Escape From Evil - Cathy Wilson [120]
I knew she wouldn’t let me down. She’d sent a guardian angel. It was as miraculous and unbelievable as the council worker on his cherry-picker. Maybe he was sent by Mum as well?
I don’t know what was better, seeing a friendly face or having proof that my mother hadn’t given up on me. I blurted out the full story to Andy and he just looked at me like I was daft. ‘It’s only money,’ he said. ‘It’s not worth getting like this for the sake of a few quid.’
He had a couple of coins on him, so he fed the meter and, for the first time in ages, we had light and heating. Then he said, ‘Wait here, I’ll be back in a minute.’ It was closer to ten, but when he returned it was with a bag of groceries – tea, coffee, sugar, milk and wine – and a takeaway.
In the space of half an hour, I’d gone from the lowest I’d ever felt to thinking I could take on all-comers. Nothing had changed; I was still poor. But the fight was back. I wasn’t a loser. I would never sink that low again.
With a clear head, I looked again at my options. With the car, which I needed to ferry Daniel around, his nursery and our rent, something had to give. It had to be the nursery, but, with Daniel coming up to school age, that wasn’t the end of the world. I hatched a plan – but it needed Peter’s help and a lot of trust on my part.
I enrolled Daniel in a school closer to Leigh Park than my own house and Peter and I now split childcare duties. I would take Daniel to school on a Monday, but that night and Tuesday he would stay at Peter’s. On Wednesday I would collect him from school and drop him back Thursday morning, then Peter would do the same that night and I would pick him up Friday and have him for the weekend. It was hell at first, but we settled into a rhythm. And it saved me money – because Peter charged less than the school.
I couldn’t believe it when he actually asked for payment to look after Daniel. But he knew I was desperate. I was trapped in that cycle of thinking my job was the most important thing in the world and I wanted to keep it. So, obviously, I agreed to his terms. Once a week I’d give him £50 and hate him for it every time.
I didn’t have a clue what Peter did with the money, although he clearly wasn’t spending it on the crappy gifts he still gave me whenever I visited. They were usually straight out of the car window as soon as I turned out of his road. I say usually because there was one that I didn’t throw away – for the simple reason that I’d already lost it once.
I was just about to leave Peter’s flat when he leapt up and said, ‘I’ve got something for you.’ He disappeared into his bedroom and returned with something small and shiny. It was a ring, but I couldn’t understand why he was giving it to me.
‘I was walking past a pawnbroker’s this morning and it was just there in the window.’
I still couldn’t see the relevance until I saw the scratch on the gold.
‘It’s your mother’s ring, Cathy, the one that was stolen!’
I turned it over and over. It really was. But how had it ended up in a pawnshop in Havant? More importantly, as I’d never even worn it and only kept it in the box, how the hell had Peter recognized it as mine?
I knew there was only one answer. He’d stolen it in the first place. And, I realized, those must have been his jackets hanging up. He was the one living back at the burnt-out flat; he was the one who’d got rid of my clothes. But that still didn’t explain the missing Fairy Liquid . . .
I was happy to get my ring back and I didn’t honestly lose much sleep over how Peter had acquired it. He’s never going to change.
For his part, Peter carried on trying to impress me with more ridiculous things, including, once, a membership card to a local casino called Stanleys. He seemed pretty proud of it, although it meant nothing to me. I certainly had never gambled and I wasn’t aware he was interested in it either. As long as it didn’t affect his ability to look after my son, I didn’t really care.
It’s funny how quickly things change. One of the first things I’d done to get myself financially straight was take a barmaid’s job