ELEVEN

'Now, come on, Jade, you can't carry on like this, you've got to try to pull yourself together for the sake of the baby if nothing else.'

Kirsty Clark sat on the sofa next to her best friend and put a comforting arm around her shoulder. 'I know you don't think so now, Jade, but once the baby arrives, life will start getting better for you again.'

Jade stopped crying, dried her eyes with a tissue and gave her friend a half-smile. 'Maybe you're right. I've got to try and be strong. I just can't imagine life without him, Kirsty. He was my life and I loved him so much. I just can't see how I'm going to get through the birth and the rest of my life without him.'

It was a week to the day since Terry's funeral and Jade wasn't coping very well at all. Apart from the trip to the cemetery, today was the first day she had left her flat since arriving back from her parents' house.

After a week of going through the motions, she'd rung Kirsty this morning and asked if she could pop round to see her. Her friend had readily agreed.

'Thanks for the chat, Kirsty, it was good to talk to someone. I should be making a move now. I've got to go to Tesco's on the way home, I've no shopping indoors and I must force myself to eat for the baby's sake.'

Kirsty stood up and hugged her friend tightly. 'Do you want me to come shopping with you? Michael won't be in for another couple of hours, so I've got time.'

Jade picked up her handbag. 'No, don't worry, I'll be fine, mate, you see to Michael's dinner.'

Kirsty had recently moved in with a control freak called Michael who monitored her every move. Jade knew the score and didn't want to cause her friend any trouble. 'Well, if you're sure, Jade? I'm cooking Michael's favourite tonight, liver and bacon with onion gravy.'

Jade smiled politely. She thought Michael was a complete waste of space. 'Bye, Kirsty, and thanks for the coffee.'

Kirsty stood at the door to wave her friend off. 'Bye, Jade, take care. If you need anything don't hesitate to ring me.'

'You're very pretty. My name's Steve. What's yours?'

Looking at the spotty boy, Billie felt like curling up into a little ball and dying. Her life wasn't worth living any more and being polite was totally out of the question. Ignoring him, she nudged Tiff.

'I'm not ready for this. I'm going home.'

'Don't be boring, Bill. We've only just got here, you can't go yet.'

'Oh yes I can.'

Shrugging her shoulders, Tiff let her go. She loved Billie, but they weren't joined at the hip.

The silence in the cab suited Billie. Paying the driver, she walked up the path and put her key in the lock.

'Billie. Come in here. I wanna talk to you.'

Hearing Patsy Cline and her mum's drunken tones, Billie shuddered. Chelle had barely spoken to her since the day of the funeral. Cautiously, Billie went into the lounge and leant against the armchair.

'All right, Mum?'

'Sit down. Come on, sit here and have a drink with your mum.'

Accepting the glass of wine that was thrust her way, Billie sipped it out of politeness. Her mum was slurring and she didn't want to get on the wrong side of her.

'Where you been?' Chelle uttered.

'Bowling.' Snarling, Chelle cranked the music up and turned to her.

'Listen to "Crazy" with me, Bill. Written for me this was.' Chelle gulped at her wine, then put her glass down and started to sing.

'I knew you'd love me as long as you wanted and then someday you'd leave me for somebody new.'

Turning to face her daughter, Chelle tried to focus on her.

'That's your father for you. Made me a laughing stock, he has. All the girls down the gym know what he did to me.'

Noticing her mother's tears, Billie put her arm awkwardly around her shoulder. 'Don't cry, Mum.'

Pushing her away, Chelle turned on her.

'Don't cry! Don't fucking cry! This is all your fault, Billie, you and that slag of a secretary. I know you fucking knew and you didn't think to tell me. See me, I'm being laughed at, like the village idiot. You should have told me, Bill. I will never forgive you for that. You're no daughter of mine, never have been and never will be.'

Shocked at her mum's venomous words, Billie jumped up. Sobbing, she ran from the room.

Cursing the girl she'd given birth to, Chelle dialled Hazel's number.

'Pick me up now. I'm gonna sort this once and for all. That slag's gonna get it. Are you with me on this one, Hazel?'

'I'll be round in ten minutes.'

As she brushed her hair, Hazel stared into the mirror. She didn't want to get involved in all of this, but what could she do? Birds of a feather were meant to stick together. Michelle was her best friend and she had to be there for her, no matter what it involved.

Jade browsed around the shop and filled her trolley up with ready meals. She couldn't be bothered to cook for herself, she was more of a microwave queen. She'd tried to cook for Terry on a couple of occasions and made a complete mess of both dinners.

'Why is it that I can never find a woman that can cook?' he'd joked to her.

Jade loaded up her boot and started her engine. She felt slightly better for going out and getting a bit of fresh air, but she dreaded going back into the flat with all its memories. The night-times were the worst, that was when she felt so alone. Thank God she had the baby to concentrate on. Her child would be a reminder of Terry, a part of him. Without that to look forward to, she had nothing.

As she pulled up in the little car park, Jade didn't notice the two women sitting opposite in the silver Merc.

Michelle and Hazel both had baseball hats on to disguise themselves and had been sitting patiently, eating a McDonald's, waiting for her to arrive home. Michelle slurped the last of her milkshake. 'This is her pulling in now, Hazel. Right, you wait here while I go and teach the fucking slag a thing or two.'

Hazel was secretly glad that Chelle was going to deal with this on her own. It wasn't her argument at the end of the day and she was happy to stay in the car and watch the proceedings. Chelle jumped out of the car and started marching towards the Ford Ka.

Hearing footsteps behind her, Jade spun round and dropped the Tesco bags in shock. Chelle pulled back her right hand and delivered one almighty punch which hit Jade square on the chin. Screaming, Jade fell awkwardly onto the pavement.

'That, you fucking whore, is for shagging my husband.' Chelle kicked her full force in the face with her Nike trainer. 'That's for having the audacity to turn up at his funeral.'

Jade lay sobbing amongst the ready-made meals. 'Please don't hurt me, I'm sorry for everything, really sorry.'

Chelle gave a hearty laugh. 'Sorry? Sorry, you cunt? You will be when I've finished with you.' Lifting her leg back again, Chelle booted her twice as hard as she could in the stomach. 'And that, you fucking slag, is for the monster you're carrying inside you.'

Jade curled herself up into a ball screaming hysterically. Mr Jones who lived downstairs ran out of his bottom flat. 'Leave her alone, I'm calling the police.'

Hazel started the engine and opened the window. 'Chelle, enough's enough, come on.'

Chelle looked at Mr Jones. 'And you can fuck off, you nosy old cunt.' Chelle looked down at the quivering wreck on the pavement. 'And you, whore, watch your back from now on.' With that she leapt into the waiting motor and she and Hazel shot off at top speed.

Mr Jones went to help Jade. 'Are you OK, love? I'll ring the police, shall I?'

Jade tried to talk between sobs. 'Don't ring the police, I'm pregnant, I need an ambulance.'

The ambulance arrived within five minutes and took her to Oldchurch Hospital, which was nearby. She was rushed into casualty where the doctors did a series of examinations on her. The police had been called and were waiting to talk to her about the attack, but under the circumstances the doctors had told them no can do. They told them that the victim was pregnant, her baby was the priority and she was also in no fit state to be interviewed.

An emergency ultrasound scan was being arranged for Jade and she was told that she'd be taken to have it in the next hour. Her face was cleaned up in the meantime. She'd got a badly bruised cheekbone and a cut lip but hadn't needed any stitches. The wait for the ultrasound was horrendous for Jade. It reminded her of when Terry had gone missing and she was waiting for the phone to ring.

Lying on the bed, Jade looked up at the ceiling and prayed. 'Please, God, let my baby be all right. I know I was wrong getting involved with a married man, but please, God, don't take Terry's baby away from me.'

The nurses asked Jade if they could contact anyone. She didn't want her parents notified and didn't really have that many friends in the area, so she told them to ring Kirsty.

Kirsty turned up just as they were about to take her for her scan. Michael was in tow, with a face like a smacked arse. 'Oh, look at your poor face, Jade. What happened?'

Jade made a shushing noise to Kirsty. 'I'll talk to you later, I'm going for a scan now. You stay here with Michael.'

The journey through the corridors was never-ending. Her life was in tatters and if this baby died, she didn't want to live any more. There were three doctors waiting for her in the room that was about to decide her fate. After smearing a jelly substance onto her belly, they then started the procedure, all looking intently into a screen.

After talking amongst themselves for what seemed like hours, but was really only minutes, the lady doctor looked at her and smiled. 'Your baby seems fine, Jade, everything seems normal.'

Jade breathed a massive sigh of relief. 'Thank you, Doctor, thank you so much.'

Dr Newman held her hand. 'Now we're going to keep you in overnight, just for observation. You took a little knock on your head as you fell and there's a slight bump there. It's nothing to worry about but you've had a nasty shock and we just want to keep an eye on you. All being well, you can probably go home tomorrow or the next day.'

Jade nodded. 'And my baby's definitely OK?'

Squeezing her hand, Dr Newman smiled. 'Your baby's fine, so you mustn't worry. You've had a traumatic day and you need to rest now and get a good night's sleep.'

Jade was wheeled back to casualty to wait for a bed. Kirsty and Michael stayed with her for about half an hour but she couldn't wait to get rid of them. If she had known Kirsty was going to bring Michael, she wouldn't have let the nurses ring her in the first place. She needed a woman-to-woman chat and couldn't talk to her friend with him there.

Davey Mullins was the person Jade would normally ring in a crisis, but after Terry's funeral he'd gone to Tenerife and wasn't due back till the day after tomorrow. Jade was wheeled to a ward and put next to the nurses' station, so they could keep an eye on her during the night. She took the medication that was meant to make her sleep but still found herself wide awake hours later.

Her life was in shit-street and she didn't know what to do about it. The police were coming back tomorrow to question her about the attack. Jade was going to tell the doctors that she still wasn't well enough to talk to them. She wasn't going to grass Chelle up, she couldn't. She'd hate the police to know her business and wasn't prepared to wash her dirty laundry in public. Going back to her flat filled her with dread. Say Chelle turned up again to finish her and the baby off? She would ring Dave as soon as he got back off holiday; he'd sort something out for her. If it came to the worst, she'd have to get the furniture moved out of her flat and into the empty house that she and Terry had planned to move into. Michelle wouldn't find her there surely. It was out in the sticks, in the middle of nowhere.

Feeling as if she had the weight of the world on her shoulders, Jade began to sob. Looking up to the ceiling she prayed for help. 'Terry, if you're looking down on me please help me,' she whispered. 'Why did you have to leave me? I loved you so much. If you can't be with me in person, please be with me in spirit.' Overcome by tiredness, she tearfully drifted off to sleep.

Michelle staggered to the fridge and grabbed the bottle of champagne. Releasing the cork, she topped up two glasses and handed one to Hazel.

'Wine would have been fine, Chelle. What did you open that for?'

'We're celebrating,' Chelle slurred.

Hazel sighed. 'I'm going to have to shoot off soon, Chelle. I've got shitloads to do indoors and I can't drink any more, I've got to drive.'

'Oh, don't go yet,' Chelle pleaded.

Feeling guilty, Hazel picked up the glass and politely sipped the champagne.

'I wanna make a toast,' Chelle slurred.

'Go on then, hurry up.'

Hazel had had enough of her friend for one day.

Snatching her pal's drink, Chelle wobbled as she held a glass in each hand.

'This,' she said, holding out her left hand, 'is a toast to my fucking dead husband. And this,' she said, holding out her right, 'is a toast to the demise of his fucking bitch.'

Chelle lost her balance and collapsed to the floor. Surrounded by glass, she burst into tears.

Hazel lifted her up and plonked her onto a chair. Chelle was distraught and Hazel stroked her hair as she tried to calm her. Giving it the big-'un had become a way of life for Chelle. Smacking Jade had been something she'd had to do. Deep down, she hadn't wanted to, but she had done what was expected of her. She had a name and held a reputation. Terry had been her husband and Jade should have respected that. Jade's horrified expression as she booted her in the stomach would stay with Chelle for ever. Feeling more than guilty, she clung on to Hazel.

'I'm sorry,' she wailed. 'I'm so sorry.'