Rex is a burglar who rob people's houses and sell items to antique shop. He has a girlfriend who is on benefits so he helps her out with the money. The girl has a child from another man who is a drug addict and he always pesters her for money.


7. Chapter Seven

They stood there in the sunny street like two bruising giants.  Carol was in the street trying to calm the situation, Harold was at the front room window watching, and mum and Vanya, who both heard things kick off, were at the front door watching.

“Come on then you little squirt,” said Tim, putting his meaty fists up. Rex went towards him but Carol got between them. 

“For Gods sake, you’re both adults not kids.”

Tim being the sly one and taking advantage of any situation snuck in behind Carol and managed to land a punch on Rex’s jaw.  That was it; Rex was now all fired up.  He pushed Carol out of the way and threw a punch at Tim.  Tim tried to duck but was too slow and was hit in the face.  Now that they had both suffered a blow each, Carol went between them again. 

“That’s it, Rex you go back inside and you, Tim, get in the car.  To everyone’s amazement they both did as they were told.  Everybody went indoors except Carol, who went with Tim to the car. Once Harold saw that the fight was over, he went and sat down in his armchair.  Rex came in with Vanya. 

“You stay in here, Vanya, while I go chat with mum in the kitchen.”

  Without looking at Harold, Vanya sat on the sofa.  When they were alone Harold turned to Vanya. 

“So your mother is Russian is she?” said Harold.

“She’s dead now,” said Vanya quietly.

“Best thing for her.  A good Russian is a dead Russian, in my mind.”

Vanya looked at him distastefully.  “I loved her.  How can you say that?”

“What, are you a bloody communist?” said Harold.

“A communist, what is a communist?”

“You know damn well what one is,” said Harold, raising his voice.  He reached over and slapped her on the hand.  It wasn’t a hard slap, but it was meant as punishment so Vanya thought.

“What was that for?” she asked softly.

“For being a bloody Russian, that’s what for,” scolded Harold, raising his voice again.  The genuine animosity in him was obvious to Vanya and she started to cry.

“That’s it, cry you little devil, cry your heart out, and then get back to bloody Russia.”

They were almost silent tears, except for the occasional snivel.  She wiped her eyes every now and then with a hand and looked at a stain on the wall in front of her.

“Go on, get out.  Get to the kitchen with you,” he said, grabbing her wrist and pulling her off the sofa.  He pushed her towards the door.  She went into the kitchen where Rex was sat at the table talking to his mum.

“Why are you crying?” asked Rex, seeing her wet, red eyes.  She shook her head. 

“Dad again.  For God’s sake she’s just a little girl,” said Rex.


Sarah Thomson left the front door open when she walked out into the garden.  She left it open because Erik, her husband, was doing some gardening out the front.

“I’m going into town Erik, to do some shopping.  See if I can buy some jewellery, after all my jewellery was stolen the other night.”

Erik was pulling up weeds and found it backbreaking.  “You deserve it my love.”  He watched her walk down the driveway and turn to walk down the pavement.  He then thought about offering to drive her into town, but thought better of it when he saw how determined she looked walking.  She was going to catch a bus into town.

She found it hot sitting in the bus, despite all the windows being open.  It was a fifteen minute drive into town and the sun was blazing down.  The first thing she did when she got off the bus was to go to a favourite cafe of hers.  She had a glass of cool orange juice and sipped at it while sitting in a comfy chair near the large window.  She watched people walk by while she relaxed.  Then she saw someone she recognized from long ago.  Was it really Robert Reid?  He was stood outside, right in front of her, talking to an old woman.  Sarah tapped on the window to get his attention.  He looked at her then it clicked, he recognized her and went into the cafe.

“Is that you, Robert Reid?” she asked him.

Yes it is.  And you’re Sarah Thomson.  My God, how long has it been?  Twenty, twenty-five years?”

“It must be.  I’m married now.  How are you, Robert?”

“Second divorce.  I’m fine.  Any children?”  I have two.”

Robert got a coffee and they sat chatting for half an hour.  Then he said he had to be somewhere and left.  Sarah felt exhilarated from meeting Robert.  They had gone out together, that was before she had met Erik, and she could remember the relationship as torrid.  She felt herself getting excited as she remembered those steamy nights of passion.  Enough, she thought suddenly, downing the last of her orange juice. 

She left the cafe and walked on until she came to a jewellers shop.  She stood and gazed at the jewellery in the window.  Then a shock went through her as she saw her emerald ring there on display.  It had to be hers.  Of course, it may be another one that looks the same as the one she had stolen.  She decided to go in and see the jeweller about it.

She waited until he had finished with a customer then asked him.  “That emerald ring you have in your window, I had one stolen that looks just like it.  I was wondering if it’s the one?” she asked.

He asked her to point it out to him.  She went outside and pointed at it.  He picked it up.

“That’s it,” she said, when she went back inside.

“How long ago was your ring stolen?” the jeweller asked.

“A week ago.”

The jeweller shook his head.  “I’m sorry, but this ring has been in here for months.”  He put the ring back in the window.  When he came back he said, “Of course, if you’d like to buy it now?”

“How much is it?”

“Nine hundred pounds.”

“No.”  She left the shop despondent.  She bought some clothes, but it didn’t make her feel any better.  On the bus she felt depressed.  When she got home Erik was sitting in the kitchen over a pot of tea.  She told him about the ring.

“How common a ring was it?” he asked her.

“I don’t know.  I bought it in London ten years ago.  It shouldn’t be common.  I just don’t know.”

“Should we tell the police?” he asked.

“He wanted nine hundred for it.”

“How much did it cost you?”

“Over a thousand.”

“If you want to buy it I don’t mind,” he reassured her.


Maria was in the kitchen baking.  She was kneading the dough on the wooden kitchen table.  It was a hot day and the exertion she was making made her sweat.  She didn’t notice Francis come in from the garden.  Behind her, he reached out and put his hands on top of hers, his fingers going between hers as she pummelled the dough.  How dare he, she thought, anger flushing through her mind.  When would he get the message - she wasn’t interested in love, lust and sex with him.

“Do you mind, Francis,” she said, in her most annoyed voice.  She felt his breath on the back of her head.

“Don’t be shy now, I’m a big boy.”

She pushed him backwards, jabbing in an elbow at the same time.  “Can you get the message, not interested?” she said.  She was now facing him, her floury hands turned into fists hung by her sides.

He laughed, still didn’t get it.  “Who’s a little tiger today then?  Look,” he said sitting on the end of the table, “I might be going a bit too fast for you.  I’ll slow down.”  She didn’t like where his eyes were fixed on, it made her blush.  That was the last straw.  She marched up to the sink and washed her hands.  Then she left the kitchen, hearing him laugh as she did.  She was going to tell Edgar.

Edgar was up in his bedroom, lying on his bed and Satan was lying on the end.

“Edgar, I must complain about Francis, he wants sex and I don’t.”

“What,” responded Edgar, before laughing out loud.  “Look, he’s young and a bit foolish, just tell him that you’re not interested.”

“I have.”

“He’s a good worker.  Just make sure he gets the idea.”

Frustrated by Edgar’s inability to grasp the seriousness of the situation, she went back down to the kitchen.  He was still sat on the table.

“I’ve told Edgar.”

“It’s just a bit of harmless fun.  What did he say?”

“He said that if you don’t leave me alone, he’ll sack you,” she told him.

He laughed.  “I bet he did.”

“You live in the flat above the garage, don’t you?”

“Why you want to know that?”

“You’ve got a cosy little set-up going here, pity if you go and spoil it.”

Maria didn’t like the mischievous look in his eyes.  “What you mean?”

“If he sacks me, then I’ll take him to an employment tribunal for unfair dismissal.  You’re a foreigner here remember.”

It sounded officious to Maria.  “Please leave now, must wash the floor.”

He left, but not before he went up to her and placed his hand on one of her breasts.  She instantly hit his hand away, but he smiled in return.  She watched him through the window as he sauntered up the garden path.  She hated him.

All through that early afternoon she got the feeling that he was watching her from the greenhouse.  Later in the afternoon she went outside the kitchen to get to her flat, the stairs were outside and ran up to her flat.  She had an hour to spare before she would start making the brothers’ tea.  So she decided to have a bath.  Just as she was about to run the bath there was a knock on the front door.  It was him.

“God you look sexy,” he said.

“You must go now,” she said, trying to close the door but his foot was in the way.

He pushed the door open and shoved her backwards.  She fell on her back in the front room.  He came in and closed the door.  “Are we going to fight or surrender?” he said.  The look on his face was that of a fox that had cornered its prey.

“Get out,” shouted Maria.

Her shout was his cue for action.  He flung himself on top of her, winding her as well.  He put his mouth on hers hard.  She began to struggle against him, but he was stronger than her. 

“Wait,” she said.  “I know what you want, I won’t fight.”

He smiled like a reptile and got to his feet.  “Take your clothes off then.”

She sat up and began to undo her shirt buttons.  Soon she was down to her bra, a pink frilly one.  When she took off her bra, her breasts looked so sexy to him, white, turned up at the small, blueberry nipples.  Then she undid her dress and laid it on the floor beside her.  Now she was naked but for a pair of light blue panties.  She manoeuvred them down her legs and threw them across the room.  Now she was naked, the dark pubic hair making a target for him.

“Come on then,” she urged.

He unzipped his zip and got his erect penis out.  Then he got down on top of her.  He had soon entered her and began to thrust slowly.  She reached down and he stiffened slightly from fear, as she massaged his balls.  Soon realising she meant only pleasure he soon forgot his fear.  Now with his balls in her hand, she squeezed them very tightly, making him shout out in pain.  He stopped thrusting and rolled off her, doubling up in agony.  She got off the floor, went into the kitchen and took a large knife from the drawer.

“Now get out or I kill you,” she shouted.

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