Written in the Scars (The Estate Series Book 4) (20 page)

Lewis shrugged.

A few seconds went by before Josie closed the file, realising he’d clammed up again. ‘We can try and understand if you’ll let us,’ she told him. ‘Me, your mum, Amy. But our hands are tied if you won’t make the first move.’

‘What can I do?’

‘Go and see someone.’

‘All they’ll make me do is go over everything. It doesn’t help.’ Lewis ran a hand over his head. ‘I don’t want to talk about it.’

‘How long have you been back here now?’ Josie continued.

‘Nearly two years.’

‘And how often have you talked about what’s bothering you through those two years?’

Lewis looked down.

‘So you’re trying to forget it?’

‘Trying.’ He raised his eyes to hers.

‘But it’s not getting easier at all?’

‘No.’

Josie wanted to reach across the table and touch his hand, but she didn’t. ‘Then
talk
to someone about it,’ she said.

‘No one will understand.’ Lewis looked away now.

‘How do you know?’

He froze completely then and refused to say anything more. After a few moments, Josie showed him out of the room and followed him into the reception area. She grabbed a leaflet from a rack at the side of the door.

‘Take this. It has lots of details of where you can get help. Please don’t discard it. Have a read and see what they can do for you. You need to talk to someone.’

Lewis almost snatched the leaflet from her hand. ‘I
need
to get on with my life without everyone telling me what to do.’

Josie watched him storm out of the building with a worried expression. Lewis seemed to be unravelling fast, and there didn’t seem to be anything anyone could do about it.

For her next visit to Poplar Court, Donna was accompanied by Sam. When she’d last gone to visit him, she’d mentioned the bruise she had seen on Mary’s arm, plus her mum’s accusations. Until then, she hadn’t realised how worried she was, even though she was still convinced some things might have been caused by Mary’s dementia. Once she’d confided in him, he’d taken it upon himself to ring a friend and had borrowed a mini surveillance camera. Donna had been far from pleased. However, by the end of the phone call, Sam had persuaded her to let him set it up discreetly for a few days.

If it gave her peace of mind, then it was worth it, surely?

Mary was asleep in the armchair when they arrived. Not wishing to wake her, Donna glanced around the room.

‘Where do you think the best place would be to hide it?’ she asked, watching as Sam removed the equipment from his bag.

‘I need a plug nearby, plus somewhere that covers Nan’s chair, I think?’ Sam cursed as he struggled to get into the bag with one hand.

Donna took it from him and held it open while he accessed it.

‘I feel like a one-armed bandit,’ he moaned.

Donna watched Sam, but she didn’t like the feeling that swept over her as he set up the camera.

‘Are you sure we should be doing this?’ she asked. ‘Putting a camera up anywhere is dodgy, but somewhere it shouldn’t be? Do you think we’re taking too much of a risk?’

‘What do you mean?’

’What if we get caught and they decide Nan has to leave? It’s against the law to film people without their permission, isn’t it?’

‘If anyone’s hurting Nan, the camera will be the last thing on their minds. They’ll have me to deal with, as well as the police.’

Sam placed the camera on a shelf in the side unit, slipping the wire behind it. As he reached for the plug, there was a knock on the door.

‘I hope that’s Megan!’ Donna felt her skin flush at the thought of it being anyone else. She sighed with relief when she answered the door and was right.

‘Morning, Donna.’ Megan stepped into the hallway. ‘How are you? Everything okay, I hope?’

‘Yes, everything’s fine,’ she said. ‘I’m on a late shift this afternoon so thought I’d pop in early.’

Sam’s head appeared around the door, giving Donna a quick thumbs up before his eyes fell on Megan.

‘Hiya!’ His smile widened as they both joined him in the living room. ‘How’re you doing?’

‘I’m good, thanks.’ Megan smiled back. ‘How are you? How’s the hand?’

Sam shrugged. ‘Oh, it’s not hurting much now at all.’

Donna eyed them both, watching as Megan’s face reddened and Sam appeared to be all bashful.

‘Still liking the hot weather?’ said Sam.

‘Yes. Can’t believe it’s been sunny for so long.’

‘You look lovely with a tan.’

‘Thanks.’

Donna was glad to see Mary open her eyes. She moved across to her, thankful that she wouldn’t feel so much of a gooseberry now.

‘How are you, Mum?’ she said.

‘I’m fine,’ Mary snapped. ‘What do you want?’

‘Oh, don’t be like that.’

’Hi, Mary.’ Megan gave her a wave.

‘You can sod off as well.’

Megan smiled. ‘I’m going, but I’ll be back later when your visitors have gone.’

Donna breathed a sigh of relief after Megan had left.

‘That was close,’ said Sam. ‘Good job it was Megan.’

‘She’s nice, isn’t she?’

Sam nodded. ‘Yeah. I want her to come out with me for a drink but she isn’t having any of it.’

‘Pity,’ Donna commiserated. ‘I think she’d do you the world of good.’

‘How?’

‘Well, she’d take care of you so that I don’t have to worry about you all the time.’

‘You don’t have to worry about me, Mum. I’m capable of looking after myself.’

‘Really? Then how did you manage to nearly chop your hand off?’

Sam smirked as he positioned the wire underneath a frilly drawer run and beside a photo frame.

Donna moved to the other side of the room, looking to see if she could spot it at different angles.

‘Do you think anyone will see it?’ asked Sam.

‘I hope not.’ Donna banished her guilt as he switched it on. She stood in front of Mary and rested her hand on the side of her face, pleased when it wasn’t batted away.

‘I won’t let anyone hurt you, Mum,’ she said. ‘I promise.’

Chapter Twenty-Seven

After bumping into Sam at Poplar Court earlier in the day, Megan hadn’t been able to stop thinking about him. She picked up her phone again, quickly scrolling through the messages that had gone back and forth between them since.

Great to see you today. Why not come out for a drink with me?

I’m really busy.

You can’t be busy all the time.

I am, sorry.

I won’t take no for an answer.

You’ll have to.

It hadn’t been the first time they’d exchanged messages. Despite not giving Sam her number when he was in the hospital, she’d given in and sent him a text asking how he was.

She’d lost count of how many times they had swapped messages since, returning most of them, enjoying their flirty banter. He’d asked to meet her twice but she’d said she was busy on both nights. She would have been too, if you could count staying in to watch
Coronation Street
being busy.

It had been an hour until the next message had come in.

Are you giving me the brush off or are you playing hard to get?

Megan had snorted when she’d read that one. As if she would do that.

She had pondered so long on how to reply that in the end, another hour passed. Sam had sent her more messages.

I have a check-up next week. I’d really like someone to hold my hand, my good hand! I don’t suppose …

Megan paused. Surely seeing him again wouldn’t do any harm? She really wanted to.

What time?

11.10. You can sit and wait with me, if you like?

I finish my shift at 11.00, so I’ll come and find you.

Perfect.

If I can’t find you, I’m off though.

Megan sent the last message as more of a back-up plan. It could still give her time to slip away without him seeing her. She could say that she’d had to work over or something.

His reply straight back made her smile.

Always drive a hard bargain, don’t you?

She tapped the phone on her chin, then looked up as her mum shouted over to her.

‘I’ve been trying to catch your eye for ages,’ Patricia said. ‘What’s keeping your attention on that phone?’

‘Oh, it’s just a silly YouTube video,’ said Megan guiltily.

‘Well, I just wanted to let you know that
Coronation Street
is due to start.’

‘Okay.’ Megan put down her phone and stood up. ‘Would you like a cup of tea?’

Patricia smiled. ‘And a piece of that cake you brought in with you this afternoon?’

Megan walked to the door and then hotfooted back for her phone. Sliding it into the back pocket of her denim shorts, she went into the kitchen and put on the kettle.

Once tea bags were in the mugs and the cake had been cut, she checked her phone again while she waited for the kettle to boil. She tapped on the last message she’d received. Sam had attached two photos to it. He’d taken a couple of selfies, sticking his tongue out on one of them and grinning manically on the other.

Every time Megan saw the one with a grin, the image seemed so clear it was as if he was standing right in front of her. She held the phone up and imagined Sam there. What would she say to him? Would he like her mum?

She decided that she
would
pop in and see him next week. After all, it wouldn’t do any harm to be friends. She could cope with that as long as she got to see that smile for real.

When the tea was made, she took everything through on a tray and sat down again. The theme tune of the popular soap burst from the television.

‘Ooh, good, just in time,’ said Patricia. ‘I wonder what David Platt will be up to today.’

As she immersed herself into other people’s lives, Meg tried to forget about her own. Sam’s smile in particular. But it kept flashing up in front of her eyes. Even if she couldn’t show him her skin, he was well and truly under hers.

Sam was in the flat with Brendan. The weather still being exceptionally hot, he’d spent the afternoon in the pub with some of his mates after leaving his nan’s flat. It was the only thing he was capable of at the moment until his hand had healed a little more.

He’d got lucky, though. He’d managed to figure out Scott Johnstone’s whereabouts. Apparently, he was living with some woman in Marilyn Avenue. Sam had left a message with the guy who’d told him, asking Scott to get in touch. He needed to get straight with him, make sure he knew that he wasn’t going to come after him for what he was owed. He’d heard on the grapevine that Scott was going to shut him up. Right now, he was in too vulnerable a place to make a noise.

The windows were wide open, the television blaring out. As they sat together continuing to drink, there was a bang at the door. Sam and Brendan looked at each other. When Sam refused to budge, with an exaggerated sigh, Brendan went to answer the door.

He heard a kerfuffle but didn’t have time to move before he saw Scott appear in the living room. Still sitting down, he was at a disadvantage and couldn’t stand up in time before he felt a fist smash into his face. He put up his arm to defend himself, sheer terror coming over him as he knew he wasn’t able to fight back.

Scott grabbed Sam’s injured hand and squeezed hard on it.

The pain brought stars to Sam’s eyes and he writhed on the settee.

‘I hear you’ve been bad-mouthing me, Harvey,’ Scott said.

Sam thought back to that afternoon. Had someone heard him moaning about not getting his fair share after the robbery, when he was acting all big in front of everyone?

Still holding onto his hand, Scott dragged him to his feet.

‘Put the cops on to me and you’re for it, Harvey, do you hear?’ Scott’s face came within an inch of his nose. ‘I’ve just got out and I sure as hell ain’t going back inside because of a shit like you.’

Behind him, Sam could see Brendan, his skin ashen, seeming to shrink into the wall.

‘I haven’t said anything,’ he lied.

Scott punched him in the stomach, then in the face a few more times. Sam felt like he was going to pass out after the last one caught him on the side of his temple. He coughed, blood coming from a split lip as he struggled to catch his breath.

‘You wanted your cut?’ Scott threw a few notes onto the floor at Sam’s feet.

Sam could do nothing but groan.