Hungry For Revenge by Ron Shillingford (popular ebook readers .TXT) 📕

stretching his white Ralph Lauren poloshirt to breaking point above blue skinny jeans, Nat complementedher perfectly.

Joanna strode into the expansive back gardenof Alice’s house on Nat’s arm feeling the biggest rush ever asheads turned and conversations stopped.

They looked like a celebrity couple, feelinglike Angelina must when stepping out with Brad, Joanna milked allthe praise, ego massaged beyond her wildest expectations.

Gary Billings still didn’t remember her fromschool but this time he paid Joanna more attention than before,much to the disgust of his latest Barbie lookalike in micro-miniand six-inch white stilettos.

Gary, now the youth team coach at West Ham,even invited her to a game, making a point of asking her to comewithout Nat. She giggled, promising to bring Sandy.

The Cronies were uncharacteristicallyfriendly. A couple even gave Joanna their business cards. She tookthem and tore them up in front of them.

But where was Katie? Officially, The Croniesclaimed she was in New York on business but consensus was that hercocaine habit was now so bad she was in rehab. Crack and heroinewas mentioned too.

Joanna left the barbecue still basking in thecongratulations. The only dampener was that Katie hadn’t shown.

Nat pleaded with Joanna to end the perfectevening with an overnight stay, but she was in no mood formeaningless sex.

She pecked his cheek, thanked him and shooedhim away like the naughty youngster she saw him as.

“At least you had a great night, Jo,” Sandychirped the next day. “Don’t worry that Katie didn’t show, she’sbound to have heard of your new fabulous size from TheCronies.”

“Yes, but I wanted the satisfaction of herseeing the new me in person. No one recognised me when I arrived.Not even Alice. Having Nat along helped too. We pretended we werean item.”

“Glad you’re not. A dog, like all the rest.Stay clear of pretty boys, especially that one.”

Joanna felt energised. No longer feelingfatigued by the slightest exertion and embarrassed when meetingpeople, she decided to give back through charity work. It mighteven help her find a husband too, she thought.

The Red Cross looked as good a cause as any.Joanna decided to help on the soup runs in central London, givingout food, cigarettes and drinks to homeless people whilst Red Crosspersonnel gave basic medical care.

She quickly derived immense satisfaction fromthe soup runs and even built up friendships with the appreciativerecipients. Not all homeless people come from deprived, abusivebackgrounds, she learned.

There was Basil who once worked on graphicson a Star Wars movie at Elstree Studios but lost the will to workand live normally because so many of his friends and family diedaround him in a short time.

Gordon used to run a successful printing firmbut with the advance of technology the business collapsed and sodid his marriage. He found solace in drink, which spiraled out ofcontrol that led to living on the streets.

Joanna befriended the talkative ones best.Some wanted to tell their whole life stories as soon as sheintroduced herself, but the majority were reticent.

Most took what was on offer but refused toengage with the volunteers, ashamed of their homelessness whichJoanna respected.

Sandy suddenly stopped coming round andringing. There was always an excuse, sometimes ridiculous; takingLouis to football, working late, ironing the curtains, painting theskirting boards, washing the dog… Joanna got tired of not gettingher texts responded to and Sandy always allowing her phone to go tovoicemail. When Sandy allowed the memory on her voicemail box tofill that’s when it looked all over. Her landline was supposedlynot in service either. Joanna suspected she had simply changedit.

Nat said he hadn’t seen her for ages.

Wondering what she had done to deserve such abrush off, the next month Joanna went round to Sandy’s end ofterrace house in Bow one night. Sandy opened the door slightly,evidently not in the mood for pleasantries.

“Have I said or done something to upset youSandy because you seem to have terminated our friendship withoutletting me know why.”

“No, I’ve just been very, very busy. SorryJo, but I’ve got to go.”

Without waiting for a response, Sandy slammedthe door. Joanna had glimpsed a man moving across the hallway. Shewalked to a window at the back of the house. Sandy was in apassionate embrace with someone Joanna knew well.

She returned to the front door, ringing thebell repeatedly until Sandy opened it ajar again.

“What do you want?”

“Is there something you’re not telling meSandy? I think I deserve an explanation. After all we’ve beenthrough together, it’s the least you can do. ”

The door was forced open wide. It was Nat,looking embarrassed and apologetic. Standing behind Sandy, hemouthed: “I’m so sorry.”

“What’s going on Sandy?”

“Well if you didn’t want him, why let him goto waste?”

Joanna walked away crying. She wasn’tjealous, more angry at Sandy’s deceit. Nat wasn’t faultless either,ruining a friendship that stretched back years.

I thought Sandy was better than that. Bitch.Well, at least she was right about Nat’s immaturity.

They never spoke again. Nat immediately gothimself transferred to another building.

For months Joanna kept busy with the weeklysoup runs. One night she spotted an incredibly skinny woman shehadn’t seen before puffing heavily on a cigarette, dry, crackedlips trembling. Her once thick, auburn hair was prematurely greyand wispy. Finger tips stained from chain-smoking, she shiveredeven though it was not particularly cold, probably from drugwithdrawal symptoms.

Under her grubby denim jacket her sweatshirtevidently hadn’t been washed for a while either. She was a completemess. Cheekbones protruding under pallid skin, Joanna felt reallysorry for her.

“Would you like a sandwich and some tea?”

“Yes, please.”

“Cigarettes?”

“Thanks.”

“Haven’t seen you before.”

“I’ve come from King’s Cross. It’s gettingtoo rough there. Too many psychos.”

“Don’t worry, you’ll be okay here. I’mJo.”

Joanna had learned not to ask their names.They often didn’t want to tell. Curiously, this one did.

“I’m Katie. I used to be a banker at WorldFinance until drugs got the better of me but nobody believesme.”

“Don’t worry, I believe you.”

Then Joanna reached into her Red Cross foodbag.

“Apple pie Katie? They are Mr.Kipling’s.”