The Annie Carter Series Books 1–4. Jessie Keane

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      ‘Oh. Okay. Thanks. Dolly?’

      ‘What?’

      ‘You didn’t give her this number, I hope?’

      ‘You told me not to give it out to anyone.’

      ‘And you didn’t.’

      ‘Of course I fucking didn’t.’

      ‘Wind your neck in, I’m only asking. I’ll give her a call. Thanks, Dolly.’

      Ruthie must have been sitting right by the phone. She picked up immediately.

      ‘It’s me,’ said Annie.

      ‘Not before time. It’s like trying to reach the Queen.’

      ‘Well I’m here now,’ said Annie. ‘What’s up?’

      There had to be something going off. She had no illusions that Ruthie would have phoned her for a girly chat. This had to be some sort of emergency.

      ‘It’s Mum,’ said Ruthie.

      ‘What about her?’

      ‘She’s not well.’

      ‘What, she’s drunk again?’

      ‘No, it’s more serious than that. I phone her every day but a couple of days ago she didn’t answer. I asked Maureen to go round, and she found her in a ruddy coma.’

      ‘What do you mean, a coma? Is it the drink?’

      ‘Yeah, it’s the drink. They drained a load of fluid off her, they said her liver’s shot. Cirrhosis.’ Ruthie’s voice cracked. ‘I tried to get hold of Max, but he’s off doing business and I couldn’t speak to him.’

      Annie gulped. She hadn’t seen Max for a couple of days either. Again, the guilt took hold of her guts and screwed them into a tight knot. She took a breath to calm herself.

      ‘Is there anything they can do?’ she asked.

      ‘They say no.’

      ‘God, this is awful.’ It had been a long time coming. Annie had been expecting this call for years, and now the time had come. Finally, Connie’s love affair with the bottle was going to kill her stone-dead. The funny thing was, she felt almost relieved. At last, it would be over. All the torment, all the hate and love, would be gone.

      ‘Oh come on. You can’t pretend you’re broken hearted.’

      ‘It’s upsetting,’ said Annie. She didn’t want to fight with Ruthie.

      ‘Upsetting?’ Ruthie spat down the phone. ‘I’ll tell you what’s upsetting. That I couldn’t get hold of you to tell you your own mother’s on her way out. That I had to phone you to let you know, because you never go and even see her.’

      ‘She wouldn’t want to see me,’ said Annie sharply. ‘She made that very clear.’

      ‘Oh don’t give me all that, Annie. The truth is you’re very happy with your own life, so what do you care about hers?’

      ‘Of course I care.’

      ‘No you don’t. You don’t give a monkey’s, we both know that. You were always a daddy’s girl, you never had any time for Mum.’

      ‘That isn’t true.’

      ‘Yes it bloody-well is.’

      ‘I don’t want to fight with you,’ said Annie tiredly.

      ‘Oh, of course you don’t. You’re all ladylike now, I forgot. But you’re a whore, that’s all you are. Kath told me all about your privileged life as Max’s kept slag.’

      Fuck it, she knew. Ruthie knew. Annie sat back on the couch, at a loss.

      ‘Yeah, I know all about it,’ said Ruthie. ‘You bloody tart! Max and me were going to try again, too.’

      ‘Oh for God’s sake Ruthie,’ snapped Annie. ‘Both you and I know that’s wishful thinking on your part.’

      ‘He’ll never marry you,’ spat Ruthie.

      ‘I know,’ said Annie. ‘Don’t you think I don’t know that better than you? He won’t divorce you. He can’t.’

      ‘So that’s spoiled your plans, hasn’t it?’

      ‘I don’t have any plans, Ruthie. All I know is I love him and he loves me.’

      ‘Love?’ roared Ruthie. ‘You’re his tart! He don’t know the meaning of the word love and he certainly don’t love you.’

      God, that hurt. But Annie knew she deserved it. Both barrels, straight through the heart. Ruthie had really hit the target.

      ‘Where’s Mum at the moment?’ she asked.

      ‘Yeah, you don’t want to hear the truth, do you? The truth hurts. She’s in hospital. They don’t think she’ll last the night. She’s not coming out of this one.’

      Annie put the phone down. She wished Max was here, but he was on business and she knew not to disturb him, even if Ruthie didn’t. She could handle this.

      Dig deep and stand alone, she thought. She’d lived by that credo all her life, but for once she wished that he could be here to support her. When, of course, he should have been with Ruthie, supporting his wife. Not his tart. Grimly she went to get ready for hospital visiting. Her mother was dying, but she didn’t feel a thing.

      Connie looked like a corpse already. That was all Annie could think as she stood by her mother’s hospital bed. There were tubes going in and out of her skinny, yellow little body. She wore a hospital gown. She looked fucking awful. But Ruthie was Mrs Max Carter and Carter money had provided the best for her, so she had a private room. Ruthie had managed to get in touch with Max at last and although he hadn’t visited – and wouldn’t, Annie was sure of that – he had sent flowers, a huge bouquet of mixed pinks and creams. Not red and white, thought Annie. You never sent red and white – it meant blood and bandages. And yellow meant forsaken, didn’t it?

      Annie tried to look anywhere else but at her mother’s face. Connie didn’t have a tooth left in her head and she had her dentures out, giving her wrinkled cheeks a sunken look. Her hair was like wisps of dried straw. Annie looked at Ruthie instead. No comfort there. Ruthie was sitting there holding Connie’s gnarled hand. Look at the mother and you’ll see the daughter in thirty years’ time, that’s what they said. Annie looked at Ruthie, and saw Connie sitting there as clear as day. Weak women left to their own devices and failing to stand alone. One drunk following in the footsteps of another.

      What a way to end up, thought Annie. Connie had struggled to get by all her life. Annie knew that she had never got over Dad leaving like he did. Her one triumph had been Ruthie’s wedding to Max. But even that hadn’t worked out for her. Max despised drunks and wouldn’t have them near him, in-laws or not. Without Ruthie close СКАЧАТЬ