THE MANCHESTER TRILOGY
Born Bad
Blood Ties
Vendetta
THE RIVERHILL TRILOGY
Slur
A Gangster’s Grip
Danger by Association
THE WORKING GIRLS SERIES
The Mark
Ruby
Crystal
RUBY
Heather Burnside
AN IMPRINT OF HEAD OF ZEUS
www.ariafiction.com
First published in the United Kingdom in 2019 by Aria, an imprint of Head of Zeus Ltd
Copyright © Heather Burnside, 2019
The moral right of Heather Burnside to be identified as the author of this work has been asserted in accordance with the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act of 1988.
All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise, without the prior permission of both the copyright owner and the above publisher of this book.
This is a work of fiction. All characters, organizations, and events portrayed in this novel are either products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously.
A CIP catalogue record for this book is available from the British Library.
ISBN 9781789542080
Cover Design © Heike Schüssler
Aria
c/o Head of Zeus
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www.ariafiction.com
Contents
Welcome Page
Copyright
Dedication
Prologue: July 2011
Chapter 1: August 1991
Chapter 2: August 1991
Chapter 3: August 1991
Chapter 4: September 1991
Chapter 5: February 2005
Chapter 6: February 2005
Chapter 7: October 1991
Chapter 8: December 1991
Chapter 9: December 1991
Chapter 10: October 2006
Chapter 11: November 2006
Chapter 12: December 1991
Chapter 13: February 1992
Chapter 14: February 1992
Chapter 15: April 1992
Chapter 16: November 2006
Chapter 17: May 2007
Chapter 18: May 2007
Chapter 19: September 1993
Chapter 20: August 1994
Chapter 21: August 1996
Chapter 22: June 2007
Chapter 23: June 2007
Chapter 24: December 1996
Chapter 25: September 1997
Chapter 26: April 1998
Chapter 27: April 1998
Chapter 28: April–May 1998
Chapter 29: July 2007
Chapter 30: September 2007
Chapter 31: September 2007
Chapter 32: May 1998
Chapter 33: May 1998
Chapter 34: June 1998
Chapter 35: June 1998
Chapter 36: July 1998
Chapter 37: November 2007
Chapter 38: March 2008
Chapter 39: August 2008
Chapter 40: August 1998
Chapter 41: August 1998
Chapter 42: October 1998
Chapter 43: December 1998
Chapter 44: January 2009
Chapter 45: April 2011
Chapter 46: April 2011
Chapter 47: April 2011
Chapter 48: June 2011
Chapter 49: June 2011
Chapter 50: June 2011
Chapter 51: July 2011
Chapter 52: July 2011
Chapter 53: July 2011
Chapter 54: July 2011
Chapter 55: July 2011
Chapter 56: July 2011
Chapter 57: July 2011
Chapter 58: August 2011
Chapter 59: August 2011
Chapter 60: August 2011
Chapter 61: August 2011
Acknowledgements
About Heather Burnside
Become an Aria Addict
For Dave
Prologue
July 2011
Kyle was soon standing at the reception desk ready for his pre-arranged meeting with Ruby. As she looked at him, she felt a tug of repulsion. There was no way she could go through with this, and the meeting with her cousins had given her the courage to put him off even though she was still fearful of his reaction.
‘I’m not doing it,’ said Ruby.
‘You what?’ he asked, glaring at her.
‘I can’t. I thought I could, but I can’t.’
‘What the fuck’s wrong with you? You’re not some innocent fuckin’ virgin, y’know. I know for a fact you’ve had plenty of customers in the past; I’ve been asking around. And now, just cos you’re the fuckin’ madam, you think you’re too good for the customers.’
Ruby could feel her heart racing and her hands were sweating as she saw the look of fury on his face, but she tried to keep her voice even. ‘It’s up to me whether I take customers or not, so if I say I don’t want to do it then I won’t do it.’
Kyle swiped angrily at her, catching the attention of two of her girls and a customer who were in the waiting area, but she dodged away quickly. He then leaned over the reception counter, his head poking forward.
‘If it wasn’t for the fact that that lot might call the cops, I’d drag you into one of those fuckin’ rooms now!’ he threatened. ‘I’m having no fuckin’ tart thinking she’s too good for me. You’re lucky to get a decent looking bloke after some of the fuckin’ weirdos you’re used to shaggin’ so you’d better have a rethink and fuckin’ quick if you know what’s good for you. I’ll be in touch.’
Then he was gone and Ruby felt her shoulders slump in relief. She saw one of the girls in the waiting area look across at her but she quickly raised her hand palm outwards to stop her coming over. ‘It’s OK,’ she said. ‘Just a troublesome customer, nothing to worry about.’
Ruby looked down at her computer screen, refusing to maintain eye contact with the girl. She’d tried her best to play it down, but was worried that if her staff saw the fearful expression on her face they would realise the threat that Kyle really posed.
1
August 1991
Nine-year-old Trina was helping her mother, Daisy, with the housework. As they worked, they both sang along to Tracy Chapman while two of Trina’s younger brothers were playing noisily, drowning out the sound of the stereo.
‘Shut up your noise!’ shouted Daisy, her Jamaican accent still pronounced after more than twenty years in the UK. ‘I can’t hear meself think.’
The two boys stopped their play-fighting, looked at each other and giggled.
‘Get up the stairs,’ said Daisy, clicking her tongue in annoyance.
‘No, we want to play out,’ said Ellis, the older of the two boys.
‘Go on, and take Tyler with you,’ said Daisy.
Trina looked across at her youngest brother, Tyler, quietly playing with his battered toy cars in a corner of the room. He was so different from the other two, Ellis and Jarell, who could be such a handful.
‘Go on, hurry up,’ said Daisy. ‘Let me get me work done.’
Trina put down the duster she was using and walked over to Tyler, ready to take him by the hand.
‘No! Not you, Trina,’ said her mother. ‘I need your help.’
‘But who’s gonna look after him?’ asked Trina.
‘Them two can,’ said Daisy.
Catching the expression on her mother’s face, Trina knew she wasn’t in the mood for arguments. She picked her duster back up and carried on with what she was doing, despite her qualms about the
ability of Ellis and Jarell to look after Tyler, who was only three.
Usually the responsibility fell on Trina to look out for her three younger brothers – Ellis, aged seven, six-year-old Jarell, and Tyler – when her mother was busy cooking, shopping or washing. But today was cleaning day and Daisy often asked Trina for help. It seemed to Trina that her mother was overwhelmed with the amount of work involved in looking after a three-bedroomed house and four children. Nevertheless, she undertook her tasks every Saturday without failure, not happy till every surface was dusted, hoovered and cleaned.
Daisy was a respectable woman who took pride in having a clean home. Despite her status as a single parent on benefits, she did her best to maintain her high standards and set a good example to her children. She was an attractive woman in her thirties, of average height and with a womanly figure. Trina took after her mother in looks, but not in height for she was very tall for her age, something she had gained from her absent father.
Trina looked up from her dusting as the boys dashed excitedly to the front door. She was envious of them. It didn’t seem fair that she should have to stay and help her mother while the boys got to play outside. But that’s the way it was and she had long ago come to accept her status as the oldest child. Not only was she the oldest but she was also a girl, which made a difference as far as her mother was concerned. Girls helped with the housework; boys did not.
‘And keep a tight hold on him!’ Daisy shouted to her two eldest boys as they fled out through the front door.
They were no sooner outside than there was a knock on the door. Daisy clicked her tongue again.
‘What on earth’s the matter!’ she called, trying to ignore it.
There was a second knock. Trina said, ‘I’ll get it, Mam,’ happy to put down her duster again.
But before she got the chance, they heard a man’s voice outside. ‘Daisy! I know you’re in there so answer the door,’ he shouted.
Trina continued making her way towards the front door till she felt her mother’s sharp pull on her shoulder.
‘No,’ she whispered. ‘Get behind the curtain. Don’t let him see you or there’ll be hell to pay.’
Alarmed, Trina quickly took her place with her mother, standing to one side of the open curtains so they couldn’t be seen through the window. Daisy was busy peering through a gap at the edge of the curtains. A shadow fell across the window and the man’s voice came closer.
‘Open the door, Daisy! I know you’re in there. I’ve just seen the children leave,’ shouted the man.
A look of concern flashed across Trina’s face as she picked up on the grave tone of the man’s voice.
‘I think it’s Mr Dodds. Shouldn’t we let him in, Mam?’ she whispered.
‘Shush,’ said Daisy, adding a stern, ‘No! The man can wait.’
Something about Mr Dodds’ tone and her mother’s gruff manner set Trina on edge. As they waited for him to go away, Trina could feel her heart beating so rapidly that she thought it would burst through her chest.
‘He’s gone,’ Daisy finally announced, releasing her grip on the curtain and striding away from the window. ‘Thank the Lord for that,’ she added, stopping to touch herself in the sign of the cross.
For a few moments the sound of the hoover drowned out all other noise so it wasn’t until Mr Dodds stepped into their living room and sidled up to Daisy that she saw him. Trina noticed her mother’s startled reaction when she caught sight of his tall, lean frame hovering over her.
‘What on earth are you doing in here?’ she demanded, switching off the hoover.
‘You forgot to lock your back door,’ he said, a self-satisfied smirk playing across his thin lips. ‘So now I’ll have the rent I’ve come for.’
Trina continued with the dusting, her body half turned towards her mother and Mr Dodds as she watched what was happening. She hated Mr Dodds. He was creepy with his lopsided features and the dirty, unwashed smell that came off him. She often saw him calling at other houses in the area, wearing one of the two creased and greasy suits that he rotated each week.
Trina noticed the way her mother nervously patted down her already tidy hair and shuffled uncomfortably from one foot to the other. ‘I haven’t got it,’ she mumbled.
‘I beg your pardon?’ Mr Dodds shouted so loud that Trina turned fully round, dropping the can of bargain-brand spray polish that she had been holding. As she bent to retrieve it, she heard her mother repeat herself.
‘I said I haven’t got it. Not this month. The kids needed new clothes.’
‘Well I’m afraid that’s not good enough,’ said Mr Dodds, adopting a frown and pursed lips, full of self-righteous indignation. ‘You shouldn’t be spending the rent money on clothes or anything else.’
‘I couldn’t let them go without,’ said Daisy.
Mr Dodds sidled even closer to Daisy and Trina saw her mother recoil as she caught a whiff of his malodorous breath. Then he hissed into her ear, but Trina couldn’t quite catch all the words. Something about, ‘other ways to pay’.
‘Not over my dead body!’ yelled Daisy, backing away from him. ‘How dare you suggest such a thing! And in front of the child as well. Now, get out of me house before I do some damage.’
She lifted the metal piping of the hoover and held it menacingly towards Mr Dodds who squirmed.
‘Very well,’ he said. ‘But don’t think this is the end of it. You owe me two months now and I’ll see to it that I get it, whatever it takes. By the time I’ve finished with you, you’ll be begging me to take you in payment.’
‘I’ll rot in hell first!’ shouted Daisy, waving the hoover at him till he dashed from the house.
Trina knew what was coming next. It was time for one of her mother’s rants. Mr Dodds had got Daisy’s hackles up, and it would be a while before she calmed down. She switched the hoover back on, sweeping it angrily along the carpets as she let out a stream of invective.
‘How dare he! What does he think I am? Damn him and all men like him. He should go to hell for saying such a thing. Him and all his kind. And look how he’s got me cursing… Damn you, Isaac, for leaving me in this state. Shaming me good name, and hardly a penny to spare. Dirty, good-for-nothing man. I should have known better than to marry you. Me mother warned me, but I wouldn’t listen.’
She clicked her tongue in that familiar way of hers when she was displeased or angry about something. ‘Young and foolish, that’s what I was. But I’m paying the price now.’
On and on went her diatribe. Trina had known that it would inevitably lead back to her father. It always did. It was rare that Daisy had a good word to say about him. Trina wasn’t surprised; her recollections of her father weren’t good ones, but it didn’t help to be constantly reminded of his failings. Still, she knew better than to say anything while her mother was in full flow.
Trina was glad when she’d finished her chores. She managed to get out of the house on the pretext of looking after Tyler, knowing that her mother didn’t fully trust her other two brothers to take care of him. She quickly slipped out of the front door and found her youngest brother alone, running one of two wrecked toy cars up and down a dirt pile on the unadopted path at the end of their street. Her other two brothers were nowhere to be seen.
‘Come on, Tyler,’ she said, holding out her hand to him. ‘You can’t play there.’ Tyler paused in his play and looked up at her. His bottom lip stuck out and Trina could tell he was about to cry but she stopped him. ‘Look, your cars are getting dirty. You can play up there on the pavement.’
Then she took him by the hand, picked up his cars and headed towards a group of girls who she had seen at the other end of the dirt path. Tyler began to whine.
‘You can have them in a bit, once we’re off the path,’ said Trina, squeezing his hand to make sure he’d got the message.
She pulled him forcefully along, ignoring his squeals till they reached the other end of the path. Then she set the cars down on the pavement. ‘Now play th
ere, and shut it!’ she ordered, drawing the attention of the girls who were huddled in a group.
Tyler went quiet, staring at her with big, sad eyes before he knelt down on the pavement and carried on playing. Trina looked across at the girls; her so-called friends. They had been deep in conversation until Trina came along, but now they were silent.
Jessica and Laura were a similar age to Trina but Trina was a head taller. Holly was also shorter than Trina and was a year younger. Out of the three girls, Jessica was the most outspoken and, as Trina approached them, she greeted her obsequiously.
‘Hi, Trina,’ she said, but Trina wasn’t fooled. She knew the greeting was disingenuous. The other two girls followed Jessica’s lead, competing to see who could be the most ingratiating.
Trina responded with characteristic hostility. ‘How come you didn’t call for me?’ she asked, with a sneer on her face.
Jessica and Laura both answered at once, eager not to upset Trina, but their answers differed. ‘Ellis and Jarrell said you were busy,’ offered Jessica, while Laura said, ‘We were just coming.’
‘Liars!’ said Trina, scowling at the girls. ‘No way were you coming to my house, Laura, and I’m gonna ask my brothers about you, Jessica.’ She switched her glare from Laura to Jessica. ‘If they say they haven’t told you owt, then you’ll be for it.’
Jessica flushed before lowering her head and for a moment all the girls stood in silence, Trina basking in their discomfort. Then she asked Laura, ‘What’ve you got?’
Laura eagerly passed her the magazine she had been holding.
‘There’s a picture of New Kids on the Block inside,’ she said. ‘Do you want it?’
‘I thought you were putting it on your bedroom wall?’ said Jessica.
‘No, it’s OK. Trina can have it. I’ll get another,’ said Laura.
Trina flicked through the magazine while Jessica chatted to the other two girls about her latest ballet class. Then she found the poster she had been looking for. Taking care not to damage it, she removed it, but left the rest of the magazine ripped and incomplete before passing it back to Laura. Then she turned to Jessica.
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