Faceless by Martina Cole Page B

so great then why do you want to give her a hiding?’
    Karen sighed heavily.
    ‘You really are that thick, ain’t you? It’s family, ain’t it? Family loyalty. Bethany was me cousin and she was topped so I have to have something to say about that, don’t I? My mum took her kids in so they didn’t go into care. It’s what you do, isn’t it?’
    Lucy didn’t answer.
    ‘Your mother should have took Marie’s kids - people would have thought more other if she had. Stuck-up bitch she is! You can tell her that from me. She is really disliked round these parts. She should have looked after them kids and made some sense out of it all. They hadn’t done anything wrong, had they?’
    Lucy felt as if she was getting an education in life in double quick time. All those years they’d thought everyone had admired the stand they had taken when in fact it was the opposite.
    But her mother had not wanted the kids, especially the boy. He was half-caste but too dark for her to cope with, and the girl was Marie all over again. Big trap as well as stroppy.
    If her mother knew what people really thought it would kill her. She set such stock on what others thought of her. How she was perceived.
    That was the trouble, they all did, Lucy included. For all the good it had done her. As Karen walked away she felt the urge to cry.
    Tiffany listened with half an ear to the girl beside her. She was wittering on about how much money there was to be made in Manchester. Her sister had gone up there and was now the proud owner of a convertible and a big black pimp who was the dog’s gonads.
    ‘I was telling Pat Connor about it last night and he’s going to look into it.’
    She had Tiffany’s undivided attention now.
    ‘You saw Pat last night?’
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    The girl, Lauren, nodded craftily.
    ‘Went to a party near Praed Street with him. Had a right laugh.’
    The girl’s long blonde hair was tossed back as she spoke. Tiffany knew she was trying to wind her up and smiled evenly.
    ‘I hope you used a condom, love, he’s got the big syph.’
    She saw the girl’s face pale.
    ‘It’s them Russian birds, see. All dosed up to the eyebrows, ain’t they? He’s been buying them from Jimmy the Greek to work the black rooms.’
    Tiffany was smiling sweetly now.
    ‘Looks like you better get your arse down the Old London and have a check up, eh?’
    The girl screwed her eyes up and laughed.
    ‘You’re a fucking windup!’
    Tiffany opened her eyes wide and said innocently, ‘Am I?’
    Then she walked from the room.
    In the toilet she pressed her forehead to the cold tiles and sighed. He was a bastard if he was pulling from her own workplace. But inside she knew that was what Pat did. He put a girl in then moved in on the action. It kept the girls fighting and made sure he got all the gossip. Prostitutes grassed one another up without a second’s thought. It was in their nature.
    She felt the familiar sickness inside her and made herself walk back into the girls’ changing room. She picked up her bag nonchalantly and went back to the toilets. As amenable as the club owners were about grass and cocaine, crack was strictly off limits. It was a fighting drug, even more so than coke or speed. Previously mousy girls had turned into demons after a smoke. It was the downside. The euphoria was so short-lived it was over in a moment and then the craving was twice as bad as before.
    In the few weeks since she had been introduced to it Tiffany knew it had taken a grip on her. She also knew that was exactly what Pat wanted. But the need for it was too great now. It was put above everything else.
    As she inhaled the little rock she felt only blinding pleasure and all else was conveniently forgotten.
    Even Anastasia.
    Marie got off the train and walked wearily out of the station into the cold night air. It was just after six and dark as hell. The street lighting was bad, but she knew the route well now as she had been
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    walking it for so long. She was