Broke (18 page)

‘Doubt it,’ said Marnie, glancing at her watch. ‘Shit, best get going. I need to get a fanny tickler for our Pearl.’

‘You what?’

‘Don’t ask.’ Marnie grinned. ‘Let me know if you see anything.’ She jerked her head back towards Amy’s house before waving goodbye.

Amy struggled through the rest of the afternoon and evening. Nerves totally shot at the thought of what Yates had lined up for her, she was bad-tempered with the kids, shouting at them every time they made a noise and even smacking Bobby for knocking over a glass of milk, before sending them both to bed in tears.

She already felt terrible about taking her stress out on them, but the guilt intensified when she peeped into their room at five to twelve and saw them snuggled together in Cassie’s bed. As she gazed at them – Cassie with her long black hair and serious little face, Bobby so fair and angelic – her tears began to flow all over again. The poor little things knew that something was wrong, and it was heartbreaking to think that they had turned to each other for comfort instead of to her. She was their mummy, the one who should be cuddling them and reassuring them, not hurting them and making them cry.

A car drove slowly past the house just then and, as the glow of its headlights illuminated the thin curtains, Amy squeezed her eyes shut and whispered, ‘I’m so sorry, my babies. Please don’t wake up.’

Yates was parked up in the inlet and he glared at Amy when she climbed nervously in beside him, wearing a hoodie and jeans. ‘I thought I told you to wear a short skirt.’

‘Sorry,’ she mumbled. ‘But I haven’t worn skirts since before I had the kids, and none of them fit me.’

‘Get a new one for next time,’ Yates ordered, throwing the car into gear and taking off at speed.

Amy huddled against the door and sniffled softly.

‘Pack that in!’ Yates lashed her across the face with the back of his hand.

‘I c-can’t,’ Amy sobbed, holding a hand over her stinging cheek. ‘I’m worried about the kids.’

‘Like I told you last night, do a good job and you’ll be home before they wake up,’ Yates said uncaringly. ‘Mess me about, and you’ll be there all fuckin’ night.
If
I decide to let you go home,’ he added menacingly.

‘Wh-what do you mean?’ Amy stammered, terror for her children forcing her to speak even though experience had already taught her that it would be safer to keep her mouth shut.

‘I mean,’ said Yates, his eyes more piggy than ever as he stared at the road, ‘if you mess me about, I might just kill you and dump you on the moors. And then I’ll go back to yours and have a bit of fun with them brats of yours.’

Unable to bear the noise when Amy started to wail, Yates slammed his foot on the brake and seized her by the throat. ‘Shut the fuck up! This is your last warning!’

Amy bit down hard on her own hand to keep her sobs inside, but her chest was still heaving.

‘Right, I’ve had enough of this,’ Yates snarled, pulling a small tablet out of his pocket. ‘Take this.’

Amy stared at it and shook her head.

‘I’m not fucking asking!’ Yates growled. ‘Open your mouth!’

He was almost on top of her by now, and he was squeezing her cheeks so hard it was impossible for Amy to keep her teeth clamped together. She had no idea what the tablet was but, apart from the odd spliff, she’d never taken drugs in her life and she was absolutely petrified. She gagged when he shoved it onto her tongue, and tried to spit it out, but Yates covered her mouth with his hand and dragged her head so far back by the hair that she had no choice but to swallow.

Yates made her open her mouth so he could check that she wasn’t hiding the pill under her tongue. Then, satisfied that it was gone, he restarted the car and drove on, saying, ‘You’ll feel better in a minute.’

Amy hugged herself tightly. Her life was in tatters and she didn’t see how she was ever going to feel better again. She just hoped the pill would make her sick and Yates would be forced to take her to the hospital. Then she would tell the nurses about the kids and get them to send someone round to rescue them. They might get taken into care, but at least they would be safe – even if Yates then went berserk and killed everybody else in her address book.

Fifteen minutes later, Yates turned along an alley behind a row of run-down houses in Longsight. He switched the ignition off and looked at Amy slumped in her seat, her head lolling, her eyes glazed and unfocused.

‘Told you you’d feel better,’ he said, easing her jacket aside and sliding his hand inside her top. Getting no resistance when he squeezed her nipple between his finger and thumb, he grinned and climbed out of the car.

He pulled her out and walked her into a pitch-dark backyard, propping her against the wall before rapping on the door.

‘It’s me,’ he hissed when he heard the shuffle of feet on the other side.

Two bolts were drawn back and a man opened the door. Yates shoved Amy into a dingy passageway and said, ‘Got my money?’

‘Upstairs,’ the man said, licking his lips as he eyed Amy.

Barely conscious, Amy stared at the brown carpet that seemed to be undulating like a stream of filthy water beneath her feet as Yates pushed her up a flight of stairs.

Two more men were upstairs, lounging on a shabby sofa and watching a porn movie on a huge flat-screen TV. The only other furniture in the room was an unmade bed, and a coffee table littered with overflowing ashtrays, spirit bottles, traces of coke, and several pieces of blackened tinfoil.

When the first man handed over a wad of notes, Yates snatched it and shoved Amy down onto the bed. ‘I’ll be back in two hours. And I don’t wanna see no marks on her, so don’t get too rough.’

‘No worries,’ the man agreed, rubbing his hands together as he gazed at Amy staring unseeingly up at the nicotine-stained ceiling. ‘How old did you say she was again?’

‘Fourteen.’

‘She looks older.’

‘They all look fuckin’ older these days. Do you want it, or not?’

‘Yeah, yeah, leave her. What’s she had?’

‘Rope,’ said Yates, heading for the door. ‘Laters.’

He trotted back down the stairs and let himself out. The low-life kiddie-fiddlers preferred them even younger than fourteen, but Mancunian kids were too streetwise nowadays so it wasn’t as easy to get hold of little ones as it had been when he’d started out a decade earlier. Still, she was there now, so they would fuck her regardless.

15

‘Mummy . . . Mummy, wake up. Bobby’s wee’d, and I need to get ready for school.
Mummy!
’

‘Gerroff!’ Amy flapped her hand at Cassie who was shaking her shoulder.

‘I need to get ready for school,’ Cassie repeated with a wobble in her voice. ‘But I can’t find any clean knickers.’

Amy groaned, pulled herself into a sitting position and looked around. She was confused to see that she was on the couch. Her body was aching all over, her head banging, and she had a very vague memory of having gone out the night before – but none whatsoever of
being
out, or coming back.

‘We haven’t had breakfast,’ Cassie was saying now. ‘And Bobby’s been naughty in the kitchen.’

‘What you talking about?’ Amy grimaced at the foul taste in her mouth.

‘He tried to make an egg butty,’ Cassie told her. ‘But it spilled on the floor and maked a mess.’

‘Didn’t,’ Bobby protested, sidling guiltily into the room. ‘Wasn’t me.’

‘Yes, it was!’ Cassie turned on him accusingly. ‘Don’t lie. It’s naughty to lie.’

‘Just go and clean it up,’ Amy said irritably as a wave of nausea washed over her. ‘And put some cereal out while you’re there.’

Cassie sighed as if she had the weight of the world on her little shoulders and went miserably into the kitchen to do as she’d been told.

‘Want hug?’ Bobby asked Amy, clambering onto the couch beside her.

‘Oh, God, just give me some space,’ she snapped, shoving him away.

Her temper flared when he started whining and Amy slapped him on his bare leg. It was so unexpected that Bobby was momentarily stunned into silence. But then he breathed in sharply and burst into tears. Unable to bear it as the sound ricocheted around inside her head, Amy raced up to the bathroom, making it just in time.

When she came back downstairs a few minutes later, Cassie was cuddling Bobby on the couch and spoon-feeding him the last powdery bits of Coco Pops that had been in the box. Overcome by guilt, she sat down next to them.

‘I’m sorry for shouting. I just don’t feel very well today.’

‘It’s okay,’ Cassie said quietly.

‘No, it’s not.’ Amy stroked the child’s hair. ‘And I’m sorry for smacking you, baby,’ she told Bobby, gently wiping the tears off his cheeks. ‘I won’t do it again, I promise.’

Despite her best efforts, both children were late for school, and Amy felt sick all over again when Cassie’s teacher cornered her and lectured her about the importance of bringing Cassie in on time for assembly. Making a contrite promise not to be late again, she went home with her head in bits. She didn’t know what day it was, never mind what time, and hazy images kept flashing through her mind like pieces of a nightmarish disjointed jigsaw.

When she turned the corner and saw Marnie and Gemma talking, at Marnie’s gate this time, she huddled deeper into her jacket. Just like the previous day, she could tell from the looks on their faces that they had been talking about her, and her heart started to race as she got near.

As she passed, Gemma folded her arms and gave her a dirty look. ‘You’re a disgrace, you. Call yourself a mother? Going out and leaving them kids alone in the house like that. You want locking up.’

‘You talking to me?’ Amy turned and glared at her.

‘Yeah, I am,’ Gemma retorted aggressively. ‘And don’t bother denying it, ’cos I saw you going off with your fancy man.’

‘We’re not having a go,’ Marnie chipped in, trying to soften the blow of Gemma’s words. ‘But you asked me to babysit last night, so we know the kids must have been at home.’

‘I took them to my mum’s,’ Amy lied, tossing a betrayed look back at her friend as she marched up her path and slotted her key into the lock.

‘No, you didn’t, you lying bitch,’ yelled Gemma, as if she wanted the whole street to hear. ‘I was watching, and no one left that house last night except you.’

‘Think what you like,’ Amy muttered, stumbling through her door and slamming it shut.

Inside, she leaned against the wall and gasped for breath. Oh, God, it was true, she
had
gone out and left the kids. But why couldn’t she remember it? And what had happened while she was out? And how had she got back? Her mind was a complete blank.

She jumped when the postman pushed a couple of envelopes through the letter box. Both were brown and, guessing that they were bills that she had no chance of being able to pay, she left them where they were and went into the kitchen to look for something to ease the throbbing pain in her head. All she could find was an old bottle of Calpol, but she swallowed what little was left of it, then hauled herself up the stairs and climbed into bed. Shivering wildly, Amy wrapped the quilt around herself and tried to sleep it off.

Mark was messing around on the Internet when his mobile rang at half-three that afternoon. Cautious, because he didn’t recognise the number, he said, ‘Hello?’

‘Mr Taylor?’ asked the woman on the other end. ‘This is Mrs Burns from Princess Nursery. Your wife hasn’t been to collect Bobby yet, and we can’t reach her on the phone, so we’re going to need you to come and get him.’

‘What, now?’ Mark frowned.

‘Well, yes,’ the woman said, sounding surprised that he wasn’t already running for the door. ‘I appreciate that it may be inconvenient, but he
is
your son. Unless I’ve dialled the wrong number, in which case I apologise.’

‘No, it’s the right number.’ Mark ran a hand through his hair. ‘I’m, er, just a bit busy, right now. Can’t you ask one of the other parents to drop him off?’

‘As all the other parents collected their children on time and have now gone,
no
, I can’t,’ said Mrs Burns tartly. ‘If you’re refusing to come, I’ll try your wife again. But please be aware that if I can’t reach her in the next ten minutes, I’ll have no option but to pass it over to social services.’

‘All right, I’m coming,’ Mark said reluctantly. ‘But you’ll have to give us twenty minutes, ’cos I’m out.’

‘Ten minutes,’ said Mrs Burns before hanging up.

‘What’s going on?’ Jenny asked, walking into the room just as Mark put the phone down. ‘Who was that?’

‘Nursery.’ Mark scraped his chair back and reached for his trainers. ‘Amy’s not been to pick Bobby up, and they can’t get hold of her so I’ve got to go.’

Scared that if he bumped into Amy she might persuade him to go home, Jenny said, ‘You can’t! What if Len sees you and beats you up again?’

‘At school?’ Mark gave her an irritated look and bent down to tie his laces.

‘All right, I’ll come with you,’ Jenny said, her hands already shaking at the prospect of coming face to face with Amy. She desperately didn’t want to see her, but right now she was more afraid of letting Mark go on his own and risking losing him.

‘No, you stay here,’ Mark insisted. ‘If she hasn’t got Bobby, she won’t have got Cassie either, and I don’t want them seeing you.’

‘Why not?’ Jenny was offended.

‘I just don’t,’ Mark snapped. ‘See you in a bit.’

‘Call me and let me know what’s happening,’ Jenny called after him as he pulled the hood of his jacket up over his head and rushed out.

Bobby was sitting in the corridor outside the office when Mark reached the nursery, and he looked as forlorn as could be.

‘All right, mate?’ Mark squatted down in front of him. When Bobby gazed blankly back at him, he said, ‘It’s me . . . Daddy.’

At last there was a reaction, and Bobby’s face lit up as if the sun had just come out. He squealed with joy and launched himself into Mark’s arms, hugging him with all his might.

‘Thank you for coming so quickly,’ said Mrs Burns, walking out of the office. ‘May I have a word?’

‘Yeah, sure.’ Mark stood up with a clinging Bobby in his arms. ‘What’s up?’