Behind a Closed Door (The Estate, Book 2) (14 page)

Kelly’s shoulders drooped. ‘Would you? Ta. You know how useless I was when I tried.’

‘We do the same for everyone who starts – here.’ She picked up another cup, gave it to Kelly and walked round to join her. ‘Dip your sponge into the water – not too much – and wipe it over one seam. Yes, that’s right, not too hard or else you’ll have to throw it. Then flick it round like this.’ Sally took Kelly’s wrist and turned it ninety degrees. ‘Right, do the same down that seam. Good, that’s much better. Quick, put it on the conveyor belt and grab the next one.’

‘How long have you been doing this?’ Kelly asked, once they’d finished a few cups together.

‘Now, let me see …’ Sally scratched her head in comical fashion. ‘Five, maybe six … years.’ She let the facts sink in before she burst into laughter again. ‘It’s easy once you get the hang of it. Too dry and the seam will still be visible; too wet and the cups will be soggy and have to be thrown. You’re doing great,’ she enthused.

Just then, Kelly noticed Doreen walking back towards the belt. She saw Sally slide a few of her own cups over towards her. Before Kelly could react, Doreen picked one up and examined it carefully. She ran a finger over the seam and raised a quizzical eyebrow.

‘Not bad,’ she said. Her eyes landed on Sally. ‘I don’t suppose you had anything to do with the quality of these?’

Sally feigned hurt. ‘You’ve got the wrong idea of me, Mum.’

Doreen smirked.

‘She’s not too much of a slave driver, my mother,’ Sally enlightened Kelly once Doreen had moved way again. ‘You could do a lot worse. Some of the women are right bitches, especially that Estelle over on the day shift. She gets away with murder because her mum works here.’

Kelly stifled laughter and hid her face. Sally was talking about her aunty – who had helped her get the job – and her cousin.

Sally pulled a face. ‘They’re not family, are they? I should have guessed – everyone’s related on here.’

Suddenly a young woman, her face as red as her long hair, rushed over to the bench and plonked herself down on the empty seat behind Kelly.

‘Bloody typical, I missed the three forty-five bus again. I got a right bollocking last week for being late, but is it my fault that Samuel won’t run for … oh fuck, don’t tell me you’re the new girl!’

Kelly looked up into the eyes of Leah, one of the women she’d met at the playgroup.

‘You two know each other!’ exclaimed Sally in delight.

‘Know her?’ Leah slipped quickly into her overall and sat down as if she hadn’t been twenty minutes late. ‘I don’t think so – she comes from Clarence Avenue. You know,
the
Clarence Avenue –’

‘Yeah, we all know Clarence Avenue, Leah,’ Sally interrupted. ‘Get to the point, what’s wrong with it?’

Leah’s eyes shot out as if on stalks. ‘Where have you been hiding for the past few years? There are dealers and prostitutes and loads of anti-social behaviour going on.  I wouldn’t live there if my life depended on it.’

‘Like your street is far better, then?’ Sally turned to Kelly, who, by this time, had cheeks the same colour as Leah’s hair. ‘Leah lives in Stanley Avenue, two streets from you. Its tenants are – how shall I put it? – the devil’s offspring. Isn’t that what you usually call them, Leah?’

Leah huffed. She threw a scowl at Kelly before finally starting to work. Kelly bristled, but chose to ignore it for now.

Once they’d had a tea break at six fifteen, the night started to drag. Kelly lost count of the mugs she made a hash of, and the smirks that Leah threw at her every time she used too much water and the whole thing became too soggy.

 At five past eight, she made her way back out of the factory gates with Sally. The young woman had taken an instant liking to her, which was more than she could say for Leah, who had stormed off in front of them. Kelly sighed as she realised that they’d probably be catching the same bus.

Sally said goodbye at the end of the street and Kelly crossed over towards the bus stop. A few minutes later, she rounded the corner to see Leah sitting down in the shelter. Leah folded her arms, then her legs, and threw Kelly a look that said, ‘stay well away’.

Kelly was fine with this. She had more pressing things to occupy her mind – the first thing she was going to do when she’d collected Emily was relax in a nice, hot bath to ease her aching shoulders and neck. God knows how those women stooped forward for so long during each shift.

Still, she sighed, while all the time feeling Leah’s eyes boring into her head, there’s always tomorrow. Maybe things will improve.

Josie stood in the middle of Philip Matson’s living room for what seemed like a lifetime, but in reality was all of ten minutes. The room was a complete tip; papers, beer cans and takeaway cartons littering any available space – far too much of it for her liking. Three Rottweilers sat at Philip’s feet while he stubbed out a roll-up cigarette, before immediately lighting up the next. The thick plume of smoke curling around Josie’s head started to make her feel light-headed. She wafted it away in vain.

Philip was a good-looking man – or he could be, if he ever took that scowl off his face. He was in his mid-thirties, with no work in him, no brain in him and no balls. Every time she saw him, he reminded Josie of one of the dirty detectives from any number of police television dramas.

They were in the middle of a standoff. Josie had no time for Matson: Matson had no respect for Josie. The threat of eviction seemed the only weapon left to use, and it would hardly be a threat if he didn’t pay something towards his rent in the next few days. She’d been trying for months to get him to understand the seriousness of his impending court hearing. She decided to try one more time.

‘Mr Matson, if you can’t be bothered to follow the correct procedure to claim your benefits, then how am I supposed to stop the eviction next week?’

Philip’s head flipped up at the last moment. ‘Eviction?’ he frowned.

‘I have the revenue team on my case. If you don’t comply with the court order set up last month, they’ll take you back to court and apply for an eviction order. Seeing as you haven’t kept up with the simple repayment scheme of four pounds a week, the judge will grant it for us. You’ve only yourself to blame. You must understand that –’

Philip stood up abruptly. ‘No,
you’d
better understand,’ he said. ‘I filled in the forms;
you
didn’t do your job properly.’

‘You didn’t provide proof of your bank account,’ Josie ticked off with her fingers. ‘You didn’t provide proof that you’re claiming sick pay. We don’t check all that out for you – you have to do some things for yourself. One of them is to get that lazy backside of yours out of that chair and to the office with the necessary paperwork.’

Philip scowled but Josie wasn’t perturbed.

‘You need to clear the account by 4 o’clock on Friday afternoon or we’ll be applying for the order first thing on Monday morning. You’ve really left it late this time.’

Josie stepped back as Philip moved towards her. ‘You won’t kick me out.’

‘If you pay what you owe, then –’

‘Fifteen hundred quid!’ he screamed. Josie started. One of the dogs jumped onto the floor and began to prowl the room. ‘Where the fuck am I going to get fifteen hundred quid?’

‘It wouldn’t have been anything if you’d taken the time to provide us with what we needed. That’s the sad thing. We’ve been asking you for over six months now to provide proof of your bank details – all you had to do was bring it to the office for me to photocopy. Letter after letter, visit after visit. You’ve been to court four times and been given chances to co-operate with us. What more could we have done?’

‘That’s right.’ Philip’s tone was sarcastic. ‘You’re doing what you’re paid to do, Mrs Jobsworth.’

‘Yes, that is right.’ Josie nodded. ‘I am.’

‘You chuck me out on Friday and it’s you who I’ll come after. It’ll only take a few days to follow you around and I’ll know where you live. You won’t feel safe in your bed because you’ll never know when I’ll come calling.’

‘Don’t be ridiculous. If you lay one finger on me, I’ll get
you
for it. It certainly won’t take me long to find out where –’ Josie’s phone rang and she reached for it quickly. ‘Hi,
PC Baxter
,’ she almost shouted the words.

‘Josie, it’s Charlotte Hatfield,’ said Andy. ‘The control room have had a call from her every minute or so for the past few minutes, but there’s no reply when they talk to her. All they can hear in the background is the kids screaming. I think her partner’s got to her.’

Josie took a sharp intake of breath. ‘Oh no! I – where are you?’

‘I’m in Brian Road. You?’

‘I’m in Bernard Place. Do you want to meet me there or do you want to come round to fetch me?’

‘I’m on my way,’ was all she heard before he disconnected the call.

Josie turned to Philip, who didn’t seem to scare her anymore. ‘I haven’t got time for you, or your games. Pay up by Friday or we’ll evict you. It’s as simple as that. You’ve had enough chances now.’

Josie ran through the scratty jungle of a garden and jumped over the low wall. She could hear the police siren coming closer. Andy screeched to a halt beside her moments later.

‘Get in!’ he yelled.

The living room curtains were drawn when they pulled up outside Charlotte Hatfield’s house. Andy banged hard on the front door while Josie ran round to the back. She fiddled in frustration with the bolts on the make-shift gate. Eventually, it gave way and she pushed it open. She could hear the children crying. Through the rear window, she saw Charlotte lying on the floor, blood running from a gash on her head. The twins sat either side of her, Joshua hiding his face behind a cushion.

‘Charlotte!’ Josie banged on the window to get her attention. Charlotte turned her head slightly. She looked dazed; Josie knew that she wouldn’t be able to recognise her. She banged on the window again.

‘Callum! Jake! Go to the front door and let the policeman in!’

Callum ran towards the window and held up his hands. His tiny palms were smeared in blood. ‘Mummy’s bleeding!’ he screamed.

‘Go to the front door!’ Josie urged him, her heart going out to the four-year-old.

Suddenly, she heard a loud bang and Andy appeared in the room. She watched him drop to his feet and switch on his radio before coming to her senses. Quickly, she ran round to join him and stepped into her worst nightmare.

Charlotte’s injuries were more severe close up. Blood oozed out of the gash and down her neck. She wore only her underwear, the white cotton bra soaking up her blood. Her arms and torso were covered in cuts, her face a mass of swelling.

Andy spoke into the radio while the kids continued to cry. He threw Josie a latex glove. Josie pulled it on and knelt beside Charlotte.

‘Charlotte?’ she whispered. ‘Charlotte? Can you hear me? Please say something.’

 Charlotte’s breath came quickly. Her mouth moved but there was no sound.

Josie reached inside herself for the strength she needed to deal with the reality. She picked up two-year-old Joshua, who threw his arms tightly around her neck. The little boy’s complexion was white and he was shivering uncontrollably.

Glancing across the room, Josie could see that the baby was safe in her cot. She beckoned the two older boys towards her.

‘I’ll be back in a minute, Andy.’

If Sharon Watson, the next door neighbour, was amazed to see Josie pushing past her with three small children in tow, she never batted an eyelid.

‘I haven’t got time to explain what’s going on,’ Josie told her, ‘but I need you to look after the boys from next door. There’s been an accident and I don’t want them in the room. Will you help me?’

‘Of course I will,’ Sharon said, following closely behind. ‘Come on, boys. I’m sure I have a packet of chocolate biscuits somewhere. Then we can see what’s on the telly.’

By the time Josie ran back to the house, half the neighbours were out on the pavement and the paramedics were running in front of her. Andy moved away as they took over. Within minutes, Charlotte was moved onto a stretcher. Two more police officers arrived and Josie sent one of them round to next door while she checked on the baby. Thankfully, Poppy had slept through most of the commotion.

Josie sat down on the settee and put her head in her hands. How many times would she be in this situation, feeling anxious, inadequate, and fearful? There was only so much she could do. She wasn’t Wonder Woman, nor did she profess to be, but unlike the views of the Philip Matsons on this estate, sometimes what she did was more than a job. It was a lifeline.

Her mind flipped back to the previous summer when Liz McIntyre, another one of her tenants, had been beaten up by her husband. He’d left her for dead before hanging himself – fortunately, Liz had survived, but it was seeing Charlotte Hatfield in the same state that really upset Josie. Why do some men do this to women?

A tear spilled down her cheek. What the hell was she going to do with four kids under five? Charlotte’s injuries couldn’t be fully assessed until she got to the hospital, and there was no family near who could look after them. Someone from Children’s Services was needed. Until then, she’d be left holding the baby herself.