Chapter 9
London Rent Prices Shoot Through the Roof: New Record Highs Make Housing Unaffordable—Homelessness Rates Rise!
The Times headline
Kate
I’d promised myself I would never again set foot in the shabby housing area that had been my home for a year—yet here I was.
This place held so many of my worst memories, most of which were associated with Randell.
I’d lost count of how often I’d stood here, between the oak tree and Mrs. Smith’s bungalow with its heart-shaped letter box, putting off walking the last steps to the front door so I could avoid Randell for just a few moments longer.
I’d never understood what had drawn Mum to him.
She’d been a stunning and charming woman, despite her problems. Randell, on the other hand, was ugly inside and out.
His face was puffy from alcohol, and his skin was sallow and blotchy.
But it was his sexism, racism, and uncontrolled rage that made him a monster.
I could count on my fingers the number of days he hadn’t been drunk and raging.
He’d always had a beer in his hand—or his belt, which he had used to beat respect and gratitude into me and my mum, after he’d taken us in and saved us from homelessness.
His bouts of rage had mainly been targeted at my mum.
In the weeks before her death, she had new bruises almost every day, and to avoid drawing attention to them, she had hardly left the bungalow.
A deep sorrow washed over me when I thought about how my mum’s life had ended in the same way it had begun.
She’d had a tough childhood, growing up with a violent father who had beaten her too.
It was why I’d never met my grandparents.
Her crappy childhood was probably also the reason she’d never truly found her footing in life.
Fear and depression had caused her to lose one job after another, and in the end, I’d had to drop out of school to support her financially.
It hadn’t made a difference. We’d been evicted from our flat and had ended up at Randell’s place.
She’d fallen in love, both with him and with the bittersweet numbness she felt when they took drugs together.
I missed her. Watching Randell and the drugs destroy her had broken my heart.
But I couldn’t have saved her. I’d tried.
I’d really tried. I’d talked to her again and again.
I’d begged her to leave Randell and had hidden her drugs.
I’d even flushed them down the toilet once, which got me a good beating from Randell.
My ears rang for days after that, and the hearing in my right ear had never fully recovered.
But none of it had helped. A few weeks later, my mum had died of an overdose.
I let out a heavy sigh. My heart was racing, and I wanted nothing more than to turn and leave.
But I had to be brave one last time and face that arsehole so I could give him his money.
Then it would be over, and I would never have to see him again.
The thought gave me the courage to start moving.
The branches of the oak tree bent in the wind of a coming storm, and the leaves rustled like pom-poms cheering me on.
As I slowly made my way towards the dilapidated bungalow, I shoved my hand into the pocket of my leather jacket and toyed nervously with Henry’s business card, which was already pretty tatty.
The facade of the building was yellowing and its windows dirty—they probably hadn’t been cleaned since I’d moved out almost a year ago.
The fly screen was crooked in the window frame, and a bin bag buzzing with flies had been tossed right in front of the door, despite the bins being just a few steps away.
Wrinkling my nose, I walked past the bag and knocked on the door.
I desperately wanted to put this behind me.
“You can do this,” I muttered.
I heard the tinny sounds of Randell’s ancient television set, then footsteps.
A moment later, he opened the door. He was wearing jeans, a T-shirt, and a Manchester United cap that my mum had given him for Christmas.
My stomach tied itself in knots, and I suddenly wished I hadn’t come alone.
But who could I have brought with me? I was alone.
Randell leaned against the doorframe. “Kate. What brings you here?”
“My debt.”
“So you’ve decided to work it off?” he asked. He eyed me up in a way that no man of his age should look at a woman of mine and gestured obscenely at his crotch.
“No. I have the money.”
Randell frowned, puzzled, as if he hadn’t reckoned on me getting together so much money in such a short time. “You have it?”
“Yes. Five hundred pounds, like you said.” I let go of Henry’s business card and took out the first of two bundles from my bag.
I knew better than to give Randell all of it in one go.
He took the bundle I held out and stuffed it into his trouser pocket.
There was a loud bang behind him, as if a gust of wind had slammed shut a door.
I cleared my throat. “How much do I still owe you?”
“Three thousand five hundred pounds.”
“Are you sure?” I asked. I needed to be certain before I put all my cards on the table. I didn’t want Randell to come for me later demanding more, claiming there was interest or inventing some other flimsy pretence.
He nodded, irritated. “Yes. And not a penny less.”
“If I give you the money, you’ll leave me alone?”
“Of course. Do you really think I enjoy chasing after a brat like you?”
“I’m glad to hear it.” After a final hesitation, I reached into my other jacket pocket and pulled out the rest of the money. Randell’s eyes widened when I held out the notes. “Three thousand five hundred pounds, and not a penny less. Like you said.”
He grabbed the money from me and counted it with his dirty fingers.
Once. Twice. Three times. His self-satisfied grin grew wider each time.
My heart bled as I watched. He didn’t deserve it.
I could have rented myself a little room for the winter with the money, and then I wouldn’t have to be outside in the cold.
But I knew Randell wouldn’t ever leave me alone unless I paid him, and it was worth it for that alone.
After he’d counted the notes a fourth time, he looked at me with a gratified glint in his eyes. “How did you get the money?”
I shrugged my shoulders. “Does it matter?”
“It will if the police turn up here.”
“It’s legit.” As legit as it could be when blackmail was involved.
But even if Henry decided to send the police after me, which I doubted, it would be pretty much impossible to trace the money back to Randell.
Unless I ratted him out, which I wasn’t planning on doing.
I was happy never to have to think his name again, let alone speak it.
“If you’re lying . . .”
“I don’t lie,” I interrupted. “It’s my money.”
He hesitated. “Did you spread your legs for it?”
I was about to deny it, but why should I? I didn’t care what a loser like Randell thought about me. If he wanted to believe I’d sold my body for the money, then so be it. I pressed my lips together and let my silence speak for me.
“I always knew you were a dirty whore,” he sneered, entertained. “I kept telling your mum too, but she didn’t want to hear it. She always thought you were such an innocent angel.”
My hands instinctively clenched into fists. I hated this guy, and I hated the idea of him trying to turn my mum against me. If he hadn’t thrown me out without warning after her death, I wouldn’t have had to do many of the things I’d done.
“So are we even now?” I asked.
I didn’t want to talk to Randell any longer.
I just wanted to leave.
He didn’t move or speak for a moment, and my heart stopped out of fear that he would find some ridiculous excuse to keep me in his debt. But then he nodded. “Yes. Now get lost.”
I couldn’t think of anything I wanted to do more.