Human Conditioning (3 page)

Lily’s light blue eyes
glistened with tears. She knew she shouldn’t really be saying anything to Gina.
Aiden would go spare, but when the smug cow, with her large breasts and
perfectly long legs, had given her a half-hearted apology for sleeping with him
behind her back, she had finally lost all of her usual composure.

“And you, Lily, are a complete
pushover! You have no idea what your fella gets up to!” Gina retorted nastily,
curling her long self-manicured fingers over her prematurely developed hips.

Lily was mortified. Struck
dumb momentarily, she peered at the crowd of students that was quickly
assembling around them. Their argument was the last thing anyone thought they’d
see. It was common knowledge that Lily Summers and Gina Watson were – usually –
inseparable. Now they were glaring at one another as if they wanted to tear
each other apart and everyone wanted to see what would happen next.

“My bet’s on Gina,” Lily heard
one girl mutter behind her.

Contrary to Gina’s dark
features and sinister temperament, Lily was a little ray of sunshine, all
sparkling blonde hair, blue eyes and sweetness. She didn’t have half of Gina’s confidence
or her natural ferociousness.

“You’re housewife material, Lily,”
Gina pressed, her dark, plucked eyebrows shooting up beneath her fringe. She
whispered, loudly and deviously, her green eyes narrowing, “Aiden wants
something a bit more exciting, if you know what I mean.”

The crowd around them muttered
and fidgeted with anticipation. Lily’s pink lips parted in shock. She felt her
cheeks flush, and from somewhere deep inside, from some faraway place where she
didn’t visit often, came her growling response, “Well, at least I haven’t got a
mouth like a sewer and legs like a corner shop!”

Gina frowned, twisting her
lips derisively at her friend’s attempted insult.

“Open all hours,” Lily added
with a quivering smirk of her own. There was a snigger from the crowd and Lily
felt immensely proud of herself, despite the fact that she was shaking from head
to toe. She didn’t do confrontation at all well.

Gina narrowed her eyes and
surveyed her friend. She saw why someone like Aiden Foster would be attracted
to Lily Summers. Lily represented the kind of person Aiden could only dream of
being, and deep down Gina had to admit that she had befriended Lily for the
very same reason. Lily was an angel, someone who hadn’t been negatively
affected by her environment. She was one of a very low percentage of young
adults in that car park who had not already been defeated by deprivation and
questionable parenting: the council-estate culture of the East End.

Lily Summers was the daughter
of Sergeant Howard Summers of Hackney Police Station and DI Anne Summers of the
Metropolitan Police. The family owned a four-bed terrace abutting Victoria Park
in Hackney. They had two cars, went on holidays outside of the UK and,
according to Lily, were all very happy. Gina and Aiden... they had not
experienced much happiness growing up. It made sense that Aiden had turned to
her when things had got complicated with Lily.

Both from Hackney’s notorious
Carlton estate, Gina Watson and Aiden Foster were of the same ilk; they
understood each other. They thrived in the darkness and the danger of the world
they inhabited. Lily was too good for Aiden, too good for any of them: a
Filth’s daughter. The only imprudent thing she had ever done in her entire life
was date Aiden Foster: the son of an alcoholic waster; an insanely attractive,
five-foot-eleven man-boy, who smoked marijuana and could beat up most lads his
age with his little finger.

Gina noticed the streaks of
tears that glistened on Lily’s pink cheeks and she sighed, her green eyes
locating the floor. She didn’t want to continue a slanging match with her
friend. She didn’t want to hurt her any more than she already had.

“How could you do this to me?”
Lily sniffed, the crowd insignificant now as she stared at her old friend,
beseeching her for comfort. “You know how much I love him.”

Gina couldn’t look her friend
in the eye. She so wanted to announce to the world that she loved Aiden too, or
at least she thought she did, but such words just didn’t pour out of her as
easily as they did out of Lily.
And what would Aiden say if he ever found
out?
When their eyes met once more, Gina knew this moment would probably be
the last time she saw her friend. Lily was off to college, leaving her behind
to fester in the squalor and inopportunity of life on the Carlton estate.

Running her hand through her
thick mass of dark hair, Gina replied, softly and with empathy, “If he cared
about you, Lils –
really
cared – do you think he would see me behind
your back?” She wanted so much to reason with her friend, to enlighten her with
the plain fact that Aiden was just better off with
her,
and
Lily
was
better off without
him
. Lily had potential, one out of the very few
around their way who could get out of Hackney and actually do something good
with her life. She didn’t need the likes of Aiden Foster bringing her down to
their level. Gina adored him too, but she was a realist and the reality was
that he was bad news, and not meant for Lily.

Lily hopelessly attempted to
defend him, but her words were fruitless against Gina. Gina knew exactly the
type of person he was and, though she could be accused of not taking her own
advice, she was just too besotted to care. Aiden was the best she was ever
going to get. But Lily... she deserved more;
she
could achieve much,
much more.

“We had a fight. He was angry
and wanted to get back at me, that’s all...” Lily persisted, but even she
wasn’t convinced by the false conviction in her words. 

“
Then where is he, Lils?
”
Gina snapped.

As if her words had magically summoned
him, a blue Nova pulled into a parking space on the other side of the car park
and Aiden climbed out of it. Slamming the door shut, he swaggered over to the
crowd, which quickly dispersed. No one was getting in the way of Aiden Foster,
especially when he had the expression of someone on a mission to destroy. But
it was obvious, as he came closer, that only Gina was in the firing line of his
penetrating icy-blue glare. Even so, Lily quaked. She hadn’t told him that
she’d found out about his infidelity, but by his expression, she knew he somehow
knew.

He came to a halt beside them.
“G, get in the car,” he instructed sternly.

Gina frowned at him with
suspicion. “Since when have you had a car?” she asked, and Lily could not help
but feel green envy of Gina’s courage and coolness around him, whilst there she
was, struggling to catch a breath and as always totally overwhelmed by his
presence.

Aiden threw a set of keys and
Gina caught them effortlessly. “Get in the fucking car,” he snapped. He flicked
his head towards the Nova. Gina glanced at Lily, but didn’t say another word before
she turned and headed across the car park. When Aiden was in this kind of mood,
you didn’t try his patience.

Aiden pulled a cigarette from
the pocket of his jeans and lit it up. He turned to Lily, and taking a long drag,
his deep blue eyes twinkled as he took in the sweet blonde he’d chosen to let
go. Even at the tender age of sixteen, he knew that he would always love Lily
Summers. If only things were different, but he had his reasons for letting her
go and, being as he rarely got what he wanted, it wasn’t in his nature to dwell
on things he couldn’t have.

Lily opened her rose-pink lips
to speak, to plead with him to stay and talk to her, but he turned away and
headed in the direction of his car and Gina. As she watched him walk away,
tears pricking her eyes once more, she was convinced she would not see him
again.

Gina wasn’t given the chance to orgasm, even if she
could, before Aiden pulled his member from her and pushed himself off her back
and off the bed. He padded over to her dresser and lit a half-smoked joint that
he’d left in the metal ashtray placed upon there. Taking the smoke deep into
his lungs, he held his breath and watched Gina slip on her black lace knickers
and bra. 

Gina had a magnificent figure.
At just sixteen, she had the body of a porn star. That’s what he thought,
anyway. If she would just stay quiet she would be the perfect escort but Gina
was a mouthy bitch and this wasn’t an acceptable quality in his mind. Still,
there was something about Gina Watson that kept him coming back for more.

She strutted over to him, her
hips swinging and her large breasts bouncing. Taking his hand, she directed the
joint to her mouth and took a drag. “You could have let me finish, you selfish
cunt,” she announced on her exhalation.

Aiden looked down at her, his
top lip twitching up into an arrogant smile. “I gotta go.”

“’Course you have...” she
replied derisively.

Neither of them spoke whilst
Aiden dressed himself. Leaning against her dresser, Gina surveyed him with a mixture
of derision and desire. He was the embodiment of perfection, with a flawless
profile; all high cheekbones, straight nose and full sculptured lips; tall and
naturally muscular with definition around his arms, chest and back; and his piercing
blue eyes put any girl into a trance. As he ran a hand through his thick black
hair, she thought of how she loved tugging on it when they lay together; how
she loved to slide her hands down his back and over his impeccable arse. Yet,
for all his exceptional physical qualities and absolute charm, Aiden Foster was
also an arrogant, callous and vindictive git, which by some cruel design seemed
to drive her wild with affection for him. 

Dressed and equipped with his
pot, cigarettes and lighter, Aiden opened the door to her bedroom and made to
leave. “Am I seeing you tonight?” she asked with a keenness she had not meant
to convey so transparently. She wanted to see him again soon. She always wanted
to see him.

“Dunno. I’ll call you, yeah?”

He walked out. Gina watched
him swagger down the hallway of the two-bed flat she shared with her father.
When he disappeared out of the front door and out of ear shot, she slammed her
bedroom door and, with a growl, punched the back of it then threw herself onto
her bed. Tears pricked her eyes. She wouldn’t see him now for days. It had been
the same for the past couple of months. He’d turn up out of the blue, get his
fill then disappear, leaving her questioning her emotional attachment to him
all over again. She mustn’t keep convincing herself that he cared for her,
because it would be the ruining of her for sure. But she just couldn’t help it.
She was addicted to Aiden Foster.

The Foster family home was located on what was one of the
countless notorious council estates in the borough of Hackney, where many of
the high-rise towers in the area had been built following World War II. Once a
safe haven for brave war veterans who sought to build a happy home with their
families following the ugliness of war, now they were a breeding ground for
crime in a decade where the lower classes were driven to fight, steal and beg for
survival. Carlton House was a newer build, a four-storey block built in 1968
and sat between the 1940s ‘Twin Towers’, as they were labelled, that stood
menacingly and bleakly over the estate.  

Aiden let himself into flat number
twenty-two, Carlton House; his home since he had been an infant. It stank as
usual, of cigars and cabbage. He took off his Adidas jacket, threw it onto the
stairs and headed for the kitchen.

Vivien Foster was cooking her
usual: colcannon. Her dark hair, cut into a short bob that emphasised her heart-shaped
face and bright grey eyes, swung from side to side as she mashed the potatoes. She
was dressed in simple cream cotton trousers and a cream jumper with shoulder
pads and, although she had been at home all day, she sported a pair of black patent
stilettos. Her cheekbones were augmented by bright red blusher, but the rest of
her face was barely made-up; just a touch of mascara on her eyelashes. 

When Aiden entered the room,
Vivien glanced at him. “You hungry?” she asked, as curtly as ever. Aiden had
learned to understand from a very young age that his mother addressed him
merely out of requirement rather than want. She had never warmed to her son;
the child she had not asked for at just eighteen years of age.

“No,” he replied in the same curt
tone.

Lighting up a cigarette, he
sat at the round table by the kitchen door and assessed the shabbiness of the
room. It really had deteriorated over the years. He couldn’t remember entirely,
but he was sure it hadn’t always been such a wreck. It had never bothered him when
he had been younger, but now he loathed the squalor he was forced to live in.

He studied the cheap cupboards
made of metal strips and chipboard, stained and chipped from overuse. The
laminate flooring was worn and curled upwards where it met the cupboards. He
looked down at the table. It had seen better days, stained with tea and wine
rings and burned with hot rocks. He felt an overwhelming feeling of suffocation
at the thought that he could possibly be stuck in this place for the next two,
three, four years. Who knew? He had no prospects...

When Duggie Foster entered the
room, dressed in striped boxer shorts, white vest and slippers, and with a fat
cigar between his thin lips, Aiden stubbed out his cigarette and made to leave.
Being in the same room as his father was not something Aiden tended to do unless
it was imperative.

Duggie was a handsome man;
tall with a wide, square jaw, piercing blue eyes and jet-black slicked hair. He
was forty-six years old – twelve years the senior of his wife – yet he had the
appearance of someone older. The injury to his leg prevented him from walking
without a walking stick, and years of alcohol abuse had taken its toll on his
naturally robust physique – a physique inherited by his son. He was a hard man:
obstinate and domineering, ill-mannered and insensible.