Respect (Mandasue Heller) (25 page)

Chantelle felt as if she’d been backed into a wall. ‘I’ll see what I can do,’ she said wearily.

‘Course, whenever you’re ready,’ Mary agreed. ‘You’ll probably have to go to the bank for it, eh?’

‘Mmmm.’ Chantelle dipped her gaze again. It was a lie, but she wasn’t about to tell her mum that the money was already here. She’d probably get drunk and tell Miguel, and he’d already proved that he had no conscience, so what was to stop him from stealing it if he knew it was here?

Mary narrowed her eyes and took another drag of her fag. Then, glancing at the clock on the wall, she said, ‘Oh, shit, look at the time; Miggy’ll think I’ve forgot about him.’ She jumped up and took her jacket off the back of the chair. ‘See you later, babes. And thanks again for that.’ She leaned down and planted a kiss on Chantelle’s cheek, then rushed out.

Disappointed to have been right about her mum having an ulterior motive for talking to her again, Chantelle finished her tea, then cleared the cups away, emptied the ashtray and wiped the table before going out into the hall.

‘Leon …?’ She tapped on his bedroom door. ‘Are you awake?’

‘What?’

‘It’s dinner time, but I can’t be bothered cooking. Fancy something from the chippy?’

‘I’m not hungry.’

‘My treat.’

‘I said I’m not hungry. Just leave me alone and stop bugging me.’

Chantelle rolled her eyes and shrugged in a gesture of surrender. Oh, well, she’d tried. But if he wasn’t ready to snap out of his mood, there was no point forcing the issue.

She’d hung the new dress on the wardrobe door, and when she walked into her bedroom now and her gaze landed on it she felt a tickle of excitement in her stomach. If someone had told her a few weeks ago that she would enjoy getting dressed up and putting on make-up, she’d have said they needed their head testing. But it was true; she really was starting to enjoy it. She just hoped she didn’t do anything stupid tomorrow and make a fool of herself in front of Rob and his client.

Anton was at the foot of the stairwell when a woman appeared at the top. He stepped back and waited for her to descend.

‘It’s all right, I don’t bite,’ Mary teased, giving him a flirtatious smile as she sauntered down the steps.

‘Superstition,’ he explained. ‘My nan reckons it’s bad luck to pass someone on the stairs.’

‘That right?’ Mary had reached him by now, and she pouted. ‘And what does she say about her grandson dating older women?’

‘Eh?’ Anton recoiled.

Mary saw the look of horror in his eyes and snorted softly. ‘Don’t flatter yourself, darlin’; I eat boys like you for breakfast.’ She pushed her breasts out now and sashayed away, glancing back over her shoulder after a few steps to see if he was watching.

He was, but not for the reason she thought. He’d just remembered where he’d seen her before: coming out of Chantelle’s place a few days earlier.

‘Are you Chantelle’s mum?’ he asked.

Mary stopped walking and turned round. ‘Might be. Why?’

‘I’ve just moved in a few doors down,’ he told her, ‘and I’m having a house-warming party tomorrow. I meant to invite her, but I haven’t seen her, so can you pass the message on? Tell her it’s at Anton’s, and it’ll be starting about nine-ish.’

‘Am I invited an’ all?’ Mary gave him a sexy smile. Then, tutting when he frowned, she said, ‘Oh, get a sense of humour, you boring sod. You might be fit, but it takes more than that to keep a girl’s interest, you know?’

When she turned and stomped away, Anton shook his head bemusedly and trotted up the stairs.

‘What did she say?’ Tracey asked when she let Mary in a short time later. ‘Is she gonna lend you some?’

‘Course,’ said Mary, strolling into the living room and flopping down beside Miguel who was sprawled out on the couch. ‘She loves her mummy, innit?’

‘Have you got it now?’ Tracey perched on the edge of a chair. ‘Can we score?’

‘Nah, she made out like it’s in the bank.’ Mary sneered as she lit a cigarette. ‘But I’d bet my arsehole she’s got it stashed in the flat, ’cos the stupid cow couldn’t look me in the eye when I mentioned the bank. Thinks she’s so smart, but I can read her like a book.’

‘So what you gonna do?’ Tracey was scratching her arms now.

‘Wait till she goes out and find it.’

‘She’ll go mad when she finds out,’ Tracey said nervously, remembering the run-in
she
’d had with Chantelle when Mary had sent her round for the letter that time. The girl had always unnerved her, even when she’d been a kid, because she had a weird way of looking at you. But she’d been furious that day, and Tracey had been a bit scared of her.

‘What’s she gonna do about it?’ Mary scoffed. ‘Have me arrested and risk having our Leon put in care?’ She took an angry pull on her fag now, her eyes glinting with malice. ‘Bitch thought she could try it on with
my
man and get away with it, did she? Well, we’ll soon see about that.’

18

Anton rushed home from work the next evening and jumped straight into the shower. Abdul’s place smelled putrid, and he was always convinced that the stench was on him when he left at the end of a shift. He was becoming so paranoid about it that he’d lost count of how many bottles of shower gel and tins of deodorant he’d bought recently.

‘The man ’im turnin’ batty,’ Shotz had joked to the lads when they had gone clubbing the other night. ‘Me smell ’im comin’ way afore me see ’im pretty face.’

Anton had taken it in good humour, insisting that he’d rather smell of Lynx and aftershave than stink like Abdul’s rancid stock; but he did sometimes wonder if he wasn’t going a tad overboard. Still, the girls seemed to like it, so he wasn’t about to stop just to shut his mate up.

He had just got out of the shower and was making his way to the bedroom with a towel around his waist when Shotz arrived carrying an armload of bottles for the party. Anton opened his front door and reached out to take some of them from him – just as Chantelle’s mother and the man he’d seen at the shop with Chantelle walked past.

‘Pwhoar,’ Mary growled, her gaze sliding from his wet chest to his taut, dripping stomach. ‘Don’t get many of them to the pound these days.’

‘Hey,’ Miguel protested, getting the gist even if he didn’t understand the actual phrase. ‘You stop, or we no get marry.’

‘Aw, chill out.’ Mary grinned and squeezed his backside. ‘No harm in looking, is there?’

‘I no look at woman,’ Miguel lied, a sulky scowl on his face.

‘Why would you?’ Mary snorted. ‘Only an idiot would go after scrag-end when they’ve got steak at home.’

Anton exchanged a bemused glance with Shotz and quickly closed the door. ‘How the fuck did
that
give birth to a honey like Chantelle?’ he said, following his friend into the kitchen.

‘Man ’im got it
baaad
,’ Shotz teased, placing the bottles he was holding on the ledge alongside the batch they had brought in the day before.

‘Whatever,’ Anton drawled, watching as his friend turned the bottles round to line up the labels. ‘It ain’t even like that.’

‘So why go out of your way to invite her to the party?’ Shotz gave him a knowing look and pulled a pack of Rizla papers out of his pocket.

‘She’s a neighbour – it’d be rude not to,’ Anton said, pulling down the blind to stop passers-by from seeing the spliff his friend was building. The last thing he needed was for one of his new neighbours to report him to the police.

Shotz didn’t believe that excuse any more than Anton did. ‘Yeah, man, course,’ he scoffed, lighting up and grinning slyly. ‘So you’ve invited the others, an’ all, have you?’

‘Fuck off, they’re too old. Anyway, I haven’t seen her, so she probably won’t even come.’

‘Man ’im want puss-puss,’ Shotz drawled.

‘I’m getting dressed,’ Anton said, snatching the spliff out of his friend’s hand and sucking deeply on it before handing it back. ‘Labels are out of line.’ He jerked his thumb at the bottles. Then, smirking when Shotz snapped his head around to see if it was true, he went to his bedroom with a spring in his step.

Smiling when Shotz put on some music in the front room a couple of minutes later, he pulled on a pair of boxers and reached for his new jeans. Tonight was going to be a blast, and he couldn’t wait for the party to get started.

Chantelle left the flat at 8.45, and guessed that the deep throbbing music she could hear was coming from Anton’s place because none of the other neighbours ever played music as loudly as that. She knew she was right when she heard laughter and saw a couple of dolled-up girls carrying bottles of wine emerge from the stairwell and walk up to his door. It crossed her mind to wonder why he hadn’t invited her if he was having a party, but she quickly brushed it aside. Why
would
he invite her? It wasn’t like they were mates or anything. He’d tried to talk to her and she’d acted snotty, so it was her own fault that he didn’t want to know.

She wouldn’t have fitted in, anyway, she reasoned as she walked down the stairs and out onto the path. She was nothing like those girls she’d just seen. They looked to be around his age and, knowing him, he’d probably slept with them both at one time or another.

Irritated with herself for being bothered about not being invited to the party of a man who was everything she professed not to find attractive, Chantelle pushed Anton firmly out of her mind and walked briskly out to the main road where the taxi she had ordered was idling at the kerb.

She climbed into the back and gave the driver the address of the restaurant, then settled back in her seat, her thoughts on Rob Knight now. Now he
was
a good man. Everything that Anton Davis would never be, he was rich and an absolute gentleman who treated women with the utmost respect. And she was looking forward to seeing him again – as friends.

Rob was smoking a cigarette outside the restaurant when Chantelle’s cab pulled up. He smiled when he spotted her and, dropping his smoke, stepped forward to open the door for her.

‘Wow.’ He gave her an admiring look when she stepped out. ‘You look incredible.’

‘Thank you,’ she murmured shyly. ‘I’m not late, am I?’

‘No, you’re bang on time.’ Rob smiled and paid the driver, then held out his arm. ‘Shall we?’

Chantelle took his arm and walked inside with him. It was the first time she had ever been inside a real restaurant, and she was terrified that it would be full of rich people who would look down their noses at her. But none of the few diners who were there so much as glanced their way as Rob led her towards a booth at the rear of the room.

‘Thanks again for doing this,’ he said when they had both slid onto the semicircular padded leather seat. ‘I was dreading having to entertain my client’s wife. I’ve met her before, and she’s …’ He trailed off and narrowed his eyes thoughtfully. ‘Well, I suppose the polite word would be
flirtatious
. That’s why Yvette was supposed to be coming – to protect me. But she ducked out, so here we are. Anyway, enough of that.’ He smiled. ‘Shall we order drinks while we’re waiting? White wine all right?’

The strongest drink Chantelle had ever tried was the occasional glass of Lambrini at Christmas. She had meant to stick to her usual Coke tonight but Rob knew she wasn’t driving, so she couldn’t use that excuse again. Anyway, this was supposed to be a grown-up dinner and, if she expected Rob and his friends to accept her as an adult, she guessed that she ought to act like one.

‘Yes, that’s fine,’ she said.

Rob ordered the wine and sat back with his arm draped casually along the back of the seat. ‘Been looking forward to this all day,’ he said. ‘The food here is terrific. Have you eaten Italian before?’

‘Not really,’ Chantelle admitted, thinking how handsome Rob looked in the low lighting. She’d thought it when they first met, but he seemed to get more attractive each time she saw him. His jaw was firm, his teeth white and even, and she loved the way his blue eyes sparkled when he talked. And she’d never met anyone who had such an air of self-assurance without the usual look-at-me posturing.

‘You’ll love it,’ Rob said, smiling at the waiter when he arrived with the wine. ‘Here, let me.’ He took the bottle and poured a little into Chantelle’s glass for her to try. ‘Is it okay?’ he asked when she’d taken a tiny sip.

‘Lovely,’ she lied. ‘Thank you.’

‘Are you ready to order?’ the waiter asked.

‘Not yet,’ Rob told him. ‘We’re waiting for our guests.’

When the waiter politely bowed his head and backed away, Chantelle gazed around. ‘It’s really nice in here. Do you come here often?’

‘Thought that was supposed to be the man’s line!’

‘Sorry?’

‘It’s number one on the list of naff things to say when you’re on the pull.’

‘God, no, I didn’t mean it like that,’ Chantelle gasped. ‘I just—’

‘Relax.’ Rob chuckled. ‘I was joking.’

His mobile phone rang just then, and Chantelle was relieved when he excused himself and slid out from behind the table to take the call. She’d thought she was acting so cool and sophisticated, but acting it and
being
it were two different things.

‘You are never going to believe this,’ Rob said when he came back to the table a few minutes later. ‘That was my client. He’s had to cancel.’

‘Really?’

‘’Fraid so.’ Rob gave her an apologetic smile as he slid back onto the seat. ‘Seems his wife’s come down with a stomach bug.’

‘Oh, what a shame,’ said Chantelle, unsure if she was glad that she wouldn’t now have to act as a buffer between Rob and the client’s flirtatious wife, or disappointed that the night was going to end before it began. ‘Hope she’s okay.’

‘Me, too,’ said Rob. ‘Still, at least we don’t have to wait any longer to order.’ He reached for the menus and handed one to her. ‘Don’t know about you, but I’m starving. What do you fancy?’

Chantelle smiled and gazed down at the menu in search of a word that she even vaguely recognised, but it was all alien to her. ‘What are you having?’ she asked, closing the menu after a while. ‘You’ve eaten here before – you choose.’

‘Are you sure you want to do that?’ Rob asked, a playful glint coming into his eyes. ‘I’m thinking raw oysters, followed by octopus chowder and kangaroo steak.’