Katie took a swig of the cider and grimaced. She never did like the taste of booze, but it did the trick on a bad day.
A "bad day" didn't even begin to cover the hell she'd gone through. Her boyfriend, Liam—and not much of a boyfriend he was, the rotten cunt—had been snogging Kelly from the estate, and everyone and their mum had seen him do it. Needless to say, she had sworn off teenaged boys for the umpteenth time and when her mother had sent her off for a carton of fags and a few groceries, she took the opportunity to ask an older mate of hers to get her some booze for a night in drinking herself into a coma.
Hearing the door downstairs open, she quickly capped the two-litre bottle and crammed it and the other one into her closet.
'Katie!' her mum called.
'Keep your hair on, I'm coming!'
In a few moments, she'd shed her jacket and headed down the steps.'I left your fags on the table, Mum.'
'You put the milk in the fridge?'
'Yeah.'
Sara sighed and smiled at her daughter. Katie was growing up faster than she liked; already the girl was as tall as she was, and twice as arrogant. But she couldn't fault the stroppy little mare. She had her mother's looks and her father's temper, the bastard. But all in all, she was a good girl. Could have kept her thoughts to herself sometimes and tidied her room more often, but Sara wouldn't have traded her in for any other little brat in the world.
'Let the dog in then, babe? I'll put the kettle on for tea.'
Katie headed out the kitchen and towards the back patio, kicking aside some stray shoes on her way. The dog, a big white mutt with a thick tongue that hung lazily out the corner of his mouth, was waiting loyally as he always did, paws raking at the glass door. She yanked it sideways with a bit of effort and in barrelled Spotty, tail wagging hard enough to hurt.
'Spotty! You bloody mongrel, get down.' That was Sara, annoyed at the big brute's slobbery greeting. Katie instead distracted the dog by wrapping her arms around his muscular figure and play-wrestling him onto the ground.
'So Mum,' she started, sticking her hands in the dog's mouth as he pretended to bite her. 'Some bloke stopped me on the street, told me he knew you.'
This caught Sara's attention, and she glanced over her shoulder as she filled up the tea kettle with water from the sink. 'What bloke?'
'I dunno. Said his name was Fred, or something.'
Sara blanched, and her fingers subconsciously tightened around the handle. 'Freddie Evans?'
'That's it. Big fella, tattooed and all. Looked like a real cunt to me, like he just got outta prison or summink.'
The kettle was over-flowing. Noticing this, Sara blinked and set it down in the sink. Did he seriously have the gall to contact her, after everything they'd been through? He wouldn't have without any reason for it, would he?
Turning off the tap, she knelt down on the lino ahead of her daughter and grabbed her by the shoulders. 'Listen to me, Katie. You are never to talk to him again. Do you understand me, girl? Answer me.'
Katie could see the seriousness in her mother's eyes and was frightened by it. 'Yeah,' she said quietly, worried. 'Sure thing, Mum. I'll tell him where he can put it next time.'
Sara's brows knitted upwards in worry and admiration for her daughter, and she wrapped her arms around her tightly. She wasn't an affectionate woman, hugs and tears were only reserved for funerals and, even then, hardly at all. Knowing this only made Katie more paranoid.
That Freddie Evans must have been serious trouble.
She had to know more about him.