Written in the Scars (The Estate Series Book 4) (28 page)

Donna went to sit nearer to her mum, desperate for someone to talk to as she perched on the arm of the chair. She couldn’t burden Keera with what had happened, and even if she could tell Sam, he’d want to find out where Owen lived and get his revenge. He could injure himself more in the heat of the moment, and harm his hand irreparably. Worse, he could try to use a weapon and end up in real trouble.

Donna couldn’t even confide in Sarah, she felt too ashamed. She was dreading going into work, having to face her wanting to know everything about the night away. Her ribs were sore too, her face piled with make-up to hide the bruise inflicted by Owen’s hand.

No, she couldn’t face it today. She’d have to ring in sick. Then, tomorrow, somehow, she’d have to pretend that everything was fine.

’Oh, Mum, I’ve been so stupid,’ she sniffed. ‘I let someone get under my skin and he took advantage of me. He turned out to be a horrible man.’

Mary didn’t take her eyes from the television but Donna continued to talk anyway. She told her about Owen, about the attack and the phone call where he was denying all knowledge of hurting her.

Knowing that she wouldn’t get any response from Mary made it easier to offload. Mary couldn’t tell her she’d been stupid, couldn’t tell her that she’d been lucky to get away when she had, or tell her that she had been gullible, foolish – pathetic to even think that someone like Owen would fall for her.

She looked down as she felt Mary’s hand on her arm.

‘Don’t cry, Donna,’ she said.

Donna’s tears spilled over. Having her mum back for a little time was a bonus, even though Mary knew she was upset but wouldn’t understand why. It felt comforting that she had reached out to her when she had needed it most.

A few seconds later, Mary was watching the television again. Donna took out her phone and reread the message that Owen had sent to her after he’d called.

Remember – I can see your every move.

She didn’t believe that for a moment, but the idea of him watching her, following her, was enough to make her shiver. She hovered over the delete button, wishing she could erase him from her mind with the click of a button. But even though it hurt like hell to see his name displayed on her phone, something inside Donna made her think she should keep the message.

Chapter Thirty-Eight

It was all that Donna could do to drag herself into work later that week, but she knew Sarah would be short-staffed if she didn’t turn up, and besides, she needed the money. Getting docked pay would cause her enough problems with the time she’d been away so far.

‘Jeez, you look terrible,’ Sarah said as soon as she saw her. ‘Are you sure you’re all right to work?’

Donna had told Sarah that she had slipped down the stairs, hurting her back and pulling her stomach as she had reached for the bannister to steady herself.

‘I – I think so,’ she fibbed. ‘I’m still in agony, if I’m honest, but I’ll be fine.’ She couldn’t look Sarah in the eye, instead rubbing at the small of her back and praying that the bruise on the side of her face had been concealed enough with make-up.

‘You’ll tell me anything, won’t you?’ Sarah exclaimed.

Donna froze until she saw Sarah’s warm smile and realised she was teasing her.

’You’ve been swinging off the chandelier with Owen this weekend, haven’t you?’

Donna managed a smile. ‘I wish.’

‘If you need to leave, let me know. I’ll get that idle cow, Maxine, to cover for your shift for a change.’

‘I’ll be fine. Working will take my mind off it.’

‘Well, you go easy, then. And later, I’ll make a cup of tea and you can tell me all about your night away. I’m dying to hear how it went!’  

Donna was halfway through her shift before she managed to take a break. She couldn’t believe that she’d got through the morning without bursting into tears. Her nerves were in shreds. Every time someone came into the shop, she expected it to be Owen. She wasn’t sure how she would feel when she saw him again. More to the point, if he did come into Shop&Save, how would she explain to Sarah why she didn’t want to see him?

‘Special delivery for you, Don,’ Sarah opened the door to the stockroom and shouted through to her.

Donna pushed herself up gently and made her way carefully back through to the shop floor, where Sarah was holding a huge bouquet of flowers.

‘These just came for you.’ She pressed her nose to them and inhaled their scent before grinning. ‘I wonder what you did to deserve these, you dirty mare.’

 ‘You wouldn’t believe me if I told you.’

Donna still held onto her tears. She couldn’t let Sarah see how upset she was or else she’d start to see through her act. She took the flowers, barely looking at them.

‘You and your kinky toyboy.’ Sarah grinned. ‘I still want to know all the details when you’re up to talking about it.’

It took Donna all the strength she had to smile, hoping to fool Sarah that even though she was in agony, she was still happy.

Sarah touched her arm. ‘We can manage without you if—’

‘Honestly, I’m fine,’ Donna fibbed. ‘I’d rather keep busy.’ She looked down at the flowers as she tried to hold it together. ‘I’ll just put these in water until I finish.’

Once she was on her own again, panic welled up inside her. With a sense of trepidation, she removed the small envelope attached to the cellophane. She didn’t want to read the greeting but equally she needed to know what it said. Hands trembling, she opened it and read the message on the card.

No one needs to know our little secret.

Donna ripped the card up into tiny pieces and shoved it into the nearest bin.
Our little secret
? How could he say that? Here she was, keeping it to herself because she was ashamed she’d got herself into that predicament, scared that he might attack her daughter, and there
he
was lording it up as if it were some sort of game.

Donna gasped with realisation, pain shooting through her chest as she did so. Had Owen done this before? Was she not the first to play right into his hands?

She covered her mouth with her hand as she retched. Throwing the flowers to the ground, she rushed to the toilet, barely getting there in time to be sick.

Afterwards, she closed the door, put the lid down on the toilet and sat, resting her head against the cold tiles. She shouldn’t have come into work today. She should have stayed in the safety of her own home. Those flowers weren’t a kind gesture. They were to show Donna that he was watching her.

A few minutes later, still feeling nauseous, she texted Sarah and asked her to come through to the back. She didn’t want to be seen in the shop in this state.

‘Oh, Donna,’ Sarah said as soon as she saw her. ‘You’re as white as a piece of chalk.’

‘I’m going to go back home,’ Donna told her. ‘I still don’t feel right.’

‘You should have stayed off for the whole week.’

‘I can’t afford to.’

‘I know it’s a cliché, but your health is far more important than money, even if the bills won’t get paid.’ Sarah paused. ‘Maybe you’ve pulled a muscle and it’s making you feel sick all the time. I’m sure it will wear off soon. Leave your car here and I’ll get Maxine to hold the fort while I take you home. Come on.’ She held out a hand.

‘No!’ Donna lowered her voice. ‘I’m fine driving myself home, thanks.’

Sarah didn’t look convinced. ‘Well, if you’re sure?’

Maxine popped her head around the door. ‘Sarah, do we have any salted crisps out here?’

‘I’d better get back,’ Sarah sighed. ‘You know what it’s like if I’m missing for more than thirty bloody seconds. You stay here, catch your breath and go home when you’re ready. I’ll give you a ring later, yeah? See how you are.’

Donna nodded.

Sarah brought Donna her bag and she waited until she was serving behind the till again. Then she pushed open the back door and left, leaving the flowers behind.

When Donna arrived home, she let herself into the house, praying that Keera would be out so that she wouldn’t have to explain anything. But as she looked out of the kitchen window, she could see her daughter in the back garden. The sky was a vivid blue, not a cloud in sight, and Keera was lying on a lounger in her shorts and vest, grabbing a few rays of sun. Even though she felt so miserable, Donna smiled. It seemed that everyone she spoke to as they came into the shop was getting fed up of the heat, people complaining that they wanted rain, that it was too hot, too muggy. But Keera loved sitting in it.

She went out into the garden to her, taking her a glass of orange juice.

‘Thought you might like this,’ said Donna, handing the drink to Keera.

Keera looked up at Donna, and took the glass. ‘Thanks. I thought you weren’t finishing until five. Are you still feeling off?’

‘I was fine until this morning.’ Donna’s smile was faint but she couldn’t meet Keera’s eyes as she lied again. ‘I slipped and fell down a few stairs. It’s a bit sore right now, but nothing to worry about.’

‘God, you are in the wars. I’m glad they sent you home. Why don’t you take off your uniform and come and sit in the garden with me? Can you do that – is it more painful to stand or sit?’

‘I think I’m going to lie down a little.’  Donna rubbed at the bottom of her back. ‘Have you been to see Nan today?’

 A guilty look crossed Keera’s face. ‘No, not yet. I will go on my way to work, though. I promise.’

‘You sure? Because I know she needs some fresh bread and milk, but I’d really struggle to drive and—’ 

‘I’m sure,’ Keera nodded. ‘I can use the car?’

‘If you want to fill it up with petrol. I’m nearly on empty.’

Donna went back into the house and went upstairs, pulling herself up a step at a time by holding onto the bannister. She couldn’t believe how much she still ached. Some of the bruising was fading, and she knew she hadn’t broken any ribs as the pain there had subsided a little too.

At least Keera hadn’t asked her about Owen lately. She’d mentioned it on Sunday and yesterday, but seemed to be pacified when Donna had changed the subject.

In her room, she pulled off her uniform and lay on the bed in just a t-shirt, closing her eyes. After a few minutes, there was a knock on the door. Keera pushed it open.

‘I thought you might like some tea.’ She stopped. ‘Ohmigod, that bruise looks so sore! How did—’

‘It’s nothing.’ Donna pulled the duvet around her. ‘Really, I’ll be okay.’

But Keera didn’t want to leave.

‘What’s wrong, Mum?’ she asked, her tone gentle. ‘You’re not your usual cheery self.’

Donna groaned. ‘Give me a break. I can’t be bloody cheery all the time!’

‘Okay, okay.’ Keera put up a hand. ‘No need to snap. I’m only concerned.’

‘I’m sorry, love. I’m a bit cranky, that’s all. I’ll be fine with a couple of hours’ sleep.’

‘Do you need any painkillers?’

‘I’ve just taken some, thanks.’

‘Well, if you’re sure.’

‘I’m sure.’

Keera left the room but Donna knew she hadn’t fooled her. She hoped she could keep her pain to herself for a little while longer. Maybe things could get back to normal soon.

And then she needed to decide if she was brave enough to do anything about Owen.

Chapter Thirty-Nine

Lewis woke up and grimaced when he turned over in his bed. His ribs were hurting and he couldn’t open his right eye properly. He touched the lid gingerly, feeling the swelling and wincing at the pain.

He pulled both hands from beneath the duvet. Shit: his knuckles were swollen and red too. Well, it seemed as if he’d given as good as he got.

He wondered whether to stay in bed until his mum had gone to work or whether to get up and face the music. Either way, she would be none too happy when she clocked the mess he was in. Last night, Lewis had found himself back in the pub. After another couple of hours, the booze had got the better of him completely. As he’d headed for the door, he’d turned sharply when he heard a gang of men laughing.

‘What the fuck’s up with you lot?’ he said.

The laughing stopped. ‘What the fuck’s it got to do with you?’ a voice shouted back.

‘I can’t hear myself thinking.’

A young stocky lad sniggered. ‘You don’t look as though you could understand yourself, you’re that plastered.’ He pointed to Lewis’s trousers where there were a few drops of water. ‘And you can’t hold yourself either. Look, you’ve pissed your pants!’

Lewis groaned as he remembered swinging his fists around, missing everyone he could see as they stepped out of his way. That was when a fist had come back at him, catching him on the chin. He’d lost his balance, falling to his knees. One of the group had taken the opportunity to give him a kick to his stomach before the landlord had come over and broken it up.

As he was ushered to the door, Lewis hadn’t had the strength to retaliate but he could recall what Bob had said to him. ‘“I’m sick of you, coming in here getting drunk and taking your troubles out on my regulars. One of these days, I’ll leave them to you.”’