Fighting for Survival (The Estate, Book 3) (29 page)

And she knew exactly where to start.

CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

‘So how are you feeling now?’ Josie asked Ruth as she sat in her living room. After trying on four separate occasions over the past week, she’d finally managed to get in for another visit.

‘So, so,’ said Ruth. In actual fact, she hadn’t set foot outside the door since the fight with Gina. Luckily, Caren had kept to her word and, instead of taking her shopping, she’d brought some essentials back for her when she’d feigned illness. Quite frankly, she looked too much of a mess to go out in public so it must have been easy for Caren to agree rather than try and persuade her to get a little fresh air.

‘Have you been to see the boys?’

‘No, I don’t want to upset them.’

‘I’m sure they’d be pleased to see you rather than be upset.’

‘How would you feel if your mother left you in an office for someone else to look after? I’m not going to be the most popular of people.’

‘Maybe not, but I bet they’d like to see you.’

‘Am I allowed to see them, after what I did?’ Ruth ran a hand through her hair, pulled at it. ‘Why did I do it? Why did I give them away?’

‘Because you couldn’t cope at that particular moment in time,’ Josie tried to appease her. ‘It doesn’t mean that you’ll never be able to see them again.’

‘You have an answer for everything.’

‘It comes with the job, I’m afraid. I’m nosy too – are you going to tell me how you got that black eye? I heard there was a bit of trouble with the Bradleys earlier on in the week.’

‘Oh? I never heard anything.’

‘And you got those bruises by keeping yourself to yourself?’

‘That’s none of your business.’

‘I know,’ said Josie, ‘but humour me. Like I said, I’m nosy.’

Ruth smiled; she couldn’t help it. No matter what, Josie always made her feel at ease. She had a way about her that felt like she enveloped you in a fluffy blanket and smothered you with enough hope and optimism to get you through the day.

‘I’m fine,’ she told Josie.

Josie raised her eyebrows questioningly.

‘Really,’ reiterated Ruth. ‘I’m fine.’

‘So Gina didn’t hit you?’

‘No, I didn’t say that! Please! You won’t say anything, will you? I deserved what I got.’

‘Why would you think that?’ Josie pointed to Ruth’s face. ‘She’s an animal for doing that and she needs locking up.’

‘I’m not going to grass on her!’

‘I know you’re not, and I wouldn’t expect you to either. It’s just that sometimes I wish someone would give her a taste of her own medicine, make her hurt for a while. Honestly, that woman and her family have been the bane of my life for a –’ Josie stopped. ‘I’m sorry, Ruth. I shouldn’t have said that to you. My feelings got in the way. It was unprofessional.’

‘It’s true, though, she isn’t a nice woman.’ Ruth grimaced. ‘Mind, I made a mess of my life too.’

‘You talk as if it’s over.’

‘Newsflash – it is.’

‘No, it isn’t. There’s always hope, no matter what.’

Ruth had to stop herself from laughing aloud manically. Josie Mellor was always so positive. She always thought she could bring out the best in people. It was a good trait to have, but it was wasted on her.

Optimism was something she’d given up on a long time ago.

‘This party was such a good idea,’ said Caren to Rachel and Claire. They were in her kitchen getting things ready for the evening ahead. ‘I can’t believe how many women are going to come.’

‘It’s the talk of the avenue,’ said Rachel. She was putting glasses out on Caren’s worktop.

‘I reckon it’ll be the talk of the estate,’ added Claire.

‘I hope it is. I…’ Caren frowned. ‘How do I tell you apart?’

‘I’m Rachel,’ said Claire.

Rachel nudged her. ‘I’m Rachel.’

‘No, I’m Rachel.’

‘No, I am!’

Rachel touched her nose with her finger. ‘There’s really only one of us.’

‘Yeah, she’s a ghost.’

Caren shrugged, none the wiser.

Claire pointed at her jumper. ‘I’m always in red or white. Rachel is always blue or black.’

‘And I have a scar, here.’ Rachel pointed to the side of her face.

 Caren passed them a multi pack of crisps. Then, surreptitiously, she watched as they filled the bowls set out on the worktop. Since moving into Stanley Avenue, she’d always felt intimidated by them – more to do with their surname rather than their behaviour – but as she watched them chatting away, she had to admit that maybe she’d been wrong. Or maybe she’d judged them, as other people did, on the outfits they were wearing. They wore hoodies and tracksuit bottoms, with trainers. Their hair was short, faces void of make up. Yet, if they made more of themselves, they could be real beauties.

She remembered what she wanted to ask them.

‘Do either of you know Sam Harvey?’ she asked, trying to keep her tone light.

‘Yeah,’ said Rachel. ‘Why?’

‘He’s been asking to do some odd jobs. I wanted to check him out.’

‘He’ll make money any way he can. He’s work-shy.’

‘What makes you say that?’

‘I don’t think he’s ever had a job in his life.’

‘He is only eighteen,’ said Claire.

Caren froze. ‘I thought he was older than that.’

Claire paused and looked at Rachel for confirmation.

‘No, he’s younger than our brother. Danny is twenty-one.’

‘Have you ever met his parents?’

Rachel helped herself to a handful of nuts. ‘I don’t know what happened to his old man but his mother, Donna Adams? She’s a right slapper. She works in the massage parlour in town. Red Lace, it’s called. I think she does more than massages, if you catch my drift.’

‘Not a very stable life for a child to be brought up in.’

‘That’s probably why he turned into an idiot,’ said Rachel.

‘And you’re sure he’s only eighteen?’ Caren pressed one more time, hoping she didn’t sound too suspicious.

‘Positive.’ Rachel grinned. ‘You’re not after a toy boy, are you?’

‘In my dreams.’ Caren glanced at her clock on the wall. ‘Right, you two, thanks for your help. I’m off to have a bath now so I’ll see you back here in an hour?’

Once the girls had left, Caren wondered what was going on. If Sam was only eighteen, then he couldn’t be John’s son unless he really did have an affair. And if he wasn’t John’s son, then what were he and Donna up to? Were they after money thinking that John would pay up because of all the missed years? Fat chance they had of that.

As soon as the party was over, she’d have a word with John, try to put things to him delicately because he probably wouldn’t believe her, and then she would see what happened next. In the back of her mind, she hoped that whatever games were going on between Donna and Sam were finished. Sam had clearly been unwilling to play the doting son and Donna throwing cow eyes at John every two seconds had been another dead giveaway; it was a strange predicament.

What had they on John?

An hour later, Claire stood examining her nails while she waited for Rachel to come downstairs. Her sister had been choosing an outfit for the past half hour, something Claire had found highly amusing as she’d done the same – usually they’d grab whatever clothes were close at hand, clean or dirty.

‘Are you sure you’re not coming over the road, Mum?’ she asked.

‘No,’ said Gina. ‘You know I can’t be bothered with all that crap.’

‘But wouldn’t you like to be pampered, make the most of what you’ve got?’

Gina waved a hand from her head to her feet. ‘I’ll never be able to make anything out of this blob. It’s too late.’

‘But it’s free,’ Claire tried to entice her. ‘When have you ever missed out on anything that’s for nowt?’

 Gina didn’t bite. Instead, she lit a cigarette.

Rachel joined them a few minutes later. She wore a bright blue T-shirt over a black long-sleeved T-shirt, dark jeans and ballet pumps. Gina’s eyes nearly popped out on stalks. She’d got them each a pair for Christmas but she’d never seen them on either girl yet.

‘At last!’ Claire sighed. ‘There’ll be no time for us if we don’t get over there soon.’ Then, as they got to the door, she stopped. ‘Wait! I’m going to put my pumps on too. They’re better than wearing these manky trainers.’

Rachel tutted. ‘Hurry up then.’

‘Looks who’s talking. I waited ages for you to get ready.’

Rachel sat in the chair that Claire had vacated. ‘Are you coming across, Mum?’

Gina sighed. That was the trouble with having twins; sometimes things had to be explained twice.

‘No, I’m not,’ she replied. ‘There’s bound to be something interesting on the telly.’

Rachel was old enough to catch the sarcasm. ‘She’s not the enemy.’

‘I never said she was.’

‘She’s trying to bring everyone together for a laugh. She’ll do your nails, if you want her to.’

Gina curled her fingers into a fist so that Rachel couldn’t see what a state hers were in.

Claire appeared, saving Gina from snapping a reply. They grabbed the bottle of wine Gina had got for them and in a flurry of giggles, they were gone. For a few seconds, she sat in silence until curiosity won her over and she ran upstairs. She stood in the bedroom window, hidden behind the grimy nets, watching as Rachel and Claire knocked on Caren’s front door. She saw Caren open it and smile, taking the wine from Rachel as they went in.

Over the next quarter of an hour, she watched most of the neighbours troop into Caren’s house: Julie and Sheila, Mrs Porter and Jenny Webster. Each time the door opened, she heard the music filter through until it closed again. Then Gina gasped, her mouth hanging open at who walked up the path next. That bloody bitch Ruth Millington had been invited.

Gina fumed in silence. This was Caren’s doing. She knew it would wind her up to see Ruth having fun with the neighbours – her friends! It was as if Ruth belonged in Stanley Avenue.

Her mind made up in an instant, she reached for her mobile phone and rang her mum. If Ruth was good to go, then so was she.

The party was in full swing at Caren’s house. Before John left them to it, he’d helped to rearrange the furniture in the living room. What could be pushed back was now around the walls. They’d also borrowed dining chairs from next door and brought in the chairs from the patio set. Looking around, Caren realised that most people who had been invited were there. She picked up a bottle of nail polish from the coffee table. ‘Ruby Red. Who’d like this one?’

‘Me!’ shouted Rachel, practically pushing Claire over to get up.

‘Hey, look out!’ Claire narrowly avoided spilling her drink. She watched as the liquid settled in the glass again.

‘She’s a live wire, that sister of yours,’ Wendy remarked once Caren and Rachel had gone into the kitchen.

‘No, she isn’t!’

‘Relax, honey, it was a compliment. She’s nice – and so are you, when you want to be.’

Claire was amazed when some of the other women in the room nodded their heads in agreement.

‘I thought everyone thought we were scum.’  She became hostile as the other women began to laugh. ‘That’s not fucking nice!’

Wendy smiled and tapped Claire on the thigh. ‘We’re not laughing
at
you. We’re laughing
with
you.’ She waved a hand around the room. ‘Everyone in here is known as scum. But we’re not, are we ladies?’

‘No, we’re not,’ said a lady with purple hair, a nose ring and a tattoo covering half of her arm.

‘Absolutely no way,’ said another, wearing a dress short enough for a five-year-old girl. Her hair had been bleached so many times it resembled white candy-floss, black roots peeping through. She wore red lipstick. Claire tried to remember her name but decided to call her freaky instead. She looked scary but at least she was smiling.

‘Well, I think they’re right!’ one dared to say.

A murmur echoed around the room and a cushion was flung at the culprit.

‘We are! But we make the most of what we have.’

‘And we stick together.’

Claire grinned, finally realising the woman was joking. Then everyone laughed.

‘You’re new, Ruth.’ Wendy turned to her next. ‘Tell us how you see us all.’

Ruth coloured instantly as all eyes fell on her. Oh God, if she had known she’d be the subject of interrogation, she wouldn’t have come.

Well, I, erm, think… I…’ she stumbled over her words. ‘I don’t know you well enough to comment really.’

Wendy glared at her before folding her arms and pulling back her head. She laughed, as did the other women.

‘I’m sorry, love, I’m pulling your leg. We only heard what her mother,’ Wendy jerked a thumb in Claire’s direction, ‘had to say about you. And ‘scum like us’ should really find out the whole truth before taking up a stance.’