of the devil,’ Cath whispered, as the front door opened.
‘Where you been? You’re over half hour late,’ Pam yelled at her youngest daughter.
Visibly upset, Angela ignored her mother and ran straight up the stairs.
‘Go and have a word with her, Steph. Find out what’s wrong,’ Pam shouted out.
‘Come and stand outside the bedroom door,’ Steph whispered to Tammy.
‘What’s up, sis?’ Stephanie asked, entering their bedroom.
‘What do you care?’ Angie replied, wiping her eyes with her cuff.
‘Of course I care. I am your sister.’
‘It’s Jacko. He’s got the hump with me because I can never stay out that late. I think he might finish with me.’
When her sister let out a heartbroken sob, Stephanie actually felt very sorry for her. ‘Where did you meet him, Ange?’ she asked, hugging her little sister.
‘In the bowling alley at the Chequers. I’ve told him so many lies, and if he finds out I know he’ll pack me up.’
‘What exactly have you told him, then?’
‘I’ve told him I’m fifteen and I’m in the fifth year at Parsloes Manor. I’ve also told him that our dad’s still alive and he beats me up if I’m late home or I date boys.’
‘What!’ Stephanie exclaimed incredulously. Angie lying about her age was understandable, but pretending their poor deceased father was still alive and darkening his name by calling him a violent bully was despicably low, even by Angela’s standards.
‘You know Dad was a decent man, so how can you say such bad things about him?’
‘I only know what Mum’s told me about him. I don’t even remember the man. Anyway, Jacko thinks my surname is Marshall, so he ain’t gonna know I’m talking about our dad, is he?’ Angela replied, abruptly.
‘You might as well just tell him the truth, Ange, because he’s bound to spot you in school at some point.’
‘No, he won’t. All his lessons are in the upper school and mine are in the lower,’ Angela said, confidently.
Stephanie shrugged. ‘You coming down for some dinner? Lin’s home.’
‘No, I’m on a diet. Can you do me a favour, Steph? But I need you to swear you won’t say nothing to Mum.’
‘I promise I won’t tell Mum.’
‘I’m bunking off school tomorrow to spend the day with Jacko and I need you to write me a note and sign it with Mum’s signature.’
‘No way! Mum will kill both of us if she finds out,’ Stephanie said, truthfully.
‘But she won’t find out, will she? Please Steph, you’re the only one I know who can copy her handwriting – and I covered for you when you got caught at the fair.’
Stephanie debated what to do for the best. Angie was right about covering for her. Steph had sneaked off to the fair, got spotted by Lairy Mary, and Angela had sworn blind to their mum that they had been at the pictures together that day. Thankfully, their mother had believed Angie.
‘OK, I’ll do it, but only this once. Where you going with Jacko? You ain’t going round his house, are you?’
‘No, we’re gonna get a bus into Romford and hang around the shops,’ Angela lied.
‘Just be careful,’ Steph replied, as she left the room and shut the bedroom door.
‘She is such a little bitch. How you suffer her I will never know,’ Tammy whispered as the girls went back downstairs.
‘She’s only young,’ Stephanie replied, protectively.
‘Yeah, but she is such a nasty piece of work. Surely you must realize that?’
Not wanting to slag off her own flesh and blood, Stephanie shrugged. ‘Whatever she is, Tam, Angie is still my sister and I will always love her no matter what.’
CHAPTER THREE
Angela Crouch was unsure if she felt excited or petrified as she stuffed some clothes and make-up into her schoolbag. Dagenham Priory had only just introduced a uniform policy for the younger pupils, and while Steph was still allowed to attend school in her own clothes, Angela unfortunately wasn’t.
‘What am I gonna do if Jacko looks in my bag and sees my uniform, Steph?’ she asked, with panic in her voice.
‘Don’t put your bag down. You’ve no need to if you’re walking round Romford, have you?’ Stephanie replied, suspiciously. She had a gut feeling her sister was lying about where she and Wayne were supposedly going to.
‘Please walk to the Heathway with me, Steph. I’ll quickly get changed in the bogs, then you can take my bag to school with you.’
‘I ain’t lugging your poxy bag about with me all day. It’s bad enough I’ve gotta forge you a note from Mum,’ Stephanie said, angrily.
Angela had a habit of being nice to her sister when she wanted a favour in return. ‘Please Steph, I beg you. I’d do it for you. What about that time I stole that lipstick out of Boots for you because you were too frightened to nick it yourself? I’d do anything for you, you know I would.’
Staring at the look of innocence in her younger sister’s eyes, Stephanie smiled at her. ‘All right, I’ll take the poxy bag, but get your arse in gear ’cause I don’t wanna be late for school. Your lies will get you into big trouble one day, Ange, you mark my words.’
Wayne Jackman shuddered as he got into the tide-marked, stained bath. His nan had obviously forgotten to put the immersion heater on again and the water felt like ice.
Wayne had been brought up in Bonner Street, Bethnal Green. He was the only son of his parents, Jill and Lenny, and had two younger sisters, Lucy and Samantha. Wayne’s childhood was anything but perfect. His dad was always in and out of prison, and money was scarce, but he’d been happy in his own little way. One day in 1978, life had changed dramatically for Wayne when he’d arrived home one evening to find his house cordoned off. His dad had recently been released from Pentonville after serving a three-year sentence for GBH and, seeing as how the police had raided his house in the past, Wayne’s first thought was that his dad had done something bad again.
‘I live here. Let me see my mum,’ Wayne had screamed on the evening in question, trying to barge his way through the crowd of coppers.
It had been Jean, his next-door neighbour who had tearfully broken the news to him. His mother had been stabbed to death by his own father. Months later, Wayne learned the reason behind his father’s actions: his mother had been having an affair while he’d been in prison, and had got pregnant by the man he knew as Uncle Darren.
After spending a month in care, Wayne was sent to live with his dad’s parents, Doris and Bill. His sisters had already been given a home in Leicester by his mum’s sister, Kim, but she already had a son and didn’t want him. At first, Wayne had missed his sisters immensely, but over the years he’d taken his grandparents’ advice and all but forgotten about them. He had written to them twice, but they had never replied, and if they couldn’t be bothered with him, why should he worry about them?
‘Evil little whores. They’ll turn out just like their mother,’ his nan had convinced him.
Wayne was fairly happy living with his grandparents. They adored the ground he walked on, gave him plenty of money and a free rein to do whatever he wanted. The house was a total shithole and his nan and grandad were heavy drinkers, but neither of these things particularly bothered Wayne. As long as he was clean and wore nice clothes, how they lived their lives was none of his business.
‘All