Dove
Copyright © 2015 D H Sidebottom
This book is a work of fiction and any resemblance to actual places, incidents and persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental.
Copyright © 2015 D H Sidebottom. Please do not copy, alter or redistribute this book.
Please secure author’s permission before sharing any extracts of this book.
Table of Contents
Title Page
Copyright
Quote
Prologue
One
Two
Three
Four
Five
Six
Seven
Eight
Nine
Ten
Eleven
Twelve
Thirteen
Fourteen
Fifteen
Sixteen
Seventeen
Eighteen
Nineteen
Twenty
Twenty-One
Twenty-Two
Twenty-Three
Twenty-Four
Twenty-Five
Epilogue
Author Links
Coming Soon
Tiny Bloody Lies
TEN
CLOSING THE FOLDED piece of paper, I stared at the bright yellow flower Mum had drawn on the front, with the words, ’15 AT LAST’ scrawled across the top in thick red letters.
Russia.
She’d fucked off to Russia with Bob!
My legs wobbled and I flopped onto the threadbare two-seater bench, the corner of the foldaway table digging into my hip and making me hiss. The paper shook in my fingers as my hands trembled.
“What a fucking bitch!”
My mother had never been maternal, but fuck! Fuck!
I stared around the room, not seeing anything of the inside of the small one-bedroomed caravan we lived in, only the bleak future laid out in front of me. I swiped at the single tear that managed to squeeze free.
Russia!
“Jesus fucking Christ, Mum!”
P.S Make sure you don’t answer the door! The fucking nosy cunt from the social’s due today, and I’m supposed to be there. Yeah, might be best if you don’t open the door to her, she’s been threatening to take Ren in to care… fucking bitch!
Rereading the words, my heart started to shift into panic.
Diving off the bench, the corner once again burying into the small amount of flesh on my hip, I yanked open the van door and tore across the camp.
“Whoa, Dove! Fire up your pretty ass?” Trevor sneered when I ran past him. Creepy fucker. The fat bastard was always trying to get the kiddies into his van and I’d warned Ren until I was blue in the face that if she ever spoke a single word to him, I’d hack off her beautiful long blonde hair and make a wig for Miss Daisy, her dolly. That had appeared to work – thank the fucking gods!
“Ren!” I shouted when I saw her thin body balancing through the tyre hanging from the only tree in the field. “Ren, we have to leave!”
She shook her head firmly. “No, Dove. Bren has gone to fetch me one of his mum’s cookies. I can’t leave yet!” Her pretty blue eyes filled with tears, the promise of cookies too much to run from as she gripped firmly onto the rope.
“Ren!” I tried to prise her fingers away. The tiny eight-year-old had more strength than I did! “Please! We have to leave.”
“Uh, uh,” she repeated, with another shake of her head.
I was pulling at her now, desperate to make her let go. “Serenity Jane!” I was struggling to hold the tears back, the realisation of what was happening suddenly sinking in. “If we don’t go now the bloody woman is coming to take you away!”
Her eyes widened. “The woman with the big wart on her chin? The one Trixie told me to hide from?” Ren had never uttered the word ‘Mum’ in her whole life, insisting that ‘Trixie’ never acted like a mum so didn’t deserve to be called one.
“Yes! Please, honey. We have to leave. We can go anywhere you like, and we can buy shit tons of cookies when we get there.” I bit my lower lip, praying that the small amount of cash I’d hidden in the back of the dresser was still there. If the bitch had swiped it then I swore I would hunt her down and hack out her eyeballs with a rusty spoon.
Ren narrowed her eyes on me. “Anywhere?”
I nodded firmly, praying she would just let go of the damn rope. “You know where I want to go, Dove.” She jumped off the tyre. Thank the Lord. “Can we go? Can we?”
Her excitement had me pausing from my hurry and I smiled down at her, pinching her chin between my finger and thumb. “London it is.”
“Yay!” she cried, jumping up and down. Flinging her arms around me, she buried her face into my stomach. “I love you so much, Dove.”
My heart slid up my throat. What the hell was I gonna do? How the hell was I going to support an eight-year-old in a strange city with little cash and no damn digs? Closing my eyes, I swallowed back the bile and forced another smile when Ren looked up at me with her huge, expectant eyes. “I love you too, Ren. So much, honey. No one will ever take you away from me. Ever.”
She nodded with excitement. “We’re going on an adventure?”
“We sure are!”
As Ren was trying her best to fit her tatty bunny, Mr Big, into her backpack, and I’d checked on the stash of cash I’d saved for over six years, the grand total of £504.56 now in the pocket of my bag, I sat on the end of the bed and glanced around the tiny square bedroom I had shared with Ren for eight years. As much as it was a dive, it was my home. Our home. And as much as my mother was a drunk and an addict, caring more for the next hit and a quick screw with Bob than spending time with her daughters, she was still my mum. She was my home as much as the crappy little van was.
My eyes slid to the wall beside the grubby mirror, my gaze fixing on the photograph.
It was then that a choked sob broke from me. Quickly covering my mouth before Ren caught it, I stood up and pulled it free from the piece of chewing gum I’d stuck it to the wall with. Flick’s arm was around my waist, his fingers curled over my hip as we both laughed hysterically, tears streaming down our faces at a joke we’d shared.
“Listen, I’ll be back in ten minutes,” I told Ren as I stuffed the photo into my own backpack. “Do not answer the door to anyone but me. I’ll knock as usual.”
She nodded, still trying, and failing, to get Mr Big to fit in beside her colouring book and pencils, Miss Daisy, and thankfully, her toothbrush. “Say bye to him for me.”
She looked at me with the knowing gaze of an adult, her pain for me as strong as my own. Unable to reply, I clenched my jaw and nodded.
“Hey, Dove.” Flick greeted me with his usual huge smile as he wiped his oily hands on the rag that hung from the waistband of his jeans. He gave me his full attention, the bore of his eyes piercing my soul like it did every time he looked at me. He was fixing up a Harley; he had been for the last eight months, and as I stared at it, it occurred to me that I would never see it finished. I would never get to ride on it, my arms around the waist of the man I loved as we broke the rules and tore over the open roads. Now some other girl would get that privilege. And fuck, did that hurt more than anything.
“Baby?” Flick said softly when he saw the devastation wash over me.
I’d been in love with Flick since I was six. Since he had beaten up Drew Peters when he’d pulled my hair and kicked my shin. But I could never tell him. He was nineteen. What would he want with me when he could have any girl willing to… give herself in that way? I was fifteen, plain, and boring. I was tall and lanky, had no breasts, and my long brown hair was a wild mass of unruly curls, not sleek and dyed the latest colour like the girls I saw Flick out with. To him, I was just a friend, a girl who travelled with h
is kinfolk from place to place, taking over empty fields with our shitty rundown caravans. And strangely, as much as I was in love with him and dreamed of a future with him, I wanted him to get out of this shit. I wanted him to make something of his life, find a girl who was devoted to him. Find a woman to marry, and live in a big house with lots of children around him. I wanted happiness for him. Even if I had to forfeit my own for him to have his.
And I could never give him those things. A family. Happiness. Not anymore. For more reasons than one.
He pulled me into his strong arms when I couldn’t hold back the sobs any longer. I clung to him, engraining his amazing scent and the feel of him to my memory as his fingers softly rubbed up and down my back. “Dove, what’s wrong?”
Pulling back, I looked up at him then lowered myself on to his van steps. “She’s gone.”
He froze, his gaze probing. Understanding what I was saying, he hissed out a curse and ran his fingers through his thick black hair, then, causing me to jump up, he spun around and kicked out at the Harley with his boot.
“Flick! Don’t do that.”
I bent before the bike and scooped up the part he’d knocked off with his fury.
“Leave it,” he said quietly, but I scurried around, picking up the screws he’d knocked loose. He’d need them, he couldn’t afford new ones. “Leave it!”
I flinched, stilling. Remaining on the floor, refusing to look at him, I whispered, “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.”
Grabbing my shoulders, he pulled me up and held me to his chest. “Don’t you be sorry for what that bitch does! Don’t you ever, Dove!”
I nodded against him, hating that I was wetting his favourite t-shirt with my stupid tears.
“Where will you go?”
I grabbed on to him tighter. “I’m so scared, Flick.”
“I’ll come with you,” he said, suddenly.
Rearing back I stared up at him in shock. “You can’t do that!”
“Of course I can. I can look after you and Ren. I’ll get a job, we’ll find a nice little house somewhere…”
“But why?” I choked out. “W-why would you do that?”
He squinted at me as though I’d asked the stupidest of questions. “You know why, Dove.” His voice was gruff as his fingers trailed across my cheek. His brilliant green eyes secured mine. “I love you. I’ve always loved you.”
I stumbled backwards, my head shaking in denial. “You… you can’t!”
As much as his words ignited a fire inside me, my heart swelling to bursting point, they also broke every part of my soul. So long I had wanted to hear those words leave his amazing lips, and yet now, now it was too late. Too fucking late.
He smiled, a gentle, tender smile that ripped every piece of me apart. He took the one step needed to get close to me. My body was trembling, my skin breaking out in goosebumps as he slowly brought his lips to mine. One of his hands spread across the nape of my neck, holding me and refusing my escape as the other sought for my hand, his fingers threading through my own when he found it. The world seemed to shift beneath my feet. My soul was floating somewhere above me as Flick kissed me with an adoration that took my breath away. I was too in love with him to move away. To deny myself this one last thing.
He devoured the sob that ripped from me as my fingers slid into his hair and I fisted it in my grasp, the softness of it burning into my memories. My heart rate was so furious I was scared I was going to pass out. My knees buckled, making his hand leave my neck and wrap around my waist to support me.
Eventually he pulled away, his large, rough hand cupping my cheek. “I’m coming with you.” It wasn’t a request, it was an order.
As if on instinct, I reached up and drew my thumb softly across his bottom lip, the moisture from our kiss transferring on to my thumb. “Okay. I’ll meet you here at eight.”
He grinned at me, his eyes lighting up and sparkling like emeralds. “I’ll be ready.” Excited, he pressed his mouth firmly to mine. “I love you, Dove. We’ll be okay, we will. I promise. I’m going to take care of you both.”
I looked up at him, my gaze moving from the green of his striking eyes, to the deep contours of his heavy cheekbones, to the gruff manliness of his chin, to the soft pout of his lips, and I nodded.
With everything that was to come, throughout the brutalities I endured to keep my little sister fed, nothing was more painful than walking away from him that day.
At six o’clock, Ren and I slid from the campsite, our hands clasped tightly and my heart as numb as the frost on the ground.
And we never looked back.
She left Mr Big behind.
And I left my soul with him.
Ten years later
SLIDING THE STUPID cardboard key into the slot beside the door, I sighed as my eyes scanned the dire hotel room. Another one. I’d spent the last six weeks in one before we’d finished filming early and I flew home to surprise her. Unlike this one, that had been huge and a whole degree more fucking luxurious than this cesspit. Plus, it had accommodated something this one didn’t – a minibar.
Grabbing the phone beside the bed, I punched the zero button and gritted my teeth with irritation when a polite rehearsed female voice greeted me. “Good evening, sir. How can I be of help?”
How could she be of help? There were numerous replies to that, but instead of reeling them out, I barked, “Room 406. One bottle of Jack. Two bottles of ginger ale. One large bucket of ice, and if you stock them, dried apricots.”
There was a pause before the female voice replied in a stiff tone, “Certainly, Mr O’Kane. I’ll add the purchases to your room bill.”
“You do that, honey,” I drawled as I replaced the receiver into the phone housing, and added, “I’ll add it to the rest of the shit that will be sure to drain me fucking dry within the next few months.”
Yanking off my tie, I snapped the top button of my shirt and dropped on to the edge of the bed, snatching up the TV controller and switching it to mute as the news channel lit up the otherwise dark room. Some shit was reeling across the bottom of the screen about some politicians and a fucking… goat. “Jesus fucking wept.” I moved my eyes away from that shit.
My gaze zeroed in on the gold band stretched across the tanned skin of the fourth finger on my left hand. “Four months, Flick. Shit, man, you still have the tan from the fucking honeymoon.”
Sliding the piece of metal off, I was about to throw it in the trash but then pocketed it, thinking I might need to pawn the damn thing when Jennifer got her claws in. She’d probably be entitled to sixty percent of that as well, so I grabbed it back out of my pocket, slid open the window and tossed it into the street below. The river of rain water collected its prize and swept it away. And just like that, my marriage was over.
Scooting off the bed when a light tap sounded at the door, I pulled it open and hurried the guy in. He pushed the silver cart in as if scared of me, his eyes twitching like a deer caught in the headlights.
I’d screwed off the top of the Jack before the skittish fucker was even through the door, and I’d half poured a glass when his quiet voice hit me. “Excuse me, Mr O’Kane, but….”
I stared at him as if he’d just told me his grandma wanted to feel the weight of my dick in her palm. But sighing, figuring it wasn’t the poor dude’s fault, I nodded. His face lit up like the headlights that had caught him unawares in the first place, and he wasted no time in thrusting a napkin at me. “If you could address it to Jenny. Thank you so much.”
“Jenny?” I scoffed. It had to be a fucking joke, right? But the guy nodded eagerly. “Yeah. Jenny with an ‘I’. Oh my God, she’ll be stoked.”
“And you’ll now get stroked,” I muttered under my breath as I signed a napkin to Jenny with an ‘I’.
He backed out of the room, a multitude of thank yous directed at me until he closed the door as lightly as he’d tapped on it.
Gulping down the shot of whisky I’d managed to pour before Jenny with an ‘I�
�’s boyfriend had virtually declared his undying love, I refilled it, grabbed a handful of ice, dropped it in and then topped up the glass with ginger. When it didn’t hit the spot, I refilled with Jack – all the way to the rim.
What a goddamned nightmare. Four frigging months, that was all it had taken to crumble. I couldn’t say I was surprised though.
The news channel caught my eyes and I groaned when a picture of Jenny and me lit up the screen. It was one of our wedding photos with her in the ridiculously priced white gown – yeah that was a laugh too, she should have gone for blood red. Beside Jen’s pure white, perfect smile were the words ‘Hollywood Billionaire Flick O’Kane and supermodel Jennifer Levy to split.’
Christ! It seemed the world knew before me.
My phone trilled and I clenched my jaw when her name lit up the screen. Bracing myself, I touched the green icon and pressed it to my ear.
“Flick?”
“Yep, who were you expecting love, Santa? Maybe Cinder-fucking-rella, eh, Jen? After all, it’s fairyland you live in if you thought I would lie back and accept that shit you pulled on me.”
She blew out a breath. “I just wanted… shit, Flick, I never wanted you to find out like that.”
I closed my eyes then snapped them back open when the image of her spread-eagled on the bed with Cody’s lily white arse pumping up and down hit the front of my mind.
“Really? Is that because the world knowing you’ve been screwing my best friend will have a substantial effect on the divorce settlement?”
When she paused I knew I’d hit the nail on the head. What a prize catch she’d turned out to be.
“I’m entitled to that money, Flick.”
“Wow,” I whispered. “I’d at least have expected his cum to have dried in your cunt before we start talking about money.”
“Do you have to be so vulgar?”
Did I? Hell fucking yes I did! “Oh, I’m sorry. You seem a bit uptight. Maybe Cody didn’t manage to spread those ass cheeks far enough apart to get in!”
“Jesus, Flick!” Then as if someone had released the real her, her voice dropped, her tone taking an icy chill, making me shiver. “Well, let’s put it this way, I’ll be the most expensive fuck you’ve ever had, dear husband.”
Dove Page 1
