Broke (23 page)

‘Well, it ain’t good enough!’ Yates was staring at her with such intensity that she felt physically sick. ‘You owe me, and I’m getting sick of waiting for it.’

Amy could have reminded him that, apart from the odd backhander, she never saw a penny of what she earned, because Mani always handed it straight to Yates. But she kept her mouth shut and braced herself for the beating that she felt sure was coming.

‘And what’s with that cunt back there eyeballing me?’ Yates asked now. ‘You been talking to him?’

‘No, course not.’

‘
Liar!
’ Yates punched her in the stomach.

‘I’m not!’ Amy cried, clutching at her midriff. ‘I don’t talk to anyone.’

‘Think I don’t know what goes on in there?’ Yates slapped her around the head and knocked her down to the floor. ‘Think I ain’t got people reporting back to me?’ He kicked her in the stomach. ‘Want me to shoot the cunt, do you? Want me to shoot
you
, then go after your brats? ’Cos that’s what I’m gonna do if you carry on taking the piss.’

Amy curled into a ball and covered her head with her hands as the kicks kept coming. Finally, what felt like an hour later, Yates stopped and stared down at her.

‘You’re mine,’ he hissed. ‘And if I catch you so much as looking at that black cunt, or any other man, you’re dead.’

Amy stayed where she was for several minutes after he walked out. Then, dragging herself up painfully, she reached into her bra for the wrap that Ella had given her. She was sweating with fear and the paper felt damp. Scared that the powder might be too, she hobbled into the front room and quickly tipped some out onto her foil.

The sound of muffled voices came to her through the wall as she was putting the Monopoly note into her mouth. Sneering, she sucked up the soothing dragon-smoke and lay down, pulling the dirty clothes that were heaped at the end of the couch over herself. Marnie and Yates would be on their way to bed any time now, and Amy had no intention of going upstairs and listening to them at it.

21

Woken by the sound of her mobile phone ringing the next morning, Amy rooted down the side of the couch cushions and dragged it out. Shocked to see Mark’s name on the screen, because they hadn’t spoken in weeks, she sat bolt upright.

‘Hello . . . Mark? What’s up? Are the kids all right?’

‘Like you care,’ spat Mark. ‘It’s your daughter’s birthday, but you’ve obviously forgotten.’

‘Course I haven’t,’ Amy lied, guilt washing over her like a red-hot wave. ‘But I couldn’t send a card ’cos you won’t tell me your address.’

‘Too right I won’t. Think I want you turning up and kicking off every time you feel like it? Anyhow, don’t worry about it, ’cos me and Jenny are doing a party for her.’

‘Can – can I see her?’ Amy’s chin had started to wobble, and tears were scorching her eyes.

‘I just told you, we don’t want you round here,’ said Mark. ‘And the kids don’t, neither.’

‘So why did you ring me?’ Amy cried, guessing that he’d done it to hurt her.

Mark didn’t answer. As it happened, he
had
only rung to rub it in that he wouldn’t be letting her see Cassie on her birthday. Long as they had been apart now, he was no less angry with her for betraying him. But if hearing about Cassie’s party had hurt her, his next news was guaranteed to cut her to pieces.

‘I wasn’t just ringing about Cassie, actually,’ he said, an edge of spite in his voice. ‘Me and Jenny are getting married, and the social worker reckoned I should tell you before you got wind of it and took it into your head to try and stop us. I wouldn’t, though, if I was you, ’cos Cass is proper excited about being a bridesmaid, and I’d hate for her to have her big day ruined.’

‘You bastard,’ Amy hissed.

‘Yep, that’s me.’ Mark laughed nastily. ‘Anyhow, got to go. Jenny’s baking a special cake, and I’ve got to go and get some candles and balloons, and that.’

When the line went dead, Amy buried her face in her hands and sobbed. She had completely forgotten that it was Cassie’s birthday, and it killed her to think that she wouldn’t be able to see her. She was the one who had always organised the kids’ parties in the past, and if Mark had even made it back from work in time to see them blow out their candles, he’d usually sneaked out again before the smoke had cleared. But all of a sudden he was the world’s best daddy, and he was letting that bitch play mummy and do all the things that Amy had always done. It wasn’t fair, it just wasn’t fair.

Unable to bear it, Amy went to the kitchen and rooted through the bin for one of the spikes that Yates had used on her. She was still terrified of needles, and never injected herself if she could get away with it. But she didn’t have enough gear left to wipe out the pain by smoking it, and desperate times called for desperate measures.

‘What did she say?’ Jenny asked when Mark put down the phone. ‘Did she say anything about me?’

‘She was fuming when I told her you were baking a cake,’ Mark muttered sickly. Jenny had been nagging him to ring Amy and tell her about the wedding for ages, and he’d got quite a kick out of it while he was actually doing it. But the satisfaction had been short-lived. He and Amy had been together for a long time and, however many times he’d cheated on her, she’d always been the one. Still, it was done now, so there was no point thinking about it.

‘She’s only got herself to blame,’ Jenny said self-righteously. ‘If she’d been a proper mum, the kids would still be with her. Not my fault I’m better at it than her.’

Mark didn’t think Jenny’s mothering skills were a patch on Amy’s, and if things had been different he’d have been happy to let the kids go home, because full-time parenting was much harder than he’d thought it was going to be. But that wasn’t an option since the social services had declared Amy unfit, so Jenny would have to do.

‘Best go and get those candles,’ he said, getting up and pulling his jacket on.

‘You won’t be long, will you?’ Jenny asked, kissing him on the cheek.

Mark shook his head and glanced at Cassie. It was Saturday, so there was no school, but far from looking happy at the prospect of spending her birthday at home Mark had never seen her so miserable.

‘What’s up, darlin’?’ He walked over to the couch and squatted down in front of her.

‘Nothing,’ she whispered, sad eyes downcast.

‘You don’t look very happy.’ Mark stroked her hair. ‘If you’re not feeling well, why don’t you go and have a little lie-down with Bobby while Daddy gets the stuff for your party?’

‘I wanted to talk to my mummy,’ Cassie mumbled, casting a wary side-glance at Jenny.

‘I know,’ Mark said quietly, the guilt intensifying and making him feel like a cunt. ‘But she’s not very well at the moment, so she couldn’t talk. Maybe later, eh?’

‘Don’t worry, I’ll cheer her up,’ said Jenny, touching him on the shoulder to tell him to leave Cassie be. ‘You go and get the candles. And don’t forget the pop. Can’t have a birthday party without pop, can we?’ She smiled down at Cassie.

‘Thanks.’ Mark stood up and gave her a grateful smile. ‘Won’t be long.’

Jenny waited until she heard the front door close, then turned to Cassie and scowled.

‘What do you think you’re playing at, you little bitch? Your daddy’s going to a lot of trouble to give you a nice birthday party, and I won’t be happy if you ruin it for him. You’d better get that look off your face and start acting like you’re having fun – or else.’

Tears welling in her eyes, chin quivering uncontrollably, Cassie whimpered, ‘I want my m-mummy.’

‘
Boo-hoo! I want my mummy!
’ Jenny mimicked nastily. Then, sneering, she said, ‘You’re a stupid little girl. Stupid and ugly, just like your precious mummy. Well, guess what . . . she doesn’t want you. That’s why she wouldn’t talk to you, and that’s why she gave you away, ’cos she can’t stand the sight of you.’

Cassie drew her knees up to her chin and buried her face in them. But Jenny was having none of that. She grabbed the child’s hair and dragged her head up, hissing, ‘You’d better stop this before your dad gets back, or you know what’ll happen, don’t you? Bobby will get hurt. And you don’t want that, do you?’

Tears streaming down her cheeks, Cassie shook her head.

‘Make sure you remember that,’ spat Jenny, letting go of her and heading for the door. ‘I’m going for a bath. Make sure that brat doesn’t touch anything of mine when he wakes up or I’ll chop his hands off.’

Her little chest still heaving, Cassie listened out for the sound of the bolt going across on the bathroom door. Then, easing herself off the couch, she tiptoed across the room. Mark had left his phone on the arm of the other couch. Cassie had never used a mobile in her life, but she’d watched her mum and dad doing it loads of times, so she thought she knew what to do. Hands shaking wildly, she stared at the door, picked up the phone and pressed the redial button.

Amy had just finished preparing her fix and was trying to summon up the courage to inject herself when her mobile rang again. Red mist descending when she saw Mark’s name on the screen, she snatched it up and yelled, ‘Fuck off and die, you bastard! I hate you, and I never want to see you or hear your horrible voice again!’

Shocked and heartbroken, Cassie dropped the phone and ran into the bedroom, dived under the quilt, curled into a little ball and buried her face in the pillow to cover the sound of her sobs.

All she’d wanted was to hear her mummy sing
Happy Birthday To You
like she’d always used to do on their birthdays. And she’d wanted to tell her that she loved her, and missed her, and didn’t want to be a bridesmaid because she hated Jenny and didn’t want her daddy to get married to her. But more than anything she’d wanted to tell her mummy to come and get her and Bobby and take them home.

But that was never going to happen, because Jenny had been telling the truth. Her mummy
did
hate her.

22

As usual, Kelvin Brown was smiling when he opened the door for Amy that night. But his smile soon slipped when he caught sight of the bruise on her cheek and the livid markings on her throat.

‘Oh, my days,’ he murmured concernedly. ‘What’s he done now?’

Amy blushed and self-consciously covered her face with her hand, murmuring ‘I fell over’ as she rushed towards the stairs.

Was that before or after you walked into the door?
Kelvin wanted to ask, but she had already gone.

He shook his head and went back into his booth. It wasn’t the first time he’d seen bruises on Amy, and it definitely wouldn’t be the last. But, if she wasn’t careful, she was going to end up like the last girl that Yates had brought here.

Like Amy, that girl had always had a haunted look in her eye and an air of resignation about her. And, like Amy, she had regularly come to work with bruises on her face. But it hadn’t been long before the scars had started to appear; scars that became progressively deeper and nastier, until her pretty face was no longer pretty. And then, one night, she hadn’t turned up – and nobody had seen her since.

Kelvin had three sisters, and his mother had been widowed when he was only nine, so he’d grown up in pretty much an all-girl household. But, annoying as girls could undoubtedly be, he could never imagine a time when he would want to cause them pain. Not only because it would shame his father’s memory, but because it would send his mother into an early grave.

She was so proud of him for holding down a full-time job – a rarity in their neck of the woods. And every time one of the neighbourhood boys succumbed to the evils of drugs or guns, she thanked the Lord for having given her the tools to guide her fatherless boy onto the right path. But Kelvin knew that she wouldn’t be so proud if she ever found out
where
he worked, so that was one thing he’d never told her.

He personally saw nothing wrong with a girl choosing to sell her body – as long as she was doing it of her own free will. The problem arose when they were forced into it, and he despised the men who abused them in that way. Men like Yates, who dropped them off and picked them up in order to maintain control; and who took all the money they earned, and then beat them for not earning more.

Kelvin had been working at
Hawaii
for three years now, and he’d seen it all. Girls came and went, and they all had their reasons for doing what they did. Most were addicts who chose this line of work because it was the quickest way to get the money for a fix without putting themselves in danger on the streets. Some did it because they were struggling to feed their kids, having been abandoned by the fathers or getting no help from them. For the odd few, like old Betty, it was simply the only way of life they had ever known. But then there were the ones like Amy, who Kelvin could see from a mile off didn’t really want to be there. And they were the ones that made him question what
he
was doing here.

The first punter of the night arrived, and Kelvin pushed Amy to the back of his mind. Saturdays were the busiest night of the week, and also the night when trouble was most likely to flare, so he had to stay on his toes at all times.

The night went by quickly and with little incident, but Kelvin’s instincts prickled when a group of lads who didn’t look old enough to shave, never mind have sex, turned up at two in the morning.

‘How much for me mate?’ one of them asked as the others sniggered behind him. ‘It’s his birthday, and he’s a virgin, so we wanna get him laid.’

‘Sorry, lads,’ Kelvin told them through the spyhole. ‘You’re not old enough.’

‘We’ve got fifty quid,’ the lad persisted, holding up the money to show him. ‘Come on, mate. We just wanna give him a good time. The rest of us are just gonna watch.’

‘Sorry,’ Kelvin said again. ‘Come back in a couple of years.’

‘Yo, cunt!’ the lad shouted, hammering his fist on the door when the spyhole slid shut. ‘Who d’ya think you’re talking to? I ain’t one of your homies, you ain’t dissin’
me
like that and getting away with it. Come out here if you think you’re a big man – I’ll fuckin’ show you!’

The rest joined in, and Kelvin listened as they started booting the door in unison. Soon the walls were echoing with the sound of missiles being hurled at the door. He wasn’t concerned about that, because he knew they would never get through it. But when he heard the sound of glass smashing up above, he ran up the stairs.