Melissa Brooks lay on her bed wallowing in self-pity. It hadn’t stopped raining all day, so she hadn’t been able to take Donte out as she usually did. And her son had a cold, had been whingeing since the moment he’d opened his eyes this morning. Days such as these were the ones she wished for her old life back.
Melissa looked at the time again. Tracey worked on her mother’s burger van on an industrial estate and would be home soon. They hadn’t spoken since Sunday. When Mel had rung Tracey Sunday evening and last night, her mum had said she’d gone to the pub.
Sighing, Melissa sat up. She’d had lots of friends before she’d had Donte, but had lost touch with most of them now. The girls from work rang her occasionally, but her life seemed so different to theirs it depressed Melissa talking to them. It had only been an office job at the council, but she’d been happy there. She’d left when she was six months pregnant; they’d offered her maternity leave, but instead she took a small redundancy payment. Her father had made it perfectly clear that raising the baby would be her responsibility, so she’d had little choice.
Carol peeked around the bedroom door. ‘You hungry yet, love? I finally got Donte off to sleep. Really not himself today, is he?’
When her daughter’s eyes welled up, Carol sat next to her on the bed and put an arm round her.
‘Tracey’s avoiding me, so now I have nobody to go out with. Sometimes I wish I’d taken Dad’s advice. It’s no fun being a single mum at my age. I miss my old life.’
Realizing a stern talking to was needed, Carol cleared her throat. ‘It’s too late for regrets, Mel. Donte is part of your life now and always will be. Sod Tracey. She’s never been a good friend to you anyway. Ring Jason. Go on. What have you got to lose?’
Melissa fished through her purse and pulled out the number. ‘You go out the room then. I need to plan what I’m going to say before I speak to him.’
Carol smiled. ‘Just be yourself, love. That’s why he liked you in the first place.’
‘Elton, stop banging that fucking drum! Doing my head in, you are,’ Debbie Rampling bellowed.
Giggling, Elton sang along to Bob Marley’s ‘Three Little Birds’ and banged his drum even harder. He only stopped when his mother yanked him off the carpet by his arm and walloped him repeatedly across the backside.
‘Mum, I’m starving,’ complained Kyle, tugging at her arm.
‘Babs, come and sort these bastard kids out before I strangle ’em,’ Debbie ordered.
Jason was having a lie-down in the smallest of the flat’s three bedrooms, which he shared with Shay. His mother had the largest and Barbara shared the other with Elton and Kyle.
When his mother decided she couldn’t be bothered cooking again and ordered Babs to take the kids round the chippie to give her a break, Jason waited until his sister had left the flat before marching into the lounge. ‘I think you and I should have a little chat.’
Lying on the sofa, fag in hand, watching the latest episode of the highly addictive Jeremy Kyle show, Debbie asked, ‘What about?’ in a totally disinterested tone.
Jason picked up the remote and pressed pause. ‘About everything. You going out all the time. Babs skipping school at your insistence every time you have a hangover. You refusing to cook for the kids. The list is endless. You gotta sort yourself out, ya know. I’m old enough to fend for myself, but your other three aren’t.’
Debbie took a gulp from her plastic bottle of cider, then sneered. ‘If you’re old enough to fend for yourself, why are you and your daughter living under my roof?’ Part of Debbie wanted to tell her son to pack his and Shay’s belongings and sling his hook, but Jason was too much of an asset to her financially. He gave her fifty quid a week, helped with the kids and paid for most of the grub they ate.
‘Oh, I’m looking for a way out, don’t you worry about that. But I’m worried about the kids, especially Babs. You treat that girl like a slave, and it ain’t on. You need to start cooking her some healthy food. Poor little mare is becoming obese. You got to be a better parent. I know you’re upset Rasta got bird, but it’s not as if he ever lived here or helped out with the kids. You weren’t exactly mother of the year before he got banged up, and if you don’t wake up and smell the coffee, you’ll have Social Services on your case. Then you’ll have no kids.’
Debbie was well aware that she wasn’t ‘Mother of the Year’ material, but she loved Elton and Kyle. Rasta Dave had been the love of her life and they were his flesh and blood. ‘How dare you speak to me like that? Who do you think you are, you jumped-up little shit! You’re hardly Richard Branson your fucking self, are you? Think you’re a big-shot ’cause you sell sicko films to nonces round the estate. Well let me tell you something: you’re nothing, Jason Rampling. Just a nobody who lives on the Mardyke, same as me. Get that into your thick skull.’
Jason was livid. He hated being spoken down to. ‘I’m nothing like you. I’m gonna make it in life whatever it takes. You just fucking watch me.’
Practising her words, Melissa Brooks finally took the plunge and picked up the phone. She’d had nothing to do with lads since Donte’s dad had dumped her, and her heart was beating rapidly. She couldn’t stop thinking about Jason. She’d even dreamed about him last night.
Silently praying he hadn’t given her a dodgy number, Melissa was relieved when the phone was answered on the third ring. He had a distinct voice, gruff and cheeky. ‘Erm, hi, Jason. It’s Melissa – the girl with the son that—’
‘I know exactly who you are. Never forget a pretty face, me,’ Jason interrupted. ‘How’s my little mate, Donte?’
Melissa smiled. Jason seemed so thoughtful compared to lads she’d met in the past. ‘Miserable. He’s got a cold. How’s your daughter? What’s her name?’
‘Shay. Yeah, she’s good. What you doing tonight? Let me take you out for a drink so we can chat properly. Been thinking about you a lot since Sunday, I have.’
Melissa felt a warm glow inside. She was still stunned that a hunk like Jason could be interested in her, but he was obviously very keen. ‘OK. I’m sure my mum will look after Donte. I’ll ask her in a tick.’
When Mel gave him an address, Jason grinned. He knew that road and it wasn’t council, the gaffs were privately owned. Melissa’s call couldn’t have come at a better time …
Carol Brooks was brimming with excitement for her daughter. ‘Wow! You look gorgeous. Now go knock him dead. Be confident, Mel. Nothing more off-putting to a man than insecurity, is there, Johnny?’
Johnny looked up from his Construction News. ‘You do look nice, and your mother’s right. Don’t put the bloody bloke off. Opportunities like this don’t come along every day for someone in your position. I wonder if his kid’s half-chat too? Did you ask him?’
‘Shut up, Johnny. If you can’t be happy Mel’s got a date, then sod off upstairs,’ Carol ordered. Donte had started picking up on words they used lately and she didn’t want him hearing hateful things.
Johnny held his hands aloft. ‘All right, I’m sorry. So you gonna bring him in to meet us, this mystery man?’
‘No. Last thing I want is you spouting off. He’ll run a mile,’ Mel snapped. She’d wanted to meet Jason away from the house, but he’d insisted on picking her up from her address.
‘Your dad won’t say anything bad. Promise her, Johnny,’ Carol ordered.
‘I won’t open me mouth. Honest,’ Johnny replied, performing a zip movement across his lips.
‘I