by Mel Sherratt
Donna nodded.
Sarah brought Donna her bag and she waited until she was serving behind the till again. Then she pushed open the back door and left, leaving the flowers behind.
When Donna arrived home, she let herself into the house, praying that Keera would be out so that she wouldn’t have to explain anything. But as she looked out of the kitchen window, she could see her daughter in the back garden. The sky was a vivid blue, not a cloud in sight, and Keera was lying on a lounger in her shorts and vest, grabbing a few rays of sun. Even though she felt so miserable, Donna smiled. It seemed that everyone she spoke to as they came into the shop was getting fed up of the heat, people complaining that they wanted rain, that it was too hot, too muggy. But Keera loved sitting in it.
She went out into the garden to her, taking her a glass of orange juice.
‘Thought you might like this,’ said Donna, handing the drink to Keera.
Keera looked up at Donna, and took the glass. ‘Thanks. I thought you weren’t finishing until five. Are you still feeling off?’
‘I was fine until this morning.’ Donna’s smile was faint but she couldn’t meet Keera’s eyes as she lied again. ‘I slipped and fell down a few stairs. It’s a bit sore right now, but nothing to worry about.’
‘God, you are in the wars. I’m glad they sent you home. Why don’t you take off your uniform and come and sit in the garden with me? Can you do that – is it more painful to stand or sit?’
‘I think I’m going to lie down a little.’ Donna rubbed at the bottom of her back. ‘Have you been to see Nan today?’
A guilty look crossed Keera’s face. ‘No, not yet. I will go on my way to work, though. I promise.’
‘You sure? Because I know she needs some fresh bread and milk, but I’d really struggle to drive and—’
‘I’m sure,’ Keera nodded. ‘I can use the car?’
‘If you want to fill it up with petrol. I’m nearly on empty.’
Donna went back into the house and went upstairs, pulling herself up a step at a time by holding onto the bannister. She couldn’t believe how much she still ached. Some of the bruising was fading, and she knew she hadn’t broken any ribs as the pain there had subsided a little too.
At least Keera hadn’t asked her about Owen lately. She’d mentioned it on Sunday and yesterday, but seemed to be pacified when Donna had changed the subject.
In her room, she pulled off her uniform and lay on the bed in just a t-shirt, closing her eyes. After a few minutes, there was a knock on the door. Keera pushed it open.
‘I thought you might like some tea.’ She stopped. ‘Ohmigod, that bruise looks so sore! How did—’
‘It’s nothing.’ Donna pulled the duvet around her. ‘Really, I’ll be okay.’
But Keera didn’t want to leave.
‘What’s wrong, Mum?’ she asked, her tone gentle. ‘You’re not your usual cheery self.’
Donna groaned. ‘Give me a break. I can’t be bloody cheery all the time!’
‘Okay, okay.’ Keera put up a hand. ‘No need to snap. I’m only concerned.’
‘I’m sorry, love. I’m a bit cranky, that’s all. I’ll be fine with a couple of hours’ sleep.’
‘Do you need any painkillers?’
‘I’ve just taken some, thanks.’
‘Well, if you’re sure.’
‘I’m sure.’
Keera left the room but Donna knew she hadn’t fooled her. She hoped she could keep her pain to herself for a little while longer. Maybe things could get back to normal soon.
And then she needed to decide if she was brave enough to do anything about Owen.
Chapter Thirty-Nine
Lewis woke up and grimaced when he turned over in his bed. His ribs were hurting and he couldn’t open his right eye properly. He touched the lid gingerly, feeling the swelling and wincing at the pain.
He pulled both hands from beneath the duvet. Shit: his knuckles were swollen and red too. Well, it seemed as if he’d given as good as he got.
He wondered whether to stay in bed until his mum had gone to work or whether to get up and face the music. Either way, she would be none too happy when she clocked the mess he was in. Last night, Lewis had found himself back in the pub. After another couple of hours, the booze had got the better of him completely. As he’d headed for the door, he’d turned sharply when he heard a gang of men laughing.
‘What the fuck’s up with you lot?’ he said.
The laughing stopped. ‘What the fuck’s it got to do with you?’ a voice shouted back.
‘I can’t hear myself thinking.’
A young stocky lad sniggered. ‘You don’t look as though you could understand yourself, you’re that plastered.’ He pointed to Lewis’s trousers where there were a few drops of water. ‘And you can’t hold yourself either. Look, you’ve pissed your pants!’
Lewis groaned as he remembered swinging his fists around, missing everyone he could see as they stepped out of his way. That was when a fist had come back at him, catching him on the chin. He’d lost his balance, falling to his knees. One of the group had taken the opportunity to give him a kick to his stomach before the landlord had come over and broken it up.
As he was ushered to the door, Lewis hadn’t had the strength to retaliate but he could recall what Bob had said to him. ‘“I’m sick of you, coming in here getting drunk and taking your troubles out on my regulars. One of these days, I’ll leave them to you.”’
He’d nearly been home when he heard footsteps behind him. Two of them had been on him so quickly that he hadn’t even had time to turn. Luckily, someone shouting at them, telling them to stop or they would call the police, had disturbed them enough to slow their punches. They hadn’t injured him as much as they could have done, but he had still come off worse.
There was a knock on the door.
‘I’m asleep,’ Lewis muttered, hoping his mum would go away.
‘It’s just after nine,’ she told him. ‘I thought you might like a mug of tea before I leave for work.’
‘Come in.’ He watched as her shoulders dropped when she noticed his face.
‘What’s happened? Are you okay?’
‘Yeah, I’m fine. I just got into a spot of bother.’
Laura’s eyes narrowed as she put down the mug on the bedside table. ‘You mean you got into a fight?’
‘Yes, but it wasn’t my fault.’
‘Oh, Lewis! Not again!’ Laura reached a hand to look at his eye but he knocked it away.
‘You don’t have to baby me,’ he snapped.
‘Yes, I do, because you’re acting like a child.’ She threw her hands in the air. ‘Going out and getting drunk every night, picking fights. That’s what I’d expect off a teenager – not a grown man.’
Before Lewis could answer back, there was a knock at the door. Laura glared at him before going to answer it. Lewis turned over to face the wall. He’d get up when she had gone out.
‘Lewis, there’s someone here for you,’ she shouted up a minute later.
Lewis groaned, grabbed some clothes and hastily got dressed. Who would be calling for him?
Downstairs in the kitchen was Josie Mellor. Laura stood behind her, face like thunder.
‘What the hell do you want?’ he muttered.
‘I had a complaint about a commotion in the street last night. I thought I’d come to see if you were involved.’ Josie raised her eyebrows as she saw his swollen eye. ‘You’ve been fighting again.’
‘Ten out of ten for observation.’ Lewis would have clapped his hands sarcastically if they weren’t hurting so much. ‘You should see the other guy.’
‘Less of your cheek, Lewis,’ admonished Laura.
‘I fell.’ Lewis blinked as best he could. ‘Happy now?’
‘Not really.’ Josie shook her head. ‘I think your mum is right, Lewis. I’m really concerned—’
‘Who are you to question me?’ Lewis cut in. ‘You’re not the police.’
�
�Just be glad that I’m not or else you’d be locked up by now.’
‘Why?’
‘I’ve had reports that you attacked some poor lad in the street last night and his friend tried to stop you and—’
‘Are you out of your mind?’ Lewis exclaimed. ‘They jumped me!’
When both women said nothing, he shook his head. ‘It’s my life. I can do what I want.’
‘Up to a certain point, I agree …’
‘Look, get out of my face, will you!’
‘You need to stop with the anti-social behaviour,’ said Josie.
‘I’ll be in trouble, Lewis, if you don’t watch what you’re doing.’ Laura prodded her chest with a finger.
Lewis glared at his mum. How dare she insinuate this was his fault?
‘I was jumped on last night!’ he cried. ‘Don’t you care about that?’
‘People would be civil to you if you were civil to them,’ said Josie.
Lewis shrugged. ‘People change.’
‘For the better, mostly,’ said Josie.
‘Are you always so fucking irritable?’ Lewis asked her.
‘Lewis!’ Laura shook her head in disgust.
‘Your family are worried about you,’ said Josie. ‘They can see you spiralling out of control. Why won’t you tell someone what happened? What’s changed you?’
‘Everything changed me, can’t you see that?’ he shouted. ‘The whole fucking time I was in the army changed me.’
‘Language!’
Lewis pushed his foot into his boot and laced it up quickly. ‘I can’t be who you want me to be anymore. I left that Lewis behind in Afghanistan.’
‘Nonsense,’ said Josie. ‘I think you just need time to find yourself again.’
Lewis shook his head. ‘I hope I never find myself again. The truth is far more painful than the nightmares.’
‘But—’
‘Just leave me alone!’ Lewis pushed past his mum, flew up the stairs and into his bedroom, slamming the door shut behind him. What was with everyone wanting to help him? Didn’t they realise he could look after himself?
He cursed loudly. Slamming doors and running away from arguments? Now he really was acting like a teenager.
Maybe it would be better for everyone if he moved out – even more so if he moved on. The Mitchell Estate had nothing to offer him.
At home that evening, Megan had seen to her mum, all the time keeping up appearances. She laughed at Coronation Street when she was supposed to. Patricia watched Benefits Street too, and she found herself getting involved in the story of a couple who had no money and nowhere to live but they were so much in love that they were determined to survive.
Before she’d come into the house, she’d switched her phone on silent. Sam had rung her several times throughout today and yesterday but she’d let the calls go to voicemail. She’d listened to his messages, trying not to cry at the sound of his voice. His concern seemed genuine. He was worried about her, wanting to know why she hadn’t waited for him.
The texts had come then.
Where did you go yesterday?
I thought you wanted to show me something.
Can I see you tomorrow?
Tell me what I’ve done wrong.
At ten o’clock, she stretched her arms in the air and yawned. ‘Think I’ll head upstairs now, Mum. Do you need anything before I do?’
Patricia shook her head. ‘No, I’m fine, love, thanks.’
Megan was at the door before she spoke again.
‘Are you okay? You seem a little quiet. There’s nothing bothering you, is there?’
Megan put a smile on her face before turning back to her. ‘No, Mum, I’m fine.’ She faked a yawn. ‘I’m just a little tired.’
‘Well, if you’re sure … I know you work so hard but you do need to have a bit of down time too.’
Megan nodded. ‘Night, Mum.’
In her bedroom, Megan threw herself face down onto her bed. At last her tears could fall freely and she sobbed into her pillow.
She hadn’t been able to stop thinking about Sam all day. Why had she said she would show him? And then why had she run out on him? It had only made things worse.
Her phone beeped a few minutes later. She picked it up and read another message from him.
I know you like me. I like you too.
A few seconds later, another message.
What is it that you’re trying to hide?
Megan sat up and wiped at her eyes. Staring back at her from the mirror on her dressing table was a mess. Crying had made her birthmark more visible now that her whole face was red and blotchy. She wiped off her make-up and took a long look at herself.
Why couldn’t she accept that she wasn’t perfect? She might be about to ruin something that could be good. And she was judging him again, wasn’t she?
The right thing to do was to show Sam, let him make up his own mind. If he couldn’t deal with her imperfection, then he wasn’t worthy of her.
But as much as she was giving herself a pep talk, she knew she wouldn’t be able to do it. She couldn’t stand the thought of him being repulsed by her.
She read his last message again, part of it sticking out in her mind.
Why won’t you let me get close to you?
It was laughable really, because she had already let Sam get too close. More to the point, she’d let herself get too close to Sam.
Megan switched off her phone and dragged herself into bed. If he rang her or sent another message that night, she knew she would cave in and reply. Better not to be tempted.
Chapter Forty
Although her alarm went off at seven a.m., Megan had been awake for ages. The room was stifling and having a window open meant a noisy dawn chorus from the birds outside in the tree. She reached over for her phone. She’d switched it back on in the early hours after she’d awoken yet again, although it was on silent.
There had been several more messages from Sam, each one asking her to get in touch. She could barely see as her eyes had puffed up so much, but she read them all again.
Finally, feeling exhausted, she got up, took a shower and dressed in her hospital uniform. Her face was so red and swollen from crying that it made her birthmark seem more prominent. She rubbed on far too much concealer to try and compensate, hoping it wouldn’t slide off her face again in the heat.
She was halfway through applying the rest of her make-up when her phone vibrated. Sam’s name flashed up on the screen. This time, she decided to answer it.
‘Megan! You’re alive!’
Despite herself, Megan found a smile. Even though she hadn’t returned any of his calls and messages, he was trying to put her at ease.
‘I am,’ she replied, for want of something better to say.
‘Good, because I’m beginning to lose my patience. What the hell’s wrong with you?’
‘Why do you care?’
‘Meg, stop talking bollocks.’
‘I’m not!’
‘If you don’t want to see me, then tell me but stop stringing me along.’
Megan drew in a breath. ‘Is that what you think I’m doing?’
‘Well, isn’t it? One minute you’re chatting to me, and the next you’re ignoring me. Do you have a husband I don’t know about?’
‘No!’
‘Well, what’s with all the bloody secrecy then?’
Megan sighed. ‘You’re persistent, I’ll give you that much.’
‘Hey, you’re highly honoured. I am never up at this time in the morning. This is stupid o’clock.’
Megan closed her eyes. Should she trust him with her secret? Could he see past the birthmark on her face and maybe love her for what she was?
‘What do you see when you look at me?’ she asked, her tone blunt.
‘I see someone who doesn’t want to get involved with a scrote like me.’
‘But, that’s not it—’
‘I know what people think about me. I saw it on your face when
the police came to see me, and when you were questioning me about the bruises on my face. You think I’m a troublemaker and no good.’
‘You couldn’t be further from the truth if you tried.’
‘What do you mean?’
‘It’s just that – I’m not what you need.’
‘You’re not making sense!’
Megan’s tears began to flow again. ‘I have to go,’ she said before he could tell she was crying.
‘Don’t you dare hang up!’
She disconnected the call. Staring at herself in the mirror again, she wiped at her eyes. If she didn’t stop crying, she’d have to start her make-up again.
‘Are you okay, love?’
Megan turned to see her mum standing in the doorway. She was holding onto the frame.
‘Sure I am, Mum.’ She wiped away her tears quickly. ‘Are you going for a shower? Why didn’t you say? I’d have come down to give you a hand with the stairs.’
‘I’m not in too much pain this morning.’ Patricia pointed to Megan’s bed. ‘Help me sit down on there a minute, would you?’
Megan did as she said. She went to sit at her dressing table again but Patricia pulled her down to sit next to her.
‘What’s the matter?’ she asked, running a hand over her daughter’s hair. ‘I know you well enough to see that something is eating at you. Has someone hurt you?’
‘No.’
‘There is something, though … or am I right in thinking there is someone?’
Megan nodded.
‘A boyfriend?’
She shook her head this time.
‘But you want him to be?’
Megan raised her shoulder and dropped them again with a huge sigh. ‘Oh, Mum, I think I’ve made a big mistake.’
She told her mum what had happened with Sam, even though she was unsure how she would react. She’d never felt able to talk to her much about her birthmark before, knowing Patricia might get upset too. But instead, she listened, never once trying to tell Megan that it didn’t matter, that she was pretty anyway.
‘When you were young,’ said Patricia when Megan had finally stopped talking, ‘I remember saying that you were special because you had a birthmark. I’ve often thought that I shouldn’t have said that. You weren’t special because of that, you were special because of who you are.’ Patricia pointed to her chest. ‘For what’s inside there.’
