Respect (Mandasue Heller) (23 page)

‘If you’re sure.’ Rob put his hand on the small of her back and guided her towards the elevator. ‘But I’ll pay your fare.’

‘There’s no need.’ Chantelle cast a furtive glance in Bill’s direction.

‘I insist,’ Rob said, letting her know that he wasn’t going to take no for an answer.

‘Okay, thank you. But I, er, just need to nip to the bathroom before I go.’

Chantelle rushed to the toilets and fell through the door, then paced the floor until her boss ambled in. ‘He’s insisting on getting me a cab home,’ she whispered worriedly. ‘What should I do?’

‘Go,’ said Bill. ‘But if he tries to get in with you, say no. And
don’t
give the driver your real address. Get him to drop you by the library in Chorlton; I’ll follow and pick you up. Now, stay here for a minute, give me a chance to get to my car.’

‘Okay.’ Chantelle felt a little calmer. ‘See you in a bit. And please don’t lose sight of the cab.’

‘Have I
ever
lost track of a car I’m tailing?’ Bill raised an eyebrow. Then, smiling, she patted Chantelle on the arm and made her way back out to the bar.

As directed, Chantelle waited a short time before following her out. ‘Sorry,’ she apologised to Rob. ‘Got something in my eye; took me ages to fish it out.’

‘Is it okay?’ he asked, taking her face in his hands and peering into her eyes.

‘Yeah, it’s fine,’ Chantelle murmured, blushing again as she caught another waft of his expensive aftershave.

The elevator door opened just then, and they were forced to step aside as several people poured out. When it was empty, Rob waved for Chantelle to go in ahead of him. Out on the pavement a minute later, he flagged down a black cab and held the door open for her.

‘Where to?’ the driver asked.

‘Barlow Moor Road,’ Chantelle told him as she climbed onto the back seat.

Rob passed a £20 note to the driver before leaning in to kiss Chantelle on the cheek. ‘Sorry it didn’t work out, but you’ve got my number if you change your mind again.’

Chantelle thanked him and sat back. Then, waving when he closed the door, she breathed a huge sigh of relief when the cab pulled away from the kerb.

No longer in the mood for a confrontation, Chantelle was glad that Leon was asleep when she got home. She didn’t know why she was so tired, considering that all she’d done tonight was talk, but she felt totally worn out and couldn’t wait to go to bed.

Ten minutes later, having washed off the heavy make-up, changed into her pyjamas and climbed into bed, she had just begun to doze off when the front door slammed back against the hall wall. Scared that it had been kicked in, she jerked upright, but lay back down when she heard her mum’s and Miguel’s raised voices. They sounded drunk, and it was clear that they were arguing, but she had no intention of getting involved.

Mary had other ideas.

‘Oi, you!’ she barked, bursting into Chantelle’s room and switching the overhead light on. ‘What’ve you got to say for yourself?’

‘What are you on about?’ Chantelle squinted up at her.

‘Don’t come the innocent with me,’ Mary snarled, marching over to the bed and glaring down at her. ‘Thought you could nick me man from under me nose, did you?’

‘
What?
’ Chantelle’s brow creased deeply and she pushed herself up on her elbows. ‘I don’t know what he’s told you, but—’

‘He’s told me
every
thing, so don’t bother denying it,’ Mary spat, weaving now as she towered over her daughter. ‘I can’t believe you’d do that to
me
, your own mother. But I should have known you couldn’t be trusted. You act all la-di-fuckin’-da, but you’re just a little slag underneath it all. Bet you’ve shagged your way through half the estate while I’ve been gone. And how many of me
other
boyfriends did you make a play for when my back was turned, that’s what I’d like to know?’

‘You’re being ridiculous,’ Chantelle said calmly. ‘I haven’t slept with anyone, never mind one of
your
boyfriends. Do you really think I’d do that to you?’

‘Yeah, ’cos you’re jealous of me,’ Mary retorted nastily. ‘Always have been, always will be, ’cos I’m white, and you wish you was, an’ all.’

‘I have
never
been jealous of you for that.’ Chantelle was starting to get angry now, too.

‘Don’t make me laugh,’ Mary sneered. ‘You’ve always wanted to be like me, but you’ll never do it, ’cos I’m fun, while you act like you’ve got a sodding great mop stuck up your arse.’

‘I don’t want to talk about this any more,’ Chantelle said coolly. ‘I’ll see you in the morning when you’ve sobered up. You’re talking rubbish, and we’re just going to end up saying stuff we don’t mean.’

‘Oh, so you think you can take me on, do ya?’ Mary reached down and seized Chantelle by the hair. ‘Come on, then, if you think you’re hard!’

Chantelle gritted her teeth as the pain burned her scalp. ‘Get off me,’ she said firmly. ‘I mean it, Mum, let go of me right now.’

‘Or
what
?’ Mary tugged at her daughter’s hair. ‘Think you can handle me, do ya? You might be taller, but you ain’t harder, and that’s a fact.’

‘I never said I was,’ Chantelle argued, holding onto her mum’s wrists to keep her from tearing the hair right out. ‘But I am
not
putting up with this, because I’ve done nothing wrong.’

‘Apart from try and shag my fella,’ Mary reminded her. ‘Well, tough, ’cos he didn’t want you. And you know why? ’Cos you ain’t all that. You
think
you are, but you ain’t. You’re ugly and boring, just like your father.’

Chantelle couldn’t take any more. Tears stinging her eyes, she leapt out of bed and wrenched her head free of her mum’s grip, then shoved her forcefully towards the door. ‘Get out before I do something I regret,’ she cried. ‘It was
him
who tried it on with
me
, if you must know, and he got a kick in the balls for it, but I bet he didn’t tell you about that, did he? Even if I liked him, which I
don’t
, do you really think I’d go near anyone who’d screwed
you
?’

‘You fuckin’
what
?’ Mary screeched, stumbling as her daughter pushed her out into the hall. ‘You lying cow! Why would he try it on with you when he’s got
me
?’

‘Ask
him
,’ yelled Chantelle, furiously pointing at Miguel who was slouched against the living-room door. ‘Go on,
ask
him.’

‘I ain’t asking him nothing,’ spat Mary, straightening herself up. ‘I know he loves me, so he wouldn’t do that to me. But
you
 …’ She looked Chantelle up and down with a hateful sneer on her lips. ‘You’d do anything to get attention, you. But you ain’t getting it off my man, so keep your fucking eyes off him in future.’

‘Oh, don’t worry, I don’t
want
to look at him,’ said Chantelle. ‘If I never saw him again it’d be too soon. Now leave me alone – I’m going to bed.’

‘
Bitch!
’ Mary spat when Chantelle closed the bedroom door in her face. ‘I’ll be watching you.’

Chantelle climbed back into bed and pulled the quilt over her head. She’d been on the verge of dropping off when her mum burst in, but she doubted she’d get any sleep now. Her body felt wired, and her stomach was churning so badly that she was glad she hadn’t eaten earlier or she’d have been in danger of throwing up. She couldn’t believe Miguel had lied about her like that – or that her mum had believed him. He’d probably thought she was going to grass him up and had decided to get in there first. But God help him if he came near her after this, because she would rip his greasy head off.

17

The atmosphere in the flat was heavy during the next few days, and Chantelle prayed each morning that Bill would call with a job for her. Nothing came and, rather than stay in her room all day, she took to walking into town and wandering around until she thought that her mum and Miguel were likely to have gone out. Whenever their paths did cross, Miguel couldn’t look her in the eye, and Mary made it clear that she still wasn’t talking to her. It was unbearable, and so unfair, but there was nothing Chantelle could do about it if her mum didn’t believe her.

What upset Chantelle most was the thought that they might not have resolved their differences in time for the wedding. Mary was happily forging ahead with her plans, and Tracey seemed to be a permanent fixture in the flat as they organised everything between them. They had nicked some wedding magazines from the newsagent’s, and were always ooh-ing and ah-ing over dresses and rings and hairstyles and flowers and suits … Chantelle didn’t even know if the date had been set yet, but she couldn’t ask because she wasn’t even sure that her mum was going to invite her. And Leon was in a world of his own, so she couldn’t even ask him.

She was feeling so low when she got a call from Rob one morning that she almost didn’t answer. But curiosity got the better of her.

‘Hey,’ he said. ‘Not disturbing you, am I?’

‘No, I was just reading,’ she told him, surprised to find herself smiling at the sound of his voice. But then, with no one speaking to her at home just now, any friendly voice would have been welcome. ‘What can I do for you?’

‘Just wondered what you’re doing tomorrow?’

‘I’m not sure,’ she said cautiously. ‘Why?’

‘Because I’d like to invite you out for a meal,’ Rob said. ‘And you’ll be doing me a massive favour if you say yes.’

‘Oh? Why’s that?’

‘I’ve got to wine and dine a client and his wife. The missus was supposed to be coming, but she’s decided she needs another break,’ Rob explained. ‘I was relying on her to keep the client’s wife entertained while we get on with business, but she’s scuppered that. So I thought, why not ask Julia? She’s smart, beautiful, and great company – perfect hostess material. So, what do you say?’

‘I don’t know. I’ll have to think about it.’

‘Sure, no pressure. But you really would be doing me a favour. And you’ll have a great night, I promise. Top-class restaurant, no expense spared. I’ll even pay you for your time.’

‘No, that’s not necessary,’ Chantelle said. Then, taking a deep breath, she said, ‘Okay, I’ll do it.’

‘You’re a lifesaver,’ Rob said gratefully. ‘I’ll pick you up at eight, if that’s okay?’

‘No, I’ll make my own way there,’ Chantelle told him, hoping as she said it that the restaurant would be in town and not near his house, which was miles out. ‘Just tell me where to meet you.’

She cut the call after writing down the name of the restaurant, and bit her lip. She supposed she really ought to tell Bill. But she wasn’t going to be alone with Rob, so it wasn’t like he was asking her out on a date, or anything. And he’d offered to pay her, so he was obviously being honest about it being a business thing. It was flattering to know that he considered her a fitting stand-in for his wife, and she couldn’t deny that it would be nice to get away from the horrible atmosphere in the flat for a while. So, no, she wouldn’t bother telling Bill.

Happier than she’d felt all week, Chantelle got up and checked her wardrobe for something nice to wear. Nothing seemed quite right, so she decided to head over to the market and spend a bit of her savings on a new dress. Nothing too expensive, just something classy that the wife of a rich businessman might wear for dinner at a posh restaurant.

‘Behave,’ she scolded herself as she pulled her coat on. ‘It’s not a date, it’s a business arrangement, and don’t you forget it.’

Anton was washing out a glass at his kitchen sink when Chantelle walked past. He waved when he saw her but she didn’t see him, so he rushed to the door in time to see her disappear down the stairs. He decided there was no point trying to catch up with her because he would need to go back inside and get his jacket and keys first, by which time she’d probably be long gone. Anyway, he was already late for work, and he didn’t want to push his luck now that he had rent and bills to pay. He would just have to catch her another time and tell her about the party.

He smiled to himself as he went back into the flat and looked around. He’d moved in properly a few days earlier, and it already felt like home. His stereo and speakers were sitting in pride of place in one corner of the black-and-silver-decorated living room, the flat-screen TV in another. He’d ordered a sofa but it wouldn’t be here for a few weeks, so the only seating was a couple of leather beanbags; but his bed was set up, so at least he could sleep in comfort. He had managed to pick up a cheap fridge-freezer and a cooker, and his mum had given him a kettle, some cups, plates, and cutlery. The rest would come in time, but he basically had everything he needed for now.

The party had been Shotz’s idea.

‘You can’t not have a house-warming,’ he’d said when Anton had admitted that it hadn’t even crossed his mind. ‘Think of all the gals we can fetch in, man; it’d be like twenty-four-seven pussy heaven – with no ma giving them the evil eye. And it might scare the old ’un away,’ he’d added in a whisper, shuddering as he’d nodded towards the bedroom that he still hadn’t dared step foot in for fear of being confronted by the ghost of the previous tenant.

Anton was no longer as spooked by the thought of the old woman’s spirit as he had initially been, but he guessed that Shotz had a point. A party would christen the place properly and lay down some fresh vibes – clear out the old to make way for the new, and all that.

They had decided to have the party tomorrow night, and Shotz had been on a mad inviting spree for the last few days. Anton had intended to invite Chantelle just now, but he was sure he’d catch up with her again.

Mary had found her perfect wedding dress. She’d picked out about a thousand perfect dresses over the last few weeks, but this one was
the
one. Its sweetheart neckline was smothered in glittery crystals, which would make her look dead classy
and
show off her tits. The skirt was neither too wide nor too flouncy, so she wouldn’t get weighed down
or
look a complete mug trying to get in and out of doors; and it had long princess sleeves that would hide her bingo wings and all the ugly marks on her arms from where she’d cut herself in the past.