The other envelope was addressed to Kate, apologising for everything, confessing about what she had done behind her friend’s back with Jay and how he had got her hooked on drugs and prostitution. She had cried when she had written it. She had thought about how upset her friend would be once she heard she was dead and felt even guiltier for the pain she would cause. She thought about all the memories of them growing up together, the laughs and the mad nights out clubbing. Kate had been the only person that had ever really cared for her, and she was beside herself at how she could have treated her like she had, she could not forgive herself for that.
Next to the envelopes was her empty bag of gear. She had summoned every bit of strength not to take anything this morning, to remain clear-headed while she sorted out the last few things she had to do, which had been so hard; she didn’t normally have to deal with her feelings and writing the letters had brought them all out; she had had to be strong and find the right words, she wanted to do that much at least, she felt that she owed them that.
She had waited until Jay had paid her his nightly visit to collect his money and had sniffed the gear as soon as he had left. She knew now that it was a form of heroin that Jay had been supplying her with, she had loads of it from punters too, not China White like Jay had got her hooked on, just normal street stuff. She had realised she was a druggie the first time she had stuck a needle in one of her veins to take it; until then, even though she used drugs several times a day, she had convinced herself that she wasn’t an addict, that she had it under control. But she didn’t, she knew that now: she was a druggie, and a whore, and worse than that, she was trapped, and she didn’t want to be where she was anymore. She didn’t want some dirty unwashed man forcing himself into her, while she laid on the bed with her legs splayed open, or to be strangled or used as a punch bag as some of the dirty fuckers liked, she hated being used and feeling filthy when they had taken from her what they wanted, fed up of waking up in the morning and thinking about gear, craving it so much that it physically pained her. More than anything else, she was sick and tired of feeling alone. Loneliness washed over her every second of every day.
She didn’t want to be alone anymore. Placing her head in the noose and feeling a tear roll down her cheek, she kicked the chair. The rope tightened around her neck and she struggled for breath; she writhed around kicking her legs in the air then finally she gave in to unconsciousness.
Emma didn’t hear the front door open, or her name being called, she didn’t feel a pair of big arms wrap themselves around her as she was lifted up and the rope loosened. She was out cold.
He hoped that he had reached her in time. He called an ambulance after making sure that she was breathing, he saw the envelopes on the table. He put them in his jacket pocket, then went and sat next to her until the ambulance arrived.
29
Billy was ready. He had followed Jay for the best part of a week and was sure he had seen it all; it was time to put things into motion. Today was Jay’s day of reckoning. Billy had everything he needed on the guy; he had had to call in a few favours, but now it was all in place. He thought he deserved a fucking Oscar for his acting skills with Tanya, but he knew that if he waited it out, she would dig herself into a deeper hole. Well, she was going to be wishing that she could jump in the bloody hole too in a moment. He grinned as he got out of his car and walked around to the passenger side; opening the door for Candice to get out, he took another look at her and smiled. Seeing her dressed like this of an evening in the gentlemen’s lounge was the norm for him, but at this time of the morning, in his street, she looked obscene, like she had just finished filming a porno. He had told her to wear the most provocative outfit she owned and had laughed when he picked her up from her flat this morning. She had tottered towards him in six-inch heels and the smallest bit of fabric Billy had ever seen, which had the cheek to label itself as a dress; it was way too much for this time of the morning, in fact for any time of the day full stop. As well as looking very slutty, she was tanned and glossy, just as they had discussed. Tanya would go nuts when she saw Candice.
“Okay, babe; I’m ready… let’s do it.” Candice winked as she took his hand, and they both walked towards the front door.
Hearing a loud, squeaky laugh coming from her hallway and the front door closing loudly, Tanya sat up and pulled her robe around her; she had been chilling out to a bit of Jeremy Kyle on telly whilst lounging on the sofa, enjoying her first coffee of the day. Billy hadn’t come home again last night, but by the sounds of it he was now and he had company. She could hear the laughing in the kitchen now; getting up, she decided to go and see who was making that awful noise. Laugh: it sounded more like a fucking cat getting strangled.
Walking into the kitchen, a gobsmacked Tanya was not sure exactly what was going on but had a feeling that Billy had lost the plot.
“Oh hi, Tanya, do you fancy a coffee? I was just making one for Candice here. Oh, actually, I expect you’d rather a glass of wine, wouldn’t you, I mean it is after all almost ten in the morning.” Billy had the kettle on and was acting as if nothing was up, but his shirt was undone and so was his belt, she noticed, and he had bright pink lipstick marks on his cheek. Looking at the tart sitting on her granite worktop Tanya’s blood started to boil.
“Who the fuck are you?” she glared at Candice, sitting in her kitchen with everything hanging out, like some kind of slapper; well, at least the girl was wearing knickers, thought Tanya, noting that they, like everything else this girl had to offer, were on display.
Candice looked Tanya up and down as if she were a five foot seven, walking, talking turd.
“I’m Candice.” Short and simple: no explanation.
Something was not right.
“Well, Candice, what the fuck are you doing sitting in my kitchen looking like a dog’s fucking dinner?” Tanya bellowed now, starting to feel really unsure of what was going on.
“Ah, Tanya, Tanya, calm down will you.” Billy passed Candice a cup of coffee.
“Told you she could be a narky bitch in the mornings, didn’t I?” He winked at Candice now. “Don’t listen to her, I think you look fucking tasty, babe, good enough to eat.” He licked his lips and the room was once again filled with Candice’s loud dirty laugh.
“What the fuck?” Not being able to finish her sentence Tanya lunged for Billy, her cheeks were flaming, how could he try and humiliate her like this, bringing this cheap little slut into her house and talking to her like this? Billy grabbed Tanya’s wrist, just in time to stop her fist coming down on him.
“Get her out of my fucking house, Billy, how fucking dare you.” She was so angry, she could feel tears stinging her eyes; she was determined not to cry in front of them both, especially not Candice who was sitting there looking like the cat that had got the poxy cream.
“That’s just it, though, Tan, it isn’t your house, is it? It’s mine, isn’t it? On paper.” He looked at her seriously. Tanya felt sick. He knew. She didn’t know how or when it had happened, but he had found out. It was the only explanation. As if reading her mind, he grinned at her, a grin that didn’t reach his dark, narrowed eyes.
“You might want to go and get dressed, Tan; you have a busy day ahead of you, love. You’re moving out.”
She wanted to scream and shout, cry and beg; she couldn’t give up everything and walk away. This was her home; she had decorated every room, made it her own, and she loved it. But she was not going to put on a show, not while that slut was watching her, no fucking chance; Tanya would be a laughing stock if this got out. She would keep her dignity and accept it. The game was up, and she would have to leave, there was no fighting Billy once he made his mind up, and the house was in his name, so she didn’t have a leg to stand on.