‘And what if I don’t?’
‘Then you’ll be a silly girl. I want you to pretend you didn’t see her.’
Yvonne snarled at Baz, snapping back with self-assurance.
‘Yeah, of course you do because you don’t want me to tell everybody how unhappy she is. Laila doesn’t want to be married to someone like you.’
Baz smirked, prodding her in her chest. ‘And how would you know that?’
Childlike, Yvonne answered, shrugging her shoulders.
‘Dunno, but I do and not only that, I’m going to tell everybody you came into my house today.’
Baz grabbed hold of Yvonne’s hair. ‘And who do you think they’ll believe, hey? Some little scrubber like you or a police officer like me?’ He let go of her hair. ‘You’ve been warned, Yvonne. You’d be very silly to try to take me on.’
After Baz had gone, Yvonne lay on her bed and thought about Laila. In truth, she hadn’t thought too much about her since she’d seen her at the airport. She didn’t have much time for her. What she did have time for though was gossip, and after no one had known where Laila had disappeared to, seeing her had meant Yvonne would be the first one with the news. She’d only been at the airport to earn some extra money. One of the girls at the strip club had told her it was a good pick-up place for punters. Most of them only required hand jobs which was a good thing, as she was still a virgin and didn’t fancy giving it away for twenty quid. Her stepfather had tried hard enough to get it, so after fighting him off for the last five years she wasn’t going to give it to some random stranger waiting for a cut-price Thomas Cook holiday.
At the time the only thing that had really pissed Yvonne off about the encounter with Laila’s fella was the way he’d spoken to her. The mobile phone being taken had been annoying more than anything. She’d lifted it from one of the punter’s pockets at the club the night before, so technically it wasn’t even hers.
Within an hour of seeing her at the airport, she’d forgotten all about Laila and her chump of a husband. Until now. The one thing Yvonne Scott hated above all was being told what she could and couldn’t do. All her life she’d been pushed around by people, and she certainly wasn’t going to add this man to the list. In fact, Yvonne was going to do quite the opposite. It was high time she went round and paid Laila a visit.
Whoever was ringing on the doorbell didn’t seem to want to go away. Tentatively, Laila tiptoed to the window, hiding behind the red curtain and trying to peek through the nets without being seen from the upstairs front room bedroom.
The bell was still ringing but she couldn’t see who it was, as they were standing out of sight, too near the door. A pang fluttered through Laila. What if it was Ray-Ray? What if he’d heard about what had happened and was coming to rescue her? Her heart began to race at the thought. Nervously, Laila craned her head, pushing her forehead onto the cool of the glass pane. She pulled back, dropping the net curtain as if it had stung her. Whoever it was had seen her. She hadn’t got a look of their face, only their brown hair, which meant it couldn’t be Ray-Ray. A wave of both relief and disappointment hit Laila. Pulling her jumper tightly round her, Laila retreated back to her bed, wondering why she felt so afraid.
Tap. Tap. Tap. Laila wasn’t entirely sure what the noise was at first. She lay staring at the ceiling unmoving; thinking it might be a moth trying to get out. The noise got louder and she realised it was coming from outside. Somebody was throwing stones at the window.
‘I know you’re there Laila, I saw you.’ The person’s voice was loud and distinctive. And Laila knew straight away who it was. It was Yvonne.
‘Come on Laila, I’m not going away until I see you.’ Laila wished Yvonne would go. She would only get her into trouble. What was she doing here anyway? She’d never been to see her before, come to think of it, she’d never even bothered with her at school.
‘Laila!’
However much she put the pillow over her ears, it was impossible to ignore Yvonne’s raucous voice. It was obvious she wasn’t going to go away until she got what she came for.
Laila went to the window. She could see Yvonne looking in the gutter for more stones to pick up. She knocked on the glass to draw her attention, frowning as she spoke.
‘What do you want?’
Yvonne crinkled her nose. ‘Well that’s charming. I come to see my mate and that’s all the greeting I get. Open the door so I can come in.’
‘I can’t.’
Puzzled, Yvonne spoke. ‘Why not?’
‘It’s locked.’
Laila could see the exasperation on Yvonne’s face.
‘Well, open the window.’
‘I can’t.’
‘Why not?’
‘I’m not allowed.’
With her hands on her hips, Yvonne raised her voice louder. ‘Hey up Laila, what’s the gig? We’re not going to get very far this way. Just open it.’
Tears came to Laila’s eyes. ‘Please can you go away?’
‘No, not until I see you proper like.’ Laila moved from behind the curtain. She opened the window and leaned out, but not before she looked nervously up and down the street.
‘Here, I brought you McDonald’s, you lot can eat it can’t you?’ Yvonne smiled at her warmly, taking a bite of her burger.
‘Now you’ve seen me, can you go away now? I don’t mean to be rude.’
‘What’s that on your face?’
Laila touched her cheek absent-mindedly. It hurt. A penalty for not cooking the dhal curry the way Baz liked it.
‘It’s nothing.’
‘Has he been knocking you about?’
‘Who?’
‘Your fella.’
‘No.’
‘I bet he has. All blokes are the same. My stepdad knocks me about.’
‘Does he? What do you do?’
Yvonne shrugged, nonplussed. ‘Nowt, besides call him a prick.’ Yvonne paused and took another bite out of her Big Mac. ‘Sure you don’t want some? I’ll lob it in through the window. You know your fella came round to see me?’
‘No … no, I didn’t.’
‘He thought he was
The Big I Am
. Told me not to come and see you.’
‘Then why have you?’
With a wry smile, Yvonne answered. ‘Because he told me not to come and see you.’
For the first time in the conversation, Laila smiled. She spoke quietly to Yvonne, still aware any one of the neighbours could be listening. ‘Did he frighten you?’
‘No. He’s just a big bully like me stepdad. He scares you?’
Laila paused then answered, ‘Sometimes.’
‘So is it really true you’re married?’
‘Yes.’
‘What’s it like?’
It was Laila’s turn to shrug this time. ‘All right I suppose.’
‘Let’s see your ring.’
Laila pushed her hand out of the top window of the low rise terrace bedroom. Yvonne pulled a face when she saw it. ‘It’s big. Do you like it?’
It was Laila’s turn to shrug. ‘Not really.’
‘Seems funny, you being married. Did you want to?’
Laila answered haughtily, trying to convince herself as well as Yvonne. ‘It’s my duty.’
‘Bugger that, if my mam tried to marry me off to some old fella I’d do me nut.’
‘He’s not that old. He’s only thirty-four.’
Taking another bite of the burger, Yvonne fell silent for a moment then asked, ‘You all right? You look a bit pale.’
‘I don’t feel so good. Got a few pains in my stomach.’
‘From what?’
Sheepishly, Laila replied, ‘Dunno.’
‘Well what does your mum say?’
It was an uncomfortable question for Laila to answer. She put her head down, not wanting Yvonne to see the hurt in her eyes. ‘She’s not here.’
‘So you’re stuck at home on your own?’
‘Yeah.’
‘They locked you in?’
Laila’s head shot up, her face a picture of fear. ‘Shhh. They’ll hear you.’
‘Who will hear me?’
‘Please Yvonne, the neighbours. They’re good friends of my uncle. I’ll get in trouble. I’ve said too much already.’
After a moment, Yvonne asked warmly. ‘You want me to come and see you tomorrow?’
Laila didn’t say anything. There was no way Yvonne could come back. It would only lead to trouble. But then the idea of having someone to talk to was more than she could ever have hoped for.
‘If you like, but not in the morning. Baz will be home, he’ll be angry if he sees you. And Tariq won’t be back till late.’
‘Okay. You want me to bring you something?’
‘Some chocolate buttons would be nice.’
‘Okay. See you tomorrow.’
Laila waved and closed the window. A moment later a sudden panic passed through her. What was she thinking of, asking her to come back? Baz was sure to find out. She struggled to open the window again, wanting to call and tell Yvonne not to come. But it was too late. She’d gone.
Laila sat back on the bed, wondering why she’d just brought more trouble on herself.
It was late by the time Yvonne got back to her house and she was exhausted. There’d been trouble in the club with one of the girls being found in the toilets with a punter. The owner of the club had thrown them both out, but the man had come back with some of his friends and all hell had kicked off.
It had pissed her off. Yvonne had had to work the high stage because of it, which meant less tips than the middle stage where she usually worked. She’d earned just under eighty quid which was less than she normally would have earned on a Tuesday night and she’d had to work doubly hard for it.
Putting her earnings in the hole in the wall behind her poster, Yvonne thought of Laila. Funny thing was, she’d initially only gone round to Laila’s house to wind Baz up; wanting to show him he couldn’t push her around. But she’d found herself genuinely liking her. Perhaps it was because she felt sorry for her, but Yvonne felt it was more than that, she couldn’t put her finger on quite what it was but strangely, she was looking forward to seeing her again.
Laila had always been the goody-goody at school. She’d always seemed so perfect. Beautiful, kind and clever. And it was because of these traits Yvonne had disliked her. Everything Laila was, Yvonne felt she wasn’t. So she’d done what her family had done to her all through her life. She’d bullied Laila.
So it was a turn-up for the books to discover what a sweet person Laila was. Strangely enough, she was looking forward to seeing her again tomorrow.
The door banged open. It was her stepdad. Yvonne glanced at the clock. Two-thirty a.m. He was early. Usually he wouldn’t get in till at least four o’clock, staggering drunkenly up the stairs. Yvonne watched her stepdad stumble into her room with a look of disgust on her face. His trousers had a wet stain at the front from where he’d pissed himself, and his shirt was unbuttoned to his belly, his enormous pasty white flesh on show. He fell on to the bed and landed on something.
‘What the fuck is this?’ Pulling it out from underneath him, Yvonne went to snatch it back.
‘Not so fast, Yvie. Let’s see what you’re hiding.’
‘I’m not hiding nowt. I just don’t want a fat lummox like you sitting on them.’
‘Oi, less of your cheek.’
Yvonne rolled her eyes. She was used to the nightly visits. Coming in for nothing more than to look for a fight or an argument. The only time she’d been free of them was when he had had been inside for GBH. It’d been the best eighteen months of her life but then when he’d been released, her silly cow of a mother had let him back in, for it to start all over again.
Yvonne watched her stepdad trying to focus his drunken eyes on what he was looking at. ‘Chocolate buttons! Hey up, they’re my favourite.’
‘Well it’s a shame they’re not for you then. Buy your own you tight git.’
With a smile on his face, he ripped the purple bag of chocolates open, stuffing them into his mouth by the handful. Yvonne’s eyes filled with tears.
‘You bloody prick. Them aren’t yours.’ She reached across to get the bag furiously.
‘It’s my house and anything in this house is mine, you bloody cheeky mare.’
Yvonne shouted, red-faced, at the top of her voice.
‘This isn’t your house, it’s me mam’s house and I’m sick of it. I’m pig sick of you. You bloody bugger.’
‘Come here.’ Her stepdad swiped at her, grasping hold of her sleeve, dragging her down to the bed. ‘You’re a cocky little cow and you need teaching a lesson.’
Yvonne was scratching wildly, throwing her arms into the air as her stepdad held her down.
‘Get off me you fucker.’
‘I’ll show you who’s boss missy and we’ll see how cocky you are then.’ With a swift movement, he pulled off his belt, wrapping it expertly round his hand. Yvonne heard the whistle in the air before she felt the stinging lash on her back. She screamed out in pain, managing to sit up. ‘I hate you. I hate you.’ Tears rolled down her cheeks as the buckle of the belt connected with her face, filling her mouth with saliva and blood.
Laila thought it was strange. Not the fact that Yvonne hadn’t turned up as she said she would, but it was the devastation she felt by her not doing so.
She didn’t even know Yvonne well, but she’d sat staring out the window all day yesterday waiting for her to come, and now, a day later, she was doing the same. Watching, waiting, hoping the empty street would be filled with the approaching figure of her new friend, Yvonne.
She’d stood and waited for her so long yesterday that her legs had begun to ache, so today she’d pulled up the wooden chair from the corner of the room, placing it in front of the window.
Laila heard the key in the bedroom door. It was Baz.
‘What you doing there?’
‘I just like watching everyone go by.’
Laila could sense the panic rising inside her as Baz walked across to the window, pulling the net curtains right across to get a full view of the street. She had thought he was working and the idea Yvonne would appear just as Baz was looking out was beginning to frighten her.
‘What’s up with you? You look like you’re up to something.’ Baz grabbed hold of Laila’s hair, pulling her head back. ‘You better not be. I’ve warned you.’
‘No, no, I’m not. I just wanted to see out.’
‘You’re lying.’
‘I’m not, I swear. I thought you’d be at work.’
Baz’s eyes hardened. ‘Oh so because you thought I was at work, you assumed it was okay to make a show of yourself at the window?’