Amazed that she had initiated a conversation, Anton couldn’t help but smile as he said, ‘Need to do some more cleaning first. Still smells a bit, and I won’t be able to forget she died in there till I’ve got rid of it. It’s freaking me out a bit, to be honest.’
‘I can imagine.’ Chantelle pulled her own door shut.
‘Best get on,’ Anton said now, pushing his door open and reaching for the mop and bucket. ‘See you.’
Chantelle said, ‘Bye’ and watched as he went inside. She was surprised he was still talking to her, given how snotty and offhand she’d been with him, and she thought he was actually quite nice. But then, with his past record with girls, he must have perfected the art of being charming by now, so she was probably wrong.
‘Hey, birthday girl, where d’you think you’re going?’
Chantelle turned on her heel when she heard Immy’s voice, and smiled when she saw her friend rushing towards her.
‘Sorry it’s only a card,’ Immy apologised, thrusting an envelope into her hand before hugging her. ‘I was going to get you these gorgeous earrings I saw on the market, but I’m skintaroony, so you’ll have to wait.’
‘Don’t be daft,’ Chantelle said softly, her eyes welling up again. ‘This is more than enough.’ She opened the card and felt her chin wobble when she read the message. ‘Thanks. That means a lot.’
‘So what did you get off your mum?’ Immy asked. ‘Pressies or money?’
‘Money,’ Chantelle lied, shoving the card into her pocket.
‘And now you’re off to spend it?’ Immy gave her a knowing look.
‘You know me too well.’ Chantelle smiled. ‘Want to come?’
‘Wish I could,’ Immy said regretfully, ‘but my dad and the Barbie doll are taking me and the brat brother to Blackpool. I’m only going so I can wind her up,’ she added, grinning slyly. ‘She’s so possessive, it’s unbelievable. You should see the face on her when I go near my dad; it’s like she thinks I’m trying to get off with him, or something. It’d be hilarious if it wasn’t so tragic.’
‘Weird.’ Chantelle shook her head.
‘Hey, why don’t you come?’ Immy suggested. ‘I’m sure my dad won’t mind. And the Barbie will have an absolute fit when she cops a look at you.’
‘I can’t,’ Chantelle said. ‘Said I’d take Leon bowling.’
‘Ah, that’s nice.’ Immy smiled. ‘Well, have a great time, babe. I’ll give you a ring when I get back, tell you how it went.’
‘Have fun.’ Chantelle hugged her goodbye. ‘And thanks again for the card.’
When Immy had gone back down the stairs she’d come up from, Chantelle set off for the stairs at the other end of the block. Anton came back out onto the landing to collect the rest of his things as she passed and, smiling, said, ‘Happy birthday.’
‘Thanks,’ she murmured, blushing. He had already gone inside when Immy arrived, but his door must have still been open for him to have heard that it was her birthday.
A small smile played on Chantelle’s lips as she walked on. She’d started the day on a low, convinced that nobody cared enough to remember her birthday; but now three people had wished her a happy one, so maybe the day wasn’t going to turn out too bad after all.
Bill had no idea it was Chantelle’s birthday when she picked her up in their usual spot that evening, but she noticed that there was something different about her. It was subtle, nothing that she could absolutely put her finger on; Chantelle just seemed a little more confident than usual. She rarely spoke about her life, and never mentioned her family apart from to say they were okay if Bill asked. And she had certainly given Bill no indication that she had a boyfriend, which was surprising considering how sweet-natured and beautiful she was. But she seemed quite happy with her lot, so Bill had never pried – and wasn’t about to start now.
They had to wait for over an hour before Rob Knight left his house. When he headed again into the city centre and parked up on the same backstreet, Bill guessed that he was going to the same club and parked on a neighbouring street.
‘Nervous?’ she asked as Chantelle unclipped her seat belt.
‘A bit,’ Chantelle admitted. ‘But I’m trying not to think about it.’
‘Probably for the best,’ Bill agreed, handing over the money for Chantelle’s drinks. ‘Just remember to keep it casual if he approaches you. Let him do most of the talking and, if you in any way feel out of your depth, pull the plug and get out of there. Okay?’
‘Okay.’ Chantelle nodded and took a deep breath. ‘Wish me luck.’
As on the previous night, the club was only half full, so there were still plenty of vacant seats. But rather than try and fade into the background as she usually did, Chantelle perched on a tall stool at the bar and looked around.
She quickly spotted the suspect at the far end of the bar, talking to the same men he’d been with the night before. After ordering a Coke, she twisted the stool around and rested her elbow on the counter before casually crossing her legs. Instantly self-conscious when several men cast admiring looks in her direction, she raised her chin and forced herself to maintain the cool façade. She had applied much more make-up than usual tonight, and her loose hair looked glossy thanks to two hours of conditioning and curling. She’d been quite pleased with the results, and it was obviously having the desired effect. But she knew that the interest she was attracting was based purely on looks, so it meant nothing.
When the suspect and his friends moved to a table, Chantelle stayed put. There was no easy way of getting near to him without actually walking right up to him, but she absolutely wasn’t going to do that. He had to come to her, or it would prove nothing.
An hour dragged by and Chantelle had almost finished her second drink, but Rob Knight still hadn’t so much as glanced in her direction. Concerned that the woman from the previous night might turn up and ruin her chances if she didn’t do something soon, she decided to change seats in the hope of attracting his attention. But just as she gathered up her bag and her drink and was about to step down off the stool, the man himself appeared at her side, and her Coke sloshed over the rim of her glass when he knocked her hand with his arm.
‘Whoops, sorry!’ he apologised, grinning as he reached out to steady her glass.
‘It’s okay,’ Chantelle murmured, dipping her head to hide the blush that immediately coloured her cheeks. ‘It was my fault; should have looked where I was going.’
‘Let me get you another,’ he offered, pulling a handkerchief from his pocket and wiping her wet hand. ‘What are you drinking?’
‘Coke,’ she told him. ‘But it’s okay, honestly.’
‘I insist,’ he said, dabbing at a wet patch on his shirt sleeve now. ‘Sure you wouldn’t prefer something stronger, though?’
‘No, I’m driving,’ Chantelle lied. ‘Sorry about your shirt. You might want to go and rinse it before it stains.’
‘It’s fine.’ He shoved the hankie back into his pocket and waved the barman over. ‘A Coke for the lady, and two bottles of white, please.’
‘Thank you.’ Chantelle settled back onto the stool as the barman went to fill the order. ‘But it really wasn’t necessary.’
‘Hey, it was my pleasure.’ He smiled and pulled his wallet out of his pocket. ‘Alone?’ he asked as he slid two £20 notes out.
‘Mmmm.’ Chantelle nodded and glanced towards the door. ‘I was supposed to be meeting my friend, but it looks like she’s not coming. Ah, well …’ She shrugged. ‘Suppose I’ll just have an early night instead.’
‘Looking like that?’ He drew his head back and gave her an admiring smile. ‘What a waste. Unless your other half is waiting at home? In which case I’m sure he’ll be delighted that your friend stood you up.’
Chantelle smiled and shook her head. ‘Just the dog – and she’s so old I’m not sure she even knows I’m there, these days.’
‘Poor you.’ He chuckled and passed the notes over to the barman. When the man went off
to get his change, he gave Chantelle a thoughtful look. ‘Don’t take this the wrong way, but have you ever considered modelling? I’m only asking because I have a friend who runs an agency, and I’m sure he’d be pleased to meet you. You have a stunning face.’
‘Oh, I don’t think so.’ Chantelle dipped her gaze as her heart began to flutter in her chest. If he was going to hit on her, it looked like this might be it.
‘Just a thought.’ He shrugged. Then, ‘Look, why don’t you take my number, then if you change your mind you can give me a bell and I’ll arrange a meeting. No pressure.’
Chantelle bit her lip. He didn’t sound like he was trying to chat her up, but Bill had told her to try and get his number. So, nodding, she took her phone out of her bag.
‘Okay. But I really don’t think I’ll change my mind.’
‘Totally up to you.’ He extended his hand. ‘Rob.’
‘Julia,’ she lied, noticing as she shook his hand that he wasn’t trying to hide his wedding ring.
‘Best get back before my pals think I’ve abandoned them.’ He picked up his bottles. ‘Nice to meet you.’
‘You, too.’ Chantelle smiled and reached for her fresh drink. She took a sip and watched through her lashes as Rob went back to his table.
When another half-hour had gone by, during which the suspect didn’t so much as glance her way again, Chantelle figured that he wasn’t interested and made her way back to the car.
‘Anything happen?’ Bill asked.
‘Not really.’ Chantelle settled into her seat. ‘I did talk to him, but he didn’t try it on. I’m hoping I pressed the right button.’ She took the videophone out of her bag and handed it over. ‘He caught me by surprise, so I had to do it without looking.’
Bill pressed play and listened to the recorded conversation. It was a struggle to hear the words clearly, but she got the basic gist of it. ‘Interesting,’ she murmured when it had finished. ‘Definitely didn’t sound like a chat-up, but he could have just been playing it cool.’
‘What’s the point of that?’ Chantelle asked, wrinkling her nose when the dog farted. She wound the window down a little.
‘Could have realised his wife is onto him,’ Bill mused. ‘She sounds the emotional type, so she’s probably not hiding her suspicions as well as she thinks she is. If he suspects she might be watching him, he’s unlikely to bite first time. That’s possibly why he gave you his number and disguised it as a good deed.’
‘What will you tell his wife?’
‘That he gave you his number,’ Bill said, starting the car and doing a U-turn before heading back out to the main road. ‘And that you’re going to give him a tinkle in a day or two; see if he bites when he thinks he’s safe to talk.’
Chantelle nodded, but she was already nervous. Rob Knight had seemed quite easygoing, but it would be so embarrassing if she rang and he didn’t remember her. And to make out like she wanted to speak to his friend about becoming a model seemed so vain. Worst of all, what if she forgot the fake name she’d given him? Then he would definitely smell a rat. But she couldn’t back out now.
14
The hall light was on when Chantelle got home, and she could hear calypso music coming from the living room.
‘Leon …’ she called as she slipped her jacket off. ‘What have I told you about leaving lights on? And why aren’t you in bed? You’d best not have been playing that music any louder than that, or—’
‘God, don’t you ever stop nagging?’ A laughing voice cut her off.
‘Mum?’ Chantelle’s jaw dropped.
‘The one and only!’ Mary laughed and ran out into the hall. ‘Come here and give me a hug, you!’
Chantelle didn’t know whether to laugh, cry, or go mad. Her mum had been gone for ages, yet she was acting as if she’d done nothing wrong.
‘Come and meet Miggy.’ Mary broke the embrace and grabbed Chantelle’s hand. ‘You’ll love him. Him and our Leon are getting on like a house on fire.’
Dragged into the living room, Chantelle frowned when she saw the mess. There were beer bottles everywhere, and the air was thick with weed-smoke. Tracey was sitting on the couch alongside a swarthy man with greasy hair, and they both looked wrecked. Already annoyed, Chantelle was really pissed off when she saw Leon sitting cross-legged on the floor with a bottle of beer in his hand and a daft grin on his face.
‘How many have you had?’ she demanded.
‘Six.’ He smirked. It was a lie, he’d only had one, but who cared what she thought? His mum had said he could have it, and she was the boss, not Chantelle.
‘Leave him alone,’ Mary scolded. ‘He’s on his holidays.’
‘He’s only ten.’
‘So what? They start ’em younger than that in Spain. Anyhow, shut up moaning, and say hello to Miggy.’
The man smiled up at Chantelle as his gaze slid slowly down her body. ‘Very beautiful,’ he said.
‘Isn’t he gorgeous?’ Mary demanded, nudging Chantelle none too gently. ‘Didn’t I tell you?’
Chantelle’s heart sank when she saw the bright, glassy gleam in her mum’s eyes and realised that she was high on speed or coke. Her mum always started out giddy and jovial like this, but she could flip at the slightest provocation and get really nasty.
‘I’m tired,’ she murmured, eager to escape before her mum’s mood switched. ‘I’m going to bed. We’ll talk in the morning.’
‘Sod that,’ Mary scoffed, grinning as if she thought it was a joke. ‘We’re having a party, so go grab yourself a glass before I smack your arse. And you still ain’t said hello to Miggy. He’ll be thinking you’ve got no manners.’
Chantelle breathed in deeply. Then, forcing herself to smile, she extended her hand to the man. ‘Nice to meet you.’
Miguel grasped her hand and raised it to his lips before rising unsteadily to his feet and pulling her into a hug.
‘All right, put him down,’ Mary blurted out, following it with a laugh to make it seem less like the attack of jealousy that it actually was.
Chantelle prised herself out of the embrace and backed towards the door as the man fell back onto the couch. But Mary wasn’t about to let her leave just yet and, shoving a glass of rum into her hand, she pushed her towards the armchair, saying, ‘Get that down your neck and lighten up, misery guts. It’s supposed to be a party, not a bleedin’ wake.’
Chantelle didn’t want a drink, but she knew that her mum would be upset if she refused, so she took the glass and perched on the edge of the seat.
‘Our Leon says you’ve got yourself a job,’ Mary said, refilling her own glass before handing the bottle to Tracey.
‘Just a bit of office work,’ Chantelle lied, flashing Leon a hooded look of annoyance.
‘Sounds like a right barrel of laughs,’ Mary sneered. ‘Bit late for offices to be open, though, isn’t it?’
‘It’s an all-night business,’ Chantelle said quietly.
‘Sacked off the idea of sixth form, then, have you?’ Mary flopped down on the arm of the couch and draped her leg over Miguel’s. ‘’Bout time, if you ask me. It’s a bloody waste, all that studying; never gets you nowhere. Look at me … not an exam to me name, but I’ve done all right. Got me lovely kids, me own flat, and a fit-as-fuck fiancé.’
‘Fiancé?’ Chantelle gave her a questioning look. ‘I thought you’d got married?’
‘Not yet,’ Mary told her. ‘It would have been too expensive over there with all his relatives expecting an invite. There’s about four bleedin’ hundred of ’em,’ she confided in a loud whisper, as if she thought Miguel wouldn’t be able to hear. ‘But they can fuck off if they think I’m shelling out for them to stuff their greedy gobs. Gonna do it here at the registry office instead, then go down the dole office and get him added onto my claim before we go back.’
‘You’re not staying?’
‘No chance! And neither are you.’
‘What do you mean?’
‘Youse are coming with us,’
said Mary. ‘I’m sick of looking after his mam and dad on me own, so I want you there to help me. Our Leon’s well up for it, ain’t you, son?’
‘Yeah, sounds ace.’ Leon grinned. ‘They live right near the beach, and Miggy reckons all the girls are naked.’
Disgusted when the man gave Leon a wasted grin and stuck up his thumb, Chantelle frowned at her mother. ‘Do you really think that’s appropriate?’
‘Oh, don’t start,’ Mary moaned. ‘He was only having a laugh. Do you really think I’d be smiling if I thought he was out eyeballing tits all day? I’d smash his bloody face in. Innit?’ She nudged Miguel, and repeated in a terrible Spanish accent, ‘I’d smasha your bloody face in if I catcha you looking at girls’ titties.’
Miguel nodded, but it was clear from his glazed eyes that he was too stoned to understand what she had said. ‘I need bathroom,’ he mumbled, edging off the couch and stumbling towards the door.
‘Thick git,’ Mary snorted when he’d left the room. ‘Good job his dick’s got a mind of its own, or he wouldn’t have two brain cells to rub together, bless him.’
‘Thought he was supposed to be the love of your life?’ Chantelle sniped.
‘He is.’ Mary reached for the bottle to top up her glass. ‘I’m only having a laugh.’
When a knock came at the front door just then, Tracey said, ‘That’ll be the pizza.’
‘Go get it, babes,’ Mary ordered.
‘What did your last slave die of?’ Tracey grumbled, pushing herself up to her feet.
‘I hope you ain’t expecting me to pay?’ Mary drew her head back when Tracey held out her hand. ‘I bought the booze, so this is on you, mate.’
‘I ain’t got no money,’ Tracey informed her. ‘And you never said nothing about me paying, or I’d have told you not to bother.’
‘God, you never change, you,’ Mary sneered. ‘Happy to sit here supping my booze all night, but come time to put your hand in your pocket and you’ve got all the excuses under the sun.’
Respect (Mandasue Heller) Page 14
