Kerry Barnes - The Choice

‘Right, listen to me very carefully. I need to sort something out. This is the last place that Mike or that bitch Zara will think of coming to. So I need you to take care of Tiffany for an hour or so, and I mean take care of her. You’ll get the rest of your money, all in good time, but, for now, guard that kid with your life!’

Jackie looked over at Tiffany who was slumped on the sofa. She leered at her in annoyance. Kid? Was he having a laugh or what? She was a woman. End of. She stared at Tiffany more intently, noticing the gold chain around her neck and the expensive-looking watch on her wrist. Yes, those would keep her in Grey Goose for a couple of months , she thought.

Torvic snatched her car keys, shook his head, and exited, without even closing the door behind him.

‘Fucking pig,’ she grumbled, under her breath. Then, she turned back to Tiffany, who suddenly appeared to be coming round. Her eyes blinked, and she tried to sit up.

‘Where am I?’

With flushed cheeks, Jackie excitedly jumped to her feet. ‘Aah, it’s all right, babe. Your grandfarver’s gone to get some ’elp. He said to give you something.’

Tiffany’s long dark hair was matted, and her usually pretty, made-up eyes were smudged as if she’d been on the piss all night.

Jackie pulled open the drawers, like a frantic burglar, until she found the box of sleeping tablets. Pouring four in the palm of her hand, she shoved them under Tiffany’s nose.

‘Take these. You’ll feel so much better. Ya grandfarver said to take ’em. He’ll be back soon.’ Jackie tried to sound soft and motherly, but it really wasn’t in her nature. Still, she would give it her best shot.

‘Go on, babe. You’ve been through one ’ell of an ordeal. This’ll take the edge off.’

She gave the tablets to Tiffany and went over to the rotten, dirty sink where she grabbed a glass that had congealed milk at the bottom, swirled it under the tap, and then filled it with fresh water.

Tiffany was still slightly wobbly and didn’t notice the tiny milk particles floating on the top. She threw the tablets to the back of her throat, groggily took the glass, and swallowed the contents. The cold water seemed to help: it livened her up. Suddenly, her expression was different: cold and dark.

‘Who the fuck are you?’

Jackie stepped back and frowned. ‘Ya grandfarver asked for my help. He’s just popped out.’

Tiffany had a teenager’s attitude, but her level of violence was that of a grown mental maniac at times; it was a trait which made Torvic thoroughly proud.

‘What am I doing in this shithole? Fucking ’ell, don’t tell me that Pops has been banging a skank like you? Jesus!’

Seriously insulted, Jackie retorted, ‘Oi, ya cheeky little cow. If it weren’t for me, you would still be inside that room pissing in ya knickers.’

‘Oh, shut up. Who d’ya think you are?’

‘Me, love? More like who the fuck d’ya think you are! I rescued you, ya ungrateful bitch. I should’ve left you and ya grandfarver in the hands of Mike Regan and his lot.’

Jackie snatched the glass out of Tiffany’s hand and threw it in the sink, mumbling under her breath, ‘Ya fucking nasty cow.’

‘But I don’t get it. So who are you?’ Tiffany persisted, thoroughly disgusted with her surroundings.

Jackie turned around to find the girl with her nose in the air and wiping her hands down her trousers.

Leaning against the sink, Jackie curled her lip. ‘Ya Pops, or whatever the fuck he’s called, asked for my help. Now, if you ain’t happy sitting in my caravan, you can just as easily do one. There’s the fucking door.’

They locked eyes, each sussing the other out, until a sudden wave of tiredness gripped Tiffany. The visions of last night avalanched through her mind. It had been like seeing her dad and uncle thrown into a shark tank with buckled bars while a great white circled before them, ruthlessly devouring its prey. The fight had been relentless, harsh, cold, and – yes – very one-sided. She felt sick but swallowed hard to control the feeling of nausea.

Tiffany’s mind once again began to switch off as the shock was back with a vengeance, except, this time, it was laced with an overdose of the sleeping tablets that stopped her from fighting the state of unconsciousness. She nestled her head against the worn, threadbare sofa and closed her eyes before she was out for the count.

Jackie continued to stare until she was sure the girl was out of it. Then, quickly, she kneeled next to Tiffany, hooked her index finger just under the gold chain and eased it from under the girl’s top. It was a long, thick belcher chain with a gold horseshoe and three sizable diamonds set into it. Jackie’s eyes widened as she guessed the value. And the charm being a horseshoe as well was such a bonus, she could sell it on to most of the gypsies on the site. Carefully, she unclipped the clasp and slowly pulled it from the girl’s neck.

Tiffany was gently snoring.

As Jackie kneeled down on the floor, she carefully lifted the girl’s arm, twisting her wrist slightly to see the safety catch on the watch. Still, Tiffany didn’t move, and Jackie got to work, removing the gold watch while thinking of the perfect buyer. The watch slid off easily, and as Jackie held it close to her face, she could see the gold hallmark. Her grin cruised across her face until it revealed her stained teeth.

With the watch and necklace in her hand, she looked around her caravan. For the first time in such a long time, she saw it for what it really was – a tin shell, filled with bleak belongings, reminding her of who she now was and where she had come from. The mould on the walls was from when she’d been too drunk to worry about the condensation. The ripped, stained sofas and faded curtains had once been immaculate and admired by the other gypsies. In fact, the women on the site used to marvel at her caravan, even drool over it, wishing they had the same. Yet now she was left with fuck all – just a filthy, rotten, and stinking mess. Holding the solid gold pieces in her hand, admiring their clean, classy quality, only served to emphasize just how disgusting her place and her belongings actually were.

After slipping the chain over her neck and fastening the flash gold watch to her wrist, Jackie’s eyes flicked to Tiffany sprawled out on the sofa. The girl’s hair, although somewhat matted, still shone like the wings of a blackbird. Her skin was smooth and fresh and everything about the young woman looked clean and untouched. At one time, she’d been the same, before having Ricky and messing with her face and her body. It was before she believed the grass was greener on the other side. Slumping down into the only armchair, she suddenly felt sick from an eerie feeling of reality. What the hell was she doing, and, more importantly, why had she done all those terrible things? And what had she been looking for? Everything around her now didn’t depict a better life, that was for sure. The drink, the drugs, and even selling herself to anyone, literally anyone, was for what? Nothing, that was what.

She reached across the small coffee table that was piled high with shit: ashtrays, court summonses, her decree absolute, empty bottles of vodka, and dirty glasses. Everything in this room was a reflection on how she had conducted her life. The ripped stomach and sore throats from too much drinking, the sour milk to ease the burning, the endless smoking, and the charge sheets for the number of times she’d been arrested for theft – all were testament to a life that had been to live for the moment.

Snatching the cigarettes, she sparked up the end of one and inhaled deeply, as she peered over at the girl once more. Tiffany certainly reminded her of her former self. Her eyes returned to the table, and she stared at the envelope containing the money that Torvic had given her. She pondered over how he’d been so sure she would have it in her to rescue him. Maybe he was well informed on how much she hated Zara and Mike, but did she really hate them? Zara maybe, but Mike, she wasn’t so sure. He’d left her with nothing after she’d signed the divorce papers, but she’d stolen a lot of money from him in the past.