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

Gina slid down beneath the water and lay there. If she could hold her breath long enough, she could slip away without anyone noticing. Because she knew as sure as night was night and day was day that no one would miss her.

‘Where do you want me to put this?’ John asked as he heaved a heavy box up the steps to their front door.

‘In the kitchen,’ said Caren. ‘It’s written on the side of the box if you look.’

John lifted his arm slightly whilst keeping a grip on the box. ‘Oh yeah.’ He grinned. ‘It’s bloody heavy. What the hell’s in it? A dead body?’

Caren picked up a box marked dining room and sighed - there wasn’t a dining room here. Lord knows where she was going to put all of their belongings. The house was tiny compared to their old home. Tears sprang to her eyes. No, she wouldn’t think about that, she chastised herself. Onwards and upwards was her mantra. This was their new home; it would have to do until something better came along.

Twenty-four Stanley Avenue. Of all the places she would end up, she hadn’t thought it would be here. Stanley Avenue epitomised everything she had fought so hard to get away from when she was younger. Bloody typical she would end up right back where she had started.

A crash made her hurry through to the kitchen. She put her box down and ran to help John as he grappled with cups and saucers smashing to the floor.

‘It wasn’t my fault! The box split!’ He looked on in dismay, waiting for the wrath of his wife. But Caren grinned.

‘I hated that bloody tea set,’ she laughed. Then she couldn’t stop laughing, knowing full well that when she stopped she would start to cry again.

John put down what was left of the box and hugged his wife. ‘It’ll get better soon,’ he said. ‘You wait and see.’

Caren hugged him. Since she’d found out they were about to lose everything, there had been so many times that she’d hated him. It had nothing to do with apportioning blame. She’d been the one who had taken control. She’d been the one who had gone to Mitchell Housing Association to explain about their predicament. She’d been the one who’d phoned all their creditors, assuring future payments, even if they had to be the minimum payment for now. But then again, she’d always been the pushy one in their relationship. If it wasn’t for her, she doubted John would have left the estate in the first place.

 She watched him now as he bent to pick up the pieces of broken crockery. To her eye, he was still as gorgeous as he’d been in his early twenties. He was clean shaven, with a receding hairline. He wore the latest in designer clothes, fitting his T-shirt and jeans well, with pert buttocks and biceps. Her husband: John Williams. The man who went to the gym three times a week, to the barbers every three weeks and shopping for designer clothes on a regular basis. All that would have to stop now, though. Caren wondered if he’d realised that yet.

John squeezed her tightly. ‘We’ll make it work, Caz,’ he said. ‘Then we can move again, get our own place. Start the business up again. Buy even better cars. We can do it if we stick together.’

She nodded.

‘I suppose there’s a box for rubbish marked up, Mrs Organised?’

‘Of course, what else would you expect?’ Caren opened a kitchen cupboard and reeled at the smell. ‘God knows who lived here before us, but I’ve a good mind to complain. It smells as if someone has died in here and it’s bloody filthy.’

‘Relax, babe,’ John nudged her on his way out. ‘It’s just to remind us of how shit life will be on the Mitchell Estate and how we need to get out of here as soon as.’

‘Which means you getting back to work as soon as,’ Caren replied. ‘Have you rung Daryl yet?’ John’s friend had promised him some labouring work for a few weeks.

‘No, there’s plenty of time. Let’s get settled first. Then we can get on with creating a new life for us.’

Funny, thought Caren, as she watched him until he was out of sight, that’s what I thought I’d started to do all those years ago.

‘About bleeding time!’ Barbara Lewis told her eldest daughter, when she finally answered the door after three loud knocks. ‘I thought even an idle cow like you couldn’t still be in bed at eleven thirty.’

‘I am not an idle cow,’ snapped Gina, ‘and as you can see I’m up.’

Even though it was on the tip of her tongue to say something about Gina still being in her pyjamas, Barbara kept her mouth shut, knowing better than to get into a fight.

 ‘Do you fancy coming into town with me?’ she asked. ‘I’ll treat you to coffee and a jam doughnut.’

Gina flopped back down onto the settee where she’d been sprawling for the past two hours. ‘Which is usually code for you want me to do something that
I
won’t want to do,’ she replied. ‘Especially if you’re buying cake.’

‘Well, there is a party coming up and I don’t fancy going on my own.’ Gina’s dad had died two years ago. ‘I thought you might –’

‘Me?’ Gina snorted before lighting a cigarette. ‘You must be joking.’

‘They won’t all be old fuddy-duddies!’

Gina threw her another look.

‘So?’ Barbara tried again.

Gina took a drag of her cigarette. ‘I can’t,’ she said, smoke coming out of her mouth and down her nose. ‘Even if I had something decent to wear, you know Pete wouldn’t like it.’

‘It’s at the weekend – would he even be back to know?’

Gina ignored her sarcastic tone. Pete usually played cards on Saturday nights and didn’t come home until the early hours. Often he didn’t come home at all until the next morning. Gina wasn’t stupid: she knew sometimes he was with other women but she couldn’t prove it. Despite the Mitchell Estate being great for spreading rumours, she only ever got to hear who he was with if someone was out to cause trouble.

‘Come into town with me anyway,’ Barbara urged, not wanting to give up so easily.

Gina perished the thought. It would mean that she’d have to get dressed and washed and she didn’t have it in her – not after drinking the remainder of a bottle of Jack Daniels’ last night.

‘Can’t be bothered,’ she said. ‘Besides, I still feel rough after a heavy session.’

Barbara sat back and folded her arms across her thin body. ‘You have a heavy session most nights, that’s nothing new. I’m worried about you, you know. All that alcohol you knock back isn’t healthy. I think –’

‘For God’s sake Mum, zip it, will you?’ Gina snapped. ‘You’re getting to sound like a right nag.’

‘And you’re a right moody cow!’ Barbara stood up. ‘I only stopped by so that you’d make an effort once in a while to get out of the house.’

Gina pulled her feet up beside her. ‘What’s the point when I’ve got no money to buy anything?’

‘I’ll lend you a twenty from my pension.’

‘I’ll never be able to pay you back.’

‘Can’t you get anything off Pete?’

‘No, I can’t.’

‘But he always seems to have spare cash.’

Gina wondered how she could stop this chat. What she and Pete did with their money – or how he came across it – was nothing to do with anyone else. And why did everyone think they knew what was best for her? Couldn’t she be trusted to make her own mind up about things? Desperate to be left alone, she reached for the remote control and turned up the volume on the television. They sat in silence for a few minutes until her mum finally got the message.

‘If you won’t come with me, then I’ll go on my own. I can’t sit around on my arse all day even if you can. It’s not healthy.’ She stormed out of the room, slamming the door behind her.

Gina sighed with relief: peace at last. She was just about to settle in for another kip when the door opened again. Barbara was back, green eyes sparkling with excitement.

‘You’ll never guess who I’ve just seen!’ she cried.

‘No, but I’m sure you’re going to tell me anyhow.’ Gina knew it would most likely be one of her old cronies that she hadn’t seen for a while.

‘Caren Williams – you know, that girl from your school. You and Pete used to go out with her and her fella.’ Barbara paused, one hand on her hip. ‘Didn’t you fall out with her over something and nothing?’

Gina said nothing. Of course she remembered Caren, but she wasn’t going to register a flicker of interest. Her mum was right: she and Caren had hated each other at school.

Barbara grabbed her daughter’s hands and tried to pull her to her feet but Gina resisted.

‘I’m telling you, I’ve just seen Caren Williams,’ she said. ‘And get this… she’s moving stuff into the empty house across the road from you.’

Gina was up from the settee in a flash.

CHAPTER THREE

‘That’s the van emptied, Caz,’ John said, carrying in the last box of their possessions. Even though it was marked ‘bathroom’ in black capital letters, he slid it onto the kitchen worktop. ‘It didn’t take long to unpack everything, did it?’

‘All the contents need to be unpacked too, you dope,’ Caren told him. ‘That’s going to take ages. What time does the van have to be returned by?’

‘Four thirty. I’ll drop it off and walk back through the estate afterwards. It’ll only take me half an hour.’

‘No! Someone might see you!’

‘So?’

‘I don’t want anyone to know we’re living here!’

‘What makes you think anyone else will be interested in our lives? We’ve been gone too long. People won’t even remember us.’

Caren knew that wasn’t true. They’d lived their lives on this estate and, even though she had saved hard to get them away, most of their school friends had remained here, not knowing any better. She didn’t want to be associated with any of them ever again if she could help it, especially now.

John kissed her lightly on her cheek. ‘I won’t be too long.’

A minute later, he was back. ‘I’ve picked up the wrong keys,’ he said, throwing down a bunch on the table and picking up another set before leaving again.

Caren set to work cleaning inside the cupboards. She filled another bowl full of hot water and bleach, popped rubber gloves onto her hands to save her nails and got down on all fours. She opened the first of nine cupboards and started to scrub at its base.

A few minutes later, John was back again.

‘What have you forgotten this time?’ Caren kept her back towards him as she continued to scrub. ‘Honestly, you’d forget your –’

‘Look who I bumped into outside,’ he interrupted.

‘Well, hello there, Caren.’

Caren took a sharp intake of breath before slowly backing out and turning to face them. No, it couldn’t be…

Shit: it was.

‘Pete!’ She put on a false smile as she stood up. ‘What are you doing in Stanley Avenue? Heard we were back and come to say hello?’

‘No, I was just getting home and I spotted John pulling off in the van.’

Caren’s heart sank but her smile remained firmly in place.

‘Yeah,’ said John with a smile that was in no way false at all. ‘You’ll never guess where he and Gina live? Right opposite us – number twenty-five. How cool is that? It’ll be just like old times.’

Old times? Caren shuddered involuntarily. She’d worked hard to forget the old times. There had been no love lost between her and Gina at school and, even though people change, she’d heard that Gina had remained the same small-minded bitch that she’d always been. She knew that she’d had three kids in quick succession, knew that she hadn’t worked a day in her life. She’d heard that Pete was known around the estate for not keeping his dick in his trousers, though looking at him now, with his clothes hanging off him, his scruffy hair and skin in need of a good wash, she wondered why any woman would take a fancy to him.

Oh, God, this was going to be a nightmare.

Turning away, she cast her mind back to when she’d last seen Gina Bradley. She’d been in Woolworths a few years ago, getting presents for Christmas. Gina had come walking – no, waddling – towards her, looking like she expected her to stop and make small talk as their eyes locked. She recalled being thankful that she’d made an effort to keep in shape over the years and took great pleasure in seeing Gina’s resigned look as her eyes then swept from Caren’s head to her toes and back again quickly. Caren had then walked straight past as if she didn’t know her, a smile playing on her lips. She wasn’t a vengeful person but it had felt so good, so liberating.

Once she heard John and Pete leave the room behind her, she let out the breath she’d been holding. Trying not to cry, she forced herself back down onto the floor and began to scrub away with vigour.

This situation was going from bad to worse. What had she done to deserve this!

Gina stood in her bedroom window, hoping that no one could see her as she watched the goings-on across the road. When Mum first told her about Caren, she’d had to see for herself. The two of them had stood at the window, gawping at the items of furniture that had come from the van. There had been some proper posh stuff, things Gina and Barbara had only ever been able to dream of owning. And although Barbara had lots of fun imagining what items were going into what rooms, every time something else came from the van, Gina’s heart sank at the realisation that Caren must be loaded. But then again, she was back on the Mitchell Estate. She would have to find out why.