Schemer (14 page)

Pam smiled. She had known that a few sharp words would be the thing to bring Angela back to her senses, and she had been absolutely right. Kissing Angie on the nose, Pam stood up. ‘You dry your eyes, angel, and come downstairs when you’re ready, eh?’

Angela nodded.

As soon as Pam shut the bedroom door, Angela walked over to the mirror, stared at her reflection and smirked. She needed to get back into her mother’s good books; if that meant pretending to like her bitch of a sister, then pretend she would.

CHAPTER TEN

As summer came to an abrupt end and autumn kicked in, Stephanie and Barry’s relationship seemed to go from strength to strength. Steph kept her promise to her mum by attending school regularly and working hard in her lessons, and Pam allowed Steph to spend time with Barry in return.

‘Hurry up, Ange. I’m meant to be meeting Tammy in half hour,’ Steph shouted, banging on the bathroom door. She and her sister were now on speaking terms, but were hardly best buddies.

‘You’re such an impatient cow. You ain’t gonna be here later when Jase comes round, are you?’ Angela shouted, flouncing out of the bathroom with a towel wrapped around her as though she were the Queen of Sheba. Angela had pestered her mum for weeks to allow her to bring Jason O’Brien home for dinner. ‘It ain’t fair! Barry’s round ’ere all the time and I have to put up with that. How comes Steph’s allowed to bring her boyfriend round and I ain’t? You always side with Steph,’ Angela had whinged only yesterday. Her drama-queen act had worked, and her mother had agreed that Jason O’Brien was now welcome at the house as well. Today he was coming for roast dinner, the first of many, Angela hoped.

‘No. I won’t be here later. Barry’s taking me out for a meal,’ Stephanie said, feeling extremely grown-up. Apart from a regular plate of chips in British Home Stores in Romford, or the odd sit-in at McDonald’s, this would be the first proper meal that Steph had ever been out for without an adult being present.

‘Where you going?’ Angela asked, with a hint of jealousy in her voice. Not only did she think Barry Franklin was far too handsome and entertaining to be dating the likes of her plain, boring sister, the way he treated her also really got Angie’s goat. Barry was forever buying Steph clothes and gifts. Even though Angela was happy with her Jason, she was still narked that her sister was being treated like she was some kind of bloody princess.

‘He’s taking me to Pizza Hut. It’s well ace in there and they have this big posh salad bar,’ Steph said, proudly.

‘What’s that in aid of then? Is it a special occasion?’ Angela asked, desperately trying to keep the spite out of her voice.

Stephanie wasn’t a very good liar, she never had been; so, red-faced, she came clean. ‘It’s Jacko’s sixteenth birthday if you must know. Tammy’s coming with us as well.’

‘Jacko ain’t going out with that pig now, is he?’ Angela asked, bluntly.

‘Tammy ain’t no pig! She is lovely, and no, they are not going out together. Jacko is a much nicer person now he don’t hang about with Potter and Cooksie all the time, and me and Tam get on really well with him now,’ Steph explained.

‘Well, bully for you,’ Angela said, nastily.

Ignoring her sister’s sarcasm, Stephanie wished her a nice day and took her turn in the bathroom.

Over in the East End of London, Barry Franklin was giving it all the spiel. ‘Come on ladies and gentlemen, you can’t beat my prices. Fifty quid in Harrods these little beauties sell for, hand on heart. Now, am I gonna charge you fifty today? No, I’m not. Nor will I charge you forty, or even thirty for that matter. Today, ladies and gentlemen, this state-of-the-art electronic toy is all yours for a tenner.’

‘Be careful, son. The Old Bill are heading this way,’ an old man shouted out.

‘Bollocks,’ Barry mumbled, as he packed the kiddies’ toys into the big grey suitcase and rapidly made his way back to Aldgate East Station. It was just over three weeks now since his mum had disappeared off to Spain and, seeing as she had left him virtually no money, Barry had had to work fly pitching toys down Petticoat Lane Market on a Sunday just to get by. His boss, Steve, had said he could have the bath towels to sell but, because they were so heavy, Barry hadn’t been able to take him up on his offer. Instead, he’d had a word with another pal of his and had been selling knocked-off plastic robots instead.

The train journey back to Dagenham from Aldgate took about thirty-five minutes and, as he usually did, Barry spent his time on the train thinking about Stephanie. Once or twice in the past, Barry had thought he had been in love, but he now knew that he hadn’t. The way Steph made him feel was nothing he had ever experienced in his life before. They had yet to make love, but Barry was sure that she was the girl he wanted to spend the rest of his life with. Sex wasn’t everything and, even though Barry was gagging to pop Stephanie’s cherry, he was determined not to put pressure on her. He loved her that much, he would wait for years to do the deed if she wanted him to.

Barry’s daydreaming nearly caused him to miss his stop, but he somehow managed to prise the doors open just in time. Suitcase in hand, he jogged home as fast as his heavy load would allow him. He hadn’t had a magnificent day today like he had last Sunday, but he reckoned he’d cleared fifty quid, which was enough to take Steph out and see him through the next few days. Now his sister’s bloke was out of nick, he didn’t have to support her any more and, worse ways, he could always skip school on Thursday and work up Roman Road with Steve. Inserting his key inside the lock, Barry heard the phone ringing. He dashed to answer it in case it was Steph. It wasn’t. It was his mother ringing from a callbox in Spain.

‘How’s my lovely boy?’ Marlene asked when she finally worked out how to put the money in the slot.

Barry was immediately suspicious. He’d only heard from his mum once since she had gone to Spain, and that was to tell him that she had no idea when she would be home. As for calling him lovely, ‘little bastard’ was the nearest thing he’d ever had to a compliment off her in the past. Guessing his mum had split up with Jake the Snake and was now after money for the air fare home, Barry sighed. ‘How much do you need?’ he asked in a sarcastic tone.

‘What do you mean?’ Marlene asked.

‘Money! How much money do you need, Mum? I ain’t got a lot, but I suppose I can get hold of it for you somehow.’

‘I don’t need no money, Barry. And even if I did, I wouldn’t ask you for it, would I? You’re my favourite son, you are.’

About to remind his mum that he was her only son, Barry decided not to bother. The only other reason in the world she could be being nice to him was that she was drunk, so he decided to humour her instead. ‘Nice to hear from you, Mum. I’ve gotta go now as I’m taking me girlfriend out and I’m running a bit late.’

‘But you don’t even know why I’m ringing you yet. What happened at your father’s trial? Did they bang him up?’ Marlene asked, hoping they had.

‘No. The trial ain’t finished yet. Look, what exactly do you want, Mum?’ Barry asked, his patience wearing thin.

‘Me and Jake are flying home tomorrow. Got a big surprise for you, boy, we have,’ Marlene cackled.

‘Don’t tell me, you’re getting married,’ Barry replied, wearily.

‘Nope. It’s better than that. Gonna have to go now, got no more change on me. See you tomorrow afternoon. Love you.’

Barry put the phone down and stared at it in shock. His mum had been nice, too nice, and that worried him greatly. Convincing himself that Marlene was either pregnant or had had a personality transplant, Barry smiled at his own humour and dashed upstairs to have a bath. He couldn’t wait to see Steph and, as soon as his mum arrived home, he would tell her his own big secret as well. He was in love with the girl across the road, and if his mother didn’t like it, she would have to bloody well lump it.

Stephanie and Tammy giggled excitedly as they sat on the top deck of the 174 bus that took them to Romford. They had had a great morning mooching around the Dagenham Sunday Market and had both treated themselves to the latest number one record, Billy Joel’s ‘Uptown Girl’.

‘I can’t wait till we get posh jobs up London. We’ll be uptown girls then, won’t we?’ Stephanie said, staring at the cover of the seven-inch vinyl.

Tammy lit up two cigarettes and handed one to her pal. ‘I dunno if I wanna get a job in an office up town now. My sister’s new boyfriend is a policeman and he’s been telling me loads about his job. It sounds dead exciting, so I think I might be a copper.’

Stephanie burst out laughing. ‘You are joking, ain’t ya?’

Tammy shook her head. ‘Nah, I ain’t. I think I might get bored being stuck in an office or bank from nine till five. Being a copper must be brill.’

‘Well, don’t be saying you wanna be a copper when we get to Pizza Hut, will you? Jacko’s a member of that West Ham football hooligan gang and my Barry is an illegal fly pitcher,’ Steph reminded her.

Seeing the funny side of her career choice, Tammy giggled. ‘So, have you done anything with Barry yet or what?’

‘No, nothing much.’

‘What’s nothing much mean? Have you let him tit you up or finger you yet? You ain’t wanked him off, have you?’ Tammy asked, excitedly.

‘Ssh,’ Steph replied, as she noticed a lady turn around from the seat in front and give them both a filthy look. She had let Barry fondle her breasts and put his hand inside her knickers, but she wasn’t about to discuss that on the 174 bus.

‘Tell me then?’ Tammy whispered, impatiently.

‘No, not on here. Tell me about you and Jacko. You seemed ever so cosy the other night. Do you like him, Tam?’

‘Yeah, but only as a mate. I ain’t Jacko’s type, Steph, and even if I were I wouldn’t want your bleedin’ sister’s leftovers. We do get on well though. He’s more of a laugh and so much nicer than I ever thought he would be. I used to think he was so up his own arse, but he ain’t when you really get to know him, is he?’

Stephanie nodded in agreement.

‘So, when you gonna shag Barry then?’ Tammy asked, in her usual none-too-quiet voice.

The woman who had looked around earlier stood up and glared at the girls. ‘Charming!’ she mumbled, as she moved seats.

Unable to stop themselves, both Stephanie and Tammy burst out laughing.

Pam had been not only surprised, but also delighted by how nice Angela’s boyfriend was. She had been extremely reluctant to welcome Jason O’Brien into her home, as she felt Angie was too young to be having boyfriends, but Jason seemed rather shy, sweet, yet charming at the same time.

‘So what does your mum do on a Sunday, Jason? Does she cook a roast as well?’ Pam asked, trying to find out if the boy came from a decent home.

‘Yes, Mrs Crouch. My mum and dad are both very religious. They go to mass every Sunday morning, but Mum always puts the meat on before they leave, so we all have a nice roast dinner when she gets home.’

Pam glanced at Cathy as if to mentally say: please don’t swear. Linda was out on the lash again, all of them spoke like navvies at times, and now Angela – of all people – had brought home a boy who came from a godly family. ‘So, what church do your parents attend, love?’ Pam asked.

‘My family are Irish Catholics. They go to St Peter’s Church, near the Chequers.’

Pam was Church of England, but knew very little about her religion – or anyone else’s, for that matter. ‘Would you like some dessert now, Jason? I’ve got homemade apple crumble, or there’s plenty of ice cream in the freezer, if you’d prefer that?’

‘You’re not still hungry, are you Jase?’ Angela said, kicking her boyfriend under the table.

‘No thank you, Mrs Crouch. I’m really full up,’ Jason replied, politely.

‘Can we please go upstairs and play some records now, Mum?’ Angela asked, in her innocent, childlike voice.

Pam thought carefully before answering. She refused to let Stephanie and Barry sit in the bedroom together because she found it inappropriate. It was different with Angie though. She had not long turned thirteen, and seeing as her boyfriend came from a church-going family, she really couldn’t see the harm in it. ‘You can, but don’t you dare tell your sister, as I don’t want her sitting upstairs with that Barry,’ Pam replied.

‘Come on, Jase,’ Angela said, grabbing her boyfriend by the hand.

‘And make sure you behave yourselves. I shall be checking up on you regularly, you know,’ Pam shouted out, as her daughter bolted up the stairs with Jason in tow.

Angela pushed Jason against the landing wall, snogged him passionately and smirked. ‘We’ll be on our best behaviour, I can promise you that, Mum.’

Wayne Jackman stared wistfully at Stephanie and Barry as they walked up to the salad bar laughing and joking. He wasn’t jealous of their happiness. He was just annoyed with himself for not taking Steph up on her offer when she had asked him out in the first place.

‘You OK, Jacko? Shall I order us all another drink?’ Tammy asked. They’d been ordering glasses of Coke and sneakily pouring the vodka in from a bottle Barry had bought to the restaurant with him.

‘Yeah, order some more up, girl,’ Wayne replied, chirpily. He liked Tammy, thought she was great fun, but she was no ravishing beauty and he certainly didn’t fancy her. Steph was the looker of the two. She had intelligence and an aura about her, and Wayne could kick himself for choosing her stupid sister over Steph. He must have been mad and blind, but it was too late to do anything about it now. When Barry and Steph returned to the table, Wayne smiled at them. ‘Get the vodka out, Bazza.’

Making sure none of the waitresses were looking, Barry poured a generous amount in all four of their glasses, then screwed the lid back on the bottle. He lifted his glass aloft, ‘To a top geezer who I owe my life to. Happy birthday, Jacko.’

With the washing-up out of the way, Pam flopped down in the armchair opposite Cathy.

‘Shall I open that bottle of wine now?’ Cathy asked, hopefully.

‘No! We can’t keep drinking the bloody stuff, Cath. We’ll have problems before you know it and we’ll have to join that Alcoholic’s Anonymous group. We should just drink it on a Saturday night like we used to, or the odd special occasion.’