‘Where’s Kai?’
‘Sleeping,’ Carly shrugged, ‘he’ll probably be up soon if you want to bring him downstairs.’ She turned her attention back to the television, and Chelsea thought, not for the first time, that if you didn’t really like children, you should be brave enough not to have them.
The door burst open, and in came Jez, shouting out, ‘Where’s my Petal? Is she home yet?’
Chelsea got up to give her stepdad a hug, which was difficult as he was laden down with plastic bags.
‘Give us a hand, birthday boy,’ he said, handing the bags to Jermaine, ‘chicken and chips for everyone!’
Jay punched the air in success, ‘Yes!’ and took them into the kitchen.
Jez was in his late fifties, and still insisted on wearing a flat cap and polo shirts. He had the air of Del Boy about him, but Chelsea knew he could be menacing when he needed to be.
Jez was king of the estate. He kept the order. He was fair, and looked after the little guy, but you lied to him and he’d break your legs. Or rather, he’d get one of the goons he employed to break your legs.
‘Look at you, lovely lady! All grown up!’ His watery blue eyes took her in. ‘You look sophisticated! Carly, doesn’t she look smart?’
Her mother looked at him, and softened. Her mother always looked prettier in love. That permanent scowl that left sharp little lines on her young face melted, and she smiled at him like he was her saviour. Which, Chelsea supposed, he was. Sometimes watching her mum look at Jez was the only time she liked her, or could remember what she looked like without the weight of a surly anger, of a sense of unfairness. They’d never figured out how to speak to each other. Chelsea had done everything a kid could to make her family proud, and each time she achieved something, it was like Carly took it as a knife in the back, a two-fingers ‘fuck you’ to her way of life.
‘She’s looking good,’ Carly nodded at her partner, smiling at him, but not meeting Chelsea’s eyes. It was times like those, she thought, she could live to a hundred and never understand her mum. She focused on her stepdad instead, a much more straightforward specimen.
‘Looking good yourself, Jez. Keeping off the red meat?’
He held up a hand. ‘Nothing but bacon on Sundays, and a steak on my birthday. I’m feeling ten years younger, darlin’!’
They sat down with their food on trays in front of EastEnders, and as long as her mum was quiet and Jermaine smiled, everything was fine. Kai was cuddled into her side, constantly reaching for her food, and she nuzzled his head. It was like home on a good day.
Tyler stormed in through the front door.
‘Where the fuck have you been?’ Carly yelled as he thundered up the stairs.
‘Out!’
‘Come down and see your sister.’
Jez made it sound like a request, but even Tyler knew an order when he heard one. She heard the slow steady clump back down the stairs.
‘All right, your highness?’ Tyler threw himself onto a chair in the corner, stuffing a few chips into his mouth.
‘Look what Chelsea got me!’ Jay lifted his feet in the air, and Tyler looked, turned to his sister, and then looked back at the trainers.
‘You gonna get me some for my birthday, sis? Or do I not matter any more?’
‘I got you a games console last year, you selfish git.’
‘He doesn’t have it any more,’ Jay supplied helpfully.
‘Let me guess.’ She looked at him. ‘You were bragging and one of your mates decided they wanted it.’
‘You can talk about bragging,’ Ty said uncomfortably, ‘fuck this for a laugh.’
He bounced upstairs, and Chelsea shook her head as Jez went to follow him. ‘Don’t worry about it.’
He paused, then sat back down. ‘So, Chelsea. Tell us all about life in London! You still seeing that fella, Chris?’
‘Kit, yeah,’ she smiled softly, ‘he’s really nice.’
‘And he can look after you?’ Jez assumed a fatherly pose, arms crossed, head tilted to the side. Chelsea watched with interest as her mum shuffled in her seat, pretending to be watching the TV. The sad thing was, Jez was actually asking out of concern for her. She knew that was not her mum’s intention.
‘I can look after myself,’ Chelsea shrugged.
‘But he’s loaded,’ Carly said, a question in her tone, eyes not moving from the screen.
‘He does all right. He works hard.’
Jez nodded magnanimously. ‘He sounds like a good lad.’
‘He popped the question?’ Carly was focused on her fully this time, her dull grey eyes small and mean. Chelsea didn’t like the feeling in her stomach when her mother paid attention to her. It was like she’d suddenly woken up covered in gold and her mum was wondering how much she could get if she chopped off an arm.
‘Nope. We’re not in that place,’ Chelsea shrugged.
‘It’s been a few years, hasn’t it?’ Jez said gently. ‘You don’t think he’s the one?’
‘It’s not –’
‘She’s too good for marriage,’ Carly shrugged, ‘she wouldn’t do something so bloody normal, would she?’
Chelsea frowned at her mum. ‘You’re so into the idea, you two get on and get married.’
Jez chuckled. ‘We’re common law married at this point, love.’ He looked across at Carly, that light grin playing around his mouth. ‘Once you reach your twenty-fifth fight about the laundry basket being too full, it’s the same as being married five years, so they say!’
He wheezed a little and Carly looked at him in concern before allowing her square gaze to settle on her daughter, goading her. ‘Get knocked up. Or tell him you’re knocked up. That’ll hurry him along.’
‘Never worked for you,’ Chelsea said, her lips a thin line.
Carly said nothing, lit up a cigarette and exhaled loudly. Jez paused briefly, then laughed, shaking his head.
‘How about it, love, then? Shall we get hitched to make Chelsea here happy?’
Carly rolled her eyes, but quirked a lip. ‘Quiet, you, the telly’s on.’
Chelsea looked down at Kai sitting on her lap, burbling away, and she stared at her mother, the ash from her cigarette tapped onto a small dish resting on the arm of the chair. Chelsea cleared her throat and rolled her eyes. Getting no response, she heaved her youngest brother onto her hip, and stood to open the window.
‘It’s cold, don’t open that!’
Chelsea felt herself regress instantly. ‘He’s got fucking asthma, Mum! You call yourself a parent?’
Carly glared at her, hackles raised. ‘Only out of necessity.’ She turned back to the screen, and Chelsea stood frozen, her baby brother in her arms.
‘When can we meet your boyfriend?’ Jermaine sang the word, teasing her. He’d always aimed to lighten the mood, even as a little kid he’d run around and dance and sing to stop them fighting. Chelsea smiled at him, wanting to say he could come to London, that he could stay with her and meet Kit then. Maybe he could stay over the summer and –
‘You’re not.’
Carly’s voice was cruel with laughter as she looked at Jermaine, explaining loudly and simply, ‘You see, baby, your sister’s ashamed of us. She don’t want her posh boyfriend seeing her chavvy family. She’s too good for us now.’
Jermaine frowned, looking to Chelsea for confirmation. She shook her head and twirled her fingertips at her temple, mouthing ‘crazy’. He half-smiled, but she felt like he was looking at her with new eyes.
‘How about some birthday cake?’ Chelsea stood, handing Kai over to Jez. ‘I’ll see if Ty wants some.’
She pounded up the stairs, knocking three times on the door, then pausing before another two quick taps. Their secret code as kids. She heard a brief grumble in response and slowly opened the door. The site was a tip as usual, but she focused on Tyler, leaning out of the window with a cigarette.
‘Gimme one of them, will you?’ She waded through the room to jostle beside him at the windowsill. He p
roduced the pack wordlessly, lighter inside the packet.
‘So…how’s things?’ Chelsea breathed out a smoke circle, a skill she’d perfected at sixteen and never lost. She only smoked at home now.
‘Same as always, fucking shit.’
‘I know.’
He pursed his lips, breathing out against the cool air and she simply looked at her brother. He was seventeen. There’d been a big enough age gap between them as kids but she’d always been his confidante. And then she left.
He’d been a good-looking kid, Tyler, never really smiled but he had that cheeky way about him. Now his skin was bad, his fingernails were yellow and he seemed to glare from hollow eye sockets.
‘How’s work? Thought any more about college?’
He gave her a blank look. ‘Don’t start that bullshit again. I know your life is so fucking wonderful, but I’m not going to study.’
‘Okay,’ she shrugged, ‘but what about an apprenticeship or something?’
He was weakening a little, she could tell, that same way of shifting his weight from side to side when he wanted a hug or a word of encouragement, but didn’t want to explain himself or seem weak. Some things didn’t change. She nudged his shoulder gently.
‘There’s a ’pprenticeship goin’ at the garage. My old teacher, McKinnon, he always liked me, it’s his brother’s place. Said he’d put in a good word for me but I gotta pass a maths test.’
‘Can you do it?’
Tyler huffed, shrugging half-heartedly.
‘Is it that it’s too difficult, or you’re letting your dickhead mates fuck with your future?’
Tyler scowled at her. ‘They’re my mates! We spent years in school. It’s crap and pointless.’
‘As pointless as working in the chippy for the rest of your life?’
‘You’re a broken fucking record, Jesus!’
Chelsea took a deep breath to give herself the patience to proceed. She knew she’d have to go carefully.
‘Babe, it’s the only way. What else you gonna do? Sell a bit of weed on the side and get nicked, like everyone else?’ She tried to stop herself rambling. ‘An apprenticeship could set you up! You’d be qualified, you could always learn more and specialise – work on Ferraris one day or something! Can you imagine?’
Tyler looked at her with a strange mixture of exasperation and affection. ‘You’re such a bloody dreamer. I think it’d be nice to work down at the garage and you start going on about Ferraris. Have you ever seen a fucking Ferrari drive into Mike’s garage?’
‘If it did, it’d come out in parts,’ she laughed, and watched as his lips tilted up briefly.
‘So pass the test, what’s the problem?’
‘Mum says it don’t pay enough. Starting salary’s less than the chippy.’
Chelsea growled a little, stubbing out the fag on the windowsill and turning to her little brother. ‘Tell her you spoke to a careers person at the youth centre and he’s found a way to get you more money for working there, a subsidy or a grant or something,’ she exhaled. ‘I’ll pay the difference into your account.’
Tyler looked at her, surprised and wary.
‘That’s not money for you to go boozing. It’s so you can get ahead and Mum can’t stop you. And don’t you fucking breathe a word to her.’
‘But Chels—’
‘You pass the test, you get on the programme, and I’ll even out the money. But you drop out and you don’t bother, I’m not helping you with shit. Got it?’
He nodded sombrely and she caught his eye, holding out her hand.
‘Deal?’
Tyler nodded and shook her hand. She took the chance to pull him in for a hug.
‘Good choice, dickhead. Now come downstairs for some birthday cake before I kill Mum.’
Tyler went to follow her, then paused. ‘Chels, you know Dad’s been asking about you. They think he’ll be out soon.’
‘And then he’ll do something stupid and be back in again,’ Chelsea shrugged, ‘what’s the point?’
‘I dunno, he’s family?’
She looked at her younger brother. ‘Is it important to you that I see him?’
Ty shrugged, looking outraged at the question. ‘I don’t care, do what you want.’
‘I’ll think about it.’
The rest of the afternoon passed easily enough into the evening with Jermaine chattering away about his birthday wishes, and Kai playing with Chelsea on the floor. When the time came to go, Tyler offered to walk her to the train station. Carly didn’t do much beyond what she normally did, which was hand Chelsea any post with her name on, mostly pointless advertising that she would bin when she got home, and stand stonily, like she’d been called to attention, part of a parade that Jez had ordered. The only thing that comforted Chelsea about it all was that she imagined her mother did exactly the same thing she did as soon as she left, take a long, deep breath, close her eyes, and be relieved it was over for another few months.
She walked in step with Tyler, her strut softening to match his slow, lazy strides.
They didn’t talk – it seemed pointless trying to catch up on lives that barely made sense to the other. They just walked next to each other, happy enough in the silence. Every now and then she noticed that Tyler looked at her like she was from a different world, one that didn’t know anything about who he really was, or how they lived. She was an impostor. But the truth was, Chelsea had always existed in a different world, even when she was stuck on that estate in Badgeley.
Chapter Two
She called Kit on the train back, and hearing the warmth in his voice as he insisted he’d meet her at the station was a balm.
‘I don’t know, I’m exhausted,’ she sighed, ‘I was just going to walk home from the station.’
‘I’ll get you! Come on, even if it’s just the five minute drive home, I want to see you.’
She’d relented, as she often did in the face of Kit’s enthusiasm. Most days, when she was her best, most Chelsea self, she’d match him quip for quip, egging on his excitement with ideas for new adventures.
Occasionally, when he’d been working on a horrible case that seemed to draw the life out of him, he’d become quiet and soft, and she’d be the one in control, the one caring for him and suggesting things to do. Often, she was relieved at the downtime. Life with Kit was a hundred miles an hour.
Chelsea stumbled out of Kentish Town Station and a car flashed its lights further down. Inside, Kit waved, a huge grin on his face. Chelsea got in the car and looked at him, this kind, gorgeous man who for some strange reason had picked her. Kit was tall, his blond hair shorter now that he was at a big office unlike the unruly mop he had when they first met. His skin was pale, but tanned instantly, his eyes an alarming blue that always looked kind. He had that adorable sloppy look, she noticed, like he’d relaxed for the night. She loved that most, when he took off the expensive suit and left the fancy education at the door so they could curl up in comfy clothes on the sofa to watch a stupid movie. His shirt sleeves were rolled up, his collar unbuttoned, and she had never seen something that looked so much like home.
‘Hello, gorgeous.’ He reached for her, capturing her lips briefly. ‘I missed you.’
‘It’s only been a couple of days, you soppy git.’ She grinned as he pulled out into the road. Chelsea paused, feeling like somehow she had to readjust her language to her life.
‘Soppy git indeed,’ he laughed, nodding. ‘I like that. It’s been a long couple of days. I haven’t even seen you since you got the promotion – congratulations, Miss Big Executive.’
‘Why thank you,’ she said, twisting her wrist in a royal impression, ‘and they rewarded me for all my hard work by making me take time off after getting a bigger workload – it’s nuts!’
Kit raised an eyebrow and pursed his lips as he tried to stop the smile on his face.
‘Baby, do you think maybe that’s because you refuse to take your holiday and the accounts team are getting pissed with you?’<
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‘But still!’ Chelsea huffed. ‘Making me take three weeks in one go! I’m going to be so behind!’
‘You’re probably already ahead into next year, knowing you.’ Kit shook his head, indicating. ‘Want to get some stuff from yours and come to mine?’
Chelsea shrugged. ‘I’ve got some stuff at yours, it’s not like I’ve got to be anywhere tomorrow.’
Kit paused. ‘Yes, unless your charming, exciting, alluring boyfriend missed you so much that he booked a surprise trip for the both of us. Well, a surprise for you, obviously I know about it.’
Chelsea blinked. ‘You managed to get time off?’
‘I spoke to your assistant, who confirmed you had to take your holiday, so I booked three weeks for me too. Charlie can cover me, it’ll be fine.’
‘And you’ve booked something?’ Chelsea wasn’t sure whether to be impressed or exhausted. She’d been quite looking forward to a few days of doing nothing.
‘I booked a short trip with the option for further stuff. It’s all very relaxed though,’ Kit explained, placing a hand on her knee as he parked outside her flat. ‘I thought you’d want to relax, but I know you wouldn’t last longer than two days before climbing the walls.’
Chelsea grinned. ‘I love you.’
Kit’s face lit up. ‘So go pack some clothes.’
‘I’m assuming I’m not going to be told where we’re going?’
‘Pack…light layers? Pretty stuff for evenings. Shoes that can walk on cobblestones. And a swimsuit.’
‘City break meets summer holiday?’
Kit blinked. ‘It’s warmer than here, but you might want a jacket or scarf or something for the evenings. And I’m not saying anything else.’
‘You know I hate being out of control.’ She rolled her eyes, opening the car door.
‘And you know I’ll make it worth it.’
The man was not wrong. His surprises, whilst they tended to mess with Chelsea’s natural need to be in charge, were always flamboyant and unusual. The problem was, she often felt that they were too much, that she didn’t deserve them. Like the private booth on the boat for Valentine’s Day, the weekend away in that castle for her birthday, the extravagant Tiffany box at Christmas. Kit did nothing by halves, but it was at least a comfort that he also seemed to enjoy the simpler things in life too. The pint in a Wetherspoons, the McDonald’s on the way home from some posh work function where they’d both drunk too much and eaten too little. He responded to each of these experiences as if they were adventures, something exciting and unusual. And from what she’d heard of his childhood, they were.
Nice Day For a White Wedding Page 2
