by K T Bowes
Chapter 3
The insistent knocking on the front door didn’t sound like anyone Emma knew and she stood just inside the hallway door, waiting.
“What ya waitin’ for, Mum?” Nicky whispered. “Is it the repo man?”
Emma snorted and held her arms out. “There’s nothing to take! Just go and hide in the cupboard in case it’s trouble.”
Nicky kissed the bottom of Emma’s back and skipped down the hallway, shutting himself quietly in the cupboard under the stairs. Emma watched as he closed the door tightly and then braced herself to open the front door.
The watery mid-afternoon sun glinted off the broken glass in the street, contrasting with the expensive black Mercedes Benz parked on her cracked driveway. Emma looked at the vehicle currently inviting much interest from her curious neighbours and swore. A crowd of people gathered around the pristine piece of engineering perfection, like zombies around a corpse.
“Nice welcome,” her visitor commented, leaning against the door frame with his hands in his pockets.
Emma paled and stared at Rohan open mouthed. “What the hell are you doing here?” she squeaked. “Are you trying to get me killed?”
“I’ll karate chop ‘im!” Nicky burst from the cupboard under the stairs waving his arms and kicking out with his legs.
“Bloody hell, it’s Harry Potter!” Rohan looked astounded.
Nicky stopped dead when he saw Rohan. “Oh. Are you a bit simple?”
“Pardon me?” Rohan’s brow knitted.
“Eugh. Did you fart?” Nicky stood next to Emma, putting his arm in front of her in a protective motion.
“Er, no.” The tall blonde man looked completely wrong footed. He stood up straight and took his hands out of his pockets. Half the rotten doorframe tumbled on to the frayed door mat and the rest stuck to the back of Rohan’s sweatshirt.
“I think he’s a bit simple, Mum. Look, he broke the door frame. Will I get Fat Brian to beat ‘im up?”
“No! Nobody needs to beat anyone up.”
“But he thinks Christmas is upside down and that I’m a magic boy. He can’t be normal. I’ll get Fat Brian.”
Nicky took a step towards the door and Emma grabbed hold of the back of his sweater. Nicky made exaggerated choking sounds. “Pack it in!” Emma warned him. “But yes, go and get Fat Brian, please. Tell him I’ve got a problem.”
“Seriously?” Rohan stood up to his full height, another piece of crumbling wood falling from the back of his clothing and landing on the floor. Emma counted four woodlice running for their lives. She knew how they felt. Rohan looked angry and the tell-tale vein pulsed in his neck. “I turn up to talk to you and you want someone called Fat Brian to beat me up?” He looked a mixture of dismayed and irritated.
Emma shook her head. “No! Don’t be ridiculous! How much cash have you got on you?”
Rohan’s jaw dropped. “What?”
“Rohan, will you just answer me?” Emma watched the crowd of onlookers edge closer to the shiny black car. He followed her gaze and opened his mouth to speak as a skinny man completely tattooed from forehead to waistband, tried the locked passenger door.
“About fifty quid,” he replied, sounding stunned. “Why?”
Nicky appeared at the end of the driveway, flanked by an elderly man with gang tattoos on his bare chest and swear words on his cheeks. Rohan hid a smirk at the unfortunate spelling mistake on his forehead. Fork off, was written in a beautiful font, but at the violence on the man’s face, the tall blonde man wiped all expression from his eyes, leaving a regimental nondescript mask.
“You all right, girl?” Fat Brian was so fat, he couldn’t get on the front step at the same time as Rohan and pushed past him, ridges of hairy flesh smelling of lager and cigarettes. His flaccid face and bulging eyes were inches from Emma’s delicate features. Rohan’s eyes widened in amazement as Emma kissed the man gently on the cheek.
“Thanks for coming, Brian.” She smiled. “I have a visitor and his car is becoming something of a problem. I wondered if you’d take care of it for me. He won’t be staying long.”
Fat Brian smiled, displaying two pink rows of gums. “Hell yeah!” He held his hand out towards Rohan with enthusiasm and the blonde man looked at Emma for a clue.
“Brian will take your car to his house until you want to leave,” Emma informed him helpfully. She jerked her head towards the wallet she knew he kept in the front pocket of his trousers and Rohan rolled his eyes and drew out a fifty pound note. He handed it reluctantly over and Brian put out his other hand.
“Erm...I...”
“Give Brian your keys,” Emma said nicely and smirked with enjoyment at the horror on Rohan’s face.
Rohan drew out the key fob and seemed to choke as he placed it carefully on the sweaty pink palm. “I’m assuming you’ve got a full licence?” he asked the man in front of him and Brian gave a beautiful smile.
“I don’t believe in corrupt political certification,” Brian stated with complete seriousness and Rohan watched him set off towards the crowd of forty people, all touching the expensive motor car.
Speechless, Rohan watched Brian start his car, rev it loudly a few times and screech off down the street. He opened his mouth numerous times but nothing came out. He shook his head at Emma and stayed on the step, looking in the direction his car was last seen.
“You might as well come in,” she sighed. “Turn around first though. You’re wearing half my dry rot on your sweater.”
“I really liked that car!” Rohan sounded heart broken and Emma laughed.
“You’ll get it back when you leave. I’ll send Nicky round to Brian’s and he’ll bring it back. That’s what the fifty quid was for. Safe keeping. Nobody will touch it on Fat Brian’s driveway.”
“Fat Brian likes my mum,” Nicky added helpfully. “When ‘is missus beats him up, he sleeps on our living room floor. Lots of people with nowhere to go do that, sleep on our living room floor. That’s why we’re protected by Fat Brian and lots of other people. Cause my mum’s right kind.” Nicky smiled in approval at Emma and she felt her heart give a little flip flop in her chest. The child observed the tall blonde man with open curiosity and his next question sent Emma’s brain scrambling. “Where’re you from? Your accent sounds like my...”
“Nicky?” Emma interrupted, jerking her head towards the hallway. “Please would you go and play in your room for a while, while I talk to the man?”
The six year old scoffed like an old man. “What wiv, Mum? Me sleepin’ bag?”
“Try, your homework!” she chided him and the boy pulled a face.
“Ok,” he said cheerfully. “Then will you test me?”
Emma smiled and nodded and the child climbed the rickety stairs, hands stuffed deep in his pockets. He stopped at the top and opened his mouth. Emma winced. “Oh, Big Jason said...”
“Thanks!” Emma stopped his repetition of something vile and waved him away.
Rohan looked utterly horrified by everything around him and Emma felt pity at the sight of his wide eyes and pale complexion. “You ok?” she asked kindly.
He shook his head. “You’re bringing up a child in a freakin’ war zone, Em! I was in the Helmand Province in Afghanistan and this makes it look like a bloody suburb of London!”
Emma laughed. “You get used to it eventually.” She turned away and walked towards the kitchen, muttering under her breath, “Or you kill yourself!”
Rohan stuck close to Emma down the hallway, almost walking on her heels. He did a lot of head shaking but to her relief, kept his extensive opinions to himself. Emma placed water into a saucepan and lit the gas hob. While she waited for it to boil, she put instant coffee into two mugs with a spoon left over from a spoon bending competition by the looks of the handle. She took a carton of milk off the windowsill and sniffed it, pulling a face and then adding it to the mugs. When the water boiled she added it to the mixture and handed Rohan the mug with less chips in the rim. He took it, his blue eyes never
leaving her face. “How did you find me?” she asked, leaning her backside against the battered work surface behind her. Rohan looked around for somewhere to sit, quickly realising there was no furniture.
“Do you not own anything?” he asked, disbelief in his voice.
Emma shrugged. “Things come and go really. Sometimes other people need things more. I owned a dining table for a while, but Marie up the road borrowed it for a family party. The party turned a bit nasty and it was collateral damage.”
Rohan gaped for a second and then closed his mouth, running his free hand across the lower half of his face. Emma heard the scratching sound of his blonde stubble on the palm of his hand and it sent a curious shiver through her body. “I asked how you found me.” An edge appeared in her voice and it made Rohan jump and bring himself back to the situation in hand.
“Frederik got your address from Susan,” he replied and Emma looked shocked.
“I don’t believe you!” She sounded aggressive and he looked surprised.
“Oh, she doesn’t know. He was my sergeant at Camp Bastion. It was a favour.”
“Great!” Emma plonked her mug down on the work surface, looking at the handle in surprise as it came off in her hand.
“Em, talk to me. What the hell happened? I got back and you were gone...”
Emma took a step away from Rohan, hardening her face and her heart. “Well, thanks for stopping by. Fat Brian lives at number forty-three. It’s only a three minute walk on foot and he’ll have put the word out. You should be fine.” Emma backed away further and Rohan put his mug down, ready for a fight.
He jumped when the sharp tapping came on the kitchen window. “What’s going on in there?” a muffled voice called through the curtainless glass. Rohan bridled at the sight of the tattooed face peering through the window, readying his fists and recalling his military drill.
“Go away, Big Jason!” Emma called to the ridiculously small man. “And I’ve told you to stop standing on my flower pots to see in the window!”
“Just looking out for ya, darlin’,” the tattooed mouth called, stepping back and disappearing with a cry of pain.
“He keeps doing that,” Emma sniggered and Rohan shook his head in disbelief.
“It’s a bloody circus for weirdoes,” he breathed and Emma laughed out loud.
“It kinda is, hey?” she snorted. “There’s Fat Brian and Big Jason. I’m the Bearded Lady!” She burst into raucous laughter and Rohan halted at her beauty in the incongruous surroundings. He shook his head in confusion.
Emma wiped her eyes and stared at Rohan. “Well, this is...awkward.” She sniggered again at the inappropriateness of the situation and he stared at her.
“Just come in here!” He seized her arm and led her out into the hallway, checking there were no windows they could be viewed through. Then he crushed her into his chest and stroked her hair. It caught Emma off guard and she forgot to resist, caught up in the moment and the heady sense of comfort she hadn’t felt for far too long. She smelled the clean scent of fresh linen and deodorant on Rohan, satiating herself with the essence of him before the God who surely hated her, snatched him away again and left her alone with her tiny son to fend for. Emma gasped as Rohan tilted her chin upwards and kissed her, wasting no time in turning her on and making her hot and bothered.
“No!” She pushed him away, leaning back against the plaster wall and hearing the clink as a piece of the lath behind fell into the cavity.
“Emma, is he my son?”
“Rohan, leave things the way they are, please?” Emma’s inner panic showed in the dilation of her pupils and the way she worried at her lower lip.
“No, I can’t. Why did you run away? My mother said...”
“Don’t talk to me about her!” Emma shouted, pushing at Rohan’s broad chest. “Don’t mention her name, not now! It’s taken me years to...to...” Emma’s breath caught and she lifted her hands to her face, covering her eyes in misery. She writhed with an inner agony and felt Rohan’s arms draw her in again, strong and comforting. “Please go,” she whispered. “I need you to go.”
Rohan lifted Emma’s chin and his face was a mask of confusion. “I don’t understand, Em. Please explain what the hell happened?”
“No.” Emma inhaled and wiped her weeping eyes with the sleeve of her ratty fleece. “It’s in my past and I’m not going there again. It’s best if you just leave. I don’t want to upset Nicky.”
“I’m already upset.” Nicky’s voice echoed in the empty hallway. He peeked around the top spindle, his face ashen. Emma exhaled as she heard a clunk on the wood above.
“Put the baseball bat down, Nicky!” she told him, running her sleeve across her eyes and nose before facing him properly. “I’m fine. Go back to your room, please.”
“No, I’m not going ‘cause you’re cryin’.”
“I’m not, baby, I’m absolutely fine. Honestly. Go and put the bat away and I’ll see if there’s anything nice in the cupboard for tea.”
“There isn’t.” Nicky stood up and dragged the bat slowly across the bare floorboards above. “I’ll put it back, but in a minute I’m comin’ down and if that man’s being mean to ya, I’m gonna chop ‘im.”
Rohan watched the space where Nicky had been and then dropped his gaze to Emma’s face. Emma saw the reflection of her empty house in his irises and bit her lip. “Em, come away with me?” he begged. “I’ve got room for you and the boy. Please? You can’t stay here.”
“No! I’ve got a job here and responsibilities. I can’t just leave on a whim.”
Rohan stuck out his chin and postured in front of her, his six feet and four inch bearing casting a shadow over Emma. “Well, I’m not leaving without you!” he stated with determination.
Emma giggled despite herself. “Don’t be ridiculous. There’s nowhere for you to stay.”
“I’m not leaving.” Rohan set his jaw, his blue eyes flashing dangerously.
Emma shrugged, tired with the battle. “Then you should probably visit a cash machine. Because if you don’t give Fat Brian another fifty tomorrow, he’ll start selling your car piece by piece!”