'Janet' continued... hankies at the ready? Or possibly guns, because you may want to kill me after this. ENJOY ;')

"I know. I know. I'm sorry. But you don't understand, Rachel, and I'm not sure you ever really will, even if I explain all night. It was too complicated. I was just a child myself."

"Oh, let's all feel sorry for Janet. Poor, poor whore."

Janet slumped down too, all the colour suddenly drained from her cheeks. And despite herself, Rachel felt sick because Janet looked so upset.

She was her best friend. And she was her mother. How could she ever comprehend that? The two most important people in a human being's life, both the same person, both bitches.

"He called me that."

"What?"

"He called me the whore. When... look, I've never told you about my family, about my childhood, have I?"

"I think I've got a pretty clear picture now."

"No, just let me speak," she pleaded, "Look, I was just a kid. My dad was an alcoholic – like yours, like my... Mum was dead, I never had anyone to look out for me. I had to make my dad's meals, I had to clean the kitchen and do the dishes and hang out the washing on the line. I had to pour his beer down the drain, and he'd hit me for that. Or just throw up all over me."

Rachel nodded.

"And I had to find a way to pay for things. To pay for food, to pay for my school uniform. I... I tried to get a job, washing things in a hotel. I tried. But there was a guy... you know, the usual story. His house was so warm and dry, and I had proper food there, and all I had to do was close my eyes and block out the pain – in the morning, I had my money."

"How old were you?"

"Eight, nine."

"Christ."

They sat there in silence, and Rachel became aware that Janet was crying again, harder this time, still not making a sound as the tears flooded down her cheeks, though. Maybe she'd learnt over time that pain had to be quiet, private. Nobody else cared.

"After a while, it wasn't just him. It was lots of them. I sort of... I was never a bad girl, not really. I loved school – I loved English, spent my time reading. It was like escaping, because home was shit, and the nights were shit too. So long and lonely, even though the room was full of them. I was alone."

"Didn't your dad care?"

"Do you remember your dad?"

She shrugged.

"No. He didn't care about anything by then, except where his next pint would come from. Hospitals, drinking the hand sanitiser, all of that. Absolutely bloody desperate."

"What happened?"

"I got pregnant, with Alison. I just... you and Dom as well. I should've just run, but I needed the money even more with a baby, and I never learnt from my mistakes, never do, really. It's just... God, God... I'm so sorry."

"You've kept this to yourself, all your life?"

"Yep."

"Christ."

Janet buried her head in her hands; her voice was muffled when she spoke again. "I'm sorry. I had to... I just couldn't do it any more. I'd stood on the top of the car park – I'd wanted to jump. But I was too much of a coward, I couldn't even end my life. I couldn't stay. I just thought... I thought if I cleaned my life up, if I made something of myself, got a job, got a house, got a life... I thought maybe, one day, I could come back and see you again."

"So you..."

"I loved you, Rach. I loved all of you, and it was the hardest decision of my life to walk away, and I really mean that. And I have never, ever woken up in the morning not thinking of you, and not regretting what I did. But it was the right decision. We would all be dead if I'd stayed, because I'd probably have thrown all three of you off the building before jumping myself, in the end, and... I just... I'm so, so sorry."

"It's okay."

"No, it's not okay."

"I... I..." Rachel stuttered.

She'd moaned ever since she'd met Janet about how shit her childhood had been, how much of a selfish bitch her mother had been, how she'd got here alone, not because of anyone else. That was all she'd ever talked about.

And Janet was that selfish bitch, and she'd never, ever talked about her childhood, and Rachel's was nothing in comparison, because what was a bit of a hard time with an alcoholic compared to being repeatedly raped for years?

"My dad..."

"He wasn't your dad. There was no way I would leave you... I wouldn't..." she mumbled, "He was my only friend, and I trusted him, and in the end he let me down too, he got pissed, but he still tried to look after you, and I think it was my fault he ended up like that anyway, because it's a little bit difficult to look after three kids alone when their mother's run off, really, isn't it?"

"He... he wasn't that bad. He loved us."

"Yeah. Of course he did. He was like your father whilst I was around; he looked after me, he was a good guy. He gave up his life for me really, for us, to look after you and Al and Dom. I suppose everyone has their downfall, in the end."

Janet had done everything on her own. Had three children alone, made all of her decisions alone. And she had got here; she hadn't jumped off a building, she'd become someone who talked people down from suicide. The contrast, the irony, made Rachel feel truly, deeply sick.

"I'm sorry," Janet whispered again.

"It's okay. It'll be okay."

They hugged. Rachel rocked her mum – her best friend – in her arms, and she felt her shoulders shake, her tears dribble down, dampen everything. Those men in the bar, laughing drunkenly about prostitutes – they'd been right, hadn't they? Christ.

Gill... Graham, Jack... Kevin.

"Kev," she said when he answered, and suddenly she was sobbing too, unable to create a sentence, "Kev... we..."

"Hey, Rach, what's happened?"

"Outside... we're... please..."

"Okay, Rach, come on, calm down. What's happened? Weren't you meeting your mum tonight? Are you okay?"

"I... we're at the pub. Can you... can you please..."

"Yeah. Yeah, I'll be there in two minutes," he told her, and she heard the rattling of car keys and the slamming of a door, "It's okay. It'll be okay, yeah?"

Maybe things weren't okay at the moment, but Kevin would make them okay, wouldn't he? Kevin always made everything okay. And tomorrow, like all the rest, was another day.

XxXxX