Taunting the Dead (7 page)

For once, feeling sorry for her friend, she smiled encouragingly. ‘Want to borrow something?’

‘No!’ Carole cried. She caught Steph’s shocked expression. ‘I mean, I daren’t. What if someone remembers that you wore it first?’

Steph rummaged through some of the bags. ‘I have loads of stuff that I haven’t even worn yet, silly. A lot of them still have tags on. You should come and look.’

‘Hmm, maybe, if I have time later.’ Carole looked around, praying that someone would be needing her assistance rather than have to sit here feeling like a failure. But the only two customers left were putting on their coats, having settled their bill earlier.

‘Ah, here it is.’ Steph undid a bottle top and squirted perfume into the air. ‘Smell this.’

‘Nice,’ Carole commented. ‘Beats smelling of garlic all the time. What is it?’

‘
Diamonds
,’ said Steph. ‘Well, they say they’re a girl’s best friend.’ She held up her empty wine glass. ‘Any chance of a top-up?’

Carole couldn’t hold her tongue any longer. ‘You are one ungrateful cow, do you know that?’ She leaned in closer and whispered. ‘I’d give anything to have what you have and you’re prepared to throw it all away for that
freak
, Phil Kennedy.’

Steph shrugged. ‘My life isn’t all good.’

‘No?’ Carole sighed. ‘Be careful, Steph. Terry won’t stand your nonsense forever.’

‘Oh, don’t mind him. He’s a pussycat. He’ll do anything for his Stephanie.’

Carole bit lightly on her bottom lip. ‘Yeah, right.’

‘Go on, spit it out, woman,’ Steph urged. ‘What are you dying to say?’

‘One of these days, you’ll get what’s coming to you.’

‘Yeah, yeah. And I suppose you’ll be there to pick up the pieces.’

‘What’s that supposed to mean?’ Carole gulped nervously.

Steph glared at her, the easy nature of the conversation turning sour all of a sudden. ‘You know very well what it means. I see the way you look at my Terry. The way you chat and giggle around him. The way you blush and throw yourself at him.’

‘I don’t do anything of –’

Carole saw Steph’s eyes flick behind her.

‘Hi, Shaun. Come to give this miserable cow a hand?’ Steph stood up and gathered her bags. ‘Honestly, she’s such a moody bitch. Can’t you cheer her up every now and then?’ She grinned at Carole to show that she meant no malice and gave her a hug. ‘See you later, babe.’ She turned back as she got to the door. ‘But leave the attitude at home, yeah?’

CHAPTER SEVEN

The doorbell tinkled and in a flash Steph was gone. Her friend’s words still ringing in her ears, Carole gathered up dirty dishes.

‘What was she doing here?’ Shaun asked.

Carole turned quickly to see him standing in the door frame. ‘Showing me what she’s wearing tonight,’ she said.

‘I suppose she came here to gloat. Tell you how wonderful life is for her and Terry. Make us feel like we’re pieces of shit. Too poor to be in the same league.’

‘Oh, don’t start.’ Carole’s shoulders sagged. ‘We’re going to The Moathouse tonight, whether you like it or not. All the staff are on rota here and we need to network like crazy. Maybe there’s a chance we can get someone interested in investing in the business.’

Shaun shook his head. ‘I doubt that very much. They’ll all be rich bastards. I bet they won’t even talk to the likes of us.’

‘Give over and pour us a brandy while I rest my legs for a minute.’

Shaun pushed two glasses up to the optics. Carole joined him at the counter as he placed one down for her.

‘How’s business been at lunchtime?’ he asked.

‘Steady.’ Carole was glad to see the fight had left him again. ‘Not busy, but not empty.’

Shaun sighed. ‘Where the hell are we going to get Kennedy’s money from?’

‘We’ll get it.’ Carole placed a hand over his and gave it a quick squeeze. ‘It’s only a matter of time.’

‘Time is what we don’t have. The business is failing. We’re in it up to here.’ He patted his forehead. ‘If the Orange Grove doesn’t start to pick up again soon, we’re screwed. We can’t even make this month’s instalment.’

Carole took a sip of the drink, relishing its warmth as it travelled down her throat. ‘Phil Kennedy knows that one word from you about him fleecing the takings from Terry and setting up as a loan shark and he’s a goner. So he won’t come down heavy on us because if he makes a fuss, then we’ll make a fuss, and I’m sure he’d prefer to keep his eyes rather than have them drilled out. Hang on to that thought.’

‘Right,’ Shaun huffed. ‘When Phil has his hands around my neck squeezing my life away? Or when he’s tied me to the back of his car and then dragged me all around the city? He’s a thug, Carole, and I’m a mug for thinking I could risk everything by going to him for a loan. We should have filed for bankruptcy.’

Carole bristled. They’d worked hard setting up The Orange Grove. Yes, they’d made a few mistakes at first, meaning their debts had spiralled out of control, but things had started to get better eventually. And just as things had begun to get manageable, the bank had refused to provide them with any more finance. All they’d wanted was five grand to keep them in the black for a few more months and they would have been over the worst. Not wanting to show how much of a failure they were, they’d bypassed Terry and turned to Phil Kennedy. Pretty soon it had become clear they’d made a terrible mistake: the five grand had escalated into ten. Last month it had stood at over twenty thousand pounds. And the monthly payments had doubled, taking what little profit they had and more.

‘You could always ask Terry for help,’ said Carole.

‘Are you mad, woman?’ Shaun knocked back his drink and slammed the glass down onto the counter. ‘He’d be so pissed off with me for going behind his back that he’d do me over me in an instant.’

‘Of course he wouldn’t.’ Carole shook her head. ‘Terry’s not like that. Not with his mates.’

‘But I’m not really a mate. I don’t even like him that much nowadays.’

Terry Ryder reminded Shaun of everything he hoped he’d be and everything that he wasn’t. Now, when they met up, which was fairly regular due to their wives’ friendship, it was written all over his face that he endured him. And although Terry was charming with it, he knew the feeling was mutual.

‘I’m damned if I do and damned if I don’t,’ he added. ‘My life is over.’

‘No.’ Carole shook her head again. ‘There must be some way out of this mess. We’ll think of something eventually.’

After leaving The Orange Grove, Steph arrived home and, armed with a bottle of wine, curled up on the sofa with two slices of cheese on toast.

Although Carole was her friend she’d really got on her nerves today. Sometimes she couldn’t stand her constant complaining. She was always going on about how she had it so tough. Steph felt exasperated listening to her at times. She should try keeping up appearances. It was hard work getting tanned, having her hair perfected and her nails redone and shopping for clothes and charity event dresses—and that was without going to the gym to keep in shape.

Secretly, Steph knew Carole only went on like that because she was jealous. They’d known each other since junior school. On leaving high school with hardly a GCSE between them, and after her mum had kicked Steph out because of her anti-social behaviour, she’d moved in with Carole and her mum. Shortly after that, they’d shared a dive of a flat on the Marshall Estate. Steph remembered them being inseparable back then and could clearly recall the night she’d bumped into Terry. They’d been to The Place nightclub in Hanley, long gone now but forever in the memories of some. Steph had been blown away first by his bad-boy reputation and second by his good looks. Back then, his dark hair had been full and cut in a shaggy style. His tall and scrawny figure had thickened a bit but, even now, he was still fit for his age.

Carole had met Shaun a few weeks later but for all their thoughts of double dating, after a few meets it had been clear that the fellas weren’t going to get on as well as the girls. But they’d all kept in touch.

To her dismay, Shaun had popped the question to Carole first, but because both of them were working in dead end jobs, making barely enough cash to live on, they’d had no spare money for a big wedding. They’d married at Hanley registry office and twenty-seven family members and twenty-two friends had walked across to The Albion and taken over the lounge for a wedding meal afterwards.

Steph recalled how jealous she’d felt – and the hideous blue meringue dress she’d been made to wear as chief bridesmaid – and even on the day told Carole that she planned to celebrate in style when she and Terry married, even though he hadn’t proposed to her yet. But she could remember in much more detail when, buoyed up by the occasion and the cheap champagne, Terry had dropped to one knee and asked her to be his wife in the middle of their wedding meal. Carole had burst into tears, accusing Steph of hogging the limelight on her big day.

Six months later, Terry had made an honest woman of her. They’d married in St Mary’s church in Bucknall and hosted an evening reception at The George and Dragon in Burslem. There was no four-night stay for her in a tacky guest house in Southport as Carole had had to make do with. Terry had whisked Steph off to Ibiza for a week of sun, sea, sand and what have you.

It was sad to think that Carole had been her only real friend throughout her life. Of course, there were a lot of hangers-on because of Terry’s stature. Once he’d taken over after Maurice Sterling died, he he’d begun to rake in the money, buying up old terraced houses in the city and over in neighbouring Derby for a few grand at a time, and making a tidy profit on each one as he sold them on. Some of the properties were never touched and still quadrupled in price during the property boom. He’d started to do the same with land, and as for his businesses on the side? Well, Steph reckoned what the police didn’t know about was okay with her.

When they’d moved into the house on Royal Avenue, Steph had been thrilled with the envious look on Carole’s face as she’d shown her around. Five bedrooms, four bathrooms, three garages, two living rooms and one ornamental pond became their strapline. It spoke volumes. She knew right there and then that she’d made it, especially moving off that scratty estate. Who cared that she wasn’t doing anything to make any money? If Terry wanted a good-looking bird on his arm, then that would be her full-time job. But that was when it had all started to go wrong.

Her eyes felt heavy as she tried to concentrate on the television. What was that man going on about on the screen? She grabbed the remote and switched over to another channel. But minutes later, the wine bottle empty at her side, the room began to spin and she closed her eyes for a second.

Waking up with a jolt as she heard a door slam shut and voices in the distance, Steph opened her eyes and tried to focus. What time was it? Shit. She saw Terry throw his keys across the kitchen worktop, saw a pair of black ballet-style pumps. Then a face appeared in front of her.

‘Fuck!’ she yelled, jumping up quickly. ‘You nearly gave me a heart attack, you stupid cow.’

‘Yuck.’ Kirstie moved her face away as she grimaced. ‘You’re pissed again.’ She picked up the near empty wine bottle. ‘Have you drunk all of this in one session?’

Steph snatched the bottle back and immediately wished she hadn’t as the room began to spin. She sat still to gain her wits. Glancing over towards the kitchen, she saw that Kirstie was now helping Terry to put a few bags of shopping away. Thank God. Kirstie must have been to Tesco. She’d forgotten to place an order online in her rush this morning.

‘I fell asleep,’ Steph said by way of explanation when she’d dragged herself over to join them. She pulled herself onto a stool and rested her head in her hands.

‘I gathered that much by the state of you.’ Terry’s tone was accusatory, to say the least.

Steph sighed. Shit, she’d forgotten she’d had her hair done. She didn’t dare look at the state it would be in now. Hopefully she’d be able to salvage it later.

They stared at each other for a moment before he turned away.

‘Kirstie, get me a glass of water, girl.’

Kirstie ran the cold water, thrust the glass under the tap and then pushed it over to her. Terry opened a drawer and slid a small box of headache tablets along the work surface.

‘I can’t believe you’re drunk again,’ he muttered. ‘You show me up tonight and there will be trouble.’

‘I am not drunk,’ Steph corrected him. ‘I’ve slept it off.’

‘You’re drunk,’ he repeated.

‘Whatever you say.’ She tried to salute him but in doing so lost her footing. Kirstie caught her before she slid off the stool completely.

‘Jeez, Mum, you’re such an embarrassment. It’s barely teatime.’

Steph held on to her head as she tried to support herself on the stool again. ‘I must be coming down with something,’ she replied. ‘I haven’t been feeling too good lately. As well as being sick, I’m having headaches. I’ve been to see Doctor Turner. He reckons they might be hormonal.’

‘More likely you were suffering from a hang-over each time,’ Terry retorted.

‘Don’t start on me the minute you come through the front door.’

Terry laughed, and not a happy-go-lucky laugh – more an evil-sick-to-the-back-teeth-of-you snort. As Kirstie left the kitchen area to sit in the family room, Terry grabbed Steph’s chin and squeezed it hard.

‘Everything I do is for us. I made you but I can break you too.’ He snapped his fingers loudly next to her ear, causing her to jump. ‘You’d do well to remember that.’

‘Don’t say that, Tel.’ Steph tried to pull away but he squeezed her chin harder. ‘Gerroff me!’

‘You stink of alcohol. You’d better gargle a gallon of mouthwash before this evening.’ He jabbed a finger so close to her eye she thought he’d have it out.

‘I’m sorry,’ she managed to whisper. ‘I’ll make it up to you.’ For a second, she thought he was going to hit out at her. Then his grip loosened and he dropped his hand. In a flash, his trademark smile was back.

‘No,’ he shook his head slightly, ‘you’ll always be a selfish bitch. There’s no way back for you, my darling.’