Fearing that she might become too comfortable and stay there for ever, Cheryl eased herself away from him after a while and reached for the kitchen roll to wipe her eyes. ‘Sorry, I didn’t mean to fall apart like that. Hope I haven’t ruined your dressing gown.’
‘It’ll dry,’ Joe said, going back to his seat. Waving his hand over Cheryl’s letters he said, ‘Know what I’d do with them? I’d ring them both and give them his name and her address. Sooner he realises you’ve stopped making things easy for him, the sooner he’ll have to sort himself out.’
‘Yeah, you’re right,’ Cheryl agreed, blowing her nose noisily. ‘No more Mrs Nice Girl. From now on I’m going to be the bitch queen of Ardwick.’
‘You couldn’t be a bitch if you tried,’ Joe laughed.
‘Trust me, I can,’ Cheryl told him. Glancing at the clock now, she sighed. ‘Time to go and pick the little monster up from the nursery. I’ll only be twenty minutes if you want to stay and make yourself another brew. But no peeking in my knicker drawer,’ she added with a cheeky grin.
‘What do you take me for?’ Joe gasped, giving her a mock-offended look, although he was glad that she’d recovered her humour so quickly.
‘A gay,’ she teased, going to the sink and splashing cold water over her eyes.
‘Don’t you start,’ Joe groaned. ‘I get enough of that shit off Carl, if you don’t mind.’
‘Shouldn’t be so nice, then, should you?’ Cheryl said as she used the tea towel to dry her face. ‘Subject of nice, Molly said to thank you for the card you sent in the other week. She was really chuffed.’
‘I forgot about that.’ Joe smiled. ‘How’s she doing?’
‘Okay,’ Cheryl told him, heading out into the hall. ‘But not as well as she should be, according to the nurse I had a word with the other day.’ Shrugging as she slipped her coat on, she said, ‘All I can think is that she’s either loving the attention too much to want to come home or she’s giving up. ’Cos they say old people do that, don’t they?’
‘Nah, she’s got way too much character for that,’ Joe said, opening the door and going out into the corridor.
‘Well, she’d best hurry up or she won’t have a cat by the time she gets out,’ Cheryl replied darkly, following him out and pulling the door shut. ‘I’m getting seriously tempted to throttle the little shit. Look at this.’ She thrust her arm out and pulled back her sleeve to show him a mess of scratches on her wrist.
‘Painful.’ Joe grimaced. Then, chuckling, he said, ‘Ever thought that might be why she’s staying put – ’cos she knows the moggie’ll be waiting for her when she gets home? She’s probably loving the break.’
‘Well, I’m not,’ Cheryl huffed. ‘Anyway, I’ll see you later. And thanks again for letting me drip all over your shoulder.’
‘My pleasure,’ Joe said, walking backwards to the stairwell. ‘And you just concentrate on yourself and Frankie from now on. Never mind Shay. Okay?’
‘Okay,’ Cheryl agreed.
Joe winked at her and went home.
He’d stayed with Cheryl a lot longer than he’d intended to, so he dropped his dressing gown and took a quick shower when he got in. He’d arranged to meet up with some old friends for a drink that evening and he had a few things to sort out beforehand, so he’d have to get a move on.
14
Chrissie had been feeling queasy for a couple of weeks. It came and went so she’d thought nothing of it, reckoning that it was probably just a mild stomach bug. But her mum had thought differently, and despite Chrissie telling her that she couldn’t possibly be pregnant she’d gone ahead and bought the test anyway. And, purely to prove her wrong, because Linda Scott was the infuriating kind of woman who always thought she was right, Chrissie had used it.
So now she was sitting here in her mum’s bathroom, gazing in disbelief at the little blue line glaring out at her from the window of the pissy little stick.
‘Well?’ Linda called, rattling the door handle impatiently. ‘Who was right? Me or you?’
The shock on Chrissie’s face when she opened the door was answer enough. But Linda resisted the urge to say, ‘Ha! Told you!’ even though that was what she was thinking.
‘So, are we pleased?’ she asked instead, testing the water. ‘Or should I be nipping down to the hardware shop for a coat hanger and a bottle of paraffin?’
‘Mum!’ Chrissie squawked, reflexively encircling her stomach with her arms. ‘Don’t be so horrible.’
‘So we are pleased, then?’ Linda gave her a questioning look. Flapping her hands when Chrissie just scowled back at her, she turned and went back down the stairs, muttering, ‘I give up. Let me know when I’m allowed to smile – or not. I’m only the grandma. Nothing important. No big deal.’
Chrissie closed her eyes and waited for her irritation to lessen before going after her mother. She found her in the kitchen looking for things to clean, which was what she always did when she was upset. Chrissie pulled out a chair and sat at the table.
‘Sorry, mum. Didn’t mean to snap at you. It’s me, not you.’
‘Tell me something I don’t know,’ Linda huffed, squeezing a dollop of Fairy Liquid into the washing-up bowl and turning on the hot tap. ‘I only wanted to know if I was supposed to congratulate you or not. I mean, it’s not like you’re fifteen and I’m supposed to be giving you a beating, or anything. You’re a grown woman.’
‘Yes, I know,’ Chrissie groaned, putting her elbows on the table and running her hands through her hair. ‘I just don’t know how I feel about it yet. It’s a shock.’
‘Mmm, well, I suppose it must be if you’ve been taking your pill like you reckon,’ Linda said, softening her tone. Of her four children Chrissie was the only girl, and their relationship had never been easy. Her own mum had always said that you couldn’t have two queens ruling one castle, and Linda had found out just how true that was when Chrissie had hit her teens. If Linda said the sky was blue, Chrissie would say it was red just to start an argument. But Linda still loved the silly bones of her and wanted the best for her.
‘What am I going to do?’ Chrissie asked now, sounding like the helpless child she’d never been.
Sighing, Linda reached for the tea towel. ‘What do you want to do?’ she asked as she wiped her hands and joined her daughter at the table.
‘Smoke myself stupid,’ Chrissie said, fingering the pack of Superkings her mum had left on the table. ‘But I’m not supposed to, am I?’
‘For God’s sake, you’ve only known for two minutes so what difference will it make?’ Linda said, reaching for the pack and taking a couple out. ‘Here, have one if you need it. Worry about the baby when you’ve decided if you’re keeping it or not. I’m presuming that’s what’s bothering you?’
Chrissie nodded and leaned forward to get a light.
‘So, what will Eddie say when you tell him?’ Linda asked, squinting through the smoke as she lit her own. ‘Will he want it?’
‘I’ve got absolutely no idea what Eddie wants,’ Chrissie admitted glumly. ‘I’ve hardly seen him lately. He’s always out. Working,’ she added quickly, realising that she’d come perilously close to giving her mum an excuse to launch into one of her I told you not to move in with him until he’d put a ring on your finger lectures. Like she was any kind of advertisement for marriage when she had not one but four failed ones behind her.
‘You’re going to have to tell him if you’re thinking of keeping it,’ Linda told her, pointing out the obvious. ‘But it’s probably best to say nothing until you know for sure. And if you decide you don’t want it, I’ll come to the clinic so you won’t be on your own. Okay?’
‘Okay.’ Forcing a smile, Chrissie nodded. ‘Thanks, mum.’
‘No need to thank me,’ Linda sniffed. ‘It’s all part of the job. How old are you now?’ she asked after a moment.
‘Mum!’ Chrissie spluttered, shocked all over again. ‘How can you not know how old your own child is? Don’t you feel ashamed having t
o ask?’
‘Not my fault I’ve got early-onset dementia.’
‘You have not got dementia. And I wish you’d stop saying it, ’cos one of these days someone’s going to believe it and have you put away.’
‘Maybe I have, maybe I haven’t.’ Linda shrugged. ‘But what I have got is a mental mother, two bitchy sisters, four kids, and three grandkids – and another on the way, depending what you end up doing. So you tell me how I’m supposed to remember every single birthday?’
‘We’re only talking about mine,’ Chrissie informed her. ‘Your only daughter – who happens to be twenty-six, for the record. Twenty-seven next month, and you’d best not use that lame excuse to try and get out of buying me a present. You got that?’
‘Loud and clear,’ Linda chuckled, seeing from Chrissie’s face that she wasn’t being serious. ‘Anyhow, I was only asking out of concern for my new grandson.’ She nodded towards Chrissie’s stomach. ‘You know there’s more risk of disabilities with babies of older mums, don’t you?’
‘That’s mums of your age, not mine,’ Chrissie corrected her. ‘And please don’t give it a sex when we don’t even know what it is. That’ll just make it harder if I decide to . . . you know.’
‘Fair enough.’ Linda held up her hands. ‘Consider the subject closed until you choose to reopen it. And now we’ve got that out of the way, why don’t you tell me about this work that’s keeping your Eddie from spending any time with you? Good pay, is it?’
‘Great,’ Chrissie said evasively, wanting to talk about Eddie even less than she wanted to talk about the baby. Changing the subject, she said, ‘So what’s our Steven’s new girlfriend like? Have you met her yet?’
‘Pftt,’ Linda snorted. ‘Don’t talk to me about that little madam. He brought her round the other day and she sat there like Lady Muck. Didn’t want a cup of tea, didn’t want to look through me catalogue . . . didn’t even want to stay for dinner, but he made her, ’cos you know how much he loves my steak and kidney. The face on her while she was eating, though. Well, I say eating, but it was more like watching a bird pecking.’ Trailing off, she shook her head. ‘Nah, she won’t last two minutes, her.’
‘I hope you didn’t say that to him?’ Chrissie asked, knowing how well that would have gone down with their Steven.
‘No point,’ Linda said, flicking her ash. ‘You know how stubborn he is. But he’ll find out for himself soon enough. Just like our Neil did. Remember that Gaynor he brought round that time? She was another one who looked down her nose at me the whole time she was here. But she got her marching orders fast enough, didn’t she?’
‘She finished with him,’ Chrissie pointed out.
‘Same difference.’ Linda shrugged. ‘At least your Eddie treats me with respect,’ she said now. ‘When I see him – which isn’t that often.’
‘Join the club,’ Chrissie muttered, stubbing her cigarette out and standing up.
‘You’re not going already, are you?’ Linda asked, a look of dismay coming into her eyes. ‘You’ve only been here an hour.’
‘I’ve got some things to do,’ Chrissie lied, pulling her coat on. She leaned down to kiss her mum and said, ‘I’ll see myself out.’
‘When are you coming round next?’ Linda asked, annoyed with herself for sounding so desperate. But she couldn’t help it. Much as they butted heads, she loved spending time with her daughter. And since Chrissie had moved in with Eddie last year she hadn’t seen anywhere near as much of her as she’d used to.
‘Not sure.’ Chrissie backed towards the door. ‘I’ll give you a ring.’
‘Don’t leave it too long,’ Linda said, looking pointedly at her daughter’s stomach. ‘You could be further on than you think, so you’ll need to move fast if you want rid.’
Chrissie left without answering and walked quickly to the taxi rank, pushing her hands into her coat pockets as she went and cupping the tiny swelling that she imagined she could feel there. It was unreal and too real all at the same time, and she didn’t know how she was supposed to make such a massive decision on her own about whether or not to keep it. It was Eddie’s responsibility as much as it was hers, but she knew exactly how he’d react when – if – she told him. He’d say it was her fault; that she was the one who was supposed to be taking the pill, so she should have made sure that she didn’t slip up. And he’d be right – if she had slipped up. Trouble was, she was positive that she hadn’t. Only she must have, or she wouldn’t be in this position.
Eddie was out when she got home twenty minutes later, but he’d left the dog behind and it slunk out of the kitchen when it heard her coming in and gave her a baleful look. Usually she’d have told it to piss off, or at least given it a dirty look to let it know to stay away from her. But today she squatted down and called it to her.
‘It’s not your fault, is it?’ she said, stroking its scarred ears as it pressed itself up against her like an unwanted child craving affection. ‘You’re just lonely, aren’t you, fella? ’Cos your master’s not paying you enough attention. Not nice, is it?’
The dog looked up at her as she spoke, pitiful adoration in its pink-rimmed eyes. Feeling a little tug in her heart when it licked her hand, Chrissie got up and went into the kitchen. Sighing when she saw the pile of shit in the corner, she said, ‘Come on, let’s get you some dinner.’
She cleaned the mess up while it ate and then made herself a cup of tea and carried it through to the bedroom. She stripped down to her bra and knickers, stood in front of the dressing-table mirror and scrutinished her stomach from every angle. She’d been wanting to do this ever since she’d left her mum’s, desperate to see if there were any visible changes to her body.
The dog trotted in a few minutes later and sat down to watch her. ‘Can you see it?’ Chrissie asked. Smiling when it waggled its tail stump, she said, ‘I take it that’s a no? Well, good. If you can’t see it, neither will he.’
15
Joe was exhausted by the time he got home that night. It had been great to see his old friends again, but they’d had so much to tell him about what had been happening in his absence that he felt as if his ears had been chewed off, so the last thing he wanted or needed now was company. But not five minutes after he’d made himself a cup of tea and flopped down in his chair to watch a bit of mindless TV – with the volume low so as not to spark Kettler off again – Carl came round with a couple of four-packs of beer and a bag of weed, reminding Joe that they were supposed to be watching the City v Chelsea match together – and scolding him for being late and making him miss the kick-off.
Just about resigned to having to endure that, Joe’s mood dipped when Damien called round soon after. He’d gone to Carl’s looking for a score and had been redirected here by Mel. When he too made himself comfortable after getting what he wanted, Joe was on the verge of feigning a migraine and asking them to go and watch the match somewhere else when three more of Carl’s customers turned up.
Football chants and obscenities were soon bouncing off the walls as they all got sucked into the match, and the air was so thick with smoke as the spliffs flew round that Joe was surprised they could see the screen. But the noise didn’t end when the match did, because they were all buzzing by then and in no rush to move the party on.
By half-eleven Joe’s head was banging for real, so he escaped into the kitchen. Sure that none of the guys had even noticed that he’d gone, he made himself a coffee and took a couple of paracetamol before wandering out onto the tiny balcony.
This was his favourite view from the flat, especially at night when lights were twinkling all across the city, punctuated by the silhouettes of skyscrapers and ghostly-looking industrial cranes. As the cool air cleared the stuffiness from Joe’s head and eased the tension in his shoulders, he was seriously contemplating getting his quilt and settling down out here for the night when he heard the sound of the door clanging shut below. Glancing over the balcony in time to see the four girls from the floor above hurrying down the pat
h in their peculiar little huddle, he tried to pick out the girl he’d spoken to last night. But they all looked the same from behind. Same short skirts, boots, and hoodies; same skinny legs and barely-there hips. And same general air of misery causing their thin shoulders to hunch around their hooded ears.
As Joe watched them leave the estate, he once again found himself wondering how one man could exert so much control over them that they would continue to do what they blatantly didn’t want to be doing. From everything he’d heard about enforced prostitution, most of the women were unable to get away because they were either imprisoned in a physical sense or by their addictions to whatever drugs their pimps had forced them onto. But the girl he’d spoken to hadn’t shown any signs of being on drugs. And they were free right now, in as much as they were walking around on the outside without Eddie watching over them. So why didn’t they just keep on going while they had the chance? It didn’t make sense.
‘There you are,’ Carl said just then, yanking the door open and peering out at Joe. ‘I’ve been looking everywhere for you. What you doing out here?’
‘Headache,’ Joe said, rubbing at his forehead. ‘Just needed a bit of fresh air.’
‘You mean you’d had enough of the noise?’
‘Well, yeah, kind of.’
‘So why didn’t you just tell them to piss off?’ Carl said, rolling his eyes. ‘What are you like?’
‘Didn’t want to break up the party.’ Joe shrugged. ‘Don’t worry about me. You go back to your mates.’
‘Nah, not without you,’ Carl said loyally. ‘Come back in. I’ll tell them to keep the noise down.’
‘Actually, I was just thinking about nipping out,’ Joe said, glancing at his watch. ‘I was supposed to see someone earlier on but I forgot. He should still be up, though, so I might call in on him for half an hour.’
The Driver Page 14
