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Chelsea frowned, nodded at her brother and shook her head as she marched over to her mum’s front door. She heard the whistles and catcalls from behind her as Tyler’s friends realised she was going to his house.
‘Ty, your stepdad send over a posh prozzie?’ one asked.
‘Yeah, present for your little brother’s birthday yeah?’ another cackled.
She turned and Tyler just stared at her, chin raised defiantly as their eyes met.
‘Nah, it’s just my hoity toity bitch sister.’
The ‘oohs’ of the teenage boys were low as they watched Chelsea for her reaction. She had purposefully softened her look, her blonde bob clipped back at the sides, her jeans and plain T-shirt. The bag didn’t have a designer label, and her shoes were cheap. But they could see it as well as she could – she didn’t belong here any more.
She stared at Tyler, a dead blank stare until he shrugged and turned away. The old Chelsea would have marched over and punched him, grabbed his ear and dragged him inside the flat. But it was too late for that now. She had lost that right a long time ago. She turned back to the black door with a sigh. The peeling paint, the crap dumped out the front, it seemed to look worse every time she came back. She knocked, hard, the sound of the tinny TV booming in the background.
The door opened and Jermaine threw himself at her. At least one of her brothers was happy to see her. Chelsea grabbed him, lifting him up in a tight hug as she walked through the door and kicked it shut behind her. Jermaine’s soft bushy hair tickled her chin and she gave him a final squeeze before releasing him.
‘Look at you, birthday boy! You’re so big!’
Jermaine held up his arms as if he was bodybuilding. ‘I’m doing judo at school! My teacher says I’m well good!’
Chelsea grinned at him, ruffling his hair. ‘That’s so cool! You’ll have to show me some moves!’
She breathed a sigh of relief that the money had gone through for Jay’s lessons. She’d started dealing directly with the school last term, after she realised the money she gave her mum wasn’t being used for the kids in the way that she’d planned. And she could see why.
She walked into the living room, the paint still peeling, that damp patch still on the ceiling. The TV on the wall was new, obnoxiously huge, and blaring.
Her mother looked up, bleary-eyed, a mug of weak tea in her one hand and a fag in the other.
‘Ah, the prodigal daughter returns, eh?’ She snorted, taking in Chelsea’s outfit. ‘What happened, the stock markets crash so now it’s okay to see your scumbag family?’
Chelsea took a breath. ‘It’s Jay’s birthday.’
‘I know when my own son’s birthday is, thank you very fucking much.’
Yeah, but the father’s name is still a mystery, isn’t it? Chelsea thought spitefully, rolling her eyes and staying silent. Jermaine’s dark skin and green eyes set him apart from them as a family, but once her mum and stepdad had got back together, Jez took Jay on as his own, just like the rest of them. Besides, Jay was the sweetest of them all. He was naturally kinder, slow to anger, easily pleased. Whoever Jay’s dad was, he was probably a nice guy, Chelsea had often reasoned. For some reason, Jay hadn’t been inflicted with that poisonous spitefulness that Chelsea and Tyler both had. And it was easy to see where they got it from.
‘So did you get him a big expensive present, or what? Don’t know what else you’re good for if you’re not even going to provide for your family with that big fancy city job.’
‘Well, I’m clearly providing for your B and H, and your White Lightning, aren’t I, Mum?’ Chelsea spat the words, holding Jay close to her. ‘Nice TV by the way, seems like you’re doing all right to me.’
She could feel how her voice had changed the minute she stepped into the flat. It became rougher, more guttural. She spat words instead of saying them, missed words out to get to the point quicker.
‘No thanks to you.’ Carly Donnolly wearily moved from the chair to refill her tea.
‘Might wanna change your approach, Mum, if you’re gonna ask me for money before I leave tonight.’
Her mother was noticeably silent, and she counted eight seconds before her voice called from the kitchen in a cheerier tone, ‘Want a cuppa?’
Chelsea sighed, feeling her stomach ache. ‘Yes please. No sugar.’
She turned to her little brother. ‘Want your present now?’ she grinned at him, shaking the plastic bag.
She admitted some of it wasn’t fun stuff, a new school bag, colouring pens, books. But Jermaine looked at everything with joy, wonder and gratitude. The last thing he opened was the pair of trainers, Air Nikes that had cost her more than she wanted to think about. But she remembered how horrible it had felt all those years ago, before she’d realised that fitting in wasn’t an option. All she wanted was what everyone else was wearing, instead of raggedy second-hand crap. She wanted Jay to have something new and shiny.
His face lit up and he flung his arms around her neck. ‘Thank you, thank you! Mum! Look what Chels got me!’
Carly’s face turned from piqued interest to disdain as she put a mug next to Chelsea and returned to her seat. ‘He’ll grow out of them quick as anything. Woulda been better to give him the money.’
Yeah, and I know exactly where it would go, Chelsea thought, sipping at her tea and wincing. Two sugars. Every fucking time.
‘I bought a birthday cake. I wasn’t sure if you got one –’ Chelsea started.
‘We were gonna do our birthday special, weren’t we, babe?’ Carly grinned at Jermaine, who smiled back and shrugged, open and grateful as usual. Chelsea remembered the ‘birthday special’, on the occasions that her mum had remembered her birthday at all. A pile of chocolate spread and jam sandwiches, with a candle on the top. She recalled being excited about this as a kid, that moment of her ninth birthday where she had to try to cut the mould off the bread before she could cover it in jam. Her mum would jolly her along, make her laugh about it. ‘The green stuff’s good for you!’ she always used to say. ‘You’ve got to eat your greens, haven’t you?’
Carly was better with the younger kids. Maybe it was because Chelsea was the only girl, or because Tyler had always been a handful, but she was better with Jermaine and the baby. Back when they were growing up, her mother had been too busy being in love with her dad to even see them. Mostly they got rat-arsed and threw parties every night, whilst Chelsea would try and get Tyler to sleep, telling him stories about dragons and kids who went off on adventures where there weren’t any parents.
‘Well, we can have both, can’t we?’ Chelsea smiled tightly, daring her mum to call her on it. Carly just shrugged.
‘Where’s Kai?’
‘Sleeping,’ Carly shrugged, ‘he’ll probably be up soon if you want to bring him downstairs.’ She turned her attention back to the television, and Chelsea thought, not for the first time, that if you didn’t really like children, you should be brave enough not to have them.
The door burst open, and in came Jez, shouting out, ‘Where’s my Petal? Is she home yet?’
Chelsea got up to give her stepdad a hug, which was difficult as he was laden down with plastic bags.
‘Give us a hand, birthday boy,’ he said, handing the bags to Jermaine, ‘chicken and chips for everyone!’
Jay punched the air in success, ‘Yes!’ and took them into the kitchen.
Jez was in his late fifties, and still insisted on wearing a flat cap and polo shirts. He had the air of Del Boy about him, but Chelsea knew he could be menacing when he needed to be.
Jez was king of the estate. He kept the order. He was fair, and looked after the little guy, but you lied to him and he’d break your legs. Or rather, he’d get one of the goons he employed to break your legs.
‘Look at you, lovely lady! All grown up!’ His watery blue eyes took her in. ‘You look sophisticated! Carly, doesn’t she look smart?’
Her mother looked at him, and softened. Her mother always looked prettier in love. That permanent scowl that left sharp little lines on her young face melted, and she smiled at him like he was her saviour. Which, Chelsea supposed, he was. Sometimes watching her mum look at Jez was the only time she liked her, or could remember what she looked like without the weight of a surly anger, of a sense of unfairness. They’d never figured out how to speak to each other. Chelsea had done everything a kid could to make her family proud, and each time she achieved something, it was like Carly took it as a knife in the back, a two-fingers ‘fuck you’ to her way of life.
‘She’s looking good,’ Carly nodded at her partner, smiling at him, but not meeting Chelsea’s eyes. It was times like those, she thought, she could live to a hundred and never understand her mum. She focused on her stepdad instead, a much more straightforward specimen.
‘Looking good yourself, Jez. Keeping off the red meat?’
He held up a hand. ‘Nothing but bacon on Sundays, and a steak on my birthday. I’m feeling ten years younger, darlin’!’
They sat down with their food on trays in front of EastEnders, and as long as her mum was quiet and Jermaine smiled, everything was fine. Kai was cuddled into her side, constantly reaching for her food, and she nuzzled his head. It was like home on a good day.
Tyler stormed in through the front door.
‘Where the fuck have you been?’ Carly yelled as he thundered up the stairs.
‘Out!’
‘Come down and see your sister.’
Jez made it sound like a request, but even Tyler knew an order when he heard one. She heard the slow steady clump back down the stairs.
‘All right, your highness?’ Tyler threw himself onto a chair in the corner, stuffing a few chips into his mouth.
‘Look what Chelsea got me!’ Jay lifted his feet in the air, and Tyler looked, turned to his sister, and then looked back at the trainers.
‘You gonna get me some for my birthday, sis? Or do I not matter any more?’
‘I got you a games console last year, you selfish git.’
‘He doesn’t have it any more,’ Jay supplied helpfully.
‘Let me guess.’ She looked at him. ‘You were bragging and one of your mates decided they wanted it.’
‘You can talk about bragging,’ Ty said uncomfortably, ‘fuck this for a laugh.’
He bounced upstairs, and Chelsea shook her head as Jez went to follow him. ‘Don’t worry about it.’
He paused, then sat back down. ‘So, Chelsea. Tell us all about life in London! You still seeing that fella, Chris?’
‘Kit, yeah,’ she smiled softly, ‘he’s really nice.’
‘And he can look after you?’ Jez assumed a fatherly pose, arms crossed, head tilted to the side. Chelsea watched with interest as her mum shuffled in her seat, pretending to be watching the TV. The sad thing was, Jez was actually asking out of concern for her. She knew that was not her mum’s intention.
‘I can look after myself,’ Chelsea shrugged.
‘But he’s loaded,’ Carly said, a question in her tone, eyes not moving from the screen.
‘He does all right. He works hard.’
Jez nodded magnanimously. ‘He sounds like a good lad.’
‘He popped the question?’ Carly was focused on her fully this time, her dull grey eyes small and mean. Chelsea didn’t like the feeling in her stomach when her mother paid attention to her. It was like she’d suddenly woken up covered in gold and her mum was wondering how much she could get if she chopped off an arm.
‘Nope. We’re not in that place,’ Chelsea shrugged.
‘It’s been a few years, hasn’t it?’ Jez said gently. ‘You don’t think he’s the one?’
‘It’s not –’
‘She’s too good for marriage,’ Carly shrugged, ‘she wouldn’t do something so bloody normal, would she?’
Chelsea frowned at her mum. ‘You’re so into the idea, you two get on and get married.’
Jez chuckled. ‘We’re common law married at this point, love.’ He looked across at Carly, that light grin playing around his mouth. ‘Once you reach your twenty-fifth fight about the laundry basket being too full, it’s the same as being married five years, so they say!’
He wheezed a little and Carly looked at him in concern before allowing her square gaze to settle on her daughter, goading her. ‘Get knocked up. Or tell him you’re knocked up. That’ll hurry him along.’
‘Never worked for you,’ Chelsea said, her lips a thin line.
Carly said nothing, lit up a cigarette and exhaled loudly. Jez paused briefly, then laughed, shaking his head.
‘How about it, love, then? Shall we get hitched to make Chelsea here happy?’
Carly rolled her eyes, but quirked a lip. ‘Quiet, you, the telly’s on.’
Chelsea looked down at Kai sitting on her lap, burbling away, and she stared at her mother, the ash from her cigarette tapped onto a small dish resting on the arm of the chair. Chelsea cleared her throat and rolled her eyes. Getting no response, she heaved her youngest brother onto her hip, and stood to open the window.
‘It’s cold, don’t open that!’
Chelsea felt herself regress instantly. ‘He’s got fucking asthma, Mum! You call yourself a parent?’
Carly glared at her, hackles raised. ‘Only out of necessity.’ She turned back to the screen, and Chelsea stood frozen, her baby brother in her arms.
‘When can we meet your boyfriend?’ Jermaine sang the word, teasing her. He’d always aimed to lighten the mood, even as a little kid he’d run around and dance and sing to stop them fighting. Chelsea smiled at him, wanting to say he could come to London, that he could stay with her and meet Kit then. Maybe he could stay over the summer and –
‘You’re not.’
Carly’s voice was cruel with laughter as she looked at Jermaine, explaining loudly and simply, ‘You see, baby, your sister’s ashamed of us. She don’t want her posh boyfriend seeing her chavvy family. She’s too good for us now.’
Jermaine frowned, looking to Chelsea for confirmation. She shook her head and twirled her fingertips at her temple, mouthing ‘crazy’. He half-smiled, but she felt like he was looking at her with new eyes.
‘How about some birthday cake?’ Chelsea stood, handing Kai over to Jez. ‘I’ll see if Ty wants some.’
She pounded up the stairs, knocking three times on the door, then pausing before another two quick taps. Their secret code as kids. She heard a brief grumble in response and slowly opened the door. The site was a tip as usual, but she focused on Tyler, leaning out of the window with a cigarette.
‘Gimme one of them, will you?’ She waded through the room to jostle beside him at the windowsill. He produced the pack wordlessly, lighter inside the packet.
‘So…how’s things?’ Chelsea breathed out a smoke circle, a skill she’d perfected at sixteen and never lost. She only smoked at home now.
‘Same as always, fucking shit.’
‘I know.’
He pursed his lips, breathing out against the cool air and she simply looked at her brother. He was seventeen. There’d been a big enough age gap between them as kids but she’d always been his confidante. And then she left.
He’d been a good-looking kid, Tyler, never really smiled but he had that cheeky way about him. Now his skin was bad, his fingernails were yellow and he seemed to glare from hollow eye sockets.
‘How’s work? Thought any more about college?’
He gave her a blank look. ‘Don’t start that bullshit again. I know your life is so fucking wonderful, but I’m not going to study.’
‘Okay,’ she shrugged, ‘but what about an apprenticeship or something?’
He was weakening a little, she could tell, that same way of shifting his weight from side to side when he wanted a hug or a word of encouragement, but didn’t want to explain himself or seem weak. Some things didn’t change. She nudged his shoulder gently.
