Fighting for Survival (The Estate, Book 3) (19 page)

‘I’m not lying. Can’t you remember? You weren’t that drunk now; you managed to get it hard enough.’

‘Why, you little –’ said Caren.

John held onto her as she tried to get past him.

Gina laughed. Pete hadn’t come home yet, which gave her time to do this and then deny any of it once he was. She looked up the avenue. Mrs Porter was on the doorstep of number seventeen. Julie Elliot was standing with Sheila Ravenscroft; they were both staring their way. She looked the other way to see her Mum hanging out of the upstairs window.

‘You can always come and stay at our house if she’s throwing you out,’ she mocked.

‘Back off,’ said John. ‘I’ve had enough of you insinuating –’

‘No,’ Caren interrupted. ‘She’s right. Why
don’t
you stay over there? It’s where you belong, with the scum.’

‘Who are you calling scum!’

John stared at Caren in disbelief. ‘You can’t possibly expect me to do that!’

Caren glared at him. ‘I mean exactly that. You want her, you can stay with her.’

John turned to Gina. ‘Now look what you’ve done.’ He looked back to see Caren storming up the path and into the house with the slam of a door.

‘She’ll come round.’ Gina held out a hand to him.

John took a step towards her and grabbed her roughly by the arm. ‘You’re such a poisonous cow. Just leave us alone.’

Gina was taken aback by his malice. ‘But I thought you wanted to –’

‘I don’t want to do
anything
with you. Not now, not ever. You’ve caused enough trouble.’

They both saw Pete’s car turn into the avenue.

John raced across to his house. ‘Caren!’ He banged on the front door. ‘Caren! Let me in!’

Gina moved to her side of the road as Pete drew up.

‘What’s going on?’ he questioned, wiping his nose on his sleeve.

‘Caren and John were arguing,’ said Gina. ‘It was nothing really.’

‘Bloody hell,’ Pete grinned at her. ‘They’ll be rivalling us for the most rowing couple.’

Gina looked across the road again. Getting no joy from the front of the house, John had gone round to the back. She’d seen him sneak out of sight when Pete had pulled up.

‘Come on, Gina,’ Pete said. ‘I’m starving. What’s for tea?’

Gina sighed and turned towards her house. That had hardly gone to plan either.

CHAPTER FIFTEEN

The next morning, Ruth was struggling to bump her wheelie bin down the path to the pavement when she heard someone shout her name. She looked up to see Pete Bradley coming towards her. Great, what did he want – to start off where his horrible wife had finished?

‘Here, let me help,’ he said. He took the bin from her, bumped it down the last two steps and wheeled it in front of the garden hedge. Then he turned to her with a friendly smile. ‘How are you doing, Ruth?’

‘Fine thanks.’ Her eyes narrowed.

‘I saw Martin here yesterday. Is he on the scene again?’

Oh, here we go, thought Ruth; he must have some beef with Martin.

‘He’s staying for a few days, yes.’ Ruth glanced shiftily upwards to her bedroom window. Martin was still in bed. Luckily, last night he’d gone out and hadn’t come back until after midnight so he’d crashed out as soon as his head hit the pillow. 

‘Is it what you want?’ asked Pete, leaning in towards her, touching her arm gently. ‘I could move him on, if you like? Make sure he doesn’t come bothering you again.’

‘He doesn’t bother me.’ Her look of panic obviously gave Pete something to latch on to.

‘Does he look after you?’

‘Yes, but he isn’t staying for good.’

‘That’s what they all say, isn’t it? When they take advantage of a beautiful woman.’

Ruth pulled her dressing gown around her tightly. She looked up the avenue, hoping that no one could see them; even though it was only just after seven some people in Stanley Avenue actually got up for work. But she was more interested in whether Gina Bradley was watching them. If she was, she would be in big trouble.

‘You’re a pretty woman, Ruth. I could make life easy for you. Would you like that?’

Ruth nodded before she had time to think about the implications. She knew Martin wouldn’t have any intentions of moving on. He’d want to slot himself back into her life as if the hurtful mess with Tracy Tanner had never happened. Then she shook her head.  

Pete raised his eyebrows. ‘Oh, I don’t mean anything like bump him off. I mean warn him to move on and keep away from you.’

‘He’s very good with my kids,’ Ruth came to Martin’s defence.

‘But is he good with you?’

Ruth lowered her eyes for a moment, feeling her skin flushing. How come Pete Bradley was being all nice to her?

‘I haven’t got a hidden agenda, if that’s what you’re thinking,’ he added. ‘I’ve just been watching you lately, and you don’t seem happy.’

Ruth laughed inwardly. Well, that was the understatement of the month!

Pete moved closer. ‘I could make things happen.’

All of a sudden panic took over and Ruth stepped back. ‘I – I have to go in,’ she said. ‘In case he wakes up and notices I’ve gone.’

Pete stood at the end of the path as she scuttled inside. Ruth paused at the back door to look again: he was still there. She smiled at him.

Pete’s smile widened: perfect.

Later that morning, a sheepish looking John came downstairs. Caren was in the living room. Last night had been dreadful for her. After locking him out, she soon realised he’d have nowhere to go but across the road. She’d waited for him to knock again later in the evening, knowing this time she would let him come in and explain himself. When he hadn’t, she’d gone to bed but as she’d looked through their bedroom window, she’d noticed the interior light on inside their car. Moments later, she’d knocked on the window and told him to come inside. It was only the middle of October but it was still cold to sleep out. Once he’d come in, however, she’d gone to bed without talking to him – lying awake most of the night because of it.

‘Are you going to give me time to explain what happened yet?’ he asked.

Caren tried to play it cool. ‘Fire away, but it had better be good.’

John sat down opposite her in the armchair. ‘I know she must have told you we’d slept together but we hadn’t.’

‘The bitch broadcast it to everyone!’

‘She did try it on but I was wasted. I couldn’t stand up never mind get it up.’

‘How eloquently put,’ Caren uttered.

John gave an embarrassed giggle. ‘I suppose I could have put it a better way.’ He moved to sit next to her then, taking both her hands in his own. ‘What I’m trying to say is that I’m really sorry. She tried it on, that’s all. I pushed her away and she didn’t like it.’

Caren stared over his shoulder rather than look at him directly. Of course she’d known that John wouldn’t sleep with Gina. But she’d wanted him to realise that she wouldn’t be standing for this nonsense of him going out with Pete whenever he fancied.

John tilted up Caren’s chin. ‘Did you honestly think I’d sleep with
her
when I can spend time with you?

‘But you don’t want to spend time with me anymore.’ Caren looked pained as she said it. ‘You want to be with them and get drunk every night.’

‘He knows I’m struggling to get a job so he helps me out. I feel obliged to go out with him. He overpowers me.’

Caren frowned. That wouldn’t be hard. John had always been a pushover.

‘I’m not sure,’ she admitted truthfully. ‘It’s making me doubt whether we can survive this – this mess.’

‘We’re made of stronger stuff than that, Caz.’

Caren shook her head. ‘It won’t work – not with them over the road, sticking their nose in at every opportunity to ruin things for us. And if –’

‘As if they could ever do that.’

Caren realised how lucky he’d been to interrupt her then. She was about to tell him what happened with Pete.

‘They’ve made a good job of it so far,’ she said instead.

‘Pete can be very persuasive.’

Caren struggled to keep her face straight. ‘He’s controlling you, can’t you see that? Not only is Gina stirring trouble between us but so is Pete.’

‘No, he isn’t. He found me work.’

‘You can find your own work!’

‘It’s not that easy.’

‘But you’ve stopped trying. Since you can get cash in hand doing odd jobs – which quite frankly goes beyond my understanding as Pete Bradley is bone idle – you think you’ve found your feet. You need to take responsibility, John.’ Caren stood up. ‘And until you do, we can’t move forward.’

Just after eleven thirty that evening, head full of beer and fuzzy thoughts, Martin staggered across the square in the direction of Stanley Avenue. He laughed to himself: it had been so easy to get Tracy Tanner on side again tonight. Maybe he could get away with seeing her
and
Ruth for the time being. Ruth was stupid enough to think that he wouldn’t do it twice across her; silly bitch.

Without warning, someone grabbed him from behind and slammed him up against the wall between the post office and the bookies. He felt a fist in his stomach and doubled over.

‘What the fuck is wrong with you?’ Martin clutched his stomach as he looked up at Pete Bradley. ‘Did I spill a drink over you or something? If I did, sorry mate, I’m lashed.’

‘This has got nothing to do with the pub.’ Pete thumped him in the stomach again. ‘Keep away from Ruth Millington.’

‘Ruth – my Ruth? What do you want with her?’

‘She’s not your Ruth and she never will be. I’ve had enough of you scrounging off her. You’d better back off.’

Pete brought his hand up to strike Martin again. Martin blocked his arm and threw a punch of his own, but he missed completely, twirling round in a circle. As he staggered around, Pete hit him another time. He fell to the floor as another fist found his stomach.

In the quiet of the night, Pete spoke again. ‘I want you out of her house and I don’t want you bothering her again. Do you hear?’

‘I’ve probably got no fucking hearing left,’ muttered Martin, spitting blood onto the pavement.

‘There’ll be plenty more of that if I see you there in the morning.’

Ruth woke up to the sound of the bedroom door slamming open and bouncing off the wall behind it. She squinted when Martin turned on the light. Then she saw what a mess he was.

‘Ohmigod - what happened to you?’

Martin ignored her and opened the wardrobe. He began to throw his clothes on the bed, hangers clattering against each other.

Ruth scooted nearer to him. ‘Martin, what’s going on?’

‘You’re poison, do you know that?’ he spat nastily at her before pulling out his holdall from the side of the drawers. ‘I’ve only been here a night and look what’s happened to me.’

Ruth spied Mason in the doorway, behind him stood his brother. ‘You two – shoo!’ She pointed at them.

‘Yeah, piss off back to your beds,’ Martin yelled at them.

Jamie ran off immediately but Mason stood his ground. Martin pushed a few T-shirts into his holdall.

‘Where are you going?’ asked Ruth.

‘As far away from you as possible. I don’t want to spend another minute in your company.’ He located a pair of trainers and crammed them into the holdall too.

‘But you’re hurt! And you’re covered in blood.’ Ruth pulled off the duvet and rushed to the door. ‘Let me get you a towel.’

‘No, I’m leaving right now.’

Ruth pushed Mason out of the doorway, shut the door and threw herself up against it. ‘You’re not going anywhere,’ she cried. ‘I won’t let you.’

‘You don’t have a choice.’ Martin fastened the zip on the holdall and slung it over his shoulder, wincing at the pain in his stomach. ‘Move out of my way.’

‘No.’

‘I said move.’

Ruth shook her head. ‘NO!’

Martin raised his hand to strike her but stopped. If he made a mark on her, Pete would come after him again.

‘Move!’ He pushed her to one side.

Before Ruth had chance to stop him, he was halfway down the stairs.

She ran after him. ‘Martin! Don’t go! Please, don’t go. Wait for me!’

But it was too late. By the time she got to the front door, Martin had already disappeared down the path. She ran to the pavement and saw him in the distance.

‘Martin!’ she shouted after him. ‘Martin!’

She burst into tears. Why did he have to go now? She wanted him to stay;
needed
him to stay. Without him there, the darkness would descend even more.

She went back into the house a few minutes later to find Mason sitting on the bottom stair.

‘Why has Martin gone, Mum?’