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

Which is why, she supposed, when she’d got a bit of attention from Owen, she’d let in a little glimmer of hope that things might be about to change. And although her plans were on hold rather than cancelled completely, she hoped Owen would understand.

Surely, she deserved a chance at happiness just as much as anyone else?

Chapter Four

When Lewis had left The Butcher’s Arms after downing a few pints, he’d taken himself off to bed for a couple of hours. Waking up a little worse for wear, he went downstairs into the kitchen. Recently refitted by the housing association, standard white units and black-marble effect worktops gave it the same uniform look as the houses he had passed on his return home today. It pleased him to see clean lines; he’d never been one for things out of order.

On the side of the fridge, held in place by a Help the Heroes fridge magnet, was a photograph. It had been taken in the back garden on a sunny day, the summer before his dad had died. The two of them were laughing, arms around each other, beer bottles raised in the air. Lewis swallowed. They had been so close, sharing most of his time on leave together. Sometimes he couldn’t bear to look at this picture. It reminded him too much of what he missed.

His mum, Laura, was at the sink, washing a few dishes. From where he stood, he could see her sagging shoulders. His dad, Michael, had died suddenly after a heart attack eighteen months ago; such a quick and brutal death. Here one minute and gone the next. Even though Lewis had left the army, he hadn’t been able to make it back to his parents’ house in time. It had been too quick for Laura to have the chance to say goodbye to Michael either.

Lewis knew when she turned to him that she would put on a brave face. How alike he and Michael were. He knew he must remind her of what she had lost every time she looked at him. It must be so hard for her to have him around so much now, too. He cursed himself inwardly for being so selfish. If only he hadn’t been so angry all the time, he might still be living with Amy.

Laura emptied the water from the bowl and wiped her hands on a tea towel. Lewis helped himself to a biscuit from the barrel.

‘I hope you went to sign on before going to the pub,’ she said, flicking on the kettle and grabbing two mugs.

‘Don’t worry,’ he replied, his tone sharper than he’d intended. ‘I’ll be on my way as soon as I can find a permanent job.’

‘That’s not what I mean and you know it,’ Laura chastised. ‘You can stay here for as long as you like. Tea?’

‘Please.’

Lewis went through to the living room. He sat down in the armchair closest to the large bay window, the sun streaming in as it did throughout most of the day. He’d always sat there as a child, with his feet up beside him most of the time, and his mum had always sat on the settee. The remaining armchair had been his dad’s. From a young age Lewis had never sat in it and he wouldn’t sit in it now. He stared at the chair, almost despising it as he realised it seemed to belong in the house more than he did.

All at once, images came before his eyes. Blood, injured men, noise, shouting, calls for backup amongst the gunshots. His heartbeat ratcheted up at an alarming rate, sweat breaking out on his brow. The colour drained from his face and he breathed deeply to stop the panic building. One, two, three, four, five – five, four, three, two, one. Over and over he counted, but it didn’t help. His vision blurred around the edges of the room and he couldn’t focus on his dad’s chair anymore.

‘Lewis?’ Laura put down the two mugs she was carrying and came towards him.

Lewis held up a hand. ‘I’ll be fine,’ he managed to say, trying desperately to concentrate on a rhythm that wouldn’t have him gulping for air, clenching and unclenching his fingers as they began to tingle.

‘Are you sure?’ Laura’s eyes rested firmly on his.

Lewis couldn’t speak for a while, but eventually the tightness in his chest began to subside. His eyes flicked upwards towards his mum, recognising the worried look that he had continually seen on Amy’s face for the past two years.

‘I just got a bit panicky, that’s all,’ he tried to reassure her. ‘I’m not sure why.’

‘Did you have a flashback?’

Lewis had confided that he’d been suffering from them when he’d moved back in with his mum. It didn’t seem fair not to.

He nodded. ‘They come when I least expect it.’

‘Well, you’re safe here. That’s all that matters.’

He tried not to snap at her thoughtless remark. How could Laura understand what he was feeling? She’d never wanted him to join the army. Dad had been okay about it – said it was a good career to get under his belt and better than anything he would find if he stayed on the estate. But what had he known? Yes, he’d had twelve good years but look at him now, he was on the scrapheap. Lewis had no job, and although he had some transferable skills, the things he had learnt didn’t suit anything apart from being in the army as a medic, and he had no one to help him get through the mess he was in. His family lived less than a mile away, yet he couldn’t visit for fear of antagonising them. He’d lost the love of his wife and was a stranger to his son.

Worse, he’d given up years to serve his country and what did he have to show for it? Nothing.

Lewis stood up. ‘I – I think I’ll go to my room.’

‘I’m off to work in half an hour anyway.’ Laura handed him a drink. ‘Take this with you but be sure to bring down the mug afterwards. I remember how you used to hoard everything in your bedroom before you went in—’

‘I was a teenager. I’ve done a lot of growing up since then.’

‘In some ways more than others.’

‘What’s that supposed to mean?’

‘You don’t have to snap at me all the time. I’m trying my best to understand you but, most of the time, I feel like I can’t do, or say, anything right without you biting back. ‘Laura sighed loudly. ‘I’m on your side, son.’

‘I suppose you’re going to say you understand why Amy doesn’t want anything to do with me now.’

Laura shook her head. ‘I know that Amy misses you, and so does Daniel. He called round this morning.’

‘Did he?’

‘Yes. When I told him you were out, he stayed for a while. I wasn’t certain if he wanted to be here when you got back or not. Why won’t you go and see him?’

‘Because I have to see Amy and I— I don’t want to go to the house that I should be living in.’

‘At least he wants to see you,’ noted Laura. ‘Maybe you could meet him somewhere else.’

‘Tell him to stop creeping around when I’m not here, and come when I am. Surely that’s simple enough. He only has to send me a text message. Kids his age are always on the phone.’

‘But can’t you see? He doesn’t know how you’ll react if he does that.’

‘I’m his dad.’

Laura shook her head. ‘I’m just not getting through to you, am I?’

Lewis left the room as an awkward silence descended. He took the stairs two at a time. Opening the door to his bedroom, he held back his anger as he flopped onto the bed. He lay on his back, hands behind his head, staring at the blue skies beyond the window. Outside, everyone was enjoying the hot spell but all he wanted to do was close his eyes and forget that life existed beyond these four walls. Sunny days such as this one brought back memories of Helmand Province, when he would have been with his regiment, his buddies. Sweat drenching him as they walked in full protective gear outside the camp, his hand hovering over the trigger, ready to shoot at a moment’s notice. As a medic, he had seen action regularly, most of it following him home. Even now, as he closed his eyes and curled up on his side, Lewis missed the camaraderie, the daily routine, the teamwork. He even missed the arguments and the odd fight breaking out between the squad.

He squeezed his eyes shut, resisting the urge to scream out loud and punch the wall beside him. Hell, he missed Amy so much. Yet what happened here with his mum wasn’t a patch on what had gone on when he’d been living with her. She’d done her best to help him too. But if he’d been angry, or scared, then he’d taken it out on her. If they weren’t arguing and shouting at each other, they’d be giving each other the silent treatment. Daniel had seen most of this, and after being called in to see his teacher because he was struggling to concentrate at school, Amy had put her foot down. No wonder she’d had enough.

Lewis felt like he was heading for a meltdown but he didn’t know how to stop. He needed to sort his life out sharpish because right now, he couldn’t see the point in it.

And that felt like a very dangerous situation to be in.

Chapter Five

High Lane was on the edge of Stockleigh and about three miles from the Mitchell Estate. Situated at the end of a row of terraced properties was The Candy Club. There weren’t many people occupying the houses now - most had been boarded up as they had become inhabitable due to lack of maintenance, or as a result of compulsory purchase orders by the local authority - but the massage parlour had been around for longer than a lot of the residents who had chosen to stay.

Although she had told her mum that she was working behind the bar at Sparks’ nightclub, Keera was employed at The Candy Club as a masseuse. It had been her friend, Estelle, who had told her about the vacancy, and about the extras she could do to make a bit more money, if she were that way inclined.

‘Sorry I’m late,’ Keera cried as she entered the dimly lit reception area. She gasped for air before speaking again. ‘I’m done in. I had to run to get here on time – and it’s so hot out there!’

The room wasn’t entirely welcoming, with deep red flock wallpaper that had been up since the first time it had been in fashion. The floorboards creaked underneath the threadbare carpet and the settee on the far wall seemed as battered as many of the clientele.

Ramona Wilson was sitting behind a wooden reception counter, flicking through the pages of a magazine. Keera had known Ramona for years before she’d become her supervisor. She was twenty-one, and even though they hadn’t been in the same year, they’d gone to the same high school. Having given birth to three children before she’d been Keera’s age, she’d yet to rid herself of the baby fat, no matter how many times she went to the local slimming club. Her mousey brown hair was tied back with a band, pink lipstick on her thin lips, and her eyes sparkled as much as her silver eye shadow.

Ramona raised a perfectly manicured hand to wave away Keera’s comment. ‘Chill out, you’re not at school. And besides, you don’t have any clients waiting to see you yet. You can be a little late, under the circumstances. How’s Sam doing?’

‘Not good.’ Keera sighed loudly as she pushed her bag into her locker, which was located in the tiny staff room behind the reception. She came back through and carried on speaking. ‘He needs to have an operation. They won’t know until then if he’ll keep his finger.’

‘Might stop him from putting it in too many pies.’ Ramona laughed loud at her joke as she leaned forward, her large chest straining across her red blouse. ‘Seriously, is he okay, Kee?’

‘They’re operating on him tonight,’ Keera replied, knowing there was no malice intended in Ramona’s words. ‘I couldn’t use my mum’s car as she’s off to visit him this evening and I had to call on my nan so I wasn’t sure of the bus timetable.’ 

‘Couldn’t your mum give you a lift?’

‘God, no.’ Keera shook her head, her bob swishing from side to side. ‘She doesn’t know I’m working here; neither does Sam. And if they ever find out, I’m not sure which one would lynch me first!’

‘Even though you’re a good girl?’ Ramona raised her immaculately plucked eyebrows.

‘Like they would believe that.’ Keera scoffed. ‘Which room am I in?’

‘Number five.’

Humming to herself, Keera jogged upstairs and along a narrow corridor, stopping at the third door to her right. Her thoughts returned to her brother. It was going to be a long night for Sam, and Keera prayed that they could save his finger. She didn’t want him to spiral out of control again either. Despite him being an idiot most of the time, he had calmed down lately. And family stuck together: she was a firm believer of that. At least once he’d had his operation, the surgeon would know the outcome.

She pushed open the door, marked with a ‘5’ written in black paint, and stepped inside. Even after three months working there, the faint whiff of cheap disinfectant mixed together with coconut oil never failed to assail her nostrils every time she went into a room. Although she knew some of the women dished out more than a massage, there were certain lines that Keera would never cross. She would have turned the job down outright if she’d been told that she had to do any more than rub a few backs to earn a decent wage.

Her phone beeped and she picked it up. It was a message from Ramona, letting her know that her first appointment was here. Keera texted her back, marvelling at how technology allowed her to do her job and still feel safe. Despite its decrepit state, Ramona had set up a system on the computer. She’d told Keera it had worked out well for her as she knew which girls were with which clients and hadn’t then got to sit on the reception desk checking everyone in and out all the time. Essentially, though, Ramona knew which clients the girls were with so if anything went wrong, or she hadn’t heard from anyone by the time she should have, she would raise the alarm. It was a sure fire way of keeping a check on the girls’ safety.