Divided Loyalties

by Heather Atkinson

  When her breathing slipped into a regular rhythm, Ryan gently laid her back on the bed and covered her with the duvet. After showering he headed downstairs for something to eat. Whereas Rachel had been exhausted, Ryan was energised and he was ravenous. He moved about the kitchen happily preparing himself an omelette and a pile of bread. This woman really was something special and he was making plans to make her a permanent fixture in his life. He’d already bought the engagement ring, twenty grand’s worth of diamond and gold sat in his safe, waiting for the day he plucked up the courage to propose. Ryan just prayed she could live with his businesses.

  After eating he settled down on the couch to read. He was in the middle of The Histories by Herodotus at the moment, he loved Greek mythology and history, although he was careful to keep that to himself. The peace was disturbed by the sound of the front door opening.

  A peroxide blond staggered into his living room, tripping over her high heels, clothes gaudy and two sizes too small.

  “Mum, what are doing here?” he demanded, shooting to his feet.

  “Can’t I visit my boy?”

  “The only time you bother to visit is when you want more money. How much is it this time?”

  “I resent that,” she said, stumbling towards him.

  He caught her and straightened her up, hastily wiping his hands on his jeans with distaste as though she could contaminate him.

  “What are you on today Mum? Crack? Methamphetamine? Or are you just plain old fashioned pissed?”

  “Don’t preach to me Ryan, I know all about you and your heroin.”

  “I don’t take it myself. You’re a walking talking anti-drug campaign.”

  “I’m not here for drugs or money.”

  “Well that makes a fucking change. What do you want then?”

  “I need somewhere to crash for a few days.”

  “You’re not staying here.”

  “Why not? You’ve got five bedrooms.”

  “And you’re not setting foot in any of them.”

  She spotted Rachel’s handbag on the coffee table. “Oh I see, you’ve got yourself a bird. Who is she?”

  “Never you mind. It’s going well and I’m not letting you spoil it.”

  “I wouldn’t.”

  “Yes you would. You’re toxic.”

  She ignored him and ran her fingers over the strap of the bag. “Gucci. So she’s got class and money?”

  “Yes she does,” he snapped, pulling it out of her reach before she could nick anything from it.

  “Can I meet her?”

  “Not a chance.”

  “Come on, she’s obviously special to you.”

  “I said no.”

  The pleasant smile disappeared, just as he knew it would and she looked nasty, revealing the true woman beneath.

  “Does she know about your past? I bet she’d run a mile if she knew what a filthy little bastard you are.”

  He fought the urge to revert back to his boyhood pre-programmed state, the one who used to be afraid of this bitch. No matter how high he climbed in his world, how much money he earned and how much power he wielded he always had this struggle with her.

  “Shut it,” he snarled.

  “What are you going to do little boy? You’re fucking useless, a nothing. I’m amazed you can get a woman at all you pathetic little shit.”

  “Stop it,” he yelled.

  “Or what? What can you possibly do to me you piece of crap,” she spat, getting in his face and jabbing a blood red talon in his chest. “I’ll beat you black and blue, I’ll let him have you again.”

  “I said shut the fuck up,” he bellowed.

  “What the hell is going on?” demanded a voice.

  Rachel descended the stairs wrapped in Ryan’s black robe, her hair messed up and black eyes bright and alert.

  “So this is her, is it?” said Estelle, the nastiness disappearing from her eyes. “Rachel Maguire of all people. You’ve done well Ryan.” She moved to shake Rachel’s hand then decided against it when she saw the sheer rage in her black eyes.

  “Don’t you come near me you vicious old cow, I heard what you were saying to him.”

  “Oh that’s just banter between us Love, we’ve always been the same,” she said dismissively.

  “How can you speak to your own son like that? You’re revolting.”

  “So is he,” she sneered.

  Rachel looked past her to Ryan who, for the first time in their acquaintance, looked uncertain and very upset.

  Rachel looked back at Estelle, her anger spiking. “I suggest you leave. Right now.”

  “This is my son’s house and he says who can stay and he won’t kick me out, will you Ryan? You never could hurt a woman.”

  “I’m amazed, given that he grew up with you as a mother,” retorted Rachel. She walked up to Ryan and took his hands. “Do you want her to leave?”

  He looked back at her with troubled eyes and nodded.

  “Ryan,” exclaimed Estelle.

  “Right, come on you fucking witch, you’re out of here,” said Rachel with relish, grabbing her arm and dragging her to the door.

  When Estelle tried to hit her Rachel blocked the blow and twisted her arm up her back. Estelle cried out in agony and Rachel shoved her through the front door and down the steps, Estelle landing painfully on the gravel driveway. Rachel stepped outside after her and yanked her up by the hair.

  “If you ever come here again I will kill you. Got it?”

  Rachel thought she’d never make a threat like that again but in this case she felt it was justified. This was pure evil in high heels.

  She returned inside, slamming the door shut and locking it before returning to the living room to find Ryan slumped on the couch with his head in his hands. She sat beside him and ran a hand down his back but he refused to look at her, too ashamed.

  “Don’t shut me out Ryan, please.”

  He looked up at her, eyes filled with disgrace. “I’m so sorry about that.”

  “Don’t be, it wasn’t your fault.” She brushed a stray strand of hair out of his eyes and this tender gesture undid him. He pulled her to him and clung onto her for dear life.

  “It’s okay,” she soothed, holding him tightly. “It’s okay.”

  That horror she’d just ejected out the door explained so much, why outwardly Ryan was so cold and hard when underneath he was good hearted and tender and why he‘d resort to any ruthless means to preserve his power and position. He’d had to build a hard shell against the world to protect himself, so he’d never be a victim again. That hag had damaged him.

  “Are you alright?” she said, pulling back slightly to look into his eyes.

  He just nodded, still shaken up. Estelle turning up had been the last thing he’d expected, he hadn’t seen her for ages. Why now?

  “You know you don’t need to play the hard man with me,” she said. “I just want you to be yourself.”

  “You deserve an explanation.”

  “Only if you’re ready to give it.” She had the feeling it was going to be hard to hear and even harder for him to tell.

  “I’ve never spoken to anyone about this before, not even Jez but I want to tell you, so you know I’m not all those names she called me.”

  “I know that already,” she smiled gently.

  “You won’t look at me the same once you know.”

  “I’ve only ever looked at you one way since I’ve known you Ryan and that will never change.”

  He took a shaky breath and gripped onto her hands. “I don’t like you seeing me weak.”

  “You’ve seen me at my lowest and most vulnerable and you helped me more than you’ll ever know. Let me do the same for you.”

  He appeared uncertain.

  “You know Ryan, in relationships people get closer by talking and discovering new things about each other and it does help to share. I would never tell anyone else, it’ll stay between us.”

  He raised her hand to his lips and kiss
ed it. “You’re right, it would probably help to get it off my chest.”

  He sank back into the couch, pulling her into his chest. He couldn’t bear to look into her eyes as he talked.

  “She’s always been a drug addled mess, for as long as I can remember,” he began. “I never knew who my dad was, one of her clients I think. From being a baby she’d leave me alone in the flat for hours. If it hadn’t been for Mrs Dawson next door I don’t think I’d be here now. She used to take me into her flat until Mum would eventually return.” He smiled fondly. “I still remember Mrs Dawson’s flat, even now, it was always warm and cosy and she had food and toys. Mum never cooked, I had to scavenge in the kitchen bin for something to eat from being small.”

  “Oh God,” she whispered. Rachel herself had grown up on the Montford but her parents were good people and although they never had much money they always made sure she was warm, fed, clothed and happy. Even though she and Ryan grew up on the same estate it seemed they were worlds apart.

  “By the time I was seven I was nicking from the local shops just so I could eat. Most of them turned a blind eye, they saw the state I was in and put two and two together. Sometimes they even gave me stuff for free, I never forgot that kindness. By that time I wasn’t just trying to feed myself. My brothers and sister had come along too and they were neglected just as much as me. We all had different dads and my sister was lucky, hers was alright and when she was a year old she went to live with him so I just had my brothers to worry about.

  As I got older I came up with more elaborate ways of getting food and money, pulling scams like fake raffles for charities. Sounds low I know but I was desperate. I began to earn enough to put food on the table. Mum never noticed, she only ever ate the odd bowl of cereal, she was too busy stuffing herself full of drugs. When she did eventually come home after being away for a few days she was either comatose or with one of her customers. Sometimes she’d start having sex with them in front of me and my brothers. I’m sure that’s why Simmy grew up to be such a dirty bastard, he was obsessed with pornography. Sometimes the clients were uncomfortable and asked us to leave. Others wanted us to join in so I’d take my brothers next door until they’d gone.”

  “The sick bitch. Didn’t Social Services do anything?”

  “Some frizzy haired frumpy woman would turn up every few months. Mum assured her she was still taking Methadone and despite the state we were all in she’d believe her and leave. Fucking useless. But she did do one good thing, she insisted I went to school. I was amazed when Mum enrolled me, although I was nearly eight by that time. I was really excited because I loved to learn. I’d started to teach myself to read and write, mainly because I knew it would be useful in my scams but I found I was good at it and I actually enjoyed it. I’d go to the library as often as I could and use a sound book to learn the alphabet then I could slowly start to sound out the words. It came to me so easily. By the time I started school I had the reading age of a twelve year old. I worked extra hard and managed to buy myself a brand new school uniform with shoes, trainers and PE kit. Two days before I started school Mum found it and sold it for drug money. Mrs Dawson gave me her grandson’s old uniform but he was shorter and fatter than me so it looked ridiculous on. I was so embarrassed walking through the gates on my first day. Of course I was bullied.”

  He paused to take a deep steadying breath and Rachel kissed his lips, his face, encouraging him to keep going.

  “The teasing got worse at high school, especially when I did well. I was in all the top sets with the good kids who resented me because they thought I’d no right to be there but I found learning so easy I couldn’t understand why no one else did and that wound them up even more. I sailed through the work and even though I’d started a year late I overtook everyone my own age. Reading, writing and history, they were my favourites.

  One day the ringleader of the bullying, Kevin Mitchell, punched me in the face in the playground at break time. No one did anything because they were all scared of his dad. Even the teachers turned a blind eye.”

  “I remember his dad, Gerry Mitchell, the family lived on the estate.”

  “That’s the one. I thought if I didn’t do something it was only going to get worse so I lamped Kevin and broke his nose. I remember everyone just stared at me with their mouths hanging open. Kevin started to cry and said that his dad was going to come to my flat with a shotgun. I was shit scared that night waiting for Gerry to turn up, planning how I’d talk my way out of it. I didn’t see his dad but Kevin’s older brother showed up and shook my hand, he said it was about time someone gave the lairy little sod a slap. No one ever bothered me again after that, including Kevin. He works for me now,” he smiled, eyes narrowing.

  “Mum didn’t have a clue how well I was doing at school and I was careful to keep my earnings quiet because she’d only have nicked them to buy drugs. Things went okay for a few years, me and my brothers living practically separate lives from Estelle, who took no interest in us. She treated the flat more like a hotel than a home. I started high school and made sure my brothers went to primary school. But when I was fourteen she got a new pimp, a vicious mental one called Jay Weston.”

  He went silent, eyes turning hard, jaw tensing. “I don’t know why she got with him, everyone knew he treated his girls badly, beating them and taking all their earnings. He came and went in our flat as and when he liked, eating all the food I bought, taking our stuff to flog. He was a big hard bastard with a long history of violence, he was a known nutter and everyone was wary of him. He’d beat and rape Mum in front of us. Mrs Dawson heard the commotion and called the police more than once but Mum always denied that he’d done anything wrong, even if she was stood there bleeding with broken teeth so they could do sod all about it.

  As well as taking her money, he started taking mine too and demanded I do errands for him. When I said no he threatened to beat up my brothers so I had no choice. It was the first time I realised how lucrative heroin was. Jay was off his head most of the time, he had no idea how much he had so I started skimming and selling it on myself. As long as he got a reasonable cut each week he seemed happy. I got myself a locker at the train station and hid my cash there, so he couldn’t find it. He got more unstable with each passing week. One day I came home from school to find Jay and his friend there. I asked where Mum was and he said she’d taken my brothers for a walk. I knew something was wrong because she’d never done that once in her entire life. I ran for the door but they were bigger and faster and dragged me back into the front room.”

  Rachel noted that the posh accent slipped as he talked about his childhood, his natural Mancunian coming through and it sounded strange, not like Ryan. He trailed off as he reached a point where it was hard for him to continue.

  “I can’t say it,” he murmured, looking down at his hands.

  “You don’t have to if you don’t want but just so you know, whatever it is I won’t think any the less of you.”

  “I can’t,” he sighed, running a hand through his hair.

  “I think I know what you’re going to say. Did they touch you?”

  Shame filled his eyes and he nodded

  “The bastards,” she hissed.

  “His friend held me down, I tried to fight but they were bigger than me. Although I was tall for my age I was skinny back then. They stripped me naked.” He sighed again, attempting to control his rising emotions. “They didn’t…rape me…,” he said awkwardly, “they just touched me and said next time they’d give me more. Then they left. I told Mum the moment she came home and when she didn’t look surprised I knew she was in on it, that she’d given me to them, probably to take the heat off her for a while. She called me all of the names you heard earlier, telling them I probably encouraged them to do it. Jesus, I can’t believe I’m telling you this.”

  “Maybe you needed to tell someone?”

  He anxiously searched her eyes for any sign of revulsion or an indication that she was going to walk out on
him but he saw none. This reassured him and he kissed her, wrapping his arms tight about her waist so she couldn‘t leave.

  “Right then I knew she’d become my pimp. I had to do something because there was no way I was letting them do that again. Jay drank at a pub just around the corner from the estate and he always took the shortcut under the bridge home. So I waited for him with a knife, he was too pissed to really know what was going on. I was fifteen when I first killed someone and I enjoyed every second of it.”

  Most women would have been freaked out by such an admission from their boyfriend but not Rachel.

  “He deserved everything he got.”

  “Oh I don’t regret it. I’ve never felt a flicker of guilt in my life. He would have done worse to me and probably my brothers.”

  “I remember his murder, although I was quite young at the time. Everyone thought it was a business rival. No one was ever arrested for it, they were just glad he was gone, including the police.”

  “What no one knew was that he’d stashed two kilos of heroin at our place so I continued to sell it a bit at a time. Such a large amount coming onto the market at once would have drawn attention. But even though I was so careful I still drew attention to myself from Stuart Cutter, another local dealer, although he was a much bigger fish than Jay. He was curious to know where a schoolboy was getting his supply of heroin from when Jay was dead. He invited me round to a car lot he owned for a chat. I was too young to go to the pub,” he smiled wryly.

  He relaxed, the worst part of his tale over with. Rachel noted the clipped accent had returned, he didn’t even seem to be conscious he was doing it.

  “Somehow he knew what I’d done to Jay and that I’d nicked the heroin. So he offered me a job. He taught me everything I know and I started to earn serious money. I got myself a little flat off the estate, still close enough so I could keep an eye on my brothers. Stuart saw how well I was doing at school; despite everything that had gone on I never let my studies slip. He had big plans for me. He used his influence to get me a scholarship to Cambridge, make contacts in the rich set and get him some real big business, which I did. When he died I was twenty three and I took over everything. So there you have it, my whole sorry history. I really hope it hasn’t changed anything for you.”