It's beginning to look a lot like Christmas, so here's the usual festive fic – it seems to have become a tradition now! I feel this one may benefit from a brief introduction.
During a recent rewatch, I noticed that prostitution seemed to be a recurring theme throughout the first two series of A2A. Alex is mistaken for a hooker on her very first appearance. She deliberately dresses as one in the Simon Neary episode and later lies to Gene about having actually worked as one. There's a whole episode pretty much dedicated to the subject, and other references scattered throughout both series.
Gene's attitude interested me, particularly in respect of young female sex workers. In his own gruff way he's kind to both Nina, the rape victim in S1 and Sal, the stripper from Manchester in S2 – and he's clearly sickened by the exploitation of teenage virgins, and the fact that Supermac was capable of turning a blind eye. The old imagination started working overtime, and this story is the result!
Gene is not mine (sadly) and neither is Alex, but Lily belongs entirely to me. Without further ado …
….
.
The Winner Takes It All
.
Chapter 1 – Manchester, 1970
.
The game is on again
A lover or a friend
A big thing or a small
The winner takes it all.
.
The first time he crossed paths with her was in a police cell. She sat on the bench, scrunched up against the wall with her arms wrapped around her knees defensively, looking more like a street urchin than a street walker. Gene leant back against the wall, long legs crossed at the ankle, and her one good eye narrowed as she regarded him warily.
He'd wanted to wince when he first saw her face. Her other eye so swollen and puffy she couldn't see out of it; her lip badly spilt; and one side of her face turning various shades of purple with the bruising. What kind of a bastard did this to a woman, even if she was a prostitute? They regarded one another for a long moment, and then Gene broke the silence.
"What's yer name, luv?"
"What do you want it ter be?"
She raised her chin defiantly and he sighed, reaching inside his jacket for his fags, but never breaking eye-contact. As he lit up, the fight seemed to go out of her.
"It's Lily. An' I don't suppose you can spare one, can yer?"
He lit a second cigarette and passed it across. Her hand shook as she accepted it gratefully, wincing at the pain as she pursed her lips and inhaled deeply.
"Has the doc seen yer yet?"
She nodded.
"Nothin' broken. Seems I've been lucky this time. Funny, 'lucky' isn't exactly the word I'd 'ave used."
Gene didn't reply immediately, just took a long drag and blew the smoke towards the ceiling. Lily regarded his profile, her head cocked to one side. Well-shaped nose, strong jaw, mane of dark blond hair. And those piercing blue eyes were something else. All in all, he was rather attractive, she had to admit. The cigarette dangled from long elegant fingers and as he slipped it between his pouting lips the action was so sensual that it sent a shiver of desire skittering down her spine. She amended her original assessment. He was sex on legs.
"This isn't the first time you've been picked up for solicitin', is it, luv?"
She rolled her eyes. So this was the direction things were heading in, then? Not always easy to escape with a caution, especially if a senior officer fancied a freebie. Still, it wouldn't be such a trial with him, at least. She fixed him with a cocky stare.
"OK, what will it take to get out of here tonight? Blow job? That's what most men want, seein' as their wives don't do 'that kind of thing'."
She waggled her fingers around the words. To his credit, Gene didn't miss a beat.
"Mine does."
He held her gaze, noting her good eye widening in surprise at his response. Somewhat encouraged, he continued.
"Every Preston Guild, without fail …"
She snorted in amusement, she couldn't help it. It was a joke most Northerners would get immediately, Preston only holding a guild ceremony every twenty years.
"So you can relax on that score. I'm a happily married man, me."
She took a long drag of her cigarette and shrugged, raising a cynical eyebrow.
"Yeah, that's what they all say. Just around the time they're shovin' their dicks down me throat."
Gene sighed heavily and crossed his arms, regarding her through the haze of smoke.
"How did you end up on the streets, luv?"
Normally she'd have told any copper asking that question to go screw himself, but somehow this one was different. He seemed genuinely interested.
"Same way most lasses do, I guess. Lesser of two evils."
He said nothing, just waited patiently for her to continue, and to her surprise she found she wanted to tell him. She took a deep breath, knowing it wouldn't be easy to revisit her past.
"Me dad died when I was fourteen. It was tough on both of us, me mother and me, but she was the one strugglin' to make enough to keep us. I did what I could, yer know? Got a paper-round, made some extra money on the weekends and in the holidays, but it was still a bloody battle. And then she met this bloke. He seemed really nice at first, made her laugh, brought us both little presents, but after they got engaged and we moved in with him, everythin' changed."
Gene noticed the shudder that ran through her but he didn't interrupt. She was finally opening up to him, and he knew it couldn't be easy. She took a final shaky drag of her cigarette and dropped the butt to the floor, screwing it underfoot with some venom.
"Thought I was imaginin' it at first – the sneaky little touches, the way he rubbed up against me sometimes when she wasn't around – but then he started gropin' me at every opportunity. I tried to find a way to tell her, but she didn't want ter know."
She shrugged dismissively, wrapping her arms defensively around herself and suddenly she looked like a lost fifteen-year-old again. He already knew where this was heading, but she needed to tell the whole sorry story.
"Two days after me sixteenth birthday he encouraged me mum to go out with a mate for the evenin', and I just knew. I took a carvin' knife from the kitchen drawer, hid it under me pillow and sat on the bed waiting. I couldn't lock the door because he'd nicked the key but when he came for me, I was ready. Threatened to skewer him, told him I was packin' a case and if he tried to stop me I'd tell me mum exactly what he'd been up to."
"Bastard."
Gene spat the word out, reaching into his jacket for his hipflask. He passed it to her first, and she took it gratefully, grimacing as the whiskey hit the back of her throat.
"Yeah, well, the world's full of 'em. I'm not the first and I won't be the last."
She passed the flask back and he took a good slug. It didn't erase the sour taste in his mouth.
"Where did yer go?"
"To stay with a friend at first, but I couldn't kip on her sofa forever. I ended up sleepin' rough and when me savings ran out a couple of the girls I'd met suggested I start turnin' tricks. Easy money, they said. Well, not for a sixteen-year-old virgin, it wasn't. Not at first, anyway. Gets easier after the first few times. You stop cryin' and just think about the money…"
Gene's stomach churned at the thought of what she'd had to endure, but he knew sympathy wasn't any help to her now. He took a deep breath.
"You know we've about as much chance of catchin' the low-life that did this to you as findin' a bacon butty at a bar mitzvah, don't yer? And I can't say yer detailed description was a great help. 'His midget dick was a bloody health-hazard?'"
She had the decency to look suitably abashed.
"Yeah, well, can yer blame me? I 'aven't exactly found you lot helpful in the past."
He pouted, fixing her with an unblinking blue-eyed stare that sent a shiver down her spine.
"I'm not fond of arseholes that use their fists on women when they don't get what they want. If you can give us a bit more ter go on, I'll move heaven an' earth to nail 'im. No promises, mind. It's a big city."
She nodded, seeing no pity only compassion and understanding in his eyes.
"I'll try. Don't want someone else to go through this, after all."
He paused, deciding on the best approach.
"How old are yer, Lil?"
"Twenty-three."
"If you want to see twenty-four, its time to make some changes. It'll keep on happenin', and I don't want to be the one to unzip the body bag and see your pretty face lookin' back at me."
She huffed and looked away.
"Yeah, 'cause I've got so many better alternatives."
"Might be able to help you out there."
Her head swivelled around as he fished about in his inside jacket pocket and passed a card to her. On it was written a name and an address, and she furrowed her brows in puzzlement.
"I've known Brenda forever, she's a diamond. I hear she's got a couple of rooms free at the mo and it beats bein' on the streets. Just tell her I sent yer and you'll be well in."
Confusion turned to bitterness and hurt. She'd let her guard down, trusted him, and he'd turned out to be bent, just like all the others. How stupid was she?
"A knockin' shop. So what's the arrangement between you an' her, then? She greases yer palm to turn a blind eye? Or is it payment in kind? You coppers, yer all the bloody same."
Her mouth twisted with scorn as she spat out the last sentence and waited for his justifiable rage to visit itself upon her. His calm reply caught her completely off-guard.
"Yer right, Brenda and I do have an 'arrangement', of sorts."
She gaze flew to meet his and she was surprised to see amusement in his eyes rather than anger. He shrugged.
"We both like a flutter on the gee-gees but it's not really the done thing for a woman to go into the bookies, so if she spots some form in the Racin' Post, she gives me a bell and I put the bet on for her. Sometimes call round there on a Saturday afternoon to watch it on the telly with her. If she loses, I get tea and Garibaldis. If she wins, she breaks out the single Malt. Suits us both fine."
Lily wasn't often lost for words, but he'd completely blind-sided her this time. She opened her mouth and closed it again, struggling to form a suitable reply.
"Seems I might've misjudged yer. Sorry."
He smirked.
"No 'arm done. And I doubt you'll be the last. Just promise me yer'll go and see Brenda as soon as you get out o' here."
She sighed in resignation.
"Alright, I promise. Happy?"
The smile, when it came, was both unexpected and genuine. It lit up the cell, and her stomach fluttered oddly in response. Must be lack of food, she thought.
"You got anywhere to be tonight? It's late, probably best if yer stay over and give a description in the mornin'. I'll see you get some blankets and a hot meal."
She raised a quizzical eyebrow, touching her painful jaw gingerly.
"Any chance of a bowl of soup?"
He barked a laugh, turning towards the door.
"I'm sure that can be arranged. Go and see Brenda tomorrow, I promise yer won't regret it."
And then he was gone, and the cell seemed somehow empty without his larger-than-life presence.
….
.
Not very festive as yet, I know, but I promise that will change in the next few chapters. Hope you enjoyed anyway! If so, do leave a review, it always makes my day. :)