And the loan I’d taken out was building up.
I’d planned to pay it back straight away, but Eva needed a new bed and the fridge broke down, so the payment to the loan company kept slipping, the amount I owed growing each month.
I put all my energy into finding work, but I quickly discovered that jobs with hours to suit a single mum with nursery and school run duties were extremely thin on the ground and seemed to be snapped up immediately by one of hundreds of applicants. All the same, I kept on applying for anything and everything – from delivering leaflets to part-time shop work - desperate to keep our heads above water and convinced that keeping up a positive outlook was the way to go. I smiled with each rejection and told myself the right job for me would turn up eventually. But months down the line, as my bank balance dwindled, my stoic optimism was wearing thin. The last straw was when I suffered a bad flare-up of my old enemy, eczema, which made going to interviews even more challenging. Not that there were many of those. Most of the companies I contacted didn’t even bother replying.
I was at my lowest ebb that day in the pub.
I don’t even drink much as a rule but I’d been traipsing along the high street, going into every shop to enquire about jobs – with no luck at all - and I was exhausted.
And then Jaxon appeared, as if by magic.
I’d seen him sitting chatting to the barman, and he looked over and caught my eye. I was crying softly and he came over and asked me if I was okay. He was really kind and bought me a drink, but mostly, he just listened while I poured out my sad story.
When I’d finished, he shook his head, appalled. ‘God, you’ve been through the mill, haven’t you? And you say you can’t afford the rent on your place?’
I shook my head. I needed to get back because Katja was looking after Eva, but it was so nice talking to this kind man, who seemed to really understand.
When he said he thought he might be able to help, I was at first wary. He told me he was a landlord and that some of his properties were awaiting refurbishment but were still perfectly decent. He said he could tell I was genuine and would I like to house-sit one of his flats? I was flabbergasted at his offer. He said I’d only have to pay a nominal rent, which I knew I my benefits would cover. I couldn’t believe that this angel of a man had dropped into my life at this exact moment, offering an answer to all my troubles.
Things moved quickly.
I gave up the flat we were in and moved into Jaxon’s property. The flat wasn’t great but it was a roof over our heads and for that, I was desperately grateful.
Jaxon said he would call round once a month to collect the rent in cash. I had misgivings then because I realised his business wasn’t entirely above board, but I couldn’t afford to quibble.
When I called to collect the keys, I was shocked at the dingy little room that he called the company offices, which seemed to be manned by just one member of staff, a woman called Bobbie. And while Jaxon had always seemed like a really kind and caring person, I got a glimpse of his true nature that day. As I emerged with the keys, he was outside, raging at a teenage boy for hanging around his big gas guzzler black car.
He didn’t see me, thankfully, but the boy ran past me a minute later.
We exchanged a look. ‘I wasn’t anywhere near his car,’ he muttered. ‘What a freak!’
It made me uneasy, but I kept thinking we’d stay there for a few months, then I’d get a job and we’d find somewhere decent. But then Jaxon started being over-friendly. He called round a few times just for a chat and because he’d been so kind to me, I made him tea and pretended to myself it was normal behaviour.
But he was becoming increasingly physical, touching my waist when we passed in the kitchen and invading my space, making me increasingly uncomfortable.
At the time, I thought it was a miracle that Jaxon had turned up when he did, offering me a solution. I can’t believe I was so naïve.
Now, of course, six months later, I know that the genuine miracle happened when Fen offered me a job at the Brambleberry Manor Cafe.
CHAPTER EIGHT
Next day, I stumble off the bus at Brambleberry Manor, stifling a huge yawn.
Having Jaxon just walk into the flat like that really freaked me out, and I spent half the night tossing and turning, asking the same old questions and coming to the same old conclusion: I need money to get us out of Jaxon’s clutches. Money I simply don’t have.
It could be months, years even, before we rise to the top of the council house list. A private rental seems the only way. And while I’m on the right road with my new job at the cafe, saving up is going to take a long time. I could earn more if I worked a second job in the evenings – pulling pints at The Swan in the village, for instance – but if I did that, who would look after Eva? Even if I could get a babysitter, I couldn’t leave them alone in the flat. Not with the threat of a visit from Jaxon hanging over us.
A shiver runs through me remembering his unpredictable behaviour. There was an air of menace about him yesterday that chills my blood thinking about it. But my hands are tied. All I can do is to bide my time, stay cheerful for Eva, and do my best to stay on Jaxon’s right side for now.
Deep in thought, I’m only vaguely aware of the hum of an engine behind me. But as a gleaming red sports car zips past me, coming within a hair’s breadth of decking me with its wing mirror, I’m brought smartly back to the present. I watch as the car is expertly driven into the car park and a tall young woman with long blonde hair emerges. She gets a pair of green wellies out of the boot and changes into them, carrying her shoes. Perhaps she’s going for a walk and knows it’s muddy?
She arrives at the door of the café a few seconds before I do.
Instead of going in, she stops and lifts one foot, examining the heel of her wellie boot. ‘Oh, God. Bloody countryside. You can’t walk two paces without stepping in a pile of horse manure.’
Engulfed in her cloud of expensive perfume, I glance from her gleaming golden hair, perfect make-up and false lashes to the offending heel, expecting to see it caked with something horrible. But it appears to be clean.
‘I think you got away with it this time,’ I remark cheerfully.
‘Hm.’ She gives me a chilly once-over. ‘Not a great place for rabbit droppings, though, wouldn’t you agree?’ She points at the offending bullets lying just by the café entrance.
Sweeping into work mode, I nod in agreement. The customer is king. ‘I’ll deal with that straight away. They’ll be gone by the time you come out!’
‘Excellent. I take it you’re the new girl?’
I smile. ‘Yes. Very new. I only arrived yesterday.’
‘Good. Well, I won’t keep you from your work.’ She points at the droppings, circling them distastefully with her forefinger, and opens the café door. Then she stops. ‘Actually, while you’re there, could you run over and see if I locked my car? I’ve a feeling I might have forgotten what with concentrating so hard on avoiding the piles of excrement.’
‘Oh. Erm, yes, of course. No problem.’ I start walking over to the car park. ‘I’ll let you know if - ’ But when I turn, she’s already vanished into the café.
I smile to myself as I walk over to check the car. Bertha said I’d probably have to deal with demanding customers. Still, I’m sure Fen would want all her employees to be as helpful as possible.