Love on the Rocks (54 page)

Jenna didn’t say anything. She stared at the floor. Eventually she looked up.

‘I’m sorry about your brother,’ she said. ‘But it’s not that easy, you know. Just because you found a way out doesn’t mean that we all can.’

Craig frowned. ‘So that’s it, is it? You feel justified?’

Jenna jumped to her feet. ‘No. I never felt justified. I felt desperate.’ Her amber eyes were flashing as she crossed the room to stand in front of him. ‘How am I supposed to pay my rent? It’s no good telling me to go to the council. He wants cash. Now.’ She was trembling with fury. ‘Of course, there’s one way I could pay him. I know that. But I kind of thought nicking a few quid from people who wouldn’t notice was a better way to go than sleeping with some sleazebag . . .’

‘Hey, hey, hey.’ Alarmed by her reaction, he went to put his arm round her shoulder. She shook it off.

‘Just get off me.’ She pulled away from him and threw her bag across the room so that its contents spilled on the floor. ‘I’ll leave it up to you to do what you think is best with the money.’

The next moment, she was gone. The door of the beach hut swung shut behind her. Craig stood in the middle of the room with no idea what to do. Going after her would do no good. He didn’t have a solution to her problem. If he did, he would be running the country by now. There were thousands like her, stuck in a trap. He saw them every day, saw the results of their desperation and what they did as a result. He’d made the classic mistake, of thinking that just because he had pulled himself up by his bootstraps, anyone could change their life for the better.

He went to the fridge and pulled out a beer. He took off the top with the opener someone had screwed to the wall and took a sip. It tasted bitter. He put the bottle down. Getting drunk was no solution when you felt bad. He saw the results of substance abuse every day. People who took drink and drugs to forget, not to have fun.

He walked over to the settee and sat down. So much for a quiet, relaxing week. Instead, what had happened today had brought everything into sharp focus, highlighting all of the things he felt unhappy about. He had, he knew, joined the police for all the right reasons, but now he wasn’t sure he was doing the right thing any more. When he looked at people like Jenna and sympathized with their plight, how could he carry on? Maybe it was time for him to make a difference in some other way. Turning a blind eye today was one thing, but he couldn’t do that when he went back to work.

The incident had only confirmed for him what he already felt in his gut, that the day was coming closer and closer when he would have to walk away.

J
enna ran all the way back up the beach to the road. Running on the sand was hard work, and she was soon out of breath.

She slowed down to a walk as she went through the village towards the bus stop. She passed the Ship Aground again, and saw the band bringing in the gear for that evening’s singing competition. She stopped for a moment, wondering whether she had the nerve to enter.

‘Don’t be stupid, Jenna,’ she told herself. ‘You’re not good enough.’

She remembered her birthday, a few years ago now. Everyone had piled round to her house, all her brothers and sisters and their mates and her mates. The house was heaving, the booze was flowing and the music was pumping. There was a real party atmosphere, even though she hadn’t sent out any official invites. For once, the mood in the house was light. Even her mum was happy – she’d done herself up to the nines, and was dancing and laughing and flirting with all Jenna’s brothers’ mates.

Someone had brought round a karaoke machine. Nicked, no doubt, but everyone started to take it in turns to have a go. Jenna felt too shy at first, but her friends encouraged her. They’d heard her sing and they thought she was great. They weren’t going to stop, so Jenna picked up the microphone.

She sang ‘Beautiful’ by Christina Aguilera. Everyone else had chosen upbeat singalong songs, from bands like the Spice Girls and Take That, so for a moment she felt awkward when she realized everyone had stopped talking and laughing, and was actually watching her. She wasn’t note perfect, not by any means. Every time she made a mistake she cringed inside and wanted to run off, but she carried on. When the last note died away, there was silence. Then suddenly everyone broke into wild applause.

Jenna couldn’t believe she’d actually done it, sung on her own in front of a roomful of people. It felt amazing. She felt . . . beautiful, just like in the song.

Then her mother had stepped in front of her, grabbed the microphone, put on another song – something rowdy and upbeat. In the blink of an eye she had the whole room singing along with her, cheering and clapping. Jenna was forgotten. Overshadowed. She’d felt invisible again. How could she have thought she was any good? Everyone was drunk. They were just playing along with her. The applause had been empty. They’d have clapped for anyone . . .

The memory burned inside her, and she turned away from the pub and headed to the bus stop. Five minutes later she was on the bus to Tawcombe, leaving Everdene and the horrors of the day behind her.

As soon as she got back to her house, she went into her room, shut the door and leaned against it. She felt numb, unsure whether to laugh or cry or just throw herself onto the bed and go to sleep. She wanted to block out everything that had happened in the past twenty-four hours. She wanted to block out the future, too. Just one more day and The Prof would be knocking on the door, an oily smile on his face, knowing full well she didn’t have the rent.

She looked around at the shabby furniture and the few things she had that made the room her own. She wouldn’t be sorry to leave. Her time here had not been happy. The other tenants in the house had been in no hurry to make friends. She had never felt comfortable bringing anyone back here. Her friends would have been shocked, even though they might not live in palaces themselves.

As she looked around, Jenna understood that she had no choice but to go back home. She would go now, tonight. She would save The Prof the pleasure of evicting her. She couldn’t stand the thought of his face as he made her pack up her stuff. And this way, she wouldn’t have to owe him the money. He might try to track her down and chase her for it, but at the end of the day how could you get money out of someone who didn’t have any?

For the next half-hour, Jenna went through her wardrobe and her drawers, sorting out everything she wanted to take with her. Then she piled it all into two black bin bags. That was it, everything she had in the world. She put them by the door. She’d call a cab. Her mum would have to pay the fare when she got there.

She picked up the bags and stood in the doorway for a moment. So much for making her own way in the world. She’d reached rock bottom today. Her mum was so right. Of course she wasn’t any better than any of them. She belonged right back there with the rest of her family. How could she possibly have imagined there was a better life out there?

She thought about Craig. Why couldn’t she have ended up with someone like him? Someone decent and honest who’d made his way in the world, even though he’d had no better a start than she had.

The door slammed shut behind her. She stepped out into the street, blinking at the early-evening sun that shone in her eyes, and trailed up the road to find a taxi.

No one batted an eyelid when she walked through the door. Her mum was lying on the settee watching telly. She grumbled a bit when Jenna asked for a fiver to pay the cab driver, but she gave it to her.

‘You’re back, then?’ she asked. ‘You can’t have your room. Your brother’s using it as an office.’

‘An office?’ Jenna frowned.

‘Yeah. He’s set himself up in business. Delivering pet food. He keeps it all in the garage. He’s doing all right for himself.’

Her mum sat up. Jenna looked at her more closely.

‘What?’ her mum asked.

‘Nothing. You look . . . different, that’s all.’ She did. She looked slimmer, younger, not so puffy. And she wasn’t drunk. Usually by this time on a Saturday she’d have started the second bottle of vodka.

‘I’ve got a new bloke, haven’t I?’

Jenna put down her bags and glanced around the room. Everything looked tidy. There were no dog hairs. There were no empty glasses, no ashtrays. In fact, her mum wasn’t smoking.

‘Have you given up the fags as well?’ she asked.

‘Most of the time,’ her mum admitted. ‘I have the odd sneaky one every now and again. I wouldn’t want to be perfect, would I?’ She grinned at Jenna, then looked away.

Jenna felt a lump in her throat. She turned away before her mum could see her tears and think she was soft. Instead, she lugged her bin bags upstairs and put them in her old room. All her stuff had gone, but she could sleep on the floor for the time being. Compared to her old flat, it would be luxury.

Her mum appeared behind her in the doorway.

‘I’ll give you a hand shifting his stuff out. Your brother can do his paperwork in the kitchen.’

‘Thanks.’

Her mum traced the pattern of the carpet with the toe of her shoe, then cleared her throat.

‘I’m cooking a chilli tonight, if you want some. You can meet Arnie.’

Jenna looked out of the window onto the front garden that she’d stared out at so many times during her childhood. She noticed that the lawn had been cut, and there were two pots of flowers on either side of the front door. Whoever Arnie was, he’d certainly made some changes happen. She couldn’t remember the last time her mum had cooked a proper meal.

‘I’d love that,’ she managed finally. ‘But there’s something I’ve got to do first. Can you lend me a tenner?’

Her mother rolled her eyes. ‘You’ve only been back five minutes,’ she grumbled, but she rummaged in her purse and handed Jenna the money.

Five minutes later, Jenna rooted through the bin bags until she found her favourite dress – a vintage sundress with a full skirt covered in red cherries. She pulled out her make-up bag and drew a sweep of black liner over her eyelids, added mascara, then finished with a slick of bright red lipstick. She brushed her hair out, backcombed it and tied it back up in a high ponytail. Then she walked out into the street, made her way down to the main road and jumped on the bus. Twenty minutes later she was in Everdene.

By the time she got to the Ship Aground it was jam-packed. Tourists and locals mingled, the tourists pink from the sun. The bar staff poured pint after pint and filled up jugs of sangria. The competition was in full swing. The in-house band provided the music from a list of favourites as contestant after contestant got up to sing.

Jenna signed herself up for the competition before she could change her mind. She read the list of songs to choose from and made her choice. She sat in a corner of the bar and listened. The range of talent was quite varied. Some murdered their songs with good humour, while others took their attempts very seriously.

She was as good as any of them. She knew she was. And suddenly it was her turn. As she stood at the microphone, she remembered all the people who had listened to her sing over the summer, their smiles and their encouragement. She could do it, she knew she could.

She heard the opening bars and her mouth went dry. She grabbed her water and took a quick drink. Then she started to sing. Her voice wavered at first, and no one took any notice of her, thinking she was just another wannabe singer who couldn’t hit a note. As her confidence grew, and her voice became stronger, they started to take notice. By the time she had reached the first chorus, people in the crowd were exchanging glances of surprise. She could tell they thought she was good. She smiled and shut her eyes, and her voice soared above the crowd as she took the emotion in the lyrics to another level.

Suddenly she felt as if she was on another plane. The crowd swayed and sang with her, raising their fists in the air to show their appreciation. It was the best feeling in the world.

As the closing bars approached, and she gave the final lyrics her all, she looked across the audience and saw Craig standing at the back. His hands were in his pockets as he watched her. She couldn’t read the expression on his face. Her eyes locked with his, and she felt her heart begin to race. Was he going to march up on stage and arrest her? It was what she deserved, after all, but she threw back her shoulders and finished the song, holding the last note for as long as she could.

She finished and there was silence. She met those cool grey eyes defiantly. If he was going to arrest her, she would walk out with dignity. As she stood there waiting, the audience broke into wild applause. There were whistles and whoops and cheers, ten times more than there had been for the people on before her.

In that moment, he smiled, and as she smiled back he gave an approving nod. She came off the stage and pushed through the crowd towards him. People patted her on the back as she walked past, saying, ‘Well done.’ It was a wonderful feeling.

‘I need to get out of here,’ she told him. ‘I need some fresh air.’

She pushed outside into the cool night air, and he followed her. She stood on the patio outside, the sea breeze ruffling her hair.

‘That was amazing,’ he told her, and she shrugged.

‘Yeah, but what am I?’ she asked. ‘A singer? Or a thief?’

She turned to face him. He smiled at her.

‘You’re whatever you want to be.’

‘You’re not going to arrest me?’

‘I should.’ He looked out towards the shore. The sound of the surf pounding the sand came back at them. ‘But I decided something today. I’m going to hand in my notice. I’m not sure I know the difference between right and wrong any more.’

She frowned. ‘What I did was wrong. Surely you know that?’

‘Yes. But there’s a part of me that knows why you did it.’ He looked into her eyes. ‘And a part of me that knows you won’t do it again.’

Someone opened the door and whistled over to her.

‘Oi,’ they said. ‘Come back inside. You’ve won!’

Jenna looked at Craig. She couldn’t believe it. Her heart was pounding as he put his arms round her and pulled her to him, holding her tight.