Kimberley Chambers - The Schemer

‘OK,’ Steph replied, not knowing what else to say.

Pecking her on the cheek, Barry Franklin ran off while Steph stood rooted to the spot.

Angela Crouch stood outside the public toilets feeling like a woman rather than a child. Her and Wayne had done it four times and each fresh attempt had been more pleasurable for Angie than the previous. The bit she’d enjoyed the most was when Wayne had put his finger between the lips of her vagina and moved it up and down. That had felt really good, and at one point she had felt really weird, like she wanted to scream out with joy. Unfortunately, though, Wayne had then stopped.

Seeing Stephanie approaching the pedestrian crossing, Angela ran across the road towards her. ‘Thanks, sis, I owe you one,’ she said, as she took her bag off her.

‘How was your day? Did you and Jacko have a laugh in Romford?’ Steph asked, chirpily.

‘Yeah, we had a brill time. Why you looking so happy? Has something happened?’ Angela asked, suspiciously.

Desperate to tell someone her wonderful news, Stephanie made her sister promise not to tell their mum.

‘Cross my heart and hope to die,’ Angie swore.

Stephanie explained all about Barry, without leaving out any detail. ‘He paid for our lunches, bought us some snout and he says he’ll take me anywhere I want to go. He works at weekends as what’s called a fly pitcher – like a market trader – and he’s the image of that famous actor, Matt Dillon. Oh Ange, he is gorgeous, and he only lives across the road to us. I can even stare at him through our bedroom window.’

Angela was baffled. To her knowledge there was no handsome boy living across the road to them, and she fleetingly wondered if her sister was making the whole story up. ‘I dunno who you mean, Steph. The only boy anywhere near our age living over the road is four-eyed Timmy, and he certainly don’t look like Matt Dillon. You ain’t making it up ’cause you’re jealous of me and Jacko, are you?’

Stephanie laughed and shook her head in disbelief. Her sister was so self-centred, everything was always about her, her, her. ‘Barry’s only just moved in. He’s Marlene’s son.’

‘Oh my God! Mum will go mad if she finds out you’re going out with the old slapper’s boy,’ Angie exclaimed.

‘Well, she ain’t gonna find out, is she? Don’t you dare tell her, Ange, ’cause if you do, I shall tell her about you and Jacko and I’ll tell her you bunked off school as well.’

Angela shot her sister a disdainful look. ‘I swear I won’t say anything, OK? But, I’m telling you now, when Mum does find out, she will go mental.’

Dressed in faded Levi jeans, a navy Lacoste jumper and white Nike trainers, Barry Franklin put on his grey flat cap and grinned at his reflection in the mirror. He was very aware of how cheeky and good looking he was, but he wasn’t big headed about it.

‘Why ain’t you at work?’ his mother asked accusingly, as she crept up behind him. Even though Barry was only fourteen, now he was living with her again, Marlene expected him to pay his way by bunging her the odd fiver or tenner here and there.

‘I took the day off. I’m taking a bird out instead,’ Barry replied, truthfully. He had always had a difficult relationship with his mother, and had only moved back in with her because his dad was up in court again next week and was guaranteed to get another little holiday at Her Majesty’s Pleasure.

‘If you’ve got money to spend on some little tart, then you can pay me some housekeeping,’ Marlene spat, holding out her right hand.

Barry handed his mother a tenner. ‘Where you off to today, Mum? You look well smart,’ Barry said, politely.

‘I’m going out with Marge. She’s found a proper little boozer over in South London. Reckons it’s full of villains and they don’t let the women buy a drink in there. I need to find meself a decent man who will look after me. I don’t like this bleedin’ Dagenham. A woman such as I deserves to live somewhere better, Barry.’

Even though he didn’t think his mother deserved sod all, Barry nodded in agreement. His dad said leaving his mum was the best move he had ever made, and he had been furious that she had kept his surname after their divorce. ‘Fucking old rotter she is. Only kept my name to give herself some undeserved street cred,’ his dad ranted on a regular basis.

‘So where you taking this bird and who is she?’ Marlene asked, nosily.

Stephanie had told him that her mum was very strict about her dating boys, so knowing what a loud-mouth his mother could be, Barry decided to lie about her identity. ‘Her name’s Sue and she’s in my class at school,’ he said. ‘I’m taking her up Roman Road, then I might show her around our old stamping ground.’

Marlene sneered. ‘If you see that wanker of a father of yours, remind him he has an ex-wife and a pregnant daughter who are both skint.’

Barry nodded. His dad, Smasher, had been appalled when he had found out his sister Chantelle was pregnant by an Indian drug dealer from Ilford. ‘Dirty little whore she is. Like mother like daughter. I want no more to do with her, son, and I ain’t having no Paki kid calling me grandad,’ Smasher had screamed on learning the news.

Pecking his mother politely on the cheek, Barry picked up his fags, lighter and door key. He wasn’t due to meet Stephanie for another hour but, as always, his mother was doing his head in and he couldn’t wait to get away from her.

Due to enduring a mild bout of gastroenteritis, Pam and Cathy had both been off work for the past two days.

‘How you feeling, girl? I’m on the mend, I think,’ Cathy shouted, as she let herself into Pam’s house.

‘I’ve still got the shits, but I feel a lot better than I did,’ Pam replied.

‘Ere, wanna hear the latest?’ Cathy asked.

‘Yeah.’

‘Lairy Mary popped round yesterday. She reckons that the old slapper’s daughter is pregnant by some Indian fella who’s inside for possessing heroin. He comes out next week, so Mary reckons.’

Pam put her hand over her mouth in shock. ‘What a scumbag family they are! That young boy we saw moving his stuff in last week is the old slapper’s son, apparently. Edna next-door-but-one reckons he’s started at Priory. I hope they don’t put him in either of my girls’ classes. He looks more Steph’s age than my Angie’s.’

‘Yous two talking about us?’ Angela shouted as she galloped down the stairs, followed by her sister.

For the second time in minutes, Pam stood with her jaw wide open. Both her daughters had lipstick and mascara on and Angela had gone one step further by plastering her eyelids with bright green eyeshadow.

‘Where’re yous two off to, all done up to the nines?’

‘Just out,’ Angela replied, stroppily.

‘Out where? Yous pair got boyfriends or something?’ Pam replied, knowingly.

‘No! We’re just meeting some friends over the park,’ Stephanie lied.

Knowing that turning the tables was always the best way out of a difficult situation, Angela immediately turned them. ‘Me and Steph wanna know why you were talking about us? What we done wrong now?’ she asked, accusingly.

‘We weren’t saying anything detrimental against you girls, were we, Cath?’

‘No. We was talking about the old slapper’s son across the road. He’s started your school by all accounts, and your mother said she hoped he weren’t in any of your classes.’

Unable to stop herself, Angie started to giggle.

‘Come on, let’s go,’ Stephanie said, grabbing her sister roughly by the arm.

‘I weren’t born yesterday, you know. In your opinion I might be past me sell-by date, but I ain’t bleedin’ simple. I know you’ve got boyfriends and I shall find out who they are,’ Pam shouted angrily as the front door slammed.