Heather and Jamie lived on the grimy-looking council estate Scott had driven them through when they’d first arrived in Thussock. They could see it looming in the distance. Tammy said nothing about what she’d thought of the place that day. Back then it had seemed like something out of a documentary made in the seventies: rows of identical houses which might have been considered tasteful and modern when they’d originally been built, cutting-edge, but which were now hideously dated and impractical. All Tammy had seen last Saturday had been the overgrown gardens and the kids sitting on walls outside squat and ugly apartment blocks. She had to admit it didn’t look quite so bad today. Framed by the mountains in the distance and fields on either side, the place didn’t look as sprawling and endless as it initially had. Maybe it was because last week she’d been at the wrong end of a six and a half hour car journey? Maybe it was because she was on foot now and had time to look properly? Or then again, maybe it was because after a week here her standards were already slipping?
They stopped at the recreation ground, way before they reached the estate. At first Tammy was reluctant to hang around here. Loitering in kids’ playgrounds – that was the kind of thing chavs did back home. She’d given up on street corners years ago. Was this really what she’d been reduced to? Still, when she weighed up all her options and considered the alternatives, this was probably the best way of wasting time she could find. She quite liked Heather. She’d been talking inconsequential crap non-stop since leaving the café, going on about her boyfriend Chez (he’s nearly twenty, you know), and how many times they’d done it (he fucked me here by the swings one time… it was lush). Tammy was starting to think Heather could be shaped, that the only reason she was rough like this was because of a lack of similarly-aged female company. She decided she’d stick with her for a while and see how things went. Anyway – and there was no way she was going to say this out loud or admit it to anyone – she quite liked Jamie. He could be a real dick at times and he was way less mature than the boys she was used to back home, but he was quite cute. The best of a bad bunch. Better than nothing.
Tammy and Heather sat talking on opposite sides of the slowly spinning roundabout, occasional one-footed pushes keeping them moving. Behind them, Jamie and his mates chucked stones at the metal bins down the side of the community hall. ‘Hey, Graham,’ the weasel-faced one – Joel – yelled. Tammy looked up, still spinning around, and saw a man walking across the bottom edge of the recreation ground at speed, head down, doing all he could to ignore the torrent of abuse Joel was now hurling at him. He had a Co-op carrier bag clutched tight to his chest and he refused to look anywhere but directly ahead. Tammy thought he looked familiar.
‘Who’s that?’
‘Just Graham,’ Heather told her. ‘Bit of an odd-ball. Works at the Co-op. Mops the floors and collects the trolleys.’
That was where she knew him from – he was the one who’d found Scott’s wallet and brought it out to him.
Joel ran after Graham, sprinting down the hill and cutting him off, blocking his way through. ‘Where you goin’, Graham mate?’
‘Home,’ Graham said, head still down, refusing to make eye-contact. He tried to side-step Joel, but Joel anticipated and got in his way again.
‘What’s in your bag? Got any food?’
Graham clutched the bag tighter. ‘Just my dinner.’
‘Leave him alone, Joel,’ Jamie shouted, his intervention surprising everyone.
Joel looked up and grinned. ‘Just chattin’ wi’ me mate.’
Graham tried to pass him again, this time managing to get through. Joel ruffled his hair as he passed, then watched him walk away, now so fast he was almost running.
And again, Tammy’s heart sank. Is this really the best I can do? Hanging around in a park, watching a moron hurl abuse at the village idiot? It hurt. Christ, she couldn’t remember ever feeling so low before, not even when Mum and Dad had first split up. She walked away, trying hard not to let Heather see she was crying.
‘Wassup Tam?’
‘Nothing.’
‘You missing home?’ she asked with surprising perception. Tammy nodded, then the floodgates opened. ‘Come on,’ Heather said, getting up and putting her arm around Tammy’s shoulder. ‘Let’s go back to mine.’
They walked towards the estate, passing Joel as he came running back up the hill they were walking down. ‘Lesbians,’ he shouted at them.
‘Fuck off,’ Heather shouted back.
‘That’s my sister, you prick,’ Jamie said, and he booted Joel in the backside then chased him around the back of the community hall.
Tammy managed to get a text through to say where she was going, then phoned Michelle a few hours later, asking for a lift home. ‘Have you seen the car keys?’ Michelle asked.
‘I’ve got them,’ Scott said, tapping his pocket. ‘Why?’
‘Tam needs picking up.’
‘I’ll get her.’
‘It’s okay. It’s just around the corner.’
‘Did you not hear me? I said I’ll get her. Give me the address.’
Michelle did as he said. It wasn’t worth arguing.
11
Sunday afternoon. Michelle didn’t know how much more of today she could take. George had picked up a cold – probably from the change of surroundings or mixing with new kids, she thought – and he was making life hell for everyone, moaning and grizzling and constantly demanding attention. Tammy and Phoebe were bickering about something, probably nothing, and now Scott was making a hell of a noise downstairs. She dumped George in with the girls and went to see what he was doing. She found him in the kitchen, shifting furniture. She tripped over a bucketful of tools he’d left in the doorway.
‘What are you doing, Scott? I nearly crippled myself just then.’
‘What’s it look like I’m doing?’
He didn’t give her time to answer, just swung a sledgehammer at the wall between the kitchen and dining room. It hit with a deep thud which resonated throughout the entire house. Everything in the kitchen shook. It snowed with dust. She dived for the still wet washing-up on the draining board, re-wiping and shoving plates and dishes into cupboards, cringing as the sledgehammer hit again. And again. And again.
She covered up what she could, then waited in the doorway for him to stop, watching the knee-level hole in the wall getting bigger and bigger. Already there were mounds of plaster and broken brick on either side.
‘What?’ he said, panting with effort, pausing for breath.
‘You pick your moments.’
‘Don’t talk to me like that.’
‘Well I’ve tried being tactful and that doesn’t seem to work. I thought we were going to wait a while.’
‘This needs doing.’
He turned his back on her, adjusted his safety goggles, then swung the sledgehammer again. Three more hits and he stopped, conscious she was still there and still watching.
‘What’s your problem?’
She just looked at him, seething. ‘A bit of notice would have been nice.’
‘I told you, this is the most important job. This needs doing first.’
‘I thought we were waiting,’ she said again.
‘Waiting for what?’
‘Waiting to get back on our feet, to get some cash behind us again. I thought you’d at least wait until we’d finished unpacking.’ She peered through the hole. ‘The carpet in the dining room’s ruined.’
‘We were gonna change it anyway.’
‘That’s not the point. We can’t afford to change it, not yet. You know that. We talked about it.’