Chapter Eleven
At about the time of Amber passing out, Dee was pulling up outside Chrissie’s crumbling maisonette.
‘Thanks for the lift,’ said Chrissie gratefully.
‘You’re welcome,’ Dee replied. ‘I’ll watch you walk to the door.’
‘I’ll be fine,’ Chrissie assured. ‘This place isn’t quite as bad you think.’ Both women knew that wasn’t true. ‘Catch you later.’ As Chrissie pushed open the passenger door, Dee’s nostrils twitched at the stink of weed. Goodness knows what it was like inside Chrissie’s home. Dee saw her friend’s soft mouth change into a hard line.
Buzzing down the driver’s window, Dee kept her eyes on Chrissie. She could hear the men inside the maisonette effing and jeffing, followed by raucous cheers. Their bulky shapes were silhouetted behind the net curtains. Someone punched the air in triumph and let out a primeval roar. From next door came the sound of Chrissie’s neighbour, who Dee knew to be called Fran, yelling at her kids to go to sleep. This was followed by Fran screaming at the men to shut their gobs or she’d come around and do it for them. Chrissie’s body was visibly stiff with tension as she turned to wave to Dee. Seconds later she’d disappeared into the hallway. As the car window whirred shut, Dee thanked God and all the angels in Heaven that she didn’t live on an estate like this one.
Inside, Chrissie took a deep breath. She told herself to count to three before she went into the lounge. It was important to stay calm and be reasonable. After all, it was Saturday night. After a hard week of doing sod all, it was only natural Andrew’s friends should want to unwind and enjoy a few funny fags. She just wished they didn’t do it in her home. The place stunk. She checked the time. Half past eleven. Would it be mean asking Andrew’s “guests” to leave at this hour? She dithered. Most working people, like herself, would think it late but not extraordinarily so. Midnight would probably be more appropriate for ending in-house entertainment. She sighed, trying to muster up some energy. If her body had been a car, the petrol tank’s gauge would be reading almost empty.
For goodness sake, Chrissie. Get a grip. You’ve now been standing in this hallway for several minutes. Do something!
Making a decision, she pushed down on the door handle to the lounge. Chrissie immediately bumped into Big Mick, one of the men Dee had harassed earlier, who was coming the other way.
‘Oh, h-hello,’ Chrissie stuttered. ‘Are you going?’ Her heart leapt with joy. With a bit of luck, the rest of them would follow. She could reclaim her home, tidy up, and be in bed a little after midnight.
‘Nah,’ Mick said, enveloping Chrissie in beer fumes. ‘I’m off to use yer bog. I need a crap.’
Chrissie tried not to look disgusted. After all, it was a bodily function that all humans did. She just wished Mick kept such information to himself, and preferably went home to use his own toilet rather than ponging out hers. As he squeezed his bulk past her, one of his hands landed on her left breast. She froze.
‘Nice tits,’ he murmured. ‘Yer wasted on him.’ He jerked his head at Andrew in the gloom behind him. ‘Any time yer fancy a bit of rough, look me up. I’ll show yer a good time, darlin’.’
Chrissie was so shocked she couldn’t move. Mick’s hand lingered for a moment longer, fingering her nipple through her worn-out bra before his bowels got the better of him. As he hastened off to the bathroom, Andrew appeared in the doorway.
‘Ah, good. You’re home. All right?’ he enquired. He didn’t bother waiting for a reply. ‘We’re starving. As it’s still early, can you make everyone some chip butties? That all right with you, lads?’ Andrew bellowed over his shoulder. From behind him came various grunts of approval. Chrissie could see at least ten men in there. Eleven if you included Mick who was currently enthroned on her toilet.
‘Andrew,’ said Chrissie, in a low voice, ‘even if I wanted to make chip butties at twenty-to-midnight – which I don’t – I would need half a dozen bags of frozen chips and several loaves of bread. Neither of which we have.’
Andrew’s lip curled. When he next spoke his voice matched Chrissie’s in quietness, but not in tone. ‘You’re not going to show me up, are you?’ he hissed. His face was full of contempt. ‘There’s an Asda around the corner. It’s open twenty-four-seven. Get your backside over there, buy what’s necessary, and do it pronto. You need to learn some basic hospitality skills. Calum’s missus is a diamond. She waits on us hand, foot and finger, all night long, with never a cross word and a big smile on her face. In fact, all the lads have respectful wives. It’s just me who doesn’t.’
‘You’re forgetting something, Andrew,’ Chrissie growled.
‘Oh?’
‘I’m not your wife.’
‘For fuck’s sake,’ Andrew rolled his eyes. ‘Is that what this is about? Hey, if the difference between you being obstructive or pleasant boils down to a ring on your finger, then let’s get married.’ Chrissie stared at Andrew in disbelief. In the space of two minutes she’d been groped by Andrew’s mate, had an invitation to have an affair, received an obscure marriage proposal, and been ordered to make umpteen chip butties at nearly midnight. What the hell was going on in her life? She desperately needed to claw back some control. ‘So can you hurry up and chuff off to Asda,’ said Andrew through clenched teeth. He gave her a push towards the front door. ‘Oh, and before you ask, no I don’t have any money for the shopping. I’ll reimburse you when I’m paid. Tonight’s been a bit expensive. In addition to all the booze for everyone, there were certain…er…things I had to buy for the lads. At the weekend they like their…you know… luxuries.’
‘I understand,’ Chrissie nodded.
Andrew’s face lit up. This was more like it. A compliant Chrissie. It was amazing what the promise of marriage achieved. ‘Off you go then.’ He gave her another prod, but Chrissie stood her ground.
‘I too like certain luxuries at the weekend, Andrew,’ Chrissie murmured.
Andrew sighed. It was becoming crystal clear. She wanted a bonk. ‘Sure, sure,’ he said, once again jostling Chrissie towards the door. ‘I’ll sort you out later.’
Chrissie laughed, but there was no joy in the sound. She put up her hands to stop Andrew propelling her out into the night. ‘The luxuries I’m talking about, are coming home to a house that doesn’t resemble a cross between a pub and a drug den, being able to get into my own bathroom without the stench of Mick’s bowels polluting the atmosphere, sleeping in a fragrant bedroom without everything – including the contents of my clothes hanging in the wardrobe – reeking of weed, and not being groped by one of your hideous mates–’
Andrew’s face darkened. ‘You dirty liar.’
‘–and finally, to have a boyfriend who behaves like a boyfriend and not some prat who–’
There was the sound of a flushing toilet struggling to cope with the contents of its bowl. The bathroom door sprang open revealing Mick doing up his flies. It was evident no hand washing would be taking place. He squirted a lavender aerosol into the poisonous air, and waved one hand at the loo. ‘Sorry, darlin’,’ he said, addressing Chrissie. ‘Think yer loo’s blocked. Be a good girl an’ sort’ it out fer us. One big bucket of water should shift it.’
‘She’ll be right there,’ Andrew assured Mick, ‘and then my lovely fiancé,’ he said mockingly, ‘is going to do us all proud with a feast to make your eyes pop.’
‘Is that right?’ said Mick with a leer. He was standing slightly behind Andrew who couldn’t see Mick staring lasciviously at Chrissie’s breasts.
Chrissie had had enough. She realised she wasn’t going to get any sleep until these cretins had left. It would be best to do Andrew’s bidding. She didn’t want an argument. She’d sort out the loo, go to Asda, make the damn butties, and then at least everyone would finally go home. Tomorrow she’d properly clear the place up and then insist she and Andrew sit down and talk. If there was any chance of salvaging this relationship and rediscovering the sweet man she’d first fallen in love with, then she would pull out all the stops. But Andrew would have to do likewise. Firstly, these revolting “friends” had to go, also this awful maisonette on this unpleasant estate. They both earned a fair wage. If it meant paying a little more rent to live in a nicer street surrounded by pleasanter people, then so be it. But one thing was for sure, she was not going to carry on living like this.