ve set up a mobile nails business,’ Donna interrupted Caren purposely.

‘There’s no money here, if that’s what you’re after,’ Caren snapped.

‘Caren!’ said John. ‘Donna didn’t mean anything like that.’

‘Sorry.’

‘I heard you went bankrupt,’ said Sam.

‘You hear a lot of things about us, don’t you, Sam?’ said Caren. ‘I wonder where you get your information from.’

Sam folded one leg over to rest it on his knee, nudging the coffee table in the process. A mug fell to the floor, hot coffee splattering everywhere.

 ‘For Christ’s sake.’ Donna sat forward and pulled a tissue out of her pocket. She began to dab at the flooring. ‘You’re such a clumsy bastard.’

‘It’s okay.’ Caren stood up, face like thunder. ‘I’ll get a cloth.’

‘Stick the kettle on again, Caz, and make Sam another.’

Caren couldn’t help herself when she sighed loudly. Why was it always her that had to do everything?

But Sam misunderstood its meaning. ‘Don’t bother,’ he retorted. ‘I can see I’m not wanted here.’

Donna stood up too. ‘I think we’d better go. Maybe we could call again? Perhaps next time it won’t seem so…
awkward
.’

The minute John had seen them both out, he rounded on Caren. ‘What the hell’s wrong with you? You were out to have a dig from the moment he walked in.’

‘She’s playing you, John. They both are.’

‘What do you mean?’

‘Sam isn’t your son.’

‘Why wouldn’t he be?’

‘He looks nothing like you. In fact, he’s the total opposite to you.’

‘No, he isn’t!’

‘Why can’t you see what they’re doing!’

But John wasn’t having any. ‘You had no intention of making him feel welcome, did you? You’d already made up your mind before he got here. You didn’t want him in our house, so you went out of your way to be spiteful.’

‘
Spiteful
?’ Caren hissed. ‘Why were you so long in the kitchen with Donna?’ Caren watched John’s mouth drop. ‘You were gone ages and left me having to make small talk with your so-called son. What were you discussing back there in the kitchen?’

‘Nothing! I was showing her the coffee maker we brought with us.’

‘Like I believe that!’

‘What do you think I was doing? Getting re-acquainted with her over the kitchen table?’   

Caren’s eyes filled with tears. ‘No,’ she said. ‘I didn’t think that at all.’

Suddenly the rage was gone. John drew her into his embrace. ‘I’m sorry,’ he said. ‘I’m really disappointed. It didn’t go as well as I wanted it to.’

That’s because he’s not your son, she wanted to add. But instead, Caren stayed quiet. She’d had enough for one day. Besides, until she figured out what the hell was going on, it was as well to keep it to herself. She’d do some digging of her own.