‘Sit down. You’re making a show of yourself,’ Wayne said, grabbing Angela’s arm to stop her from dancing seductively to Culture Club’s ‘Karma Chameleon’.
‘No I’m not! I’m just enjoying meself and you’re only jealous because you know all your mates fancy me,’ Angela said, confidently. Seconds later, the self-satisfied smirk was wiped off Angela’s face as Tanya MacKenzie, a girl she had always disliked immensely, and who was in the same year as her at school, walked into the room.
‘Let’s go home. I need some fresh air,’ Angela said, grabbing Wayne by the arm.
‘But it’s only nine o’clock. I thought you didn’t have to be in till ten?’
‘I feel a bit sick,’ Angela lied, turning her back on Tanya. She was desperate for Tanya not to spot her.
‘What you doing ’ere, Crouchy? This house belongs to my family and you ain’t welcome.’
‘Come on, Jacko, let’s go,’ Angela pleaded, her voice now frantic.
Tanya MacKenzie was Danno’s cousin, and ever since the day she had first set foot inside Dagenham Priory, she had hated Angela Crouch with a passion. Tanya and Angie were both blessed with pretty faces, and Tanya knew if it wasn’t for Angela being around, she would be the best-looking girl in her year by a mile. Not only that, but Angela was also a bitch and a liar, which had made Tanya despise her all the more.
‘What’s going on? And who’s Crouchy?’ Wayne asked, in bewilderment. Angie had told him her surname was Marshall, so why the bloody hell was Tanya calling his girlfriend Crouchy?
Realizing that Wayne and Angela were an item, Tanya burst out laughing. Ever since Angela had grassed her up to a teacher for writing graffiti on the toilet walls last term, Tanya had yearned for her revenge, and now she was about to get it. She turned to Wayne. ‘I’m calling her Crouchy ’cause that’s her surname. You ain’t going out with her, are you, Jacko? She’s a slag and a liar and I bet she ain’t told you how old she really is, has she?’
As Spandau Ballet’s ‘True’ blasted out of the speakers, humiliation drove Angela to tears. ‘Please, Jacko, let’s go now,’ she begged.
Aware that all his mates were watching the embarrassing confrontation, Wayne was fuming. He grabbed Angela’s shoulders and slammed her against the lounge wall. ‘What’s your real name and how fucking old are you, Ange? Don’t lie to me, ’cause I will kill you if you do.’
When somebody turned the volume on the stereo down, Tanya nudged her mate and walked over to where Wayne and Angela were arguing. ‘Her name’s Angela Crouch and she’s in the second year at Priory. I should know, she’s made my life hell.’
‘Is this fucking true?’ Wayne screamed.
‘I’m so sorry. I was gonna tell you, but I thought you’d pack me up,’ Angela sobbed as she ran from the room.
Desperate to save face in front of all of his mates, Wayne chased after Angela, grabbed her roughly by the arm, and slapped her around the face. ‘You lying fucking bitch. Now, get away from me. I don’t ever wanna see your face again, got it?’ he yelled.
Crushed beyond belief, Angela let out a wounded howl, and ran as fast as she could down the street.
Unaware that another drama was just about to kick off, Pamela Crouch was busy dealing with the one that already had. The police had kindly dropped her sister home half an hour ago and, instead of being apologetic over her unruly behaviour, Linda seemed to think it was all one big joke.
‘It ain’t fucking funny, Linda. Mum must be turning in her grave if she’s looking down and knows you got yourself arrested. It’s ever since you’ve been knocking about with them factory girls, you’ve been acting like a bloody hooligan. I think you should look for another job. You need to find one where you mix with normal women. Bad influence, that mob from the Butterkist are.’
‘No they ain’t! For the first time ever, sis, I’ve actually met people who accept me for being me – and let me tell you, I’m having the time of me bleedin’ life. My friends are blinding and I love each and every one of ’em dearly, so don’t you dare try and spoil things for me. I will never forgive you if you do, and I mean that. And if you keep nagging on at me like Muvver did, I’ll go up that council first thing Monday morning and get meself a place of me own,’ Linda replied.
Huffing and puffing, Pam stood up. ‘Who wants a brew?’ she asked.
‘Yes please,’ Linda said, winking at Cath as Pam left the room. Linda might have a height impediment, but her brain was as good as Margaret Thatcher’s and she certainly knew which buttons to press when it came to her elder sister. Threatening to move out worked like a dream every time, and Linda just wished she had learnt the art of being so cunning when she’d lived with her domineering bloody mother.
When the front door opened and slammed, Pam looked up from her tea-making duties. ‘Angie, get your arse down here,’ she shouted, as her sobbing daughter bolted straight up the stairs.
‘What’s wrong with Madam?’ Linda asked, walking into the kitchen and opening the fridge door to hunt for some chocolate.
‘Christ knows! Go up and see if she’s all right for me,’ Pam replied. She’d had enough stress for one day to last her a lifetime.
‘No chance,’ Linda said, bluntly. She adored her eldest niece Stephanie, but in Lin’s eyes, Angela was a petulant little mare, and there was no way she was getting involved in the child’s latest fiasco.
About to plead with Linda, Pam was saved from doing so by Stephanie’s arrival home. ‘What’s in that bleedin’ carrier bag?’ Pam asked suspiciously as she clocked her daughter trying to hide the bag behind her back.
‘Just a sweatshirt,’ Stephanie said, as casually as she could. She could hardly tell her mum that the old slapper’s son who lived across the road had bought it for her. Her mother would have a fit.
‘You ain’t nicked it, have you? Where did you get it from?’ Pam asked, bluntly.
‘Romford Market and I bought it out me pocket money, if you must know,’ Steph replied, stroppily.
Swallowing her daughter’s lie, Pam raised her eyes towards the ceiling. ‘Go upstairs and see what’s wrong with your sister. She’s just come in, breaking her heart, she was. You know what she’s like, she won’t tell me sod all – but I ain’t silly, I bet it’s to do with a boy.’
Relieved that her lie had been believed, Stephanie shot straight up the stairs. ‘Whatever’s the matter?’ Angela had the covers over her head, but Steph could still hear her sobbing like a baby.
‘Go away. Leave me alone,’ Angela screamed.
The girls slept in single beds either end of the room, and Stephanie knew if she didn’t sort this particular drama out now and Jacko had dumped Angie, her sister would make her life hell for weeks to come. Sitting down on the edge of Angela’s bed, Steph comfortingly put an arm across her body. ‘I knew he’d find out your age sooner or later, sis. It was only a matter of time,’ she said in an understanding voice. ‘I told you to tell him the truth before someone else did, didn’t I?’
Angela was not only heartbroken, but also bloody seething. Not only had she lost the love of her life and been humiliated by Tanya MacKenzie, but she now had her know-it-all, patronizing sister to contend with as well. Unable to admit that she should have listened to Stephanie’s advice about admitting her age, Angela leapt out of the bed like a banshee. ‘Jacko never found out my age. It ain’t what you think it is, OK?’ she shrieked.
Stephanie was used to her younger