Written in the Scars (The Estate Series Book 4) Read online

  WRITTEN IN THE SCARS

  MEL SHERRATT

  All characters and events featured in this publication, other than those clearly in the public domain, are entirely fictitious and any resemblance to any person, organisation, place or thing living or dead, or event or place, is purely coincidental and completely unintentional.

  All rights reserved in all media. No part of this book may be reproduced in any form other than that which it was purchased and without the written permission of the author. This e-book is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. No part of this text may be reproduced, transmitted, downloaded, decompiled, reverse engineered, or stored in or introduced into any information storage and retrieval system, in any form or by any means, whether electronic or mechanical, now known or hereinafter invented, without the express written permission of the author.

  Cover image by paperandsage.com

  Written in the Scars © Mel Sherratt

  E-edition published worldwide 2015

  Kindle edition Copyright 2013 © Mel Sherratt

  WRITTEN IN THE SCARS

  THE ESTATE SERIES, BOOK 4

  Scars. Sometimes they’re visible. Sometimes they’re hidden deep within.

  After years of living as a single parent, all Donna Adams longs for is someone to make her smile, to share hopes and dreams with, to keep her warm at night. But when that certain someone gives her the attention she craves, true love doesn’t always follow the right path.

  Home from the army, Lewis is a changed man. Angry and consumed by grief, troubled by nightmares and flashbacks, his mind is worse now than ever. Shutting out what he’s seen isn’t easy, but he risks losing everything he’s come back to if he doesn’t, including his sanity.

  Megan Cooper hides her scars for fear of being rejected. Mary Marshall can’t always remember how she got hers. Donna’s daughter, Keera, was lucky to walk away after her friend was attacked.

  If the past could be erased to make a better future, we’d all want that, wouldn’t we? But life is never that easy for the residents of The Mitchell Estate…

  Ever wanted to peek behind the scenes of THE ESTATE SERIES, before the series began? Why not join my book club and you can download a free ebook that does just that. To download your free book, click on the link www.melsherratt.co.uk

  Chapter One

  With a minute to spare before her shift was due to start, Donna Adams rushed into Shop&Save. She ran into the staff room at the back of the building and slipped her green overall over the top of her summer dress. Already she could feel sweat forming, although the glorious hot spell they were enjoying was supposed to break later.

  ‘Made it by the skin of my teeth,’ she sighed, joining her work colleague and supervisor, Sarah Hartnoll, behind the counter. ‘Bloody hell, it’s as hot in here as it is outside.’ She glanced at the clock. ‘Sorry, I would have been here earlier but I’ve had trouble with Mum not wanting me to leave. She was holding onto my arm for dear life, convinced that someone is trying to kill her again.’

  Donna’s mum, Mary, had been living in a self-contained flat for a few years since Donna’s dad had died. More recently, she’d been diagnosed with dementia. After wandering off in the night, setting off the alarm to the front door, and being brought home by the police on three separate occasions, Donna had made the heart-breaking decision to move her into sheltered accommodation, where there would be someone to keep an eye on her all the time.

  Sarah shook her head in sympathy. ‘Never a dull moment in your life, is there?’

  ‘Never.’ Donna logged into the till and then looked up at the television monitor that was split into quarter views of the area in front of them. There were a few customers but thankfully no one was after their attention, and if she wasn’t mistaken, Darren, their youngest member of staff, was stacking shelves in the far right corner.

  The shop had four aisles, all covered by cameras, but it was well known amongst a certain group of people for being easy to steal from. Many a time she and Sarah had left someone to it rather than risk either a tongue-lashing or a hand raised to them. They had both learned the hard way over the years not to interfere with some customers.

  ‘I still feel guilty every time I go and see Mum,’ Donna added. ‘But even if I had the time, I just don’t have the energy to give her what she needs.’

  ‘You should get Keera to do more.’

  Donna stared at Sarah, before smiling at the elderly man who was walking towards them. ‘Chance would be a fine thing with my lot,’ she replied, helping him to fill his shopping bag before handing it back.

  Donna had two children. A son, Sam, who was twenty-two and nineteen-year-old Keera, who had recently returned from a short time working in Ibiza.

  Sarah held up a hand. ‘I’d much prefer to hear all about the hen party on Saturday. Did you enjoy yourself or did you feel like the oldest swinger in town?’

  Donna rang the money through the till. ‘You might be laughing on the other side of your face when I tell you what happened.’ She paused for dramatic effect once the customer had gone on his way. ‘I met someone.’

  ‘No!’

  ‘Yes! His name is Owen, his eyes are so sexy – and his body is mmm-mmm.’

  Donna smiled even more as she thought back to Saturday night. The hen party Sarah was referring to had been for a woman that Donna used to go to school with. About a month ago, Susan Parker had popped into Shop&Save by chance as she’d been driving through the estate. They’d been really good friends at school but had lost touch when Susan had moved out of the area. Once they’d recognised each other, they had got chatting and Donna had found herself invited to the night out. She’d declined at first as she wasn’t sure she would know anyone else who was going, but Susan had mentioned a few names of women she knew, and said it would be great to catch up again.

  In the week before the hen do, Donna had still had doubts about whether to go or not, but Keera persuaded her that she might have a bit of fun. And how glad she was of that now.

  ‘How I got his attention is beyond me,’ she continued. ‘There must have been lots of women his age that he could—’

  ‘Wait!’ Sarah held up a hand. ‘How old is he?’

  ‘Thirty-five.’ Donna dropped her eyes momentarily. ‘He’s too young.’

  ‘No, he isn’t.’

  ‘I’m forty-two.’

  ‘Don’t say it like it’s a disease!’ Sarah scoffed. ‘Besides, aren’t we supposed to be as young as we feel? And at least you look after yourself. Half the women on this estate walk around in their pyjamas and slippers.’

  ‘I suppose.’ Donna sighed loudly. ‘I’m not seeing him again, though.’

  ‘Oh! He didn’t want a second date?’

  ‘Technically that wasn’t a first, but yes, he did ask if he could take me out tomorrow night.’

  ‘And you said no?’ Sarah’s tone was one of incredulity.

  Donna shook her head. ‘You know I don’t have time – what with looking in on Mum and getting to work and then there’s Sam, who couldn’t look after a flea without—’

  ‘The world won’t fall apart if Donna Adams doesn’t come to its rescue.’ Sarah folded her arms. ‘You should let that family of yours fend for themselves once in a while.’

  ‘Leave everyone to their own devices?’ Donna shuddered at the thought. ‘It would be carnage!’

  A young woman with the brightest of red hair came towards the till, and while Sarah served her, Donna stood staring into space. If truth be told, she hadn’t thought of much else apart from Owen since Saturday evening. She could still recall the taste of him on her lips as he’d dipped his head to
give her a long, lingering, goodnight kiss. A delicious shiver pulsed through her body.

  ‘Earth to Donna, hello!’ Sarah waved a hand in front of her face.

  Donna giggled. ‘Honestly, though. It’s been such a long time since anyone’s been interested in me, I just keep thinking that maybe it was too good to be true.’

  ‘Will you listen to yourself? You haven’t had a good seeing to in months – just get in there and bang him one if you get the chance.’ Sarah picked up two mugs from beneath the counter. ‘I’ll make us a brew. And then I want to hear everything.’ She glared at Donna. ‘And I mean everything.’

  Donna kept one eye on two teenage boys who had just walked in whilst Sarah went off to the staff room to make the tea. Sarah was just a few months older than her. Her hair fell to her shoulders, and she showed off pretty blue eyes below a blonde fringe. She wasn’t particularly overweight for her height of five foot four but she did have a tendency to wear tight clothes that emphasised, rather than complimented, her shape.

  Donna wished she had curves like Sarah’s, but she was thin to the point of being scrawny. Most of the time she put it down to all the stress that came with her life, but a lot of it was to do with her erratic eating patterns and the fact that she was always on the go. Add that to the long-limbed build of a marathon runner and sadly she was never going to be as voluptuous as Sarah, no matter how much she would like to be. And, being a woman in her early forties, things had begun to sag that were beyond Donna’s control.

  Still, she could dream. Owen had made her night a lot more fun than she had thought possible.

  Moments later, Sarah passed a mug of tea to her.

  ‘I wish I’d been invited too,’ she said, wistfully. ‘You seem like you had a great time.’

  Donna glanced up at the CCTV monitor again. The teens had been and gone with a couple of chocolate bars and a can of pop. There were only two customers in the shop at the moment, and they were in the middle of an argument. She turned to Sarah.

  ‘It was one of those perfect nights where you don’t expect anything to happen and then—’ She was interrupted by the ring of her phone, rolling her eyes when she saw who it was. ‘What’s up, Sam? Oh – but you have his phone?’ Donna looked confused as she spoke to the person on the other end. ‘Yes, I’m his mother, his next-of-kin.’ She gasped. ‘What do you mean— is he okay? He what? Oh, no. I’m on my way.’

  ‘What’s wrong?’ Sarah was already at Donna’s side. She touched her lightly on the arm.

  Donna took a few deep breaths, trying to keep her panic at bay. ‘Sam’s had an accident involving a chainsaw.’ Her eyes glistened with tears. ‘He’s been rushed to A&E.’

  Lewis Prophett sat on the bus, shoulder against the window, glad that the seat next to him was unoccupied so that he didn’t have to make unnecessary conversation. Staring through the ripples of rain streaking down the glass, a brief summer storm just finishing, he looked out but didn’t focus on anything.

  It had been hard to make his way back to the Mitchell Estate after leaving the job centre. Before his marriage had ended a few months earlier and Lewis had returned home to live with his mum, the last time he’d been on the estate for any longer than a month was back in his teens. All he’d ever wanted to do when he left school was to get away from the place he’d grown up, even though it had meant leaving his childhood sweetheart behind. He couldn’t wait to join the army, get a trade and make new friends.

  Even after all this time, Lewis still felt like he was returning home as his eighteen-year-old self. He’d signed up because he felt that he didn’t fit in anywhere and now here he was, feeling exactly the same again. He’d added his name to a waiting list with the housing association in the vague hope that a flat might come up for rent. Wow, so much to look forward to.

  The army had been the perfect choice for Lewis and his twelve years spent there had been enjoyable. But since he’d come home to Stockleigh two years ago, everything had started to unravel. His wife, Amy, and their son, Daniel, who had been eleven at the time, hadn’t known how to react to his mood swings. For a time, he and Amy had tried getting reacquainted but, after he had come home one day and raised a hand to her – not using it, but raising it in a threat – Amy had thrown him out. He knew things had gone too far, but he couldn’t do anything about it. She wasn’t willing to take him back after eighteen months of hell and he’d been back at his mum’s for six months now. It seemed his marriage was over, as well as his career.

  Twenty minutes later, the bus pulled in to Vincent Square in the middle of the estate and Lewis got off. The Mitchell Estate was made up of over fifteen hundred houses, flats and bungalows. Some were owned by the local council, a few were owner-occupied but most were rented from Mitchell Housing Association. The estate itself was split in two by a main thoroughfare, Davy Road. Above Davy Road was known locally as living ‘on the Mitch’ – the better part of the estate. Below Davy Road was known as living ‘on the ‘hell’. Lewis often wondered if any of it had true meaning. After all, they were only houses and people. Places shouldn’t define people, although they often did. Take Afghanistan, for instance.

  It was sad to see that the area had hardly changed since he’d been away. The square was still a dirty, untidy place for shops to be situated, and at least half of them were now boarded up. All around him, there were signs of anti-social behaviour. Rubbish bins were either missing or thrown onto the floor, litter scattered everywhere in the breeze. Fluorescent coloured graffiti was scrawled over roller shutters and doorways. To his right was the car park where he’d ripped open his knee after falling from his skateboard as a youngster, still looking in bad need of repair. The whole area felt like it had been forgotten, neglected. Pretty much how Lewis felt about himself.

  He walked on past the local supermarket, Shop&Save. Lewis was surprised it had survived through the years, although shops he wasn’t familiar with had sprung up alongside it – the nearest selling second-hand clothes and toys. Next to it was a drop-in centre for the locals to talk about careers. Lewis sniggered to himself, unsure why it wasn’t already closed. From what he could remember, most of the kids he’d gone to school with had had no hope. Many of them still lived on the estate; most had done nothing with their lives. At least Lewis could say he’d seen some of the world.

  He waited for a car to pass before crossing over Davy Road and made his way along Ronald Street. The houses either side were an exact same replica as his mum’s and exactly the same as where he had been living with Amy until they had separated. Two bedrooms, semi-detached, postage stamp gardens, some with room enough to park a car on the front, most without space to swing a cat. He glanced at the houses as he went past. If you were lucky, you had a nice neighbour joining on to you. If you weren’t, you’d be granted the neighbour from hell. Just lately, Lewis had had a few run-ins with one of the housing officers from the association. He’d been warned about his behaviour when he was drunk, shouting at the neighbours, arguing in the street. Of course he couldn’t remember much of it the next morning, but the guilt would overwhelm him. So he’d return to the pub to try and drown out his sorrows.

  Lewis sat down at the top of the steps that would take him down to the green and on to Graham Street, where his mum lived. Running a hand over his close-shaved head, he gulped in a deep breath. A tower of a man shouldn’t feel panicked as he did. Gone was the Lewis that had left the estate as a teenager. He had hoped that it wouldn’t take too long for him to adapt to civilian life again. But every night his dreams turned to nightmares as he relived what had happened. Damn the memories for coming home with him.

  Moments later, Lewis stood up. Even though every footstep felt like he was going backwards rather than forwards, he shoved his hands in the pockets of his jeans and walked back in the direction he’d come from, heading for The Butcher’s Arms. Drinking wasn’t the answer, but he didn’t want to stop either. Unable to live with what had happened, it was much easier to block everything out. Either that
, or he would end up hurting himself, or someone else, and regret that too.

  Because one thing Lewis couldn’t erase was his guilt.

  It was his fault that Nathan had been killed.

  Chapter Two

  The city of Stockleigh had a population of less than two hundred thousand residents. Based in the Midlands, it had pockets of crime and depravity alongside areas of affluence, like most cities.

  Stockleigh’s main hospital was situated near to the centre, five miles from the Mitchell Estate. Donna had raced to her car immediately after receiving the phone call about Sam, praying that the old thing would start but, even allowing for traffic on the ring road, it had taken thirty minutes to get there and find a parking space. She tore across the car park, through the automatic doors into the A&E department.

  The waiting room was full to bursting with people sitting and standing everywhere. A man in paint-splattered white dungarees sat with a makeshift bandage around two of his fingers, while a girl of around ten years old, with what looked like a nasty bump to the head, was holding onto her left wrist with her right hand. Several people were sitting in wheelchairs, waiting to be seen. One man stood up on crutches, his left ankle off the floor.

  Without a second’s hesitation, Donna rushed to the front of a queue of people at the main desk.

  ‘Samuel Harvey,’ she cried. ‘My son’s been brought in as an emergency.’ She turned to the woman beside her. ‘Sorry, I— I just need to see he’s okay.’

  ‘We’ve all had accidents but we’re waiting our turn to be seen,’ a man in dark overalls, his right arm in a sling, shouted to her.

  Donna turned to him with narrowed eyes. ‘I don’t need to be seen!’

  ‘I’m just saying that—’

  ‘He’s nearly ripped his bloody hand off!’