Written in the Scars (The Estate Series Book 4) (8 page)

Megan tried not to smile but she couldn’t help herself. Even when he frowned, she still felt herself drawn to him.

‘Pity it’s out of bounds for you then, isn’t it?’

She flounced off, feeling happy to have the last word.

It was five thirty. Donna looked up as Keera rushed through the living room to get her bag.

‘You off out already?’ Donna asked.

‘Yes, and I’m going to miss the bus and be late again, if I don’t leave right now.’ Keera’s eyes flitted quickly around the room. ‘Have you seen my black cardigan? The one with the short sleeves?’

Donna pointed to the table. ‘Over the back of the chair where you left it.’

Keera sighed with gratitude. ‘There it is, thanks, Mum. Right, I’m off, see you later.’

‘Give me a ring if you’re stopping out?’

‘I’m not stopping out.’

Donna shrugged. ‘You never know – you might meet a nice fella and want to have a good time.’

‘Chance would be more like it.’ Keera rolled her eyes. ‘They’re usually three sheets to the wind by the time I’m ready to have some fun.’

Donna smiled. ‘See you later, love. Don’t forget you said you’d pop over to see Nan in the morning.’

‘I won’t!’ The door slammed behind her.

Donna’s eyes skimmed over the familiar room, and the numerous photos of her family. They were the most precious things in her life. No amount of material things around her would replace them.

Unlike a lot of the families on the estate, she didn’t have much but what she had was clean and tidy. A navy blue settee was pushed against each wall, with a large bay window looking out on to the avenue. The settees had taken ages to pay for but they were hers now and the perfect colour to mix and match rugs and curtains in the latest fashionable colours to keep the room up to date. The large flat screen television had been a present from Sam: she hadn’t asked where it had come from.

Her mobile phone rang. She wondered if it would be Owen but anticipation turned to disappointment when she saw who it was.

‘What do you want?’ she said.

‘Don’t be like that.’ It was Sarah. ‘You know you love me really.’

‘Oh, all the time. Who hasn’t turned in now?’

‘Maxine – she’s rung in sick. You know I wouldn’t normally ask for help under the circumstances as I know you have a lot on your plate right now, but I don’t have anyone else to ask.’

Donna sighed. Why couldn’t everyone just get on with their lives and give her a bit of peace? But she knew Sarah would be feeling terrible for asking her, which meant she must be desperate. And they had helped each other out so much over the years that she didn’t mind so much. Donna could always do with a little extra money, too.

‘Pretty please!’ Sarah spoke into the silence.

‘Okay, okay. What time do you want me there?’

‘Half an hour?’

‘I’m not staying too late, though.’

‘Nine o’clock finish do you?’

Donna sighed. ‘I suppose so.’

‘Thanks – you’re a life saver!’

Donna put down the phone with another frustrated sigh. Why did she always give in so easily? She could do with a few hours to herself really. It was what she needed after running around after her family all the time.

 She wished she could learn how to say no, but everyone knew her weak spots. Sarah’s comment was laughable. She wasn’t a lifesaver. She was a mug!

Chapter Ten

Donna ended up booking Wednesday off as a holiday from Shop&Save – not that she received much holiday pay, but she couldn’t fit everything in. She’d spent most of it on the ward with Sam, listening to him moaning about everything and anything until she had finally told him to stop feeling sorry for himself. But now she was feeling guilty for her outburst. After visiting Sam she’d done a bit of shopping and raced over to see Mary.

Since her condition had worsened, she tried to visit every day. With a nudge, Keera would visit once or twice a week, and Sam maybe once a fortnight, with a really big shove. As usual, most things were left up to her, especially the fetching and carrying.

Poplar Court was only a few minutes’ drive away on Leonard Drive. Donna had been thankful of this on the times that she had been called out by the warden to tend to Mum when she had been ill, or more recently, confused enough to keep pressing the emergency call-out button.

Only a few years old, it was a massive complex spread out over several acres, backing onto fields. The building itself was set out in an L-shape, housing one hundred and ten small self-contained flats, run by the city council, with shared facilities on the ground floor. There was a gym, hairdressers, small supermarket and coffee shop.

Once she had arrived at Poplar Court, Donna pressed her key fob up to the electronic remote panel, pushing the door as a buzzer went off. The flats accommodated elderly people, single or couples. Mary was on the second floor so for speed, Donna took the lift.

Mary’s flat was near to the end of a wide corridor. When she reached flat 209, Donna stepped into a windowless hallway with four doors off it. The kitchen and bedroom were to her left, the living room and bathroom to her right. Each room was decorated to a high standard and Donna hadn’t let it slip. Unlike some of the other families, she wanted her mum to live in cleanliness.

In the living room, Mary was sitting in the armchair watching the television. Donna never knew from one visit to the next if Mum would recognise her but she lived in hope. Some days, Mary would smile up at her and Donna’s heart would lift. But then she would call her by a different name or ask her to change her bedcovers, or ask when her dinner would be ready, thinking Donna was one of the carers. Other times, Mum would start talking about days gone past and when Donna joined in she would laugh for a while. Then there would be days where she hadn’t got a clue who Donna was, and it felt like a slap in the face because she was a stranger to her own mother.

‘Hi, Mum, it’s only me,’ she smiled, bending to kiss her on the forehead.

Mary looked up at Donna, a blank look in her eyes, a faint smile on her thin lips. She was a small woman in her late sixties, yet even though she looked frail, she was extremely strong when challenged.

Mary used to have the same colouring as Donna and Keera, but her hair was white now, her skin almost transparent. Sometimes she had a sparkle in what Donna could see of her eyes beneath the hooded lids, but most of the time she looked as she did now. Just lately, Donna had seen her lose more and more of her fighting spirit. It was as if the dementia was taking every last bit of her mum.

Donna perched on the arm of the chair. ‘How are you today, Mum?’ she asked. When there was no reply, she sat for a moment, staring at the television screen but not really watching it.

A head popped around the doorframe. ‘Oh, hi, Donna,’ a young woman said. ‘I didn’t hear you come in.’

‘Hi, Megan. I’ve only been here for a few minutes.’ Donna glanced at the clock on the wall. It had been from her childhood home and she remembered it fondly through the years. The times she’d cursed at it when she’d been late. The times she’d sat watching it, waiting for someone to ring her when she was a teenager with a crush on a boy from school. She was surprised it was still working, and Donna knew even though it was old-fashioned, when Mary did eventually leave them, it would be the one thing she would treasure. Time stood still for no one.

‘I saw Sam this morning,’ Megan added. ‘Sorry to hear he’s had an accident.’

Donna frowned. How did she...?

‘I clean at the hospital, too,’ Megan explained.

‘Blimey, you’re a worker.’ Donna was impressed.

‘I do a few hours there in the mornings and then come here for a few hours most afternoons. My mum has osteoarthritis and is barely mobile, so it suits us both. It gives her independence because I can pop home at lunchtime to see if she needs anything.’

‘Ah, yes, I remember you telling me that,’ Donna nodded, instantly feeling sorry for the young woman. Megan didn’t look a day over twenty and had a lot of responsibility already. A bit like herself, she surmised. Yet, for her young age, Megan seemed to have a sensible head on her shoulders. Donna had known her for around six months, since she’d managed to get extra help in for Mum from social services. Denise Barker, the warden at Poplar Court, had assigned Megan to help out more regularly. She wished Keera would share the burden more too, with a little less attitude.

‘How is he?’ Megan continued. ‘He seemed in a lot of pain when I saw him.’

‘He’s coping, I suppose.’ Donna sighed. ‘I feel like all I do is visit people and go to work in between at the moment.’

‘It will get better once Sam leaves the hospital.’ There was a slight pause from Megan. ‘Won’t his girlfriend help him out too?’

‘He’s single at the moment. He shares a flat –’ Donna stopped herself from saying
with another layabout
‘– with a friend. I’m hoping he’ll feel able to cope on his own when he gets discharged but if not, he’ll be back under my feet again, I expect. Not that I’d mind too much,’ she said, hoping that Megan didn’t think she was being harsh.

‘Well, if he starts moaning too much, you should send him round here. He still has one good hand – I bet Denise could put him to good use.’

Mary smiled when Donna looked down at her, but the vacant look was still there. Donna smoothed down her hair like she had done to Sam on the day of his accident.

‘Right, I’ll leave you in peace,’ Megan said, a few moments later. ‘I’m finished here for today.’

‘Bye, Megan.’

‘See you tomorrow, Mary. Lucky thing – you have me again. Bye, Donna, see you soon.’

Alone at last, Donna spoke into the silence.

‘I wish we could have a proper chat, Mum,’ she said. ‘I loved it when you used to talk things through with me. Even though we didn’t always see eye-to-eye, I always felt like I had someone on my side.’ She paused, wondering if she should voice her excitement about what had happened at the weekend. Even though she knew that conversations would always be one-sided now, and there would be no advice forthcoming, she had shared so much over the years.

It had been so exciting when Donna and Joe had first been married. In their early twenties, with the first throes of love to keep them happy, they’d been full of hopes and dreams for a great future together, and for many years they had been content. But that had soon petered out once the kids had got older, and complacency had stepped in.

Now Donna couldn’t remember a time when she’d last had a laugh with anyone, a real belly laugh where tears had poured down her face and her ribs had ached from the effort. All she seemed to do was worry – about Sam and Keera, about her mum, about getting enough money to pay the bills. And realising she’d have to do this all on her own made her feel totally alone. It was no wonder she was dreaming about Owen.

‘There’s this man I’ve met, you see,’ she found herself saying to her mum. ‘I don’t know if he’s too young for me or if I should just do what Sarah says and have a bit of fun. You know only too well how empty my life is of fun right now.’

Donna looked at her watch and stood up quickly. She was going to be late again if she didn’t stop feeling sorry for herself and leave right away. She bent to kiss Mary on the forehead, sighing when her eyes never moved from the television screen.

‘Bye, Mum,’ she said, wearily. ‘See you tomorrow.’

A few minutes later, as she made her way back to her car, her phone beeped. It was a text message from Owen.

Hey, how are you? You got time to meet yet?

Donna sniggered. She’d barely had a minute to herself since she’d spoken to him. But Sarah’s words came back to her. If she didn’t make time for herself, then she would never have any fun. Before she could change her mind, she picked up her phone and replied to his message.

I might be able to make it later in the week, if you’re free?

Chapter Eleven

About to start her evening shift, Keera welcomed in her first client with a smile. Derek Paige was a taxi driver and, during the few times she had seen him, she had learned that he was forty-eight, divorced with two children who he never saw due to their mother emigrating to Australia when they were young, taking them with her. Since then, he’d had a few relationships but nothing ever as serious as marriage proposal status.

For a man of his age, Derek was really distinguished. He reminded Keera of Richard Gere in
Pretty Woman
, one of her all-time favourite chick-flicks - although he sported some mean-looking tattoos all over his arms and back. And he was clean, unlike Martin Smith.

Keera had taken an instant shine to Derek, and it seemed to her that the feeling was mutual. He hadn’t asked for extras yet, which she was glad about, because she would hate to turn him down. Although she didn’t want him to be disappointed and then ask for one of the other girls, she just couldn’t get past the thought of doing anything sexual – she wasn’t that desperate for money.