Broke Read Free Page A

the wall, Amy released a weary sigh. Mark had his faults, there was no denying that, but at least he wasn’t a cheat like that pig Neil Foster. His poor wife had no clue what he was getting up to behind her back, and Amy hated bumping into her at the shops because she always felt as guilty as hell even though it had nothing to do with her.
    Disgusted by the grunting sounds that were starting to filter through now, Amy decided to get an early night. Most of her and Mark’s problems stemmed from the fact that he was always knackered from working so hard and she was always stressed out from dealing with the kids, so a good sleep would do her the world of good. Then, hopefully, she wouldn’t be so quick to bite Mark’s head off when he came home tomorrow – and he wouldn’t be so quick to storm out again.
    As Amy headed up to bed back home, Mark walked into The Junction and looked around for his mates, in desperate need of some light-hearted man-banter to shake him out of the mood that Amy had put him in. She was turning into a right old woman lately, always whining and bitching and making him feel like a cunt for coming home five minutes late. He loved his kids as much as she did, but he could do without having them forced down his throat every time he stepped through the door. And as for all that bedtime kissy-cuddly shit that Amy wanted him to do, that was her job, not his.
    None of his mates were in, so Mark bought a pint and wandered over to the fruit machine in the corner. Made up when three cherries rolled around on his first go and ten pound coins rattled down into the tray, he shoved another fifty pence in, only for a further five quid to spew out. Mood lifting, he took a swig of his pint and dragged up a stool. It was his lucky night, and no fucker was getting near this machine tonight until he’d hit the jackpot.
    It didn’t happen, and by the time the bell rang for last orders he had precisely forty pence left to his name – not even enough to feed the machine one last time, never mind catch the bus to work in the morning. And definitely not enough to buy another drink to cushion him against the shit that Amy was going to throw at him.
    Relieved to find the house in darkness when he got home, Mark let himself in quietly and slipped his feet out of his trainers. Then, keeping an eye on the stairs, he crept into the kitchen and pulled Amy’s handbag out from the tray beneath Bobby’s pram. Smiling when he looked in her purse and saw two ten-pound notes in the slot behind the change compartment, he slipped one into his pocket before putting everything back where he’d found it and heading up to bed. Amy would go mad when she realised the money was gone but he didn’t care. He’d earned it, so he could do what the fuck he liked with it.

2
    When the alarm woke Amy the next morning she reached out and switched it off, then stretched her arms above her head and yawned. She’d thought she was never going to get to sleep when Marnie and that stupid man of hers moved the action upstairs, but the cotton wool had shielded her from the worst of it – thank God.
    She pulled the sticky little plugs out of her ears now and sat up. Surprised to see a lump on Mark’s side of the bed, because she hadn’t expected him to come home, she remembered the vow she’d made to be nicer to him and lay back down.
    ‘Morning,’ she purred, snuggling up to him and kissing the back of his neck.
    ‘What time is it?’ Mark rubbed at his eyes.
    ‘Just gone seven.’ She slid her fingers slowly down through the hairs on his stomach. ‘You’ve got twenty minutes yet.’
    When she reached his crotch, Mark’s brain switched places with his dick and he rolled towards her and tugged at her nightie.
    ‘Sorry about last night,’ she murmured when he climbed on top of her.
    ‘Sshhh,’ he grunted, shoving her legs apart.
    ‘ You shush,’ she gasped, giggling when he set the headboard banging against the wall. ‘You’ll wake the