Rocking to and fro, Angela clung to Stephanie’s chest. She was good at lying and needed some sympathy. Also, if Steph thought she was going to get her hands on Wayne now, she had another think coming.
‘Has Jacko done something bad to you, Ange?’ Stephanie asked. She had tears in her own eyes now, such was her sister’s distress.
Angela was racking her brain for the perfect answer and, remembering the fantastic sex she and Wayne had experienced earlier, she could only think of one thing to say. ‘If I tell you, you must promise never to tell Mum or anyone else.’
‘I swear I won’t tell a soul,’ Stephanie promised.
‘Jacko forced me to have sex with him. He raped me, Steph.’
CHAPTER SIX
After spending all day Sunday consoling and caring for her sexually abused younger sister, Stephanie headed off to school on the Monday morning like a bull in a china shop. She’d left an hour earlier for two reasons: one because she needed Tammy’s advice, and secondly because she’d wanted to avoid Barry. Seeing Tammy standing outside the Church Elm fish bar, Stephanie ran towards her.
‘Why the early meet? You ain’t done it with him, have you? And why didn’t you come round yesterday? We were meant to be going down Dagenham Sunday Market,’ Tammy asked, slightly annoyed that her pal had let her down.
‘Let’s go to a café. We can’t talk here,’ Steph said, grabbing her pal’s arm.
Five minutes later, the girls were sitting in the café on Heathway Hill nursing a mug of tea each.
‘What’s a matter, Steph? You look like you’ve got the weight of the world on your shoulders. Is it Barry? Did he do something to you when you went out with him the other day? If he’s upset you, I’ll have his guts for garters, mate.’
‘It’s not Barry. I had a fab day out with him, the best ever.’
‘Well, what’s wrong then?’
‘It’s Angie.’
Tammy had little time at all for her best friend’s younger sister. In her eyes, Angela was an extremely nasty piece of work, but Tammy had learned to be diplomatic about her for Steph’s sake. ‘What’s she done now?’ she asked, raising her eyebrows.
Leaning forwards so that the workmen sitting on the next table couldn’t hear what she had to say, Stephanie explained everything that Angela had told her.
Tammy listened intently, but couldn’t help but be sceptical. ‘You sure she’s telling the truth, mate? I don’t wanna slag your sister off, but you know what a liar she can be. What about when she told you that poor old man who lived across the road had touched her and it turned out she’d made it up ’cause he’d caught her nicking the milk off his doorstep and she knew he’d tell your muvver.’
Remembering the incident with the old man who used to live across the road, Stephanie shrugged. ‘Yeah, but when my mum went to confront the old man, Angela admitted she was lying, didn’t she? She was only about eight when she said that and I’m sure she ain’t lying about Jacko. She was in a proper state yesterday, Tam. That’s why I couldn’t come to the market with you. She ain’t even gone to school today. I begged her to let me tell Mum or ring the police, but that just made her even more hysterical. I’ve gotta say something to Jacko. He ain’t getting away with this. At least if I let him know that I know, he won’t go near Angie ever again. I’ll threaten the bastard and tell him if he goes within fifty yards of her, I’ll tell the police everything.’
‘Jacko might be a flash wanker, Steph, but he don’t look like no rapist to me. How do you know that Ange and him didn’t just get drunk and have sex? I mean, she lied about her age to him, didn’t she?’
Annoyed that her best friend was questioning Angela’s morals instead of backing her, Stephanie gave her what for. ‘If this happened to your sister, I wouldn’t call her a liar. Wayne Jackman is gonna get a piece of my mind at lunchtime and if you don’t wanna back me up, then I’ll do it on my own.’
Adoring Stephanie more than anyone else in the world, Tammy squeezed her hand. ‘I can’t stand Jacko anyway, he’s such an immature prick, and of course I’ll back you up. What are mates for, eh?’
Barry Franklin couldn’t concentrate on anything his history teacher, Mr Holst, was banging on about. Steph had been meant to meet him yesterday evening, yet she hadn’t turned up and Barry was desperate to know why. Glancing across the classroom at her, Barry chucked his exercise book down on the desk in frustration. He thought their date on Saturday had gone really well, and he was sick of racking his brains trying to work out what he’d done so bloody wrong. He’d left for school early this morning and had hung about on the corner of the street for half an hour, smoking fag after fag and waiting for Steph. He knew she must have avoided him somehow. But he needed to know why.
Relieved when the bell rang to signal lunchtime, Barry flew out of his seat and grabbed Steph by the arm as she made for the corridor. ‘What have I done wrong? Why you avoiding me?’ he asked, accusingly.
‘It’s not you. Look, I can’t talk now because there’s something I’ve gotta do. Wait for me after school and I’ll tell you about it then,’ Steph replied.
Noticing the tears in Stephanie’s eyes, Barry ignored the sniggers from some of his classmates and pulled his girlfriend into his arms. ‘If someone’s hurt you, I’ll fucking kill ’em. Tell me what’s wrong and let me deal with it.’
‘No one’s hurt her, Bal. She just needs to sort something out, that’s all. She ain’t doing it alone, I’m going with her,’ Tammy said in an abrupt tone. Barry had only known Steph for what her mother would call ‘five bloody minutes’ and if he thought he was taking her best mate away from her by giving it Mr Macho, he had another think coming.
Not wanting to overstep his newfound boyfriend role, Barry held his hands up in a posture of surrender. ‘OK. I’m off to grab some lunch and I’ll catch up with you after school.’
Marlene Franklin was in her element as she showed her friend Marge the expensive clothes that Jake the Snake had bought her the previous day.
‘Fucking hell, Mar! I love that fur jacket, how much was that?’
‘Five an’ a half – and see them shoes? They were over a oner. He took me to Harrods. Fuckin’ Harrods, can you believe it? I think I’m in love.’
Marge burst out laughing. She knew that Marlene always put a pound note above good looks, but Jake the Snake was so vulgar, he actually abused the privilege of being ugly.
‘Have you shagged him yet? Aw, Mar, I don’t mean to laugh, but he is fucking ugly, ain’t he? He reminds me of a bald version of that actor who played Fagin in Oliver Twist, what was his name?’
Ignoring Marge’s nasty jibe, Marlene debated whether to tell her that she had sucked Jake the Snake’s rather flaccid little penis the previous night, but she quickly decided against it. What was the point? Marge would only take the piss and Marlene knew only too well how ugly some of the men who Marge had slept with were.
‘You do make me laugh, mate. Talk about the pot calling the kettle black. Anyway, enough about me. What happened with you and Donkey Dave?’
‘Dirty bastard, he was. A right fucking pervert. Shagged me up the jacksie all night and then shoved a bottle up me fanny in the morning.’
Marlene laughed. Marge was pure filth in the bedroom department, so for her to call Donkey Dave a pervert was more than enough proof that he must have been bad. ‘So, you seeing him again?’ Marlene asked.
‘No I ain’t! Walking like John fucking Wayne I am. I’m sure he’s done some internal damage to me. Sod that for a game of soldiers. What about you? I take it you’re seeing Fagin again?’