Dead Inside. Noelle Holten
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the debt on the condition that she could go with him to this loan shark. Maggie also stipulated that within the four months that he was staying with her, he was to do all the odd jobs that needed doing in the flat without so much as a moan.
Andy had already depleted their parents of their savings and she wouldn’t let him do the same to her without getting something in return. He would earn the money and if he messed up again, she would cut him out of her life completely. It was tough love, but it was the only thing that would get through to him.
Robert Millard was sick and tired of having his life controlled by others. A restraining order, a licence, and fucking women. He took another sip of Tennent’s Super and licked his lips as the first hit of alcohol took over. It was noon, so he was doing well. The shakes had kicked in not long after he woke up this morning, but he managed to hold off, desperate to prove to himself that alcohol didn’t dictate his life.
Robert looked around the cramped bedsit. Black bin bags mixed full of dirty and clean clothes were piled in every available space. He needed to get out of this shithole or he’d go crazy. Picking up his mobile, he scrolled through the numbers until he came across the one he wanted. He pressed call. Let it ring until the answerphone kicked in.
‘Hey, it’s me. I know you’re there. Just pick up the fucking phone!’ He hung up and dialled again.
‘Quit playing games. I just want to talk. I want my stuff.’ He put the phone down. He felt the anger rise in him and grabbed another can. He pressed redial on the phone.
‘Fucking bitch! Pick up the phone or I will come round there and then you’ll be sorry!’
Robert grabbed his coat and headed to the pub. He wouldn’t let that bitch wind him up anymore. Her new boyfriend could deal with her now. He needed to be around people who understood him. If Louise had called the police, they would go to Robert’s bedsit first, so he thought it best to get out of there. If he was going to spend a night in the cells, he may as well be shit-faced first.
The usual suspects were propping up the bar when he walked into his local. He headed to the bar and ordered a pint of Stella Artois. Reaching into his pocket he pulled out a £20 note. The last of his dole money. He hated this. If it wasn’t for Louise, he’d still have his job. A job he’d managed to keep for nearly four years. That bitch will pay one day. He looked around the room and spotted a familiar face.
‘Hey, Vicki. When did you get out?’
Vicki Wilkinson had lived in the area since the beginning of time. Shell Baker, one of Vicki’s oldest and closest friends, was also a regular at the pub, though she was nowhere in sight right now. Robert knew that Vicki had a terrible temper in drink and often found herself in and out of prison for short periods for fighting. Recent changes in the law meant that Vicki and other offenders who were given prison sentences under twelve months, now had to report to probation following their release. Robert laughed inwardly – Vicki wasn’t going to like that one bit – and the laughter continued when Robert said he was on probation too.
‘Who’s your PO, then?’ The words were slurred, and Robert had to lean in close to understand what Vicki was asking. She’d clearly been drinking since the early morning.
‘Some bitch … Lucy. Thinks she’s hard, but I see her hands shaking … She’s probably a fucking alky!’ They laughed again.
‘Mine is Sarah something or other. She’s OK, I guess.’ Vicki shrugged. ‘You still married?’ Vicki tried to focus on Robert’s wedding finger to see if he was wearing a ring.
‘Nah. That bitch threw me out. Says I beat her when the reality is, she gave as good as she got. What the fuck am I supposed to do when she flies at me? Let her hit me? Fuck that shit!’
‘Ah, you’re probably better off without her. Gis a drink will ya?’ The crooked smile on her lips told Robert that Vicki was still up to her old tricks.
Kate Moloney wasn’t your average doctor. In fact, she couldn’t be described as average in any way. Her goth appearance really did throw people when she introduced herself as a doctor. She was proud of her PhD in criminal psychology and didn’t care that people questioned her credentials based on how she looked. Pettiness or jealousy could rear its ugly head; it didn’t bother her.
She looked in the mirror. Her long, shiny, straight black hair glistened as the sun reflected through the window. Pools of blue, her eyes were hidden beneath a dark, grey shadow. Her silver nose ring and deep purple lips made a statement that she wasn’t to be messed with. She straightened her perfectly fitted black blazer, wiped down her pencil skirt and slipped on her most comfortable combat boots.
Dr Moloney had moved from her hometown in Galway, Ireland, to London so she could finish her studies. There wasn’t much need for a criminal psychologist where she lived and the jobs in Dublin were scarce. She’d made London her home away from home and managed to blend in nicely. But the move to the small market town of Markston, Staffordshire, was a welcome change to the hustle and bustle of life in the Big Smoke.
Even if it wasn’t considered as glamourous as some of the larger neighbouring townships, Dr Moloney knew she’d settle in quickly. It was the type of place where everyone knew each other, and new faces were often made to feel unwelcome. If she let it bother her, she wouldn’t last very long. Dr Moloney wouldn’t let it get under her skin.
Dr Moloney had also learnt that the neighbouring boroughs were managed by both Markston Probation and the local police station. When she’d googled the area, she hadn’t been surprised that this caused controversy with offenders who had to travel some distance to reach their appointments on time.
Substance misuse was a growing concern in Staffordshire. Kate also noted from her research that six pubs were located throughout the town, the most popular of which were The Black Penny and The Smith’s Forge, thanks to low prices and seemingly ‘friendly’ patronage. Many of the offenders who frequented the probation office were often found in The Smith’s Forge next to the train station and bus depot.
Kate was happy that, although the town had a retail park with various shops – Asda, Sainsbury’s, Boots – if you took a twenty-minute walk, you’d find yourself in a very rural area surrounded by fields and lakes. Yes, she’d settle here just fine.
Lucy’s days and weeks often passed in a blur of busy activities. Today was no different. Although nothing untoward had happened, the whole week had flown by, and Lucy didn’t know whether to be glad or sad that the weekend had finally arrived.
‘See you later, Sarah!’ Lucy grabbed her coat and headed for the bus stop. It was her turn to pick up Siobhan from school, even though Patrick wasn’t working at the moment. A bone of contention with Lucy but not one that she was willing to pursue. She tried to pick her battles wisely, though not often with success.
Lucy loved seeing Siobhan’s face light up as she neared the school gate.
‘Lucy, Lucy! Guess what.’ Siobhan ran excitedly to the gate.
‘Hey, munchkin! What’s all the excitement about?’
Lucy picked up Siobhan and gave her a big hug. Putting her down again, Lucy rustled her hair, and reached out for her hand.
‘The school is having a dance. Can I go? Can I? Pleeeeeease!’
‘Hey, sweetie. You know the rules. We have to ask your father.’
Siobhan’s