Respect (Mandasue Heller) (20 page)

Like Chantelle, he had almost given up on ever seeing his mum again, so he’d been shocked when she had walked in with her new man and Tracey in tow. They had all been half-cut, but that hadn’t bothered him because he was used to adults being drunk around him. He hadn’t been too happy about the boyfriend at first, because his mum’s fellas tended not to be too nice, but he’d soon cheered up when Miguel had given him a bottle of beer. It had taken him a while to understand what the man was saying, because his English was so bad and his accent so thick, but his ears had pricked up when Miguel had told him what life was like in Spain. Apparently, it was all blazing sunshine and near-naked girls. And, best of all, Miguel worked in a beachfront bar and had promised to take Leon to work with him so he could enjoy the view all day long. It sounded like paradise.

Chantelle hadn’t looked too pleased when she’d come home, and Leon had thought she was just being her usual naggy self. She’d really stuck up for him after that man had hit him, though; and Miguel nearly flattening the bloke had been super-cool. But Leon was torn now. Spain sounded great, but if he went he might never see Chantelle again.

Or Damo and the gang.

Stirred from his thoughts when he heard footsteps on the path at the other end of the walkthrough, Leon quickly ducked behind the bin when a youth strolled into view. The boy had his mobile phone pressed to his ear, and he was laughing at whatever the person on the other end was saying. He abruptly stopped laughing when he reached the other end of the tunnel, though, and he jerked back into the shadows just inches from where Leon was squatting.

‘Yo, you’ll never guess who I’ve just seen?’ he hissed. ‘Them cunts who jumped me and Gilly in Alex Park the other week!’

Leon held his breath as his heart lurched into his throat. He’d heard that one of the lads the gang had attacked had walked out of A & E with nothing more than bruises and a few stitches, but the other had been much more seriously hurt and he’d been on life-support for a couple of weeks, his brain so badly swollen from all the kicks to his head they had thought he was going to die. He had pulled through but he was still in hospital, and Leon still felt a bit guilty about his involvement in it all. But he tried not to dwell on it too much, reminding himself that his loyalty lay with Damo and the boys.

‘I ain’t shittin’ you!’ the youth was saying now in an urgent whisper. ‘I’m down by the bogs and just spotted some kids sneaking about across the way, then I seen
them
. Round the crew up and get over here – and be quick, case we miss ’em!’

Leon pressed his mouth against his knees and inhaled slowly and shakily, praying that the lad wouldn’t hear him. Damo and Acky were about to get jumped, and it was his job to warn them. But how could he when the lad was standing right in front of him?

A few tense minutes passed before Leon heard the sound of running feet and the distinctive swish of bicycle tyres. Light-headed with terror when several hooded youths joined the first one, he squeezed further back into the corner and listened as they formulated a plan of attack. He couldn’t make out much of what they were saying because of the deafening roar of his heartbeat in his ears, but he knew it was going to be hard and fast – and would involve weapons.

Chantelle was reading when a tap came at her bedroom door. It was an hour since her mum had gone out, and she’d heard Miguel shuffling around the flat making little moaning noises. He’d checked the fridge and kitchen cupboards in search of food, and had then gone into the living room where he had spent the last forty minutes flicking through the TV channels. Guessing that he was bored now, Chantelle laid her book down on the bed and opened her door.

‘Yes?’

‘Not want disturb,’ Miguel said apologetically. ‘But I no have cigarette. You have one, please?’

‘Sorry, I don’t smoke,’ she told him. ‘Have you looked in my mum’s room? She might have some in there.’

‘No, she take,’ he said. Then, smiling pathetically, he shrugged. ‘What I can do? Is not my home; can’t know way to shop. And no have money. Your mom, she take all.’

Chantelle sighed. He was obviously struggling with the language, but at least he was making an effort – which was more than could be said for her. ‘I’ll go and get you some,’ she offered.

‘Ah …’ Miguel spread his hands, a look of relief on his face. ‘Thank you, thank you. I come, yes?’

‘If you like.’ She shrugged.

‘You are angel.’ He reached for her hand and kissed it. ‘You wait, I get coat.’

Chantelle wiped the back of her hand on her jeans when he went into her mum’s room to get his coat, and then reached for her own jacket. He was still a bit slimy, but it couldn’t be easy meeting your fiancée’s kids for the first time. And it must have been doubly hard for him, because he probably thought they blamed him for their mum abandoning them. Chantelle didn’t know how Leon felt about that, but she certainly didn’t blame Miguel. Her mum was the one who had chosen to go, and there would have been nothing that he or
anyone
could have said to make her change her mind once she had decided that was what she wanted to do.

‘We go?’ Miguel came back out into the hall.

Chantelle almost gagged at the strong fumes of the aftershave he’d just plastered on, but she forced herself to smile and quickly pulled the door open.

Anton was standing on guard by the door of Abdul’s when Chantelle and Miguel arrived. He smiled at her, and nodded to the man. ‘All right, mate?’

Miguel nodded back and pulled his collar up high around his throat. ‘Is so cold,’ he complained, rubbing his hands together.

‘This is pretty warm compared to the weather we’ve been having lately,’ Chantelle told him as they walked inside. ‘It should get better, but I wouldn’t hold my breath if the last few summers are anything to go by.’

‘Sorry?’ Miguel looked confused.

‘Doesn’t matter.’

‘He is boyfriend?’ Miguel asked, jerking his head back towards Anton who was watching them.

‘God, no!’ Chantelle blushed.

‘Ah, is just friend?’

‘No,’ Chantelle murmured. ‘He’s just …’ She trailed off, unsure how to describe it. She and Anton were just people who had grown up on the same estate and gone to the same school, whose paths had crossed at various times without a word ever having been exchanged until a few weeks ago. What name could you attach to that? Friend didn’t fit it, and nor did acquaintance. They were just people who vaguely knew each other.

Kermit’s mum, Linda, was at the till unloading the contents of her basket. It was the first time Chantelle had seen her since the night she’d told Kermit off for leaving Leon on his own by the canal, and she still felt a bit guilty about the way she’d left things.

But Linda wasn’t one to hold a grudge, and she smiled when she saw her. ‘Hiya, love. How are you?’

‘I’m all right, thanks.’ Chantelle smiled back. ‘You?’

‘Be glad when these holidays are over and my lot are back at school.’ Linda swiped a lock of lank hair out of her eyes before taking her purse out of her pocket. ‘Driving me up the bloody wall, they are.’

‘Hope our Leon’s not getting under your feet?’ Chantelle asked.

‘Your Leon?’ Linda gave her a questioning look as she handed her money over to Abdul. ‘Why would he be?’

‘Well, it can’t be easy having him there all the time as well as your own lot,’ Chantelle said. ‘I’ve told him to behave, but I know he can be a bit daft at times, so if he gets on your nerves just send him home.’

‘I don’t know what you’re talking about,’ Linda said, taking her change and slotting it into her purse. ‘I haven’t seen your Leon since him and our Kermit fell out over all that nonsense that night.’ She paused when she saw the look of confusion in Chantelle’s eyes, and gave her a conciliatory smile. ‘I’m not blaming it all on your Leon, love; I know my Kermit’s no angel. But it’s probably for the best that they’ve stopped hanging round together, ’cos they’d have only ended up getting each other into trouble. Anyway, got to go, or they’ll be ripping lumps out of each other. See you.’

‘Yeah, see you,’ Chantelle murmured, frowning thoughtfully as the woman took her bag and left. If Leon hadn’t been round to her place since that night, where the hell
had
he been going?

‘Yes?’ Abdul’s loud voice interrupted her thoughts.

Chantelle turned to Miguel. ‘Which kind do you smoke?’

‘Marlboro,’ he told her, practically licking his lips as he pointed them out.

‘Twenty Marlboro, please. And a lighter.’

Miguel lit up as soon as they were outside the shop and exhaled noisily. ‘Ah, thank you,’ he gushed, smoke swirling from his nostrils. ‘Very bad, but I like very much.’

Chantelle gave him an understanding smile and stuffed her hands into her pockets. She’d never smoked but she knew how hard it was for an addict to go without, because she’d seen her mum almost tear the flat apart in search of dog-ends on numerous occasions.

Miguel chatted about his life in Spain on the walk home, but Chantelle was too distracted to do more than just nod and smile every now and then. Back at the flat she left him in front of the TV and went to her room to think about Leon. He’d been behaving quite well lately, so she hadn’t suspected that anything was amiss. But if he’d been lying about where he was going, he was obviously up to something, and she could only hope it didn’t have anything to do with that gang, because those lads were trouble. Still, there was no point going out to look for him because he could be anywhere, so she would just have to wait until he came home and then confront him about it.

She had just settled on the bed and picked up her book when her phone rang. Happy to see Bill’s name on the screen, she answered with a cheery, ‘Please tell me you’ve got a job for me? I’m dying to get out of here.’

‘Not as such,’ Bill replied. ‘I sent last night’s recording over to my client, and she rang me almost immediately. I explained that our intention was to leave it a couple of days and then call him, but she doesn’t want to wait; she wants it done now.’

‘What,
now
now?’ Chantelle asked, her heart already pounding at the thought of having to speak to the man and pretend that she wanted to become a model. ‘Oh, God! I can’t remember what I told him my name was.’

Bill chuckled softly. ‘Julia, if I’m not mistaken. At least, that’s what it sounded like on the recording – what I could hear of it. Does that sound right to you?’

‘I think so,’ Chantelle said uncertainly, wondering why she’d chosen that name when she didn’t even know anybody called Julia.

‘I’m pretty sure it was that,’ Bill said confidently. ‘Anyway, let’s discuss what you’re going to say when you speak to him …’

A few minutes later, Chantelle nervously dialled the man’s number. He answered on the second ring.

‘Hello?’

‘Er, hello … is that Rob?’

‘Speaking.’

‘Hi, it’s Julia … from the club last night.’

‘Ah.’ There was a smile in Rob’s voice. ‘How are you? I take it the dog was pleased to see you when you got home?’

‘Yeah, really happy,’ said Chantelle, relieved that he not only remembered her but also sounded pleased to hear from her. Good start. ‘Look, I’m sorry if I’m disturbing you,’ she went on, ‘but it’s about that thing you mentioned. The, um, modelling.’

‘Changed your mind?’

‘I’m not sure yet,’ Chantelle said, squeezing her eyes shut as she spoke because this felt so wrong. ‘I just thought it might be worth talking to your friend.’

‘I’m sure he’ll be delighted,’ Rob said approvingly. ‘Tell you what, I’m a bit busy right now, but why don’t you leave it with me? I’ll give him a call when I get a chance and set up a meet, then call you back to see if the date suits. How does that sound?’

‘Great. Thank you.’

‘My pleasure. Speak soon.’

Chantelle pursed her lips when he abruptly cut the call and stared at the phone for several long moments before calling Bill back.

‘I really don’t think he’s interested,’ she said. ‘He remembered me, and even remembered that I’d said I only had the dog waiting for me when I got home. But he wasn’t flirtatious in the slightest; just told me to hang fire till he’s spoken to his friend and set up a meeting. So what do you want me to do?’

‘Nothing, for now,’ said Bill. ‘I’ll tell the client what happened, and see what she wants to do. But, to be honest, I can’t really see anything coming of this. I think he’d have made his move by now if he was angling for an affair. Let me know if he calls back, of course, but just put it out of your mind for now and relax until the next job comes in.’

Chantelle had just said goodbye to Bill when she heard the front door open and close. Thinking that it was her mum, she went out into the hall and was surprised to see that it was Leon. She’d had a key cut for him after she had started working for Bill, on the strict proviso that he came home no later than nine p.m. or she would take it back. He’d been home on time so far, but had never come home earlier – and
never
when it was still light outside.

‘We need to talk,’ she said, giving him the look to let him know that it was serious.

Instead of rolling his eyes, as he usually did, Leon kept his head down and muttered, ‘Leave me alone’ before going into his room and closing the door.

When, seconds later, Chantelle heard him shove the back of his chair under the handle, she tutted softly. She had wanted to tackle him about his lies, but if she tried to force the issue while he was in a mood it would only end in a row, and he was likely to walk out again.

Miguel wandered out of the living room just then en route to the bathroom. He paused when he saw her standing there, and tilted his head to one side. ‘Is okay?’

‘Sorry?’ Chantelle snapped out of her thoughts and turned to him. ‘Yeah, fine. Just thinking.’ She motioned with a finger towards her temple.

‘Ah, your mom say you very clever.’ Miguel smiled. ‘Book, book, book, she say.’

Chantelle nodded. ‘I love books.’

‘I like only little.’ He held up his thumb and forefinger about an inch apart. ‘Too hard for eye.’

‘You probably need glasses.’