She heard the front door close down below and lit one of the cigarettes. Then she knelt on the bed to watch through the gap at the bottom of the net curtain as Mark hopped over the gate and sauntered down the road.
‘I’m a dad now,’ she mimicked under her breath. ‘I’ve got responsibilities. Yeah, well, let’s see if Amy lets you anywhere near the kid after I tell her what we’ve just done.’
A taxi turned onto the road. Guessing that it was her mum, Jenny took a last tug on her smoke and flicked the butt into next door’s garden before hopping back into bed. As much as she’d have loved to set Amy straight, she’d never have the guts to actually do it. Not only because Amy would kick the living crap out of her, but because Mark would probably never speak to her again. And, as angry as she’d been a minute ago, there was no way she was risking that.
She had worshipped Mark Taylor for years and had tried everything to get him to notice her, to no avail. Until tonight, when he’d not only noticed her but had dragged her away from her job helping her mum on the community-centre bar and made love to her on the other side of the wall from where his new wife had just gone into labour. And then he’d turned up here at the house straight after the birth of his baby and made love to her again, which must mean that he was interested.
Reassured, Jenny stroked the indentation that Mark’s head had left in the pillow and held his Clipper lighter against her breast. So what if he’d put a ring on that stupid cow’s finger and had a baby with her? That didn’t mean anything. He was only sixteen and everyone knew that teenage boys couldn’t stand kids. She’d give him two weeks, max, before he got bored and came back to her for seconds.
PART ONE
FIVE YEARS LATER
1
Mark slammed his fork down and glared at Amy across the table. ‘Don’t you ever stop fucking nagging?’
‘I wouldn’t have to if you came home when you were supposed to.’ Amy jabbed her own fork into a lump of leaden mash. ‘This was lovely when I made it, but look at the state of it now.’
‘I was working. What am I supposed to do when the gaffer asks me to stay back? Tell him to fuck off, ’cos I’m gonna be late for me dinner?’
‘You could have rung to let me know.’
‘And get into trouble for using my phone at work?’ Mark shook his head in disgust and shoved his plate away. ‘You do my head in, you. All day I’m out there grafting, and all I get when I come home is nag, nag, fuckin’ nag. I don’t know why I bother.’
Amy looked down at her plate and pushed her shrivelled peas into a heap beside the mash. Maybe she was turning into a nag, but it wasn’t easy being stuck in the house on her own all day with two kids to look after. It was all right for Mark, he could escape to work and have a laugh with his mates. But she was trapped in here day in, day out, with nothing but the washing, cooking, cleaning, shitty nappies and tantrums to keep her company. And Mark saw little enough of the kids as it was, so the least he could do was come home in time to see them for two minutes before they went to bed.
‘I’m going out,’ Mark said suddenly.
Amy jerked her head up at the sound of his chair scraping back. ‘You’ve only been back five minutes. Just sit down and eat your tea.’
‘Lost me appetite.’ Mark strode out into the hall and snatched his jacket off the hook.
‘Don’t you dare go out and leave me on my own again,’ Amy yelled after him. ‘Mark . . . I’m warning you. I’m not joking.’
His answer was a harder than usual slam of the front door.
‘Bastard!’ She hurled her plate at the wall.
A few seconds later, the back door creaked open and Marnie from next door poked her head in. ‘Is it safe?’
Amy nodded, and swiped at her tears.
‘What was it this time?’ Marnie stepped over the broken plate and eyed the mixture of mince, mash, peas and gravy that was sliding down the wall.
‘The usual.’ Amy stood up and snatched the dishcloth off the sink drainer. ‘I’ve had a horrible day, but he doesn’t give a toss. He just strolls in late and expects me to wait on him hand and foot.’
‘That’s men for you.’ Marnie plonked herself down on the chair that Mark had just vacated and watched as Amy wiped the mess off the wall. ‘They’re all over you till they’ve got you, then they think they can treat you like shit. Wankers, the lot of ’em.’
‘He’s not that bad,’ said Amy, automatically jumping to his defence like she always did when someone dared to criticise him. ‘I’m just stressed out ’cos the kids have been playing me up. I shouldn’t have taken it out on him.’
Marnie gave her a knowing look. ‘You don’t have to cover for him on my behalf, hon. I’ve heard the way he talks to you, and I think he’s got a damn cheek calling you a nag.’
Amy turned her back and angrily rinsed out the dishcloth before reaching for the dustpan and brush and sweeping up the broken crockery. Nosy bitch must have had a glass up against the wall if she’d heard him say that.
‘Oh, leave it,’ Marnie urged when Amy reached for Mark’s plate after depositing the rubbish in the bin. ‘No point wearing yourself out, you won’t get any thanks for it. Come round to mine and chill for a bit. I’ve got some wine.’
‘The kids are in bed,’ Amy told her, scraping the remains of Mark’s dinner off the plate.
‘They must be asleep by now. They’ll be all right for half an hour.’
‘No, I can’t leave them. Mark will go mad if he comes back and I’m not here.’
‘You’ll be lucky. He’ll be halfway to the pub by now. You won’t see him again tonight.’
Amy’s heart sank. Marnie was right. Once Mark hooked up with his mates and got the first few pints down his throat, he’d forget all about her and the kids. The mood he was in when he left, he’d probably crash at Steve’s, then crawl home after work tomorrow full of apologies. That was how it usually panned out when he stormed off after a row.
Marnie’s phone beeped. She took it out of her pocket, read the message and jumped to her feet. ‘Oh, shit! Sorry, hon, got to go. I forgot Neil was coming round tonight. He’s waiting outside, and I can’t risk Fat Gemma seeing him or she’ll be straight on the phone to his missus. See you tomorrow.’
Amy locked the door behind her, then finished clearing up and went into the living room. The kids had been watching CBeebies before they went to bed, and stuffed toys were still prancing noisily around on the TV screen. She reached for the remote to turn it over, but hesitated when she caught sight of herself in the mirror above the fire. Her wedding photo, in pride of place on the mantelpiece below, showed a heavily pregnant girl with gleaming blonde hair, sparkling blue eyes, and a mile-wide smile. But the woman staring back at her from the mirror was a scrawny, dull-eyed, straw-haired replica of her mother. Worse, her nan. No wonder Mark couldn’t be bothered to hurry home from work if this was all he had to look forward to.
Blinking back the tears of self-pity that were stinging her eyes when a peal of raucous laughter floated through the wall, Amy released a weary sigh. Mark had his faults, there was no denying that, but at least he wasn’t a cheat like that pig Neil Foster. His poor wife had no clue what he was getting up to behind her back, and Amy hated bumping into her at the shops because she always felt as guilty as hell even though it had nothing to do with her.
Disgusted by the grunting sounds that were starting to filter through now, Amy decided to get an early night. Most of her and Mark’s problems stemmed from the fact that he was always knackered from working so hard and she was always stressed out from dealing with the kids, so a good sleep would do her the world of good. Then, hopefully, she wouldn’t be so quick to bite Mark’s head off when he came home tomorrow – and he wouldn’t be so quick to storm out again.
As Amy headed up to bed back home, Mark walked into The Junction and looked around for his mates, in desperate need of some light-hearted man-banter to shake him out of the mood that Amy had put him in. She was turning into a righ
t old woman lately, always whining and bitching and making him feel like a cunt for coming home five minutes late. He loved his kids as much as she did, but he could do without having them forced down his throat every time he stepped through the door. And as for all that bedtime kissy-cuddly shit that Amy wanted him to do, that was her job, not his.
None of his mates were in, so Mark bought a pint and wandered over to the fruit machine in the corner. Made up when three cherries rolled around on his first go and ten pound coins rattled down into the tray, he shoved another fifty pence in, only for a further five quid to spew out. Mood lifting, he took a swig of his pint and dragged up a stool. It was his lucky night, and no fucker was getting near this machine tonight until he’d hit the jackpot.
It didn’t happen, and by the time the bell rang for last orders he had precisely forty pence left to his name – not even enough to feed the machine one last time, never mind catch the bus to work in the morning. And definitely not enough to buy another drink to cushion him against the shit that Amy was going to throw at him.
Relieved to find the house in darkness when he got home, Mark let himself in quietly and slipped his feet out of his trainers. Then, keeping an eye on the stairs, he crept into the kitchen and pulled Amy’s handbag out from the tray beneath Bobby’s pram. Smiling when he looked in her purse and saw two ten-pound notes in the slot behind the change compartment, he slipped one into his pocket before putting everything back where he’d found it and heading up to bed. Amy would go mad when she realised the money was gone but he didn’t care. He’d earned it, so he could do what the fuck he liked with it.
2
When the alarm woke Amy the next morning she reached out and switched it off, then stretched her arms above her head and yawned. She’d thought she was never going to get to sleep when Marnie and that stupid man of hers moved the action upstairs, but the cotton wool had shielded her from the worst of it – thank God.
She pulled the sticky little plugs out of her ears now and sat up. Surprised to see a lump on Mark’s side of the bed, because she hadn’t expected him to come home, she remembered the vow she’d made to be nicer to him and lay back down.
‘Morning,’ she purred, snuggling up to him and kissing the back of his neck.
‘What time is it?’ Mark rubbed at his eyes.
‘Just gone seven.’ She slid her fingers slowly down through the hairs on his stomach. ‘You’ve got twenty minutes yet.’
When she reached his crotch, Mark’s brain switched places with his dick and he rolled towards her and tugged at her nightie.
‘Sorry about last night,’ she murmured when he climbed on top of her.
‘Sshhh,’ he grunted, shoving her legs apart.
‘You shush,’ she gasped, giggling when he set the headboard banging against the wall. ‘You’ll wake the kids up.’
‘Tell ’em we’re playing doctors and nurses,’ said Mark, clamping his mouth over hers to keep her from saying anything else.
They hadn’t had sex for a while, mainly because they had been arguing so much lately. And when they argued, Mark always stormed off to the pub and came back late, if he came back at all, by which time Amy wouldn’t have let him touch her even if she’d still been awake. So it was short and sweet now, and all over within a couple of minutes.
When they had finished, Mark jumped out of bed and had a quick wash before leaving for work. After he’d gone, Amy woke the kids and went downstairs to make breakfast, singing softly along to the radio as she toasted the bread and made herself a cup of tea.
She’d only been fourteen when she’d started going out with Mark, fifteen when she’d got pregnant, and sixteen when they’d got married. A pair of kids propelled into adulthood, they’d had more than their share of fights over the last five years, and she’d lost count of how many times one or other of them had demanded a divorce. But Mark had been her first love, and she felt as strongly about him today as she always had, so it was good to be back on track.
Now all she had to do was make sue she didn’t let the kids get to her today and sour things by being moody when Mark got home this evening.
Thinking about the kids, she walked out into the hall and shouted, ‘Cassie, hurry up. Your toast’s going cold.’
‘It’s Bobby,’ her daughter’s complaining voice floated back. ‘He won’t let me put his jumper on. He keeps pulling his arms out and kicking me. And now he’s locked ’isself in the bathroom.’
‘Bobby, get out of there right now!’ Amy yelled. ‘And do as your sister says, or I’ll be coming up to sort you out.’
Amused when she heard the bathroom bolt slide out of its hasp, followed by the sound of Bobby’s pudgy little feet slapping on the floorboards above as he ran back to the bedroom he shared with his sister, Amy went back into the kitchen and finished her tea. She was rinsing her cup at the sink when she heard a tap on the window.
‘Bit early for you, isn’t it?’ she teased when she opened the door. ‘I thought you’d be hibernating for a week after the racket you and Neil made last night.’
‘Don’t mention that man’s name to me,’ Marnie grunted, pulling a face as she walked in. ‘I told him from the off that I didn’t want to get into anything serious, and he said he felt the same. But then he goes and gets all heavy on me last night, prattling on about leaving his wife and moving in with me.’
‘You’re joking!’ Amy raised an eyebrow. ‘What did you say?’
‘Oh, believe me, I soon set him straight. I said, listen here, mate, I don’t mind the occasional shag, but you can fuck right off if you think I’m giving up my freedom to wash your stinking boxers!’
‘Bet he loved that. So, have you told him it’s over, or are you just going to freeze him out?’
‘The ice queen cometh.’ Marnie grinned. ‘And if that don’t work, I’ll get our Lee to kick his head in. Anyhow, I don’t wanna talk about him.’ She flapped her hand to indicate that the subject matter was as finished as the relationship. ‘Fancy coming to town after you’ve dropped Cass off?’
‘Yeah, why not?’ Amy kicked off her slippers and sat down to pull her trainers on. ‘Oi!’ she protested when Marnie picked up a piece of toast. ‘That’s Cassie’s.’
Marnie took a bite and grinned through the crumbs. ‘Sorry, but I’m starving, and it was just sitting there asking to be scoffed. Fussy knickers probably won’t want it anyhow, knowing her.’
‘Bobby’s the fussy one, not Cassie,’ Amy corrected her. Then, noticing the time, she pushed past her and went back out into the hall, yelling, ‘Will you two get a move on, I won’t tell you again!’
Cassie came stomping down the stairs, tugging her little brother along behind her. ‘Stop dragging your feet,’ she warned, almost yanking him right off the last couple of steps. ‘I’ve had just about enough of you for one morning.’
‘Bless!’ Marnie laughed. ‘She sounds just like you, Ames.’
Amy turned her head so the kids wouldn’t see the smile on her lips. Cassie had just turned three when Bobby came along, and she’d mothered him from the off. And, just like a real mother, her adoration was mixed with impatience, so she thought nothing of telling him off if he didn’t do as she said, or giving him a little slap if she thought he deserved it. Amy’s mum had told her off for letting Cassie get away with that, but Amy didn’t see the harm in it as long as Cassie didn’t hurt him. Anyway, she thought it was kind of cute to see a five-year-old acting like a full-grown woman.
As Amy manhandled Bobby into his anorak and strapped him into his buggy now, Cassie slotted a piece of toast between her teeth and pulled on her own coat. When she reached into her pocket for her mittens, a folded piece of paper fell out. She picked it up and handed it to her mum.
‘What is it?’ Amy asked, ushering her out into the hall.
‘My teacher said to give it to you. It’s about the trip.’
‘What trip?’
‘Chester Zoo, next week.’ Cassie gazed up at her with a world-weary look in he
r eyes. ‘You forgot, didn’t you?’
‘Oh, shit!’
‘Language,’ Marnie teased, grasping the buggy’s handles and pushing it over the step.
Amy opened the letter and groaned when she saw that it was a reminder for payment: £9.50 – due today, or Cassie would be excluded from the trip.
‘Sorry, love, I can’t afford it.’ She gave her daughter a regretful smile and tossed the letter onto the hall table. ‘Maybe next time, eh?’
Tears immediately welled in Cassie’s big blue eyes. ‘I’ve got to go, Mummy. Everyone else is going, an’ I don’t wanna stay in the office with Mr Tunney. He smells.’
Amy sighed. Cassie was right: Mr Tunney, the deputy head, did smell. Correction, he stank – of BO and halitosis.
‘I’m sorry,’ she said again. ‘I’d let you go if I could, but I’ve got to put credit on the electric and get a bit of shopping.’
‘Don’t be so tight.’ Marnie gave her friend a disapproving look. ‘It’s horrible being the odd one out when you’re a kid.’
‘Can I?’ Cassie’s face was a picture of hope. ‘Please, Mummy? Ruby will sit with Shandi if I don’t go, and they’ll make bestest friends and won’t play with me no more.’
‘Right, fine,’ Amy conceded, flashing Marnie a hooded look of annoyance as she yanked her handbag out from under the buggy. ‘But don’t bother asking for sweets for the rest of the week ’cos you won’t be getting any.’
As Cassie nodded her eager agreement, Amy opened her purse – and frowned when she saw the lone ten-pound note.
‘What’s up?’ Marnie asked when she started rifling through her bag.
‘I’ve lost a tenner.’
‘You probably spent it and forgot. I’m always doing that.’
‘No, it was definitely there last night. I bought the kids an ice cream on the way home from school yesterday, and there were two of them. And I didn’t go anywhere else after that.’
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