Chapter Fifteen
Chrissie’s Sunday…
At the time of Dee sitting at her breakfast bar with her bare breasts covered in fry-up, Chrissie had been scrubbing the maisonette.
She’d slept fitfully. It had been after two in the morning before everybody had left. She’d got as far as washing up the glasses and plates before tiredness had overwhelmed her. By the time she’d crawled under the duvet it was nearly three in the morning. Andrew had been fast asleep, on his back, mouth open. Full of booze, he’d been snoring like ten farrowing pigs. It seemed as though Chrissie had barely fallen asleep when she’d been awoken by Andrew. He’d rolled onto his side, lifted one buttock and loudly farted. It had sounded like a firework going off, and she’d nearly choked on the smell.
The neon figures of the alarm clock read just before seven in the morning. So much for a Sunday lie-in. Slipping out of bed, Chrissie pulled her night t-shirt across her nose in an attempt at making a gasmask. She pulled on some old jogging bottoms and left Andrew slumbering.
Outside, not even the January sun was awake. Chrissie made herself a strong coffee hoping a caffeine hit would pin back her eyelids. Downing the scalding liquid, she began deep-cleaning the maisonette. She suspected there was a psychological reason for her voracious scrubbing. It was as if the harder she scoured, the more she removed the essence of those men who’d been in her home. There was something about them that made her skin crawl.
Chrissie squirted the furniture with anti-bacterial liquid, rubbing away grubby fingerprints, and marks that had also been left on the walls. Her polishing cloth whirled over the coffee table until it shone. She even cleaned the door handle and light switch. A forensics team would have been hard pushed to prove a crowd of men had been in her lounge a few hours ago. She decided to leave the bedroom until Andrew was awake. At least none of the men had been in there. Chrissie then turned her attention to the small kitchen, before tackling the tiniest room – the disgusting bathroom.
She had no idea whether it was just Mick who’d used the loo, or all eleven men, but aim had been awful. The stink of urine was like that of a public urinal. Holding her breath, she went in armed with soapy water, disinfectant, an old-fashioned scrubbing brush, and a roll of kitchen towel to dry off the lino. She hoped pee hadn’t seeped into the many cracks within the old flooring, otherwise the smell would be difficult to shift.
Finishing off, she patted the floor dry. She emptied a bottle of bleach down the loo. Chrissie was just shuddering at the memory of Mick’s bowel motion winking up at her, when Andrew appeared in the bathroom doorway. He was dressed, albeit scruffily.
‘Hurry up, Chrissie. I need a pee.’
‘One second.’ She straightened up, easing kinks out of her body, then picked up her bucket of cleaning paraphernalia. ‘Could you watch your aim, please.’
‘I’m not a two-year-old,’ said Andrew crossly. ‘I do know how to pee in a straight line.’
‘Good. In that case perhaps you could show your mates.’
‘Leave my friends out of it, Chrissie. I don’t know why you get so worked up about them. They’re nice enough.’
Chrissie snorted. The memory of Mick’s hand on her breast was still fresh. ‘Odd friends you keep. I reckon if you groped one of their wives you’d get a smack in the mouth for your efforts.’
Andrew rolled his eyes and pushed past her to the toilet. ‘You shouldn’t make up stuff like that,’ he said, over the sound of relieving himself. ‘It’s bang out of order.’
‘Andrew, I think it’s about time we had a frank chat.’
‘Don’t you mean “nag”? He shook his privates before tucking everything away. He was about to move past Chrissie, when she blocked his exit.
‘Correct me if I’m wrong, but you told me you weren’t aged two.’
‘Eh?’
‘As you’re not two years old and can easily reach the flush on the toilet, how about you go back and pull the chain?’
‘Oh for–’
‘And wash your hands afterwards.’
‘What are you? My mum?’
‘Sometimes I feel like it,’ Chrissie snapped. ‘Do you want a cup of tea?’
‘If it’s not any trouble,’ said Andrew sarcastically. ‘Toast would be nice, too.’
Back in the kitchen, Chrissie put away her cleaning bucket and washed her hands again. They were cracked and sore in places. Even though the maisonette was as shiny as a new pin, she still felt it was dirty. She wanted to get out of this place. It was definitely time to move. She placed popped two slices of bread into the toaster. As an afterthought she added another for herself, even though she wasn’t really hungry. There was too much anger festering away in her stomach to allow much food in there right now.
Andrew pulled out a chair and flopped down at the ancient Formica table. He rubbed the heels of his hands over his face a few times, and then regarded Chrissie with bloodshot eyes. ‘I think I have a hangover.’
‘Yes,’ said Chrissie acidly, ‘and I expect your mates have one too.’ The toast popped up and she busied herself with the spreading of cheap margarine.
‘Any chance of a couple of eggs? Think I need something to mop up the alcohol.’
Reaching inside a cupboard for the frying pan, Chrissie’s mouth set in a thin line. She needed to stop doing that with her lips. It was becoming a habit. If she wasn’t careful her facial muscles would end up permanently set in that expression, so she looked like a twenty-seven-going-on-sixty-seven-year-old battle-axe. She spoke over her shoulder to Andrew as she poured oil into the pan and cracked the eggs.
‘Today I would like us to spend some quality time together.’
‘Doing what?’ Andrew sounded horrified. ‘I have business to do.’
‘What business?’
‘Just…business.’
‘Ah,’ said Chrissie, flipping the eggs, ‘you mean dodgy business.’
‘So?’ Andrew’s voice was surly. ‘What does it matter to you? I’m trying to make a few extra quid.’
Chrissie scooped the eggs out of the pan and set them on the almost-cold toast. ‘I don’t want you doing anything illegal.’
‘It’s not illegal.’
‘Of course it is.’
‘You’re splitting hairs. On this estate, it goes on all the time. The police are always parked down the road. They see everything and don’t even bat an eyelid. As long as Mick bungs them a few notes, they’re as good as gold. They appreciate that people like us need to make a living.’
Chrissie could feel herself getting frustrated. ‘What exactly are “people like us”? And are you lumping me into that category? Because you can think again. I’ll have nothing to do with dubious drug deals, Andrew. Nor do I want you having anything to do with these people either. You’ve got a job, for heaven’s sake.’ She sat down on the chair opposite and bit into her toast.
‘Yeah, but my job doesn’t pay enough.’
‘Well if you binned those shady mates, your job would more than pay enough. You’d save a fortune not buying a pub’s worth of booze every week, not forgetting,’ she felt her lip shift from thin line to sneer, ‘your mates’ luxuries.’
‘You don’t understand,’ Andrew sighed.
‘You’re right, I don’t.’
‘Don’t emasculate me, Chrissie. I can’t live here and not join in. We’d end up being targeted. Is that what you want? A brick through the window?’
‘Don’t you think you’re being a bit of a drama queen?’
Andrew’s face darkened. ‘No. You have no idea what these guys are like. It’s good to keep on the right side of them.’
‘Then the sooner we move from this place, the better.’
‘We can’t. Not yet. Apart from anything else I…er…owe them a bit of money.’
Chrissie’s jaw stopped rotating. ‘What for?’
‘Just…well…nothing major. A couple of card games. It was a bit of fun.’
‘How much?’
‘Well, all right, it was a lot of fun.’
‘I mean,’ said Chrissie, her voice dangerously quiet, ‘how much money do you owe?’
‘Oh. Ah…give or take a tenner…about two thousand pounds.’
‘Two thous–’ Chrissie nearly choked on the remainder of her toast.
‘Yeah. So it’s important I do a few deals for them until I’m square.’
‘You mean drug deals?’
Andrew pushed a loaded fork into his mouth so he didn’t have to answer. Chrissie glared at him. What on earth was she doing with this man? He was rapidly turning into the biggest loser she’d ever met. Where was the sweet young lad she’d first met? It seemed like a lifetime ago.
‘Andrew,’ she cleared her throat, ‘I don’t want to know about your dodgy deals. Just promise me you’re going to stop.’ Andrew ignored her and carried on eating. ‘I can’t live with someone who is behaving not just criminally, but immorally.’
Andrew finished chewing and swallowed. He regarded her coolly. ‘Perhaps it’s best you don’t live with me then.’ Chrissie was so shocked, for a moment she couldn’t speak. She stared at Andrew incredulously as he put his knife and fork together. Scraping back the chair, he reached for the jacket hanging off the back.
‘W-where are you going?’ Chrissie stuttered.
‘I’ve already told you. I have things to do.’
Chrissie’s eyes filled with tears. She was over-tired, overwrought and hacked off. ‘What about us, Andrew?’
Andrew regarded her for a moment. When he spoke, the words were careless. ‘What about us?’