the day before he was due to get married, Jason felt like a trapped budgie in a cage. He hated his new job on the building site. Was constantly knackered and a shadow of his former self. Planning his speech, Jason felt unusually anxious as he rapped on Darlene’s front door. She opened it seconds later, eyes blazing with temper. ‘Andy’s home. Do one,’ she hissed.
‘I need to talk to you, Dar. It’s important,’ Jason said quietly.
‘I’m done with you. It’s over, for good this time.’
Jason stuck his foot out to stop the door being slammed in his face. ‘Please, I’m in trouble. That’s why I’ve not been round. My car’s downstairs. Just give me five minutes, that’s all I ask.’
‘OK. But you say what you gotta say, then leave me the hell alone. Got that?’
‘Who is it, Mum?’ shouted Andy Michaels.
Darlene quickly shut the door. ‘Bloody Jehovah’s.’
Darlene got in Jason’s car, her face like thunder. ‘Drive off the estate. We’ll be spotted otherwise,’ she spat. Barely seeing Jason these past few weeks had driven Darlene doolally and she couldn’t keep torturing herself.
Jason pulled up outside some garages and switched off the engine. He turned to Darlene, tried to hold her hands, but she snatched them away. ‘Look, I know you’re upset with me, but I weren’t lying when I told you about that building job I was forced to take. The Social were bang on me case, threatened to stop my dole money and I can’t allow that to happen as I need to put a roof over mine and Shay’s head,’ he lied. ‘I have missed you so much, babe, I really have.’
Sick of being taken for a fool, Darlene snarled at him. ‘I wasn’t born yesterday. You can’t do without sex for a couple of days, let alone nearly two fucking weeks. Who is she?’
Jason had perfected the art of looking innocent. His eyes opened wide, a hurtful expression clear to see. ‘There is no she. I’ll prove it to ya. You let me and Shay stay at yours until I sort us out somewhere decent to live, and I’ll give up my job and go on the sick. You get to see me all the time then, don’tcha?’
‘Oh, don’t talk such bollocks. What about Andy? He isn’t stupid, ya know. No way am I breaking my son’s heart over you, Jason Rampling. You’re not worth it. A compulsive liar and a chancer, that’s what you are. Got an ex of mine after me at the moment. Had some good times with him, I did. Got far more to offer me he has than you. The geezer’s a go-getter.’
Nobody was more of a go-getter in his eyes than Jason himself. ‘Don’t talk to me like I’m some fucking idiot, Dar, as you know only too well I ain’t. Last chance, sweetheart. Shay and me either move in with you on a temporary basis today, or I move on in life and you won’t ever see me again.’
Losing it completely, Darlene smacked him around the face. ‘Trying to play emotional blackmail won’t work with me, you jumped-up little prick. Virtually brought you up as a lad. You would never have eaten a decent meal if it wasn’t for me. Got a very short memory you have, boy. And that’s what you are deep down, isn’t it? A worthless little boy. Well, more fool me for being sucked in by your charm. Can see right through you now though. You’re a nothing, a nobody, Jason, just like your useless fat slapper of a mother.’
Jason had never hit a woman, not properly. But at that very moment he was so tempted to punch Darlene. Somehow he restrained himself. ‘Get out. Go on, get the fuck out,’ he bellowed, leaning across her to open the passenger door.
‘I’m not walking home from ’ere. Drive me back on to the estate,’ Darlene ordered.
Jason picked up her handbag and flung it out the door. Keys, make-up, cigarettes and tampons scattered across the filthy pavement.
‘You bastard,’ Darlene screamed, scrambling around on her knees to retrieve her belongings.
Jason turned the ignition and reversed his XR2. He opened the window. Even in old faded jeans and a white T-shirt with black mascara dripping all down it, Darlene looked as hot as a blazing bonfire. ‘You’re gonna regret today for the rest of your life, Darlene. Goodbye, sweetheart.’
Sobbing, Darlene yelled, ‘No, Jase. Come back. I’m sorry. I love you.’
Jason was debating whether to drive back and drop Darlene home when his phone rang. It was his sister and, such was her anguish, he could barely understand her. ‘Slow down, Babs. Try not to cry and tell me again.’
‘It’s Mum. She went out yesterday morning and never came back. We got no food, or money and now the electric’s gone. We’re all starving, Jase. Please help us.’
‘Don’t worry. I’m not far away. I’ll be with you in ten.’
Darlene was on her third vodka when she heard a hammering on her front door. Heart fluttering with anticipation it would be Jason, she touched up her hair and lipstick before answering. ‘Oh, it’s you,’ she said, unable to hide her disappointment.
Craig Thurston stepped inside the hallway, delved inside the carrier bag and chucked handfuls of fifty-pound notes up in the air.
‘What you done? Robbed a bank?’
‘Nope. I got that dosh I was owed – well, thirty grand of it anyway,’ Craig grinned. ‘Let’s book a holiday, be like old times. You choose the destination. We can go anywhere in the world you want.’
‘I’m not in a holiday mood,’ Darlene said miserably. ‘Come from Johnny Brooks that money, did it?’
‘Yeah. A bit of blackmail works wonders,’ Craig chuckled.
‘Did you find out about his daughter like I asked you to?’
‘Hell, yeah. Got some proper gossip for you there. Getting married tomorrow, Melissa is. Pal of mine will be there. He’s been booked to film it and do other stuff. That your mate’s son Mel’s marrying, is it? I saw him when I went round Johnny’s house recently. Cocksure little bastard with a blond curtain haircut.’
Darlene immediately came over dizzy and leaned against the wall for support. ‘What’s his name?’
‘Who?’
‘The groom.’
‘I dunno, do I? Want me to ring me mate Tel and find out?’
‘Yes,’ Darlene replied, her voice no louder than a whisper. Surely it couldn’t be Jason? For all his faults, he would never get married without telling her, would he?
‘Hello, mate. That wedding you were setting the stuff up at earlier. What’s the groom’s name?’ Craig asked.
‘Well?’ Darlene mouthed.
‘Jason. He’s from this estate, by all accounts. Is that your mate’s boy?’
‘Jason Rampling?’
‘Yeah. That’s him.’
A watery sensation rose in Darlene’s throat. She didn’t make the toilet, was sick on the spot all over Craig’s fifty-pound notes.
Having forgiven Jason for going
