Free Brotherhood of Blades by Linda Regan Page B

would have done something about it: paid for his dance lessons by working another shift, or whatever it took. That might have saved him from the thieving and drug trading and ultimately from the prison sentences. But it was no good wishing, she told herself; she had to deal with what was, not what might have been.
    She blew into her hands to keep warm as she piled plates on the hard, frosty ground. She’d let her daughter down too, she thought sadly. If she’d been any kind of mother to her, Wendy might still be alive and Jason wouldn’t have ended up the way he did. He was a good boy deep down. He had been the one to come through for her; after all, he’d given her the money to fulfil her dream and set this stall up.
    She stood back and admired the wobbling plates, then moved them in case they toppled. Breakages ate into her profits, and she needed to save as much money as she could now. It was payback time; she would look out for Jason as he had for her. She hated Haley Gulati anyway, always had done, and wasn’t a bit sorry she was dead. The stuck-up cow thought Jason wasn’t good enough for her niece. She should have known her darling Chantelle was nothing but a cheap little slapper, not a patch on Jason. He had a scholarship and he was going to make something of himself, and he’d never need to steal again. Chantelle was on a bad road.
    This crockery was a good little business, and she’d use it to make sure he had the things he needed until he was sorted and on his own two feet. He was a clever lad and he’d have a training soon. She would take a cleaning job, too, if need be, to help him. She was used to hard work; as a child she had to miss school to cook and clean for her alcoholic mother. Then she’d met Frankie, and got pregnant herself at fifteen. Frankie soon disappeared, and she found herself with Wendy to feed and no bloody help from anyone. But it was all worth it; she adored her new daughter, and happily worked four cleaning shifts a day to feed her as well as keep her mother in gin.
    As Wendy grew up, Sally’s mother fell ill, so after a long day’s work she had to spend her evenings bathing and caring for her. Looking back, she knew she hadn’t given her daughter the attention a child needed, but she was always so busy.
    Shortly after her mother passed away, Wendy announced that she was pregnant, and gave birth a few months later to a beautiful, healthy, brown-skinned baby. They named him Jason, after his father, who they never saw again. It was, Wendy told her, just a fling.
    While Wendy supposedly looked after Jason, Sally was out cleaning again. It was years later that she learned Wendy spent the housekeeping as well as her benefit money on drugs, and left Jason neglected.
    By the time Wendy died of an overdose Jason had grown into an angry twelve-year-old who had learned to stand on his own two feet and was well versed in the ways of crime, thanks to the gangs that ran riot on the notorious Aviary Estate.
    Sally herself had never crossed swords with the law, and she wasn’t afraid of the youths that had formed gangs on the estate either, even when they carried guns or knives. If they kept out of her way, they got along just fine, but if they hung around outside her door they’d get an earful from her sharp tongue. She was born on that estate and it had always been her home. She had only moved down the road to help Jason get a clean start when he came out of prison, not for an easier life for herself as the gossips were saying. She wasn’t afraid of them, she wasn’t afraid of no one. She earned her own living and kept herself to herself and wasn’t about to change.
    It was about nine o’clock last night when Jason had staggered up the stairs in that terrible state. Earlier that day he had talked about his future. He had learned a hard lesson in prison, he said, and now he intended to stay away from crime and be a dancer. She wasn’t a fool; she knew that no matter how she warned him