The Stranger by Mark Ayre (books you need to read TXT) 📗

Nell’s encroaching hands. Before she knew what was happening, gnarled fingers had clenched the money bag, and the addict was tugging.

Frustrated at her slow reactions, Abbie jerked back, swinging her shoulder around. At the same time, she raised her hand and shoved Nell’s shoulder.

As she did, she felt how brittle, how feeble, Michael’s mother was. When Nell fell, Abbie was terrified she might shatter in her hallway.

Nell didn’t shatter. She did cry out as she landed. Tears sprung into her eyes. When Abbie stepped into the doorway, Nell bore her teeth.

“We don’t need your money,” she said. “Cause it ain’t just money, is it?”

“It is,” said Abbie

“No. No. I know what money means. It means work, or it means a trick. Always. Work or a trick. Been that way my whole life. Mum and dad offer to pay my rent when I get pregnant, but only if I move away from my home. A long way away, so no one they know ever has to see me. The shit who was dating my friend but managed to talk his way into my bed, promising he’d leave her, gives me cash when I get pregnant, but only if I swear to keep his child away from him. Work. Work. They want me to work for my money. To do something for them. Then there’s the tricks. Like the guy who offers to pay for Michael’s glasses if I take him to bed, then laughs at me and chucks me out when he’s got his. Or Michael’s uncle, who promises to pay off our debts, who says he loves my boy, then runs off and tells us there ain’t no money. Tricks. Tricks. You’re all liars. All scum. Only time I ever got anything without having to give something back was this house. And I only got that cause my ma and pa died. And they only left it to me cause of Michael and cause there was no one else. So don’t tell me about your no strings attached money. Don’t tell me about no free lunch cause I been around long enough to know horseshit when I smell it. So no, we don’t need your money. We don’t need nothing from anyone.”

Panting, Nell stopped. She broke into tears. Still on her doorstep, Abbie replayed the woman’s little speech a couple of times. She felt her heart begin to pound and found she hated herself for hating Nell, who had long ago hit her internal self-destruct button and was still self-destructing all these years later.

“Do you want me to take that?” she said, pointing at the cash in Nell’s hand. “Seeing as you don’t need my money.”

Michael’s mother just sobbed. Didn’t say a word.

“I hope you stop lying to yourself,” said Abbie. “I pray you get into rehab. Do it for your own sake if no one else’s.”

Abbie turned. She walked off the step and back into the road. Still, in her hallway, Michael’s mother sat up.

“Where are you going?” she called through tears.

Abbie didn’t answer. She knew now she couldn’t wait for Michael. She would have to find him, and besides, there was somewhere else she now knew she needed to be.

She might already be too late.

Thirty-Three

Abbie returned to her car and drove to Jess and Eddie's. When no one answered her knock on the door, she picked the lock and slipped inside.

From the living room, she moved to the kitchen. Both were empty. Resisting the urge to call out to Jess or Ed, Abbie moved to the stairs and climbed, light-footed, attempting to reduce the groans and moans of old wood compressing beneath the worn carpet.

At the top of the stairs, Abbie found an empty bathroom. Next along was the spare room, soon to become baby's bedroom. Since it had damaged Abbie's back the night before, Ed had transformed the spare bed back into a sofa which looked no more comfortable. On it sat Jess, a hand on her stomach. She was taking quick, shallow breaths. Her face was red, her brow glistening with sweat. There were tears on her cheeks. By her side sat Eddie. He had an arm around her shoulder, fear in his eyes. The couple weren't looking at each other. They were looking at the gun.

When Abbie entered, everyone jumped. Jess and Eddie looked to Abbie then back at the gun. The potential shooter didn't look around. His eyes were fixed on Eddie.

"I came looking for you," said Abbie. "Wanted you to know it was okay you didn't get the gun to me in time. It's not okay to use it for your own purposes, though. That I can't allow."

No one said anything. It was like looking upon a tableau. Abbie feared what the scene could become within a split-second and with the flinch of a finger.

"Michael," she said. "Don't ignore me. I've been speaking with your mother. I know why you're here. You don't have to do this."

Michael twitched at the mention of his mother but still didn't look in Abbie's direction. His teeth were gritted. He was determined. He truly believed this was something he had to do.

From Michael, Abbie looked to Jess. Watched the way she breathed.

"You're in labour?"

Jess nodded. Abbie looked back at Michael.

"It's Eddie you want. Let Jess go."

Michael said nothing. He didn't shake his head and still didn't look towards Abbie. Jess sobbed.

"She's innocent," Abbie said. "She has no idea who you are."

"Abbie—" Eddie began.

"Shut up," said Abbie. To Michael, she continued, "Jess doesn't know Eddie's your father."

Silence. Michael remained focused. Shock and anger rendered Eddie speechless. Jess spun, looked at Eddie, looked at Abbie, looked at Eddie, looked at Abbie.

"What?" she said.

"I asked if you knew Danny Dean," Abbie said to Michael. "I wish you hadn't lied."

Michael said nothing.

Jess said, "Abbie, what are you talking about?"

Her face was growing redder. She was clutching her stomach. She was in the very early stages of labour. As yet, there wasn't much pain. It would only get worse. Stress and