31 Falkner Street (11)

Kath had decided that she was getting rid of Ella and starting up with Jo. Jo had made so many promises to her about how her life could be if she was with her. Kath had been won over by vows of beds spread with rose petals, presents almost every day, a la carte meals, an endless amount of romantic comments, that Jo would never forget to appreciate Kath’s beauty and how lucky she had been that Kath had decided to have Jo in her life. When Kath looked at what she had with Ella, she smaned in comparison. Some grotty little woman who always made stupid comments and chattered on constantly, not even caring about whether Kath was in a bad mood and didn’t feel like hearing her voice going on and on. Ella couldn’t even cook properly, and Kath, she had depression for god’s sake and couldn’t do much. It should have been Ella’s duty to do the house work, cooking, cleaning, bringing money in. Lazy little bitch. Kath had put up with it all for too long now, and believed Jo completely when she told her that she deserved more because she was special. She had always thought that she had deserved more than her lot in life, almost waiting for a prince to burst into the YMCA, flat, house, wherever she was living, and take her away from it all. Give her something more. She had been wasted on a string of useless partners for the whole of her adult life.

She had a bad childhood, as her parents had divorced when she was just a child. Then she had been forced to live with a stepfather and a stepmother. She lived with her mum and stepfather until she was 15 and then told them that she had had enough of their ridiculous rules and boundaries and went to go and live with her dad and stepmother. The final blow to her came when her dad kicked her out, on more than one occasion and she had to sleep on the streets for the night. She had just been a baby for fucks sake.

Neither of her parents had understood her, and she couldn’t face her dickhead step parents trying to understand her, or even speaking to her. When Kath had tried to express her feelings, throwing things, stealing, smashing her room up, smashing her stepmum’s car up, they had just jumped to the conclusion that she was being a brat and throwing a brattish tantrum. That was not the case. She had experienced a very difficult life and needed nurturing. She would never forgive the bastard as long as she lived for kicking her out for the night when she was a child. Did he think that doing her food shopping for her and having her and dumb shit Ella round for tea and paying for her mobile phone contract would take those deep rooted and painful memories away?

And how about this, living in the YMCA as a 26 year old young woman. Kath had decided that she was moving out as soon as she was 18. She hadn’t had a job since finishing her GCSE’s, and had been too ill with depression to look for one. Her parents hadn’t pushed her too much into looking for work, but hadn’t given her as much allowance as they should have really either. She had packed her bags and walked out, true to her word, at 18 and gone to live with a friend. It hadn’t been long until her mum and dad had panicked – too little too late – as they knew that the house she was living in housed drugs as well as people. They had paid a deposit on a flat for her and set up a housing benefit claim for her so that the rent was free. Then they had set up a job seekers allowance claim for her which had been paltry. And she had to go to the jobcentre once a fortnight and tell the pompous self-righteous bitch on the other side of the desk what she had done to look for work. Kath had taken control of her life and found out that she could actually get incapacity benefit because of her depression. Incapacity benefit meant that she got at least £50 a week more. She also had to apply for disability living allowance alone, and wrote about how her depression meant that she had no energy to buy food or leave the house. She got another £40 a week for this. With her mum and dad paying for some stuff for her, like her utilities and food, Kath was left with enough money for drinking and nights out.

She had a few boyfriends, moved in with a couple of them after they had fallen in love within the space of a week or so. They had always ended up being bastards, though, and Kath would end up having to live in the same little flat as them, arguing all day. With her being unable to work, and the boyfriends not working either for one reason or another, they were stuck together all day every day with nothing to talk about. She would end up not being able to stand the sight of them, and this didn’t help her illness. She wasn’t stupid though, whenever she had lived with anyone the tenancy was always signed by her and her alone. So when it came down to it, she would still have a home and the partner would be out. The furniture they had contributed to the flat would remain, any decorating work would benefit her. What would they need it for when they were sofa-surfing at friend’s houses or in a hostel waiting on the housing list.

It was after she had split up with her most recent boyfriend and was living alone in a flat that everything had gone tits up. A lot of the neighbours had put in complaints about her, most of them false or pathetic. Music in the early hours of the morning, being drunk in the communal hallway and having a go at them or ‘being verbally and physically abusive’, having men hanging around the block of flats, altercations being heard from the flat.When her housing officer had come round and been so rude to her about the various complaints, Kath had just had it with all the people giving her shit and bringing her down. She had punched the housing woman in the face and been given an eviction notice. She still couldn’t believe the injustice of it. This woman had come into her home, got her back up and practically told her off. She had just reacted, and for that had to pay the highest price. Potentially being made homeless. It was like the council was in cahoots with her parents to drive her into the ground. It was like her dad had told the council how to bring the memories of her sleeping in a bus stop as a teenager back to haunt her.

She was in the YMCA for 4 long months. That was where had had met Ella who had used her job seekers to buy her brandy, her favourite drink. Ella had been like a lovesick puppy and hadn’t reacted to anything hurtful Kath had screamed at her when she was on a come down. Kath had taken all of her irritations out on Ella, knowing that all she would get back was sorrys and I love you’s. When Ella had gone and got accepted for a flat, Kath had been fuming. What had Ella done to deserve a flat before her? Ella hadn’t even seemed to mind living in the YMCA as much as she had. She had told Ella not to take it. And Ella hadn’t. That had meant that Ella was then classed as ‘intentionally homeless’ and wouldn’t be offered a flat a second time. Good. Although she could tell their key workers hadn’t liked it. Could tell that they looked at her like they didn’t like her and the way she spoke to Ella. Poor Ella, poor Ella, poor fucking me! For fucks sake! Everyone thought Ella was a victim. Just because Kath was a survivor.

Kath got offered a flat then, and told Ella that she could come with her. But that if she wanted to live in the flat with her, she had to always remember what Kath had done for her. Letting her share her own home with her and basically being her landlord. Ella was grateful to her. The flat eventually felt too small with Ella’s bouncy, loud presence. Kath’s dad had paid for a deposit for her to rent a house on Falkner Street. So they had moved there.

And now Kath was being offered money, presents, a pedestal to stand on, everything she wanted whenever she wanted it. Ella had held her back for just about too long. She could fuck off back to the YMCA where she belonged.