Respect (Mandasue Heller) (21 page)

‘Glasses?’ He gave her a confused look, and then mimed drinking from a glass. ‘This you mean?’

‘No.’ Chantelle chuckled and, circling her fingers and thumbs, held them in front of her eyes.

‘Ah …’ Miguel understood this. ‘Yes, I think so.’ His stomach rumbled loudly just then, and he slapped his hand on it and gave an embarrassed smile. ‘Sorry, I hungry. When your mom is come?’

‘Your guess is as good as mine.’ Chantelle shrugged. Then, sighing, she said, ‘I can make you something, if you like?’

Miguel peered at her with gratitude in his eyes. ‘Mom say you clever but no nice, but
I
say clever
and
nice. Yes?’

‘I try,’ Chantelle murmured, upset to know that her mum had been bad-mouthing her to the man before they had even met. But she didn’t know why she was surprised, because her mum had never understood her, and seemed to take it as a personal insult that she’d given birth to a child who actually enjoyed learning. She called Chantelle a snob, but she was wrong, because Chantelle had never considered herself to be better than anyone else. She just didn’t see why she should have to settle for whatever life threw at her, like everyone else seemed to.

‘I too like cook,’ Miguel said as he followed her into the kitchen.

‘Really?’ Chantelle raised an eyebrow and opened the cupboard to see what was in it.

‘I look after parents till your mom came do for them. She no like them.’ He grinned. ‘Always say they too demand, they too old, she need fun.’

‘Sounds about right,’ Chantelle snorted, taking a can of tuna out of the cupboard. ‘You like?’ She held it up so he could see it. ‘In sandwich?’

‘Ah, sí.’ He nodded. ‘Is taste.’

‘Tast
y
,’ she corrected him, smiling amusedly as she took the bread out of another cupboard and a knife out of the drawer. He was starting to grow on her, and she just hoped that her mum didn’t screw it up, like she had every previous relationship.

Miguel took a seat and watched as Chantelle made the sandwich. When she put it on a plate and carried it over to the table, he smiled up at her and reached for her hand.

‘You be good wife for man one day,’ he said, peering deeply into her eyes. ‘You very beautiful. Very sexy.’

‘Sorry?’ Sure that she’d misheard, Chantelle frowned and tried to pull her hand free. But Miguel held on, and stood up.

‘I like very much,’ he purred, putting his hand on the small of her back and pulling her towards him. ‘And you like too, no?’

‘Not like
that
,’ Chantelle gasped, struggling to push him away. ‘Let go,’ she ordered when he held on. ‘I mean it!’

‘I want you,’ he persisted, trying to kiss her now. ‘Just try,’ he said silkily, holding her face gently in his hand as she jerked her head. ‘You like, I promise.’

Chantelle wanted to scream, but nothing came out when she opened her mouth. Terrified that he was going to try and force himself on her when he backed her into the corner and clamped his lips over hers, she mustered all of her strength and brought her knee up hard into his crotch. When he immediately released her and slid to the floor with a look of agony on his face, she leapt away from him and grabbed the knife she’d just used to butter the bread.

‘You ever touch me like that again, I’ll kill you,’ she gasped, holding it out in front of her.

In too much pain to reply, Miguel just groaned and rolled into a ball on the floor. Disgusted, Chantelle threw the knife into the sink and fled from the room. Then, grabbing her coat and keys, she ran out of the flat.

She didn’t know where she was going as she walked quickly down the stairs – she just had to get away from that lecherous pig. He was supposed to be getting married to her mum, so how the hell could he
do
something like that? All she had done was try to make him feel welcome; she’d done or said nothing whatsoever to make him think that she was interested in him like
that
. Bastard!

Leon was dozing when his phone vibrated. Awake in a flash, he reached under his pillow and pulled it out, sitting bolt upright when he saw that it was Damo.

‘All right, kid?’ Damo said. ‘Got back okay, did you?’

‘Yeah,’ Leon answered sickly. ‘I – I’m sorry I couldn’t warn you, but they were right in front of me, and—’

‘Don’t worry about it.’ Damo cut him off. ‘We saw them coming and got away over the field. Just wanted to make sure you were okay.’

‘Yeah, I’m cool,’ Leon said, relieved that nothing had happened.

‘Good. Right, well, we’ve got a few things to do,’ Damo went on, ‘but we’re gonna need that other bag, so fetch it down the canal at half-six.’

‘Okay,’ Leon agreed. ‘See you later.’

Happy again, Leon smiled when Damo hung up. It was good to know they weren’t mad at him for not alerting them, but especially nice that they had been concerned about him, because that meant they cared.

16

After a long day in town with Tracey, Mary was laden down with bags when she arrived home later that evening. Shoplifting always gave her a buzz, but where she and Tracey usually targeted things they wanted at the time – like booze, or something to wear for a night out – today’s expedition had been about accumulating stuff they could easily sell on in order to get money for the wedding. She had applied for a loan from the DSS, but there was no guarantee that she was going to get it, and with the day drawing closer she was determined not to have to do it on a budget. It might only be a registry-office affair, but it was her first time and she wanted the full works, from the dress of her dreams, to a horse-drawn carriage, to a massive blow-out of a party afterwards.

She’d nicked a whole load of jewellery – some gold, but most just decorative; tons of bottles of expensive perfumes and aftershaves; and heaps of clothes. She had spread the loot out on the living-room floor, and was happily sorting through it when Chantelle walked in at six.

‘Hey, babes,’ she said, looking up. ‘Where’ve you been?’

‘Round at Immy’s,’ Chantelle lied, noting that Miguel, who was lying on the couch, was studiously avoiding her eye. ‘What’s all this?’

‘Wedding fund,’ Mary told her, grinning happily as she rooted through the still-labelled clothes. ‘Here, these are for you.’ She held out two tops and a skirt. ‘Go and try them on, then give us a fashion show.’

‘Later,’ Chantelle murmured, unbuttoning her jacket. ‘I need to see what’s in for tea.’

‘Me and Miggy are going down the pub to sell this lot; we’ll get something from the chippy.’

‘I’ll just make it for me and Leon, then,’ Chantelle said, eager to get out of the room.

‘He’s out,’ Mary informed her.

‘Where?’

‘How do I know?’

‘Didn’t you ask?’ Chantelle frowned.

‘Why should I?’ Mary gave her an irritated look. ‘What’s your problem? He ain’t a baby.’

‘I know,’ Chantelle replied coolly. ‘I just don’t like him wandering around at night. It’s not safe.’

‘Aw, chill out,’ Mary sneered. ‘He’s tough, he can handle himself. And if he can’t, he’ll have to learn how, won’t he? It’s a cruel world out there – he’s got to be able to fight his own battles or he’ll end up a little wuss.’

Chantelle bit down on the concerns that were still rolling around in her mind. Leon wasn’t tough, he was a kid, and the last thing she wanted was for him to start fighting and acting like a thug, because that was a fast track to ending up in jail. But her mum obviously didn’t share her concerns, and now she was back in control there was nothing Chantelle could do if she allowed him to go off by himself.

‘Go and try that stuff on,’ Mary said again. ‘I wanna see if it fits. She’ll look gorgeous, won’t she, Miggy?’

Chantelle gritted her teeth when Miguel swivelled his eyes towards her. ‘I’ll try them on later,’ she repeated, snatching the clothes and walking towards the door.

‘You’re a right miserable cow, you,’ Mary spat, lighting a cigarette and giving Chantelle a dirty look. ‘I’ve been out all day busting a gut to get the money for the wedding, and I wasn’t just thinking about myself, I made an effort to get something specially for
you
, an’ all, ’cos I thought you deserved a treat. But there you go again, chucking it back in my face.’

‘I’m not chucking anything back in your face,’ Chantelle protested. ‘I’ve just got a headache, that’s all. I said I’ll try it on, and I will. Just not now.’

‘Yeah, you take your time,’ Mary said sarcastically. ‘Never mind me, you just think about yourself – as usual.’

‘Why are you being like this?’ Chantelle asked, a real headache starting up now. ‘I haven’t done anything wrong.’

‘Apart from being selfish,’ said Mary. ‘All I wanted to do was see if they fit so I’ll know I’ve got the right size when it comes to getting the bridesmaids’ dresses. But no – you’ve got to be awkward about it.’

‘Why didn’t you just say that?’ Chantelle murmured guiltily.

‘Wouldn’t have to if you did as you were told and didn’t argue about everything.’

‘All right, I’ll try them on.’

‘Don’t bother.’ Mary clamped the cigarette between her teeth and shoved the perfumes back into a bag. ‘I don’t even know if I want you there now; you’ll probably only ruin it.’

‘Don’t be daft.’

‘I’m not.’ Mary was unrelenting. ‘You’re a pain in the arse. Nothing’s ever good enough for you, and I’m sick of trying to live up to your expectations. I’m your mother; I deserve a bit of respect.’

‘Respect is earned,’ Chantelle retorted coolly. ‘And it goes both ways.’

Mary gave her a dirty look, and said, ‘Miggy was right – we should just do this on our own and fuck off back to Spain without you.’

Chantelle was starting to feel sick. She’d done nothing wrong, but yet again her mum was having a go at her. And how dare Miguel try to cut her out of the wedding just because she’d rejected him.

Guessing that she’d been dismissed when her mum turned her back to pack the rest of her things away, Chantelle cast an accusing glance at Miguel and went to her room. The tops weren’t her style, but she wouldn’t have been happy to take them even if she’d loved them, knowing they’d been stolen. Still, Mary had tried to do something nice, so she should have at least said thank you.

Sad to have upset her mum again by being thoughtless, Chantelle sighed when her phone started ringing. Surprised to see that it was Rob Knight, she answered with an apprehensive, ‘Hello?’

‘Hey …’ he said, his tone friendly. ‘Hope I’m not disturbing you?’

‘No, it’s fine,’ Chantelle assured him. ‘What’s up?’

‘Just wondered if you were free tonight? Only I’ve spoken to my friend, and he’d be delighted to meet you – if you’re still up for it?’

‘Oh, right.’ Chantelle bit her lip. ‘Yes, I guess so.’

‘Don’t sound too enthusiastic.’ Rob chuckled. ‘He’s only one of the top agents in Manchester.’

‘Sorry, I’ve got a bit of a headache, can’t think straight,’ Chantelle apologised. ‘Thanks, I’m really grateful. When does he want to meet?’

‘Eight-thirty. Sorry it’s such short notice but he’s a busy man, so we’re lucky he had a slot. Anyway, I’ve told him you’re nervous, so he’s promised to go easy on you. It’ll just be an informal drink to start with, so the two of you can have a little chat and see what you think of each other. If it makes it any easier, I’ll be there. Unless you’d rather meet him on your own?’

‘No, that’s great,’ Chantelle murmured, feeling sick all over again.

‘Lovely. We’re meeting at Cloud 23; the wine bar at the top of the Hilton.’

‘The
Hilton
?’ Chantelle’s stomach was really churning now.

‘Don’t worry, it’s not as posh as it sounds.’ Rob laughed. ‘Just dress to impress, and leave the rest to nature.’

Chantelle pondered that last comment for several minutes after Rob had said goodbye, but she couldn’t figure out what he’d meant by it.

‘Probably nothing,’ Bill said when Chantelle rang and asked what
she
thought. ‘But don’t worry about it for now. Just get yourself ready, and I’ll pick you up at eight. Oh, and I’ll do the surveillance tonight,’ she added cheerily. ‘I’ve been to that bar, and I shan’t look out of place sitting off in a corner by myself. Quite looking forward to it, actually; it’s right at the top, and has the most magnificent views of the city. Now run along and make yourself beautiful.’

Chantelle was a little happier to know that Bill would be there to keep an eye on her, but she was still nervous about the meeting. Rob had said it would be informal, but what if his friend took one look at her and asked why she had ever thought she could be a model? It would be so humiliating. And it was all too likely to happen, given how many beautiful women he must be surrounded by day in, day out. Oh, God, why had she agreed to do this?

She shook off the dread thoughts when she heard her mum and Miguel go out, and gazed down at the new clothes. They were quite nice, she supposed; and the blue top would look great with the wedges she’d bought last week. But there was no way she was wearing the skirt her mum had nicked for her; it was way too short and flouncy, and was more likely to make Rob’s friend think she was auditioning to be a pole-dancer rather than a model. Not that she intended to become either, but she had to make it
look
as though she was being serious, or there was no point going.

Leon quickened his pace when he rounded the bend on the canal towpath and saw the gang in their usual spot by the locks up ahead.

‘All right?’ he said, grinning when he reached them, and holding out his hand to touch fists with Damo.

He immediately knew that something was wrong when Damo ignored his fist, and a flicker of fear sparked in his gut when the others turned and stared at him.

‘Where is it?’ Damo demanded, holding out his hand.

Already shaking, Leon tugged the bag out from under his jumper and passed it over.

Acky had been sitting astride the barrier smoking a cigarette. He flicked the butt into the water now, jumped down and strode towards Leon.

‘’S up, guys?’ Leon asked, aware that his voice sounded squeaky.

‘’S up?’ Acky repeated, peering down at him with a nasty glint in his eye. ‘You’ve got the nerve to ask what’s up after legging it and leaving us to get mashed up, you little
rat
!’