There was always one. Eyeing the ceiling, Cathy sighed in despair, then came around from behind the bar to peel the last hanger-on away from the jukebox. Whitney Houston belting out ‘I Will Always Love You’ wasn’t helping Jimmy O’Conner’s maudlin mood any.
‘Come on, Jimmy.’ Hooking an arm through his, she steered him towards the exit. ‘Whitney will still be here tomorrow.’
‘Yeah, but my bird won’t, will she? Dumped me, she did, after only three weeks. Did I tell you?’ Jimmy said dejectedly.
‘You did, Jimmy. About a hundred times.’ Cathy manoeuvred him another stumbling yard forward, collecting up his cigarettes and motorcycle helmet from his table as they went.
‘Bought her a hairdryer an’ all for her birthday. Cost me a day’s soddin’ wages, that thing did.’
‘Ungrateful mare, she doesn’t deserve you.’ Cathy oozed sympathy, although after a long night pulling pints in platform shoes that were killing her, and with her daughter waiting for her in the living room, her patience was wearing thin.
‘Should’ve stuck with you, Cath.’ Jimmy emitted a nostalgic sigh. ‘We’d have been good together, you and me.’
God forbid. Jimmy was clearly remembering their relationship in a way that did less damage to his ego. After an excruciatingly long six months going steady with him, Cathy too had dumped him. She had her sights set higher than a farmhand whose idea of a romantic night out was a lager and lime followed by a ride on his clapped-out Honda 650 and a quick shag in the sand dunes. A bloke who never had oil under his fingernails or stank of pig shit was more Cathy’s type.
‘Yeah, we would have, Jimmy.’ She encouraged him the last few feet towards the door, opening it and ejecting him into the crisp night air. ‘That boat’s sailed, unfortunately. I’ll probably be getting engaged soon.’
Jimmy laughed scornfully as she handed him his helmet and fags. ‘Oh yeah, who’s that to then? Not that tosser who’s been stringing you along for the last God knows how many years?’
‘He hasn’t been doing anything of the sort,’ Cathy informed him sniffily. ‘He’s been very good to me, paying my rent and everything.’
‘Least he could do, innit,’ Jimmy commented, flicking his fag packet open and sticking a cigarette into his mouth. ‘Given what’s on offer.’
‘Piss off, Jimmy.’ Cathy scowled, offended at the implication. She’d rather have her gas bill paid and the odd posh meal out than a poxy lager and lime any time.
Eyeing her thoughtfully over his cigarette, Jimmy lit up. ‘Still can’t believe you dumped me and went back to him,’ he said, taking a tight draw. ‘Broke my heart, you did. I loved you, y’know, Cath. Still do.’
‘No you don’t.’ Cathy sighed tiredly. She really wished he’d stop doing this; hanging around every night like a jealous spurned lover in the hope that she and her bloke would split up again. ‘You just want what you can’t have.’
‘Strikes me you do an’ all. Nice little house with a white picket fence? Roses round the door and a faithful hubby to snuggle up in bed with?’ Jimmy curled his lip in a sneer. ‘Ain’t likely to get it from some bloke who turns up when he feels like it, are you?’
‘Get lost, Jimmy.’ Cathy made to close the door.
Jimmy, though, clearly wasn’t going anywhere. ‘Give us another chance, Cath, go on,’ he said, stumbling forward and making a grab for her.
‘Jimmy…’ Cathy pressed her hands to his chest, trying to keep him at bay. ‘Get off!’
‘Oi!’ Mike, the landlord, appeared behind her as Jimmy attempted a clumsy kiss. ‘Sling your hook, Jimmy, or I’ll get the law to see you off.’
‘What?’ Letting go of her, Jimmy stepped back, looking surprised. ‘I was only after a kiss. She was well up for it a few weeks ago, weren’t you, Cath?’
‘Jimmy, you’re drunk,’ Cathy pointed out, exasperated. ‘You’re embarrassing yourself. Just go, will you, before Mike calls the police.’
‘Right. Like that, is it?’ Jimmy wiped an arm across his mouth and looked her up and down disdainfully. ‘You’re going to regret it, Cath, trust me. You don’t want a bloke pissing you about like that prick you’re seeing. I’d have seen you all right. You know I would.’
Cathy eyed the sky. ‘What, on your income? And living in that smelly flat above the curry house?’ She laughed in bemusement; then, noting the flash of humiliation in his eyes, decided she should perhaps be a bit more careful of his feelings. It was clear he still had a soft spot for her. It wasn’t his fault he was a loser. ‘I know you mean well, Jimmy, but let’s face it, that’s just not my style, is it?’
Jimmy swept his gaze over her again, taking in her cow-print platform shoes, short black satin skirt and metallic top – all brand new and purchased from her catalogue. ‘Nah, suppose not. Think I prefer the old style, though. Less tarty.’ Giving her another disdainful sweep of his eyes, he shrugged, and turned to amble towards his motorbike.
Cheeky bastard. Cathy noted the definite weave to his walk as he went. God, what an idiot. Tall, if a bit spindly, he was reasonably good-looking, in a dark, broody biker sort of way. She might have been flattered he was so jealous if he didn’t insist on acting like a complete dickhead. ‘Don’t forget your helmet, Jimmy,’ she called after him. ‘Wouldn’t want you damaging your one brain cell, would we?’
Now considerably miffed, she banged the door shut after him and went through the bar to the private quarters where her little girl waited for her. Poor thing, she would be exhausted. Cathy hated having to bring her here while she worked but, with no money to pay for a childminder, she didn’t have any choice.
‘Come on, sweetie,’ she said, rousing her daughter, who was curled up on the sofa in the living room, the book she’d been reading abandoned on the floor.
‘Are we going home now, Mummy?’ she asked, sitting up and kneading her eyes sleepily.
‘We are, sweetheart,’ Cathy assured her, picking up the book and placing it on the coffee table, then taking her by the hand to lead her back to the bar.
‘I’m off, Mike,’ she said, collecting their coats and her bag. ‘See you tomorrow.’
Mike paused in his glass-washing. ‘You all right?’ he asked her.
Cathy fed her little girl into her coat and straightened up. She noted the concerned furrow in his brow, and was glad he cared enough to have intervened. Drunk or not, Jimmy had been well out of order tonight.
‘Yeah, I’m fine,’ she assured him. ‘He’s just jealous. He doesn’t mean any harm.’
Mike didn’t look convinced. ‘Just watch what you’re doing with him,’ he warned her. ‘Likes his booze too much, does that one. And watch how you drive, as well. There’s black ice on that road into Meliton. It’s always treacherous at this time of year.’
‘I will, don’t worry. I’m a big girl now, I can look after myself.’ Cathy gave his arm a grateful squeeze as they walked past him to the door.
Clip-clopping across the car park, she paused to ferret in her bag for her car keys. Finally locating them amongst the debris at the bottom, she approached her little van, opening the back doors for her daughter to climb inside and then went around to the driver’s side. Then stopped as someone shouted her name. ‘Catherine Tyson! Wait! I want to talk to you.’
Cathy turned, her brow knitted curiously. ‘About?’
‘My husband, you little slut,’ the woman growled.
Her…? Hang on a sec, what had she just called her? Stunned, Cathy might have demanded to know where the cheeky cow got off calling her names but for the fact that the woman was now advancing menacingly towards her. Shit! Sensing trouble, she whirled back around, fumbled the key into the lock and wiggled it frantically.
‘Keep away from him,’ the woman seethed, the flat of her hand slamming the driver’s-side door shut just as Cathy had wrenched it open.
What the hell was she doing? ‘Let go!’ Cathy cried, attempting to grapple the door open again. ‘Leave me alone.’
‘I’ll leave you alone when you leave him alone,’ the woman spat, her face so close to Cathy’s that she could almost taste the pungent aroma of floral perfume.
‘I dunno what you’re on about.’ Cathy tugged uselessly at the handle. ‘I haven’t been anywhere near your husband.’
‘Lying little trollop. Do you think I’m stupid?’ the woman snarled. ‘If you don’t stay away from him, I swear to God I will claw your pretty eyes from their sockets and feed them to the landlord’s fucking dog.’
Oh God. Hearing the malevolence in the woman’s voice, Cathy’s blood froze in her veins. She was stark raving mad. ‘I don’t have a clue what you’re talking about,’ she whimpered, feeling dangerously close to wetting herself. ‘Let go of my door, or—’
‘Or what? What will you do, hmm? Run? In those ridiculous shoes?’ There was a mocking edge now to the woman’s voice. ‘Scream? Cry?’
Icy fear prickled the length of Cathy’s spine as she felt the woman’s hand lock around the back of her neck. ‘Please…’ she croaked. ‘My daughter…’
‘Do not see him again.’ Sharp fingernails dug mercilessly into Cathy’s flesh, the woman increasing the pressure. ‘Don’t ring him. Do not go anywhere—’ She stopped, sucking in a sharp breath as one weighty-soled shoe stomped heavily down to grind her toes into the gravel. ‘Bitch!’
Cathy wasted no time. As the woman stumbled backwards, she yanked the driver’s-side door open and threw herself inside, dropping the lock fast.
‘Mummy? What’s happening?’ her little girl said bewilderedly from where she was curled up with her Sindy doll in the back of the van.
She was scared. Hearing the tremble in her voice, Cathy cursed her incompetence. She’d known that bringing her here was a bad idea. She’d witnessed all sorts of things a child shouldn’t, and now this. ‘Stay down,’ she hissed, lunging across to drop the lock on the opposite side, and then flicking the headlights on.
Halfway around the front of the car, framed in the full beam, the woman fixed her gaze hard on Cathy’s, a wild, feverish glare that chilled her right down to the bone. She meant to hurt her. Cathy’s heart thrashed against her ribcage as she watched the woman look frenziedly around. Looking for something to smash the windscreen with?
Oh, sweet Jesus. ‘Stay down, baby,’ she whispered, shoving her key shakily into the ignition and turning the engine over, only for it to splutter and die.
At once, the woman’s gaze snapped back to hers, a surprised expression crossing her face, which soon gave way to a petrifying smile of quiet triumph.
Sweat popped out on Cathy’s forehead. With a sharp knot in her windpipe, she watched the woman turn back to her own car – a great Mitsubishi Shogun – moving with surprising agility despite a now obvious limp. What was she going to do?
But Cathy knew. Swallowing back the acrid taste of terror, she pictured it: the Shogun ramming into her tin-sided van, crushing it like an eggshell. Nausea sweeping through her, she turned the key again, eased out the choke and tried desperately to start the vehicle once more. The engine coughed, a coarse, throaty sound like an old man who’d smoked too many Woodbines, but still it stubbornly refused to spark. God! Please! Tears spilling down her cheeks, Cathy prayed with all her might as she eased the choke further out, then closed her eyes, relief crashing through her like a tidal wave, when the van finally juddered into life.
Cautioning herself not to stall it, she reached for the gearstick, crunching through the gears then plunging her foot down to reverse sharply before yanking the wheel around and screeching out of the car park. The woman wouldn’t follow her, surely? Attempt to run her off the road?
Drive, Cathy instructed herself. Panic twisting her stomach, the small wheels of her van jolting through potholes on the neglected country lane, she glanced in her rear-view mirror. Bright light slicing high across her vision confirmed that the Shogun was behind her, intent on possibly doing just that.
Shit! She snapped her gaze back to the windscreen and switched on the wipers, but they only made the smear of muddy ice on the glass worse. Her water container was empty. She’d meant to fill it up. God, please help me. She leaned forward, using her cuff to try to make a big enough hole in the condensation on the inside to see through.
The motorbike came out of nowhere.
Losing traction on the blind bend ahead of her, it skidded sideways across the front of the van like a hockey puck across an ice rink, before Cathy even had time to blink.