Beholden Page 3

  However, despite his inappropriate behaviour, I was ecstatic. Not only did the exam go well, incredibly well for that matter, my last assignment garnered me my fourth distinction meaning I was set for a high grade. Herriot Watt University, which was where I wanted to do my nursing, required honours at least.

  And I was well on target.

  I wasn’t sure if it was a by-product of my addictive personality, but when I got my teeth into something I was a Rottweiler, and nothing deterred me from my course. Some might say I was neurotic in my determination, but I would argue I was focussed, which, let’s face it, sounds much better.

  We were cringing over Geoff’s chat up lines, which were so dusty they could have come straight out of Tutankhamun’s tomb, when we slowed approaching an accident about a mile and a half from home.

  I froze for a second when I got a good look at the cars. “Oh. Oh fuck.” I put my hand to my mouth.

  “Is that your-” Ashleigh began.

  “No... please… Please God, no.” I frantically searched my bag, but my keys weren’t there. Shit, shit, shit.

  I left them on the bloody kitchen counter.

  Chapter 6

  Adele

  When the small Citroen drew to a stop, the adrenaline which was keeping my anger loud and proud finally tapered off and shock set in. “Thanks for stop-” the young woman, who leapt from the car like she’d been in an ejector seat, nearly knocked me into next week as she rushed by. From the crooning words of kindness and the loving touches, it soon became obvious she knew the other driver. When she finally turned her attention to me, her green eyes were filled with unshed tears and she appeared dazed – as if she’d been the one rear ended.

  “Are you okay?” she asked, her voice quivering.

  “Not really. This imbecile just tried to run me off the road. I was about to call for the police and an ambulance. I gather the two of you are acquainted,” I sneered.

  If she was pale before, when I mentioned the police she resembled an albino anaemic. “She’s my mother. Please,” she whispered, “don’t call the polis. Please.”

  “And you are?”

  “Joanne. Joanne Cassidy… Ms?”

  “Adele Jackson. Ms Cassidy, your mother is blind drunk and could very easily have killed someone tonight. Give me one good reason why I shouldn’t call the authorities.” My concise tones echoed in the now dark and empty street.

  “She wouldn’t survive prison and she’s all I have. This is my fault. I’ll pay for the repairs,” she chanced a look at the cars and gulped. “I’ll even give you compensation. I know you owe us nothing, Ms Jackson, but please I’m beggin’. Please.” She whispered the last beseeching please. “She’s all I have,” she repeated the statement, and it held a world of hurt.

  “I’m sorry, Ms Cassidy that really isn’t my problem.”

  “Have a heart.”

  The bloody cheek! “Have a heart?” I snapped. “I’m lucky to be alive!”

  “No, you’re right, I’m sorry. Look I will do anything, anything, to make this go away. She won’t get help in prison-”

  “Again not my concern.” I checked my phone which beeped. Adam ‘Jiminy Cricket’ Carlisle. “I need to take this. Don’t go anywhere, we’re not finished.” I listened with one ear as Adam began harping on, again, about Kevin Jordan, but I zoned out as my gaze wandered back to the accident and Joanne Cassidy who was comforting her mother through the open window.

  She was stunning. Her curly hair was tied back in a long tail. Red hair. Beautiful red hair. There’s something about the Celtic colouring that made me weak at the knees. Made me warm. Made me tingle.

  Okay the shock’s definitely set in.

  I let my eyes travel the full length of her body. She was the owner of definite curves, her jeans pulling tight over a nicely rounded bottom and I saw the swell of her breast as she reached forward and tenderly swept her mother’s hair back from her head. I turned my attention to my poor mangled baby, which woke me from my inertia. Get back in the game, Adele.

  “So are you bringing someone on Friday?” Adam asked. I muttered an unintelligible reply and he graciously reminded me of the time I congratulated an important client’s wife on her pregnancy, even adding ‘and by the looks of it you may be having triplets.’ She wasn’t. In fact, not only was she not expecting, but she was unable to conceive.

  Tact and diplomacy were not my strong suits.

  However, as I stared at the calamitous scene before me, a nebulous idea began to coalesce into something tangible. Gorgeous. Apparently caring. Is desperate to save her mother…

  Desperate.

  It’s crazy but it might just work. There’d be no paper trail leading back to an escort agency and she is damned pretty, in a Merida from Brave kind of way. But more importantly, she’d owe me and owe me big time if I chose not to drop her mother in it. She’d act the part of doting girlfriend or suffer the consequences.

  “Adam, I’ve got to go.” I hung up and smiled wolfishly. This accident could turn out to be the best thing that ever happened to me.

  Chapter 7

  Joanne

  Ashleigh was directing traffic away from the scene of the accident, and by traffic I meant nosey neighbours; a couple, like Jock Ferguson, stopped out of genuine concern, but the majority were rubbernecking gossip mongers. I watched Adele Jackson closely out of the corner of my eye. It was obvious she didn’t give a shit about us, why would she? Her clothes were high end and from the make of her car and perfectly manicured nails, money wasn’t an issue. My only hope was to pull on her heart strings – if I can find them.

  “My mother needs help,” I began when she finished her phone call, “and we both know she won’t get it in prison. She was inside before and it damned near killed her. Next time they’ll be bringing her out in a body bag…” my mother reached for me and I held her hand tightly. I could feel her slipping away, one vodka at a time. “It’s gonna be alright, Mam, just relax.”

  “Ms Cassidy-” Adele reached for her scarf and tightened it. For the second time.

  I wish she’d tighten it enough to cut off the circulation, because it might be my only hope of getting out of this. “Ms Jackson, if you give me just a few minutes to explain.” I paused and sighed with relief when she acceded. The fact she hadn’t already called the police was encouraging. She was wavering and I pushed for home. “My mother suffers with mental health issues. Now I know that’s no excuse, but it is what it is. She’s been on a rehab waiting list for…” I was swirling round and round in ever decreasing vicious circles. Adele Jackson didn’t need to hear our entire pathetic life story, just enough to hopefully take pity on us and not call the fuzz. “Look this accident is my fault. I was late for college and forgot my keys. She’s never taken the car before…ever… but I shouldn’t have put temptation in her way.” I omitted the fact I didn’t have insurance. I reckoned that would’ve been the final nail in my mum’s cheap plywood coffin.

  “Are you insured?” she asked sceptically.

  “Of course.” I lied through my eye teeth, quite convincingly it must be said. The situation was growing more desperate with each passing minute, and just when I thought this night couldn’t get any more fucked up, Father McNally headed our way. “Shite, that’s all I need,” I whispered. Adele tilted her head, ever so slightly, and I risked a quick look in her turbulent grey eyes. They harboured a hint of anger, understandable considering the circumstances, although I got the impression anger wasn’t far from this woman most days. However the overriding emotion I detected was curiosity.

  “I gather you know him?”

  “The God squad? Oh, yeah, he’s been praying for my soul ever since I was sixteen and…” I shuffled uncomfortably and stuffed my hands into the back pockets of my jeans. Too much info, Jo. I narrowed my eyes, “Although, he might be able to organise a place for my mum on a residential programme instead of prison?” I suggested hopefully, but Adele’s stern demeanour remained unchanged.

  “J
oanne,” Father McNally addressed me in his pious voice.

  “Father.”

  “Your mother’s in trouble again I see,” he stated arrogantly. “The sinners shall suffer and the righteous shall prosper in the eyes of the Lord.”

  Condescending prick.

  “If you will excuse us this really is none of your business.” Adele cut short his sanctimonious sermon and gestured away from the storm of moral indignation that was Father McNally, and towards her car. I couldn’t help but wince when I saw the state of it. “You said you would do anything to make this go away.” I noted her eyes had softened but now owned a glint of determination.

  “Yes, of course,” I said eagerly.

  “Okay, I’ll agree not to call the police if you agree to claim off your insurance for my car to be repaired and do me one little favour.”

  “Favour?” Curious? Yes. Nervous? Damn right.

  “Yes. I need a date this Friday.”

  She said it so matter of factly I repeated it. Surely she wasn’t serious? “A date?” I squeaked.

  “That’s right. It’s imperative I impress some clients for work and apparently a pretty girl on my arm will help me do that.”

  “Impress some clients?” Pretty girl? Was she complimenting me? The words appeared to be, but her sneer implied otherwise.

  “Do you have a parrot disorder?” she asked sarcastically.

  “A parrot disorder?”

  “Dear god I was being ironic,” she huffed.

  “So was I!” I snapped. Easy, Jo, this could be your mum’s get out of jail free card. Do not fuck it up just because... well just because it’s a little fucked up. “You’re asking me out? If I didn’t know better, I’d say you’d been the one drinking!”

  “Very funny. Let me make this simple for you. Join me for dinner on Friday, or the evidence from my dash cam will be handed to my insurance company who will undoubtedly involve the police. One night. Five hours. Pretend to be my girlfriend and this will all go poof in a puff of smoke.”

  Despite desperately needing to keep cool, her arrogant and condescending manner became too much and I lost my rag. “You’d best go and get an MRI you must have a brain injury!” I hissed at her. “Just because you have money, what makes you think you can buy me?”

  “Money isn’t the issue here,” she said almost robotically.

  “Well let me tell you Little Lady Fauntleroy, this isn’t the Middle Ages and I’m not your serf.” I was having trouble dealing with her request. Christ, what sane person wouldn’t?

  “No it’s the twenty first century and I have a duty to report a road traffic collision. However, you told me you would do anything to prevent that from happening; I am simply giving you the opportunity to prove it.”

  I glanced over my shoulder at my mam still slumped insensible over the steering wheel. Was I seriously considering Adele’s preposterous proposition? “I need to think about it,” I growled. I needed to see a shrink never mind think about it. I recalled my mother’s distress and anxiety the last time she was in prison. Ah shite. The decision was made the moment Adele Jackson gave me a choice.

  That didn’t mean I had to like it.

  “It’s strange. According to you your mother’s life depends on your answer, and still you hesitate.”

  “Where do you get off? You’re asking me to prostitute myself, so of course I need to think about it!” Was she so immoral she couldn’t see the dilemma she was placing me in?

  “Oh please.” She looked repulsed by the idea and that wasn’t humiliating. Stuck up cow. “There will be nothing physical, apart from maybe holding hands.”

  “But I might not be into women!” I protested and she regarded me with a ‘yeah, right’ expression. “Fair enough, I am. So basically one dinner and that’s it?” I clarified as her attention was drawn to a tow truck pulling up and then to the short woman climbing out of the cab.

  “Hey, Dell.”

  “Good evening, Donna.” Adele turned her back on the mechanic who began attaching a giant hook to front end of her car and muttered, “Good god, it just had to be her on call tonight.” I raised my eyebrows when Adele hid her face behind her hand and checked out the mechanic again. Maybe she was Adele’s ex? Quite yummy, but I wouldn’t have had her pegged as the ice maiden’s type.

  She smiled for one thing.

  “I don’t have time for this. Give me your number,” Adele demanded.

  “What?”

  “Your phone number.”

  “Oh, yes, of course.” I hurriedly wrote it down on the first piece of paper I could find, which just so happened to be the receipt for the vodka I’d picked up off the floor of my car. I cringed at the ignominy of it. Adele hastily programmed the scribbled number into her contacts.

  And then she rang it.

  “What did you do that for, I’m standing right here,” I asked.

  “I wanted to check you didn’t give me bogus details.”

  I shook my head, affronted by her utter disregard for my feelings. I was speechless and totally powerless, neither of which was an appealing state to be in. Adele, meanwhile, handed me a gilt edged business card.

  “If I don’t hear from you by one o’clock tomorrow, I’m calling the police.” She climbed into the tow truck, and I was left to sort out the carnage.

  As per usual.

  Chapter 8

  Joanne

  What the hell was she thinking? What the hell am I thinking?

  Ashleigh helped me put my mother to bed. I didn’t bother undressing her but made sure I tucked a pillow in behind her back, propping her up slightly, although her choking on vomit was the least of my worries. In fact, it would probably be the solution to all my problems.

  And damn I hated myself for thinking that.

  My thoughts were a washing machine on a sixteen hundred spin cycle, everything tumbled and jumbled, and I was struggling to see the wood for the suggestion I whore myself out; Adele Jackson may have protested otherwise, but as I didn’t know her from Eve, could I truly trust anything she said? I couldn’t help but think this proposal of hers was too good to be true, and I wondered what the small print might be hiding. She may have been kinda cute (understatement, Cassidy) but there must be something wrong with her, otherwise why else would she resort to blackmail to get a date?

  Hearing the familiar roar of the kettle, the impact of both the crash and the ultimatum suddenly hit me like a ten ton horny rhino chasing the only female on the savannah. I slumped to the floor and pulled my knees up to my chest. I wouldn’t cry, I couldn’t cry…

  Because once the tears began to fall they wouldn’t stop.

  ***

  By the time I made it back downstairs Ashleigh was waiting on hand in the front room with a cuppa. “Here, hen, you look like you could do with this.”

  “If I hadn’t taken the pledge it would be a fucking bottle of gin chased by one of whiskey!” I swore vehemently.

  “Och I know how you feel. I cannae believe your mam took the car the state she was in, especially after how upset she was last Christmas when that drunk driver mowed down little Jimmy Agnew.”

  “Exactly! It just doesn’t make sense. My mam has done some stupid and reckless things in the past, but she’s never taken the car.” It started in the back of my mind, but was rapidly moving forward, that mam had done something as stupid once before – though that time it involved paracetamol and a visit to casualty. She promised me it was an accident, but that ‘accident’ happened on my birthday, a day which raised memories in my mother that viciously ripped the last vestiges of hope and sanity from her. The road to recovery afterwards had been long and hard, and I sensed the ominous prickling behind my eyes of tears welling.

  I hadn’t just thrown the memory of that fateful night at her before I left for college, I’d hurled it in her face with anger and rage. Christ is this really all my fault? Did she try to end it all because of my actions?

  “It’s a miracle that posh bint didn’t involve the polic
e. She looked like a stickler for the rules,” Ashleigh observed astutely.

  “Mmhmm. Yeah, she does,” I agreed.

  “What did you say to calm her down? She was spittin’ so many feathers when we arrived I thought she’d swallowed Big Bird.” Ashleigh dunked her shortbread into her tea.

  I was in two minds whether or not to tell her about the deal the devil in Prada offered. I was reluctant because no matter how I phrased it, it sounded amoral, illegal and basically un-fucking-believable. However, right now it wasn’t the Wisdom of Solomon I needed, it was my best friend’s advice. “It’s not what I said, it’s what she said.”

  She furrowed her brow. “The only sense that made was none.”

  “She asked me out and if I say no, she’s gonna call the polis tomorrow,” I stated far more matter of factly than I felt.

  “Had yer whisht, Joanne Cassidy!” But from the look on my face and tone of my voice, she knew I wasn’t pulling her leg. “That’s blackmail. Bitch. The fuckin’ nerve, I’ll give her a date – with the hospital!” Ashleigh didn’t take the ultimatum well, but then she could afford to be indignant, it wasn’t her mother’s life on the line.

  “I know it’s fucked up, Ash, but really there’s no alternative. With mam’s previous she’ll definitely be given a custodial sentence. I know it was only shoplifting, but she resisted arrest too. The courts look sternly on that kind of behaviour plus she’s still under license...”

  “Jesus, Jo, this is pretty bizarre. No offence, but her car looked like it’ll need a bit of fixing. I mean your cute and all, but still, it’s a bit of a stretch…” her eyes widened. “Oh wait. Oh fuck. What if she didn’t want the police involved. Think about it, Jo. Perhaps she works for an international drug cartel like Alex Vause. She did have a bit of a Vause vibe going on… tall, broad shouldered, that husky voice. Or maybe she’s the new Rose West or a sex trafficker. I’ve read those weirdos love girls with your colouring.”