Written in the Scars (The Estate Series Book 4) (21 page)

‘You keep away from me now, do you fucking hear?’

When Sam didn’t respond, Scott kicked him in the stomach again. Breathless, he writhed around the floor.

‘And keep your mouth shut.’ Scott turned to glare at Brendan who lowered his eyes. ‘Both of you.’

Once Scott had gone, Sam dragged himself up to sitting, resting his back on the settee. Already he could feel his face swelling, but he was more concerned with the damage that might have been caused to his hand. He winced as he tried to breathe. He’d have to get his ribs checked out if they weren’t any better in the morning.

‘What the fuck was all that about?’ Brendan spoke in a high-pitched tone.

‘Just a spot of bother,’ Sam said, through shallow breaths.

‘Are you okay?’

Sam held up his good hand.

Brendan helped him to his feet, then began to pace the room. ‘He’s a fucking lunatic! What did you say about him?’

‘I was just after where he lived.’ Sam wasn’t going to tell Brendan that he had been mouthing off about Scott. The last thing he wanted was more trouble when he couldn’t defend himself.

‘If he comes here again, you’ll have to move out.’ Brendan was still pacing. ‘I don’t want his sort on my doorstep. I can’t cope with that kind of thing.’

Sam wanted to respond, to tell Brendan that he’d stay here as long as he liked. But, right now, he needed somewhere to lay low so it would be best to let this die down. He’d get round Brendan later. He might be the only friend he had right now.

One of his so-called mates must have grassed him up. With no one to watch his back, Sam realised he was on his own. And things would probably get worse once word got round that Scott had given him a beating. There was no honour amongst thieves as far as he was concerned.

Knowing his hand was going to take months to heal, he couldn’t go back to what he used to do anyway. And, until it was better, he was in danger of being attacked again unless he kept his nose clean.

Maybe this was his chance to start afresh, keep away from the idiots he’d hung around with and go on the straight and narrow. Besides, he was tired of having no money, of others being wary of him, or looking down their noses at him.

Other people turned their lives around – surely he could?

And if he didn’t, he was going to live in fear. Someone would always be out to get him. Did he really want to live his life looking over his shoulder all the time?

Chapter Twenty-Eight

Lewis knocked on Amy’s front door. It still seemed strange not to let himself in with his key, but he couldn’t do that. He didn’t live here anymore, and it didn’t seem right.

As he waited on the doorstep, he felt his hands shaking and pushed them into his pockets. He hadn’t had a drink in three days and, although the nightmares had continued, he’d wanted to stay sober.

He’d known that Amy might not want to talk to him but he had to try to see her. After chatting to Josie, and then having another conversation with Daniel, he wanted to talk to Amy now.

Actually, he just wanted to see Amy and this seemed a perfect excuse to visit. He’d called ahead after he’d cocked up on his last visit.

‘You look tired,’ she said as she let him in. He followed her through to the kitchen, checking out how amazing she looked in shorts and a bright orange vest. Lewis couldn’t really recall a time when Amy had ever looked anything less than amazing, though.

‘I’m not sleeping well,’ he told her.

‘Me either, because of the heat, but I expect you’ll be used to these temperatures.’ She smiled. ‘Tea or lemonade?’

‘Lemonade, please.’ Lewis smiled back, thankful that she was making him feel welcome. Again, he felt like a stranger in a house where he had once belonged. He glanced around the homely kitchen, photos of him on the side of the fridge, just like at his mum’s. This time the father and son were him and Daniel.

‘Is Dan home?’ he asked.

‘Yes, he’s—’ Amy jumped as there was a thump on the wall.

Dan’s head popped up outside the kitchen window and he waved at Lewis. He held up his football and beckoned him outside.

Lewis raised his hand, stretching out his fingers. ‘Five minutes,’ he shouted.

Dan was off again before Amy had handed Lewis his drink. He took a sip of the cold liquid.

‘I – can we talk?’ he said, all of a sudden feeling like he was stuck for words.

‘As long as you don’t snap my head off like the last time.’

Lewis looked abashed. He pointed to the table and they sat down. Taking a deep breath, he told her about his meeting with Josie and how he was thinking of getting help.

‘Why are you telling me this?’ she asked him afterwards.

‘Because I need something to work towards, aim for, you know? I was hoping you’d say that if I change then you’d let me come home.’

Amy had been sitting forward but sat back in her chair now. ‘I’m not sure I can promise you that – and it’s really unfair of you to ask.’

’But if you …’

 ‘It sounds like blackmail!’ She stood up and moved to the sink. Keeping her back to him, she continued. ‘You know it won’t ever be the same between us. Even if you get help, I can’t be there for you as a wife.’ She turned back to him then. ‘But I can be there as a friend.’

Lewis swallowed. Why had he expected anything more? But it was something he could work at. He was determined to save his marriage, so it would have to do for now.

‘Stay for tea?’ Amy spoke into the silence. ‘Dan would like it.’

‘Would you like it?’

Amy paused. ‘Yes, I would. You know I would. But it doesn’t mean anything.’

‘It doesn’t mean that I’ll stop trying either.’

They shared a strained smile.

Lewis knocked back his drink and went out into the garden. ‘Right, you,’ he said, running at Dan and manoeuvring the ball off him, ‘let’s see who’s best. Father or son.’

As Lewis switched off, chasing Dan around the garden after he’d regained the ball, he heard himself laughing. He couldn’t remember the last time he had laughed. He hoped it would continue. Because it felt good.

He glanced at the kitchen window to see Amy watching them. He smiled again, and she smiled back. God, he missed her.

Maybe it was too late for him and Amy to start again, but he wasn’t giving up on his family yet.

Keera hadn’t long been at work that night when Steve Wilson showed his ugly face. She’d been helping Ramona out with her computer after the screen had gone blank, and was on all fours beneath the counter, checking that all the cables were still plugged in. He didn’t see her as he came bursting through the door.

‘You got my money?’ he said to Ramona.

‘No, not yet.’ Keera could hear the tremble in Ramona’s voice. ‘I said I’d get it to you by the end of the month and … stop, you can’t come—’

Steve reached over the counter and grabbed a handful of Ramona’s hair. ‘I said you needed to get it to me by last weekend. I have people after me for money too, so I need that cash.’

‘I haven’t got it!’ Ramona tried to free herself as he pulled her nearer. He drew up his hand just as Keera crawled out from beneath the desk. She grabbed the stapler from behind the counter and brought it down on Steve’s knuckles.

Steve let go of Ramona and clasped his hand. ‘You mad fucking bitch!’ he screamed.

‘She hasn’t got the money.’ Keera folded her arms and stood up to him. She felt better that she was behind the counter, glancing to her right to see that the baseball bat was still there if he tried to jump over.

As he came at them again, she grabbed for it, raising it high above her head. ‘Come any closer and I will use it!’

Steve stood in front of them both, catching his breath for a moment. Keera could smell the alcohol fumes from where she was standing. She glanced at Ramona, cowering by her side.

The door opened behind them. Estelle came through first, followed by the new girl, Sophie. Behind them was one of their regular clients.

‘Everything okay here?’ Trevor Price asked, coming to stand in front of the women.

‘Mind your own business.’ Steve glanced at him fleetingly.

‘But these women are my friends.’

‘Your friends?’ Steve sneered as he looked around the room. ‘You’re old enough to be their father.’

‘Steve!’ cried Ramona.

Trevor shook his head. ‘Your sort aren’t welcome if you’re out to hurt any of them, so I suggest you sling your hook.’

‘I don’t fucking think so.’

‘Oh, I do fucking think so.’

‘Why, you …’ Steve launched himself across the room, a fist drawn back in the air.

Trevor punched him in the side of his face.

Steve staggered but stayed on his feet. With a roar, he charged at Trevor again and pushed him back against the wall, but Trevor stood his ground and rammed his fist into Steve’s stomach.

‘Stop!’ Ramona cried, coming from behind the reception. ‘No more, please.’

Trevor relented and pushed Steve to the floor. He wiped one palm across the other as if ridding himself of their filth.

Keera grinned. ‘Way to go, Trev. I didn’t know you had it in you.’

‘Only when it’s called for,’ replied Trevor. ‘I can’t stand people who use violence as a means of getting their own way but I do believe in dishing it out to those people when necessary.’ He looked at all four women in turn. ‘I used to be a street fighter … got paid good money for it too, but like most things, I became too old.’ He pointed to his nose. ‘And this got broken one too many times for my liking.’

Trevor held out his hand, offering to help Steve up from the floor, but Steve slapped it away. However, once Steve had got to his feet of his own volition, Trevor grabbed the lapels of his jacket and pulled him near.

Come round here again causing hassle, and I will have you seen to,’ he told him quietly. ‘These girls deserve to be treated with respect, you got that?’ 

Steve said nothing. Keera couldn’t believe how much of a coward he was when challenged.

‘You got that?’ Trevor repeated, pulling Steve closer.

‘Yeah, I got it.’ Steve pushed Trevor’s hands down. He turned to Ramona, first letting his eyes rest menacingly on Keera. ‘I still want my money.’

Trevor pushed him towards the door. ‘I’ll see you out. Goodnight, ladies, and be careful.’

‘Goodnight.’ They chanted in unison.

When he had gone, all four women started to talk at once.

‘Ohmigod, did you see that!’ said Sonia.

‘I can’t believe he was a street fighter.’ Estelle shook her head. ‘I mean, I know he keeps himself fit but…’

‘Wow, he’s our hero,’ said Keera. ‘I never would have thought.’

‘He’s done me more harm than good,’ Ramona pouted, going back behind the reception. ‘Steve won’t give up. He’ll come back when the likes of Trevor isn’t around and he’ll probably cause more damage then. He’s a lunatic, especially when he’s been drinking.’

‘You shouldn’t put up with him,’ said Estelle.

‘I owe him money, babe.’ Ramona blushed. ‘It’s my fault.’

‘Don’t you have any family who can bail you out?’

‘Are you kidding? They’re as scared of him as I am!’

Keera put her arms around Ramona and gave her a hug. ‘I can chip in with some money if it helps,’ she offered.

Ramona started to cry. ‘But if I give him money, he always wants more. I’m not even sure if I owe him anything now or if he’s trying it on. I just know that the debt is never paid off.’ She looked at them with watery eyes. ‘My own frigging brother.’

‘It’s not your fault that he’s a lunatic,’ Keera admonished. ‘If he comes again, I’ll find something else to batter him with. He’ll get fed up sooner or later.’

‘He’ll never get fed up.’ Ramona shook her head before bursting into tears again. ‘I don’t think I’ll ever get rid of him.’

Keera threw her a sympathetic look. Although she tried to comfort her friend, she was concerned about seeing Steve again. She’d thought he’d grass her up to Sam when she’d kneed him in the balls to get away from him. Now, she had given him more ammunition to get her back.

Surely he would say something soon.

Chapter Twenty-Nine

Donna was starving as she got ready for her next date with Owen. She was glad he was picking her up at half past seven or she swore she would die of hunger, used to eating much earlier in the evening. In another summer dress, although the weather threatened to bring a storm, she gave herself the once-over in the long hall mirror. She grinned as she twirled around, noticing that her arms and legs were quite toned because of all the manual work she did in the shop. Tangerine orange painted toenails peeped out of her strappy sandals, but nothing was as bright as her smile.

Half an hour later, she was standing by the window looking out onto the street. So far, there had been no sign of Owen. She’d texted him a couple of times with no reply and then she’d rung to find his phone was switched off.