The Betrayed (2 page)

Johnny’s behaviour and their exhausting home life took up much of Rosie’s time, but what energy she had left she channelled into her acting. She managed to get a few auditions, but they came to nothing… until one day, much to her surprise, an amazing opportunity presented itself. It was on the day of her twentieth birthday; her agent rang to say that Andrew Brook-Fields, one of the nation’s leading television producers, wanted to see her for a major new period drama.

‘It’s only for the lead!’ said the agent. ‘Kathy in
Wuthering Heights
. Great money, too.’

Rosie was ecstatic to finally have an opportunity to earn some money for herself – some ‘straight money’, instead of the tainted cash that her husband brought home. Johnny, on the other hand, was completely indifferent to the prospect of Rosie returning to her acting. He complained for a while about how he ‘looked after her’, but the truth was he was so lost in a haze of coke, that he rarely noticed anything that his wife said or did any more, and soon changed the topic of conversation.

Rosie put her heart and soul into the audition. She wanted that part more than she wanted anything. The chance of a major part in a series was a wake-up call – it made her realise that, somewhere along the way, she had lost herself, lost her identity. She was sick and tired of being known as ‘Mrs Rosie Mullins, wife of…’. She was never introduced as ‘Rosie, the actress’ any more, or even as ‘Rosie, the person’. It was always ‘Rosie, Johnny’s wife’. She was fed up of the whole ‘gangster’ thing. She had to admit that, okay, it might have been glamorous and exciting at first, but now she longed for normality and respectability in her life.

During the brief, ten-minute audition she got the feeling that Andrew Brook-Fields was impressed with her, and her understanding of the part. The wait was unbearable, but finally the call from her agent came through… and her instincts had been right: she was first in line for the part! Rosie was over the moon, and she couldn’t wait to tell Johnny her news. She so wanted him to be happy for her, to congratulate her, to make a fuss.

She should have known him by now. Johnny, being Johnny, was totally uninterested and just sneered at her when she told him the news. Like the selfish pig that he was, Johnny managed, in just a few, cruel words, to burst her bubble. Then the truth finally hit Rosie: all she was to him was something pretty that he could drape over his arm and show off, like a cashmere overcoat. Rosie’s confidence was shattered by Johnny’s reaction, and, after a truly disastrous second audition, the part of Kathy went to another girl.

Hot on the heels of this blow came more life-changing news: Rosie was four months pregnant. She was crushed, and resigned to her fate. So, with a heavy heart and an expanding waistline, she went back to being ‘Rosie Mullins, wife of…’

The pregnancy did nothing to curb Johnny’s behaviour, and his cocaine addiction grew, eating away at everything they had. The flash cars were the first to go, then the upmarket house. They ended up in a two-up, two-down on Hewitt Way, just off the Roman Road in London’s East End.

The day-to-day, week-to-week, month-to-month struggle went on. As the months rolled into years, things only got worse: endless police raids, violence, and constant domestic turmoil.

The only real joy in Rosie’s life was their daughter, Ruby, who she adored. Rosie made a solemn promise to herself that she would never allow Ruby’s father, with his addictions and violence, to drag them down with him. She managed to persuade Johnny, during a rare moment of harmony, to support the idea of sending their daughter to a private school; so, when she was six, they did just that.

But still, things between Rosie and Johnny weren’t getting any better. The depths he sank to following a high became so harrowing that they were frightening to watch. Rosie frequently had to take Ruby to her Aunt Madge’s, through fear of what he might do to her. He even threatened to murder Rosie on regular occasions… and she knew that he was more than capable of it. She had heard things; she had seen things. She was well aware that there was
nothing
Johnny wouldn’t do, especially when he was coked up and flying high.

One terrifying night, during a particularly violent episode, he slapped Rosie to the floor, wrapped a giant hand around her neck, and held a gun to her head, screaming abuse. That was too much to take and Rosie, her eyes streaming with tears and with bruises darkening on her body, fetched a suitcase and started throwing clothes into it. But she knew in her heart that Johnny would never let her leave. Sure enough, moments later, he stormed into the bedroom, grabbed her by the arm, and swung her around to face him.

‘
Nobody
leaves Johnny Mullins!’ he spat, his eyes darting wildly, with a strand of thin saliva hanging from his snarling lips. ‘I’ll bury you in the woods first!’

Rosie was shaking uncontrollably – she had no choice. She had to stick it out. That night she wept for her lost life. It seemed that her remaining years were mapped out, that the nightmare would never end for her… or for Ruby.

Then, six months later, just when it seemed to Rosie that all hope was lost, fate played a hand: Johnny was arrested for drugs smuggling. It was a huge relief for Rosie. Out of the blue she had been given the chance of another life. In the days that followed, it felt like an enormous weight had been lifted off her shoulders. She didn’t even consider that Johnny’s arrest could have a downside… but it did: Rosie’s finances took a severe urn for the worse.

Rosie and Ruby started to rebuild their lives in the little terraced house on Hewitt Way. Ruby almost never mentioned her dad, and even pretended not to mind that he didn’t write, and never used one of his precious phone cards to find out how they were coping. Life wasn’t easy, and, at times, they had to really struggle to overcome the rising debts that threatened to engulf them.

The memories of her life with Johnny remained crystal clear in Rosie’s mind, and this train journey was not the first time that she had been lost in them. She was snapped back to reality by squealing breaks as the train pulled into London’s Charing Cross Station. She took a deep breath and tried to push any more thoughts of Johnny out of her mind as she stepped off into a small crowd of impatient travellers waiting to board.

The throng of people on the station concourse, bustling, pushing and shoving, made her head spin. She made her way through the sea of shuffling bodies to the road outside where irate drivers of black cabs hooted at red buses, which were blocking the cars, which were blocking the motorbikes, which, in turn, were blocking the pedestrians. She jumped on a No 40 bus, which would take her straight to the Roman Road.

After the slow bus ride home, and calling in at the corner shop for a pint of milk and a cut loaf, Rosie continued down the main road, past the dismal grey council estate where she had grown up. It was in one of these tower blocks, called Britley House, where her Aunt Madge had brought her up, and still lived today.

Rounding the corner into her terrace, where the houses were packed as tightly as sardines in a can, she headed towards home. She smiled a private smile as she approached the front door. It might be in need of a fresh lick of paint, she thought, but at least it’s cosy and warm inside. Okay, it might not be as splendid as the posh Islington house that she had shared with Johnny, but it was not as grim as some. She glanced at her watch. Ruby wouldn’t be back yet, it was still only six o’clock.

Rosie opened the front door and picked the dreaded mail up from the coconut fibres of the front-door mat – the postman, typically, hadn’t been by the time she had left that morning. She went inside, the warmth of the snug, little sitting room wrapping itself around her like a big welcome hug.

After dropping her bag on the arm of the slightly tatty but comfy sofa that took up half the room, she threw her coat over the back of a chair and examined her post. The gas bill was paid, as was the electric, but she was nearly three months behind with her mortgage.
God, what else can I do?
thought Rosie. She was already working morning, noon and night trying to keep on top of the payments: an office cleaning job in the morning; Reception at the local doctor’s surgery in the afternoon; and, in the evening, book-keeping at the Keyhole Club, a ‘gentlemen’s club’ in Mayfair. Rosie shook her head as she walked into the kitchen, where she put away the bread and milk and dropped the brown envelopes on the counter top before unloading the washing machine.

Hearing a key in the front door, she looked up to see Ruby come bursting in, her cheeks flushed from the cold, and her long blonde hair whirling around her head. She was only12, but looked more like 16. Ruby, of course, considered herself all grown up, more like 18.

‘Hey Mum, you’re home already!’ she said, unceremoniously dumping her heavy school bag at the foot of the stairs, and unwinding her grey and purple scarf. ‘How was Dad? Did you give him the elbow? What did he say? Bet he didn’t like that. Oh, and guess who sent me a text today? Only Jake Gibson Blythe, oh my
God
, he’s so cool. Actually he’s so fit, everyone is crazy about him. Did you get my text about the trip to Switzerland?’

Rosie picked up the basket of wet laundry to carry it to the downstairs loo where they kept the tumble dryer.

‘How much homework have you got?’ she asked, trying to change the subject of the presumably expensive trip to Switzerland.

Ruby pulled open the fridge door and stood, examining its contents. ‘Oh God,
tell
me about it, I’ve got this mega English project and maths coming out of my
ears
.’ she moaned, selecting a stick of celery and taking a bite. ‘Am I staying at Auntie Madge’s tonight?’

‘Yes, so go and grab what you need before we go. It’s Friday night, fish and chip night. You know that.’

Ruby grabbed another stick of celery, her eyes sparkling with mischief as she closed the fridge and turned to her mum.

‘Friday – pension day! Fish and chips!’ she said, taking another bite.

As Ruby squeezed past her, Rosie laughed, cupping her daughter’s fresh face in her hands. ‘Cheeky little monkey,’ she said, feeling a powerful surge of love through her heart.

‘What’s up, Mum?’ Ruby asked, looking up. ‘Did Dad give you a hard time?’

‘I’ll be all right, chick,’ she assured her, hoping she wouldn’t mention the Switzerland trip again. Rosie told her to sort her things out while she went online to pay some bills. ‘That’s a good girl.’

Rosie sat at the old computer which stood in the corner of the sitting room on a scuffed and unstable desk. On the screen, staring back at her, was her bank balance – a big fat minus. Rosie’s heart felt as heavy as lead.

‘Mum, are you listening?’ said Ruby, calling down to her.

‘Yeah, yeah, yeah,’ Rosie mumbled, as she waited for the computer to shut down. Ruby continued rambling on and on about her new crush, Jake Gibson Blythe.

‘Mum, he is so fit…
so
fierce…’ said Ruby, as she swept back into the room.

Rosie got up from the desk and looked at her daughter. She felt so guilty, knowing how disappointed Ruby would be when she told her that she couldn’t afford to pay for the school trip. All of Ruby’s friends were going, and she had talked of nothing else for weeks… no,
months
. Rosie had racked her brains, but still couldn’t think of a way she could find the money for the trip, let alone the mortgage. She didn’t want to disappoint Ruby, and, for a long time now she had avoided breaking the inevitable news. But she had to be told, and, Rosie knew, she couldn’t put it off any longer.

‘Rube, I’ve got to tell you something.’

‘What?’

‘I’m sorry,’ she said softly, ‘but I just haven’t got the money for your Switzerland trip. I just can’t afford it, darling… I’m so sorry.’

Ruby’s eyes filled with tears. ‘Mum, you
promised
! You said you would find the money.
Everyone
is going, and you said –’

‘Rube, darling, I’m sorry,’ said Rosie, turning her back so her daughter couldn’t see the despair that she knew was etched on her face.

By now Ruby was crying, and when Ruby cried it was unlike anyone else had ever cried: she didn’t get a red blotchy face, or a snotty nose… she cried little diamonds. Rosie just couldn’t bear it.

‘How much was it, five hundred?’

‘Yeah,’ said Ruby, between sobs, ‘but we’ve already paid one hundred deposit, so I only need four more.’

Rosie took a deep breath and wiped the little diamonds from Ruby’s eyes. ‘Sweetie, don’t cry,’ she said. ‘Look, I’ll see what I can do, okay? Maybe I can get some extra shifts at the club. I got another letter about the house, so I’ve got to sort that out… but I’ll promise I’ll try. You understand, don’t you?’

Ruby’s face softened, and she threw her arms around her mum and hugged her. ‘Of course I do. Thanks, Mum.’

The drama was over.

‘Oh and guess what?’ said Ruby, sniffing and wiping the tears from her cheeks. ‘Jake – you know, hunka-hunka Jake – he reckons I’m better looking than Lucy.’

‘You’re boy mad, you are,’ Rosie said, with a smile. ‘Come on, your fish and chip supper at Aunt Madge’s will be getting cold. And I’ve got to get to the club by nine.’

two

‘I
t’s not her fault,’ Rosie said, as Kristina drove them to Mayfair later that evening. ‘She can’t help wanting what all the other posh kids at her school have got. It’s normal. It’s just that I can’t keep up with the endless school trips and uniforms… it costs a fortune.’