In disgust, Yvonne looked down at the man who was attempting to pull himself up. With a smile she glanced at Laila. ‘Come on, let’s get out of here.’
Outside the squat, Yvonne leant on the wall and lit a cigarette, drawing deeply on it. Going into her bag she pulled out a bottle of vodka. Unscrewing the red top she handed it to Laila. ‘Here, get this down you. It’ll take some of that tension out of you.’
‘No thanks.’
Yvonne shrugged. ‘Okay. Suit yourself.’
After a couple of swigs, Yvonne tucked the bottle in her bag again. She looked at Laila who was swinging her legs as she sat on the other end of the wall. ‘Hey up, my top looks grand on you Laila.’ She paused, then added. ‘We’ll be all right kid. From today there’ll be no more dossing in squats. My contact’s put me in touch with someone. I’ve still got most of the two grand so I can pay the first two weeks’ rent. Things are going to start looking up.’
Laila began to shake her head as her eyes filled up with tears. ‘I don’t think I can do this. You’re different to me.’
Yvonne’s expression hardened. ‘How am I different to you Laila?’
‘You know, you can do stuff. Stuff with men. It’s easy for you. You’re used to it.’
‘Used to it? Is that what you think?’
Laila shrugged.
‘You think I’ve got used to waking up to find me mum’s boyfriend in the same bed as me? Having to fight him off night after night and me mum doing fuck all about it?’
‘No, no I didn’t …’
On a roll, Yvonne interrupted Laila angrily. ‘And I suppose because I’m not all prim and proper like you, you think I’ve got
used
to giving hand jobs in car parks to men old enough to be me granddad, just so I can get enough money to get the hell out of the place I call home?’
Laila looked down, upset at the anger directed towards her but mainly upset for her friend.
‘And I tell you something else Laila; I never
want
to get used to it. I never
want
to get used to me skin crawling at the touch of a stranger. ‘Cos if I do, if I get used to
that
, it’s over. I know there’s no chance of getting out.’
‘But you had a choice?’
Yvonne threw her cigarette down in exasperation, grinding the sole of her shoe on to the butt. ‘That’s a matter of opinion. But I know I have a choice in how I see life, and I choose to count myself lucky. You should try it.’
‘Lucky? You call being here with you lucky?’
A flash of hurt darted through Yvonne’s eyes.
‘I didn’t mean it like that Yvie, I’m sorry …’
Yvonne picked up her bag and stormed down the path, she turned to Laila. ‘All I’ve heard from you since we’ve arrived in London is you complaining. It’s not great I know, but it could be worse. You could be back in Bradford with Baz, or worse still Laila … he could’ve killed you.’
‘I just keep thinking maybe it’d be easier back home. Perhaps if I tried harder with him …’
Yvonne shook her head. ‘Listen to yourself Laila. Nobody can help you if you don’t start to help yourself. If you want to go back, go, but you’re on your own. I’m through.’
Yvonne marched along the street wanting to get away from Laila, to stop her seeing the tears in her eyes. It took Laila only a few minutes before she began to run after her friend.
‘Yvonne … wait! Yvonne, I’m sorry!’ Yvonne carried on walking and it took Laila an energetic run to catch up with her. ‘Please, stop!’
Yvonne came to an abrupt halt. Choosing her words carefully, Laila spoke. ‘I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to say anything to hurt you. I don’t want to go home, I’m just scared. I don’t know where I’d be if it wasn’t for you. You’ve done so much … you saved my life. Please don’t leave me. I’ve nowhere else to go. I need you to be my friend.’
Yvonne’s cheeks pinked. Nobody had ever said they needed her before. Her tone was soft as she spoke to Laila. ‘I know it isn’t easy for you, and I promise I’ll do everything I can to look after you, but I need you to help me too Laila. I need you to
try
. Just try. Do you think you can do that?’
Laila nodded her head and a moment later the two friends embraced in the middle of Lewisham High Street, giving each other a much-needed hug. Feeling slightly daft and pulling away, Yvonne grinned at Laila. ‘Right then, we better get a move on.’
‘Where we going?’
‘Going to meet a fella in Soho. His name’s Johno Porter; my contact says he’ll sort us out.’
Johno Porter went into his pocket to get out a packet of cigarettes. He passed one to Yvonne as he talked. ‘Rent by the end of the week. Rule one is, I don’t want trouble. Rule two, no working the streets. There’ll be other girls sharing the main rooms with you, but you’ll have your own bedroom. You’ll also share the maid, who’ll be my eyes and ears. Sometimes I’ll need you to do some work for me.’
Yvonne’s eyes narrowed as she looked at Johno. Her contact had told her that as pimps went, he was one of the better ones. Working for Johno meant they could rent rooms from him both to work and live in. They were clean, secure and most importantly they were safe. ‘What kind of work?’
‘Parties, special clients. Problem with that?’
‘No. But it’ll only be me who does that. She doesn’t.’ Yvonne nodded to Laila who was standing on the pavement outside the walk-up in Greek Street.
‘What? Is her pussy made out of gold? Does she think she’s too good to be a whore? Because if it looks like one, smells like one and moves like one, then in my experience, it is one.’
‘Leave her be.’
Johno snarled, taken aback by the front of this Northern girl. ‘I’d watch your mouth if I was you.’
Yvonne wanted to tell Johno where to stick it. Instead, she just lit up, blowing the smoke out and into the path of a passing stranger. Johno eyeballed Yvonne, who matched his stare and held it as long as he did. It was Johno who gave in first, begrudgingly respecting the feistiness of Yvonne.
‘Fine. What’s her name anyway?’
Yvonne’s mind went blank, before saying the first name which came into her mind. ‘Janie. Her name’s Janie.’
Ray-Ray Thompson stood in his mum’s bedroom looking into the mirror. He never knew why he looked; the despair he felt never waned when he saw his reflection. It was as if a tiny part of him hoped that when he looked, his face wouldn’t be so scarred, so disfigured. But of course it always was, and each time his circle of misery began all over again. As he stood staring, Laila came into his thoughts, but he pushed her away. Not wanting to see her beautiful face in his mind. Not wanting to remember how she made him feel. Not wanting to remember what the nurse had said.
He’d become a person of the night, rarely adventuring out during the day. The stares, the looks, the comments from passing strangers had made him feel ashamed of who he was. If he’d wanted to, he could do as his father had always done and resort to violence at every comment and sly gaze he got, but where did it stop? He’d end up having to spend his days fighting and already he was tired. Sometimes, even too tired to get up in the morning. So instead of going out during the day he found it easier to sit with the toms, the boozers and the lost souls of the night in one of his father’s clubs. Seen, but left alone.
‘All right babe? We’re going out. Let me have a look at you.’ Tasha came into the room followed by her sister, Linda. Tash walked up to him and stroked his face. Ray-Ray never knew if she touched his face to help her come to terms with the way he looked, or if it was to help
him
come to terms with it, showing him there was at least one person who was still willing to touch him. Either way it made him feel uncomfortable and the pity in her eyes when she looked at him always made him pull away.
Ray-Ray held Tasha’s wrists gently, pulling her hands away from his face. ‘Don’t Mum. Please.’
‘Babe, I want to.’
‘And I don’t
want
you to.’
‘What you need is a good woman, she’ll sort you out.’
Ray-Ray’s smile faded, and seeing it disappear, Tasha knew straight away she’d made a mistake saying such a stupid comment to her son. She reached out to him, but he turned away from her. ‘Ray-Ray.’
His tone was hard when he answered. ‘Don’t apologise. It only makes it worse.’
‘Stop making out you’re some sort of monster, darling.’
Ray-Ray raised his voice. ‘Look at me. Just look at me. Would you want to be with someone who looked like me? Well, would you?’
‘Ray-Ray, please.’
‘No, don’t fucking Ray-Ray me. Answer the question.’
‘Darling, you’re an incredible person. A girl would be lucky to have someone like you, ain’t that right Linda?’
Ray-Ray banged his fist on the side table. ‘You still ain’t answered me.’
Tasha shook her head, wiping away the tears which were already pouring down her face. ‘Don’t do this to yourself babe.’
Ray-Ray walked back across to his mother. He pulled her to him, putting his face close to hers. ‘Look at it, look at it properly and then tell me it’s the face someone would want to wake up and see each morning. Tell her Auntie Linda,
tell
her. I want to hear her tell me the truth. I’m sick of hearing her crap. Tell me what you see when you look at me? What would you see if I was a stranger to you?’
Linda walked between the two of them, looking hesitantly at Tasha then back at Ray-Ray. The tension he was holding in his shoulders was let go and his whole body stooped in weariness as he listened to his auntie talk.
‘I’m not going to lie to you darling; you ain’t no oil painting, but that don’t matter. I believe there’s a special somebody for everyone and that special somebody will be able to see beyond the scars on your face.’
‘What the bleeding hell is going on? I could hear raised voices from outside. I felt right at home.’
Freddie Thompson stood in the door grinning. Tasha blanched whilst Ray-Ray ran up to his dad to give him a hug.
‘Dad, it’s good to see you. I didn’t know you were coming.’
‘That was the plan, can’t have the Old Bill knowing I’m here. Alright Lind?’ Freddie smiled at Linda then winked at his son but avoided looking directly into his face, unwilling to look at the damage. He bent round to look at Tasha. ‘Ain’t I even going to get a hello?’
‘Hello Freddie.’
‘You could try looking pleased to see me.’
Linda looked at Ray-Ray, knowing it was their cue to leave. A moment later, Freddie stood alone opposite Tasha. She looked good, but then she always did.
‘It’s good to be back Tash; you’re looking well.’
Tasha said nothing and Freddie could sense the tension. Hating his wife’s silence, he tried to push the conversation further.
‘You okay?’
‘You’re taking a risk coming back here, but yeah, I’m as good as can be expected.’
Freddie worked hard to keep the defensiveness out of his voice. ‘What do you mean by that?’
Tasha turned to face Freddie. ‘You should’ve warned me you were coming home. I’m just supposed to smile and put up with it?’
‘I need to warn my own wife her husband’s coming home?’
‘I was getting used to being on me own.’
Freddie was surprised how hurt he felt by Tasha’s words but he still kept control over his emotions, talking quietly, but aware he was gripping the door handle.
‘Then babe, you’ll have to get un-used to being on your own, cos I’m here to stay.’
‘Not in here you’re not.’
‘Excuse me?’
‘You heard Freddie. I’m not sharing a bed with you. I’ll share the house, but for the time being, that’s all.’
It was too much for him. Freddie lost it and exploded, standing up in pent-up frustration.
‘There’s someone else ain’t there? This is what it’s all about.’
Tasha ran across the room in anger and threw a pillow at Freddie which missed but landed on the vase of roses, knocking them everywhere.
‘You see that’s it.
This
is the problem, right here. The reason I can’t just pick up from where we left off. You ain’t changed Freddie; but I have darling, and shouting at me as if you’ve got a nasty case of constipation certainly won’t work.’
‘Okay, I’m sorry. I’m a jealous man but I’ve got reason to be; look at you, you’re beautiful.’
‘Oh turn it in Freddie. I ain’t the schoolgirl you met in the club. It’s not about your jealousy anyway.’
Freddie looked at Tasha, full of sincerity. ‘Is it women’s problems?’
Tasha didn’t know whether to laugh or cry. She raised her eyebrows as well as her voice. ‘Women’s problems?’
‘Yeah, I thought you might have them.’
‘No it’s fucking not. My problem, Freddie, is with you.’
‘I’ve only just walked through the door, what have I done?’
‘You can honestly stand there and look me in the face wondering what you’ve done?’
Freddie pulled a baffled face. ‘Yeah.’
‘You asked somebody to
kill me
Freddie. To take me up to the moors and put a bullet in my head.’
‘Oh, that.’
Tasha brought her hand back and slapped Freddie across the face. The first time she’d ever done it. He looked at her, not quite knowing how to react.
‘Yes,
that
Freddie. Did it just slip your mind darling? Did it slip your mind you got someone to make me kneel down as they put a gun to the back of me head?’
‘I didn’t know he was going to do that.’
‘Well what did you think he was going to do? How else would you have wanted him to kill me? Did you think about Ray-Ray in all this? And what he would’ve done without me? No, you didn’t, because you’re a selfish bastard Freddie Thompson. I don’t even know if I love you any more. And another thing, hell would have to freeze over before I shared a bed with a man who wanted me dead.’
‘All right son? How you doing mate?’ Freddie sat down next to Ray-Ray, picking up the other controller of the PlayStation. He clicked to join the game and began to start shooting, staring at the screen, almost on autopilot. ‘You won’t beat me. I was D-wing’s reigning champion.’
‘I think I’ve put enough hours in myself as it happens.’
There was a pause before Freddie said anything else.
‘Your mum told me you never go out, or only at night.’