Home Truths

by Susan Lewis

  Eventually, after watching something happen on his screen, he got up and disappeared through a door at the back of the hall marked Staff Only.

  As more minutes ticked by panic started building inside her, and suddenly fearful that he was sending someone to the school to seize her children, she found herself running across the hall to bang on the door. ‘You can’t do this to people,’ she shouted furiously. ‘It’s inhuman making us wait, playing with our lives …’

  ‘You’re causing a disturbance,’ a security guard informed her. ‘Please sit down or we’ll have to ask you to leave.’

  Turning abruptly away, she said, ‘It isn’t your money so why do you treat people like this?’

  Ignoring her question, he watched her return to the pod before going back to his station.

  Her eviction notice was still next to the clerk’s computer. She wanted to beg someone to make this stop, but all she could do was suffer the humiliation and wait.

  In the end the thin man came back, and still failing to look her in the eye he said, ‘I’m afraid we can’t help you …’

  ‘What are you talking about?’ she cried in shock. ‘I’ve got children …’

  ‘… at this time. Your tenancy is not yet at an end so your case is not urgent. You also have family in the area. You could arrange to stay with them.’

  ‘If I do that my sister will be thrown out for overcrowding. For God’s sake, is it your intention to put families on the streets? You have an obligation …’

  His hand went up to stop her. ‘If you’ll let me finish. The records are showing that we should have a two-bedroomed house available six weeks from now …’

  ‘You’ve seen the date on that notice. That’ll leave us with nowhere to go for over three weeks.’

  ‘Perhaps you can make arrangements with your sister and her landlord to allow the children to stay with her.’

  ‘And what about me?’ she cried shrilly. ‘What do you suggest I do?’

  As though she hadn’t spoken, he said, ‘If it turns out that your sister is unable to accommodate the children you will need to come back so we can refer the matter to children’s services.’ He sorted out a leaflet from the racks next to his desk. ‘There’s a lot of helpful information here,’ he told her, unfolding it, ‘this is the number to call to make an appointment concerning your children.’

  She wanted to yell at him, even punch him, tell him he couldn’t treat her like this, but the prospect of children’s services had silenced her.

  ‘You already have a case number,’ he reminded her. ‘I will add details of our meeting today to the file and put a notice on the property I mentioned to signify your interest. I’m afraid I can’t guarantee that someone with a more urgent need won’t supersede you in the queue.’

  Snatching the leaflet, she stuffed it in her bag and turned away. A sea of faces blurred and swayed in front of her as she left, people in their own dire straits watching her with sympathy and dismay, who knew better than to make a scene the way she had because it would get them precisely nowhere.

  Never having felt so powerless, she walked out of the building and across the road to the car park where she’d left the van. It had cost her almost five pounds in parking to have it confirmed that she was just a case number with notes being added to a file.

  As she got into the driver’s seat she had no clear idea of what she was going to do next. For the moment she couldn’t think, couldn’t make herself function at all, until finally she was able to remind herself that falling apart wasn’t an option when she had two children who needed her.

  CHAPTER THIRTEEN

  Feeling as though the visit to the housing department had just about crushed her, Angie sorely needed the cuppa Emma was making to help restore some life to her soul.

  ‘What I have to sort out now,’ she said as Emma passed her a steaming mug of builder’s brew, ‘is how I’m going to break this to the children.’ Tears stung harshly at her eyes. ‘I’ve gone about this in totally the wrong way,’ she said shakily. ‘I should have asked for help as soon as I missed the first month’s rent, and I should have been honest with Grace and Zac from the start. I mean, they know things are tight, but once they realize how bad it’s become … It’s going to be almost as awful for them as losing their father, in a way it might even be worse, and I’m completely to blame.’

  ‘Don’t be so hard on yourself,’ Emma soothed. ‘It’s not your fault you were left without any money for all that time when they changed over to universal credit, and how could either of us have known that it would lead to this?’

  Registering the paleness of her sister’s face, and the angst in her eyes, Angie felt even worse for bringing all this worry into their lives. ‘I have to find more work,’ she said hoarsely. ‘I need to be more open-minded, take anything I can get …’ She turned to her computer and opened up Google. ‘I heard there might be some night shifts going at the online packing depot out on the ring road,’ she said, ‘but it’ll mean you having the children …’

  ‘You know I will, but is working nights a good idea? You need to sleep sometime and you’re already covering shifts for half the neighbourhood …’

  ‘Which is hardly going to help pay off my debts.’

  ‘A night shift won’t either, but let’s not discuss it now. We need to stay focused on today and whether you want me to be there when you tell the children about the house.’

  As a sickening jolt brought her back to reality Angie took a breath, trying to weigh it up.

  ‘I think I should be,’ Emma told her. ‘I can reassure them that we’re going to tackle this as a family.’

  Angie smiled and nodded, knowing that of course Emma would be there for them all, she’d never doubt it, but she couldn’t depend on her completely. She needed to take more action herself, and if she was going to get one of the night shifts she must respond quickly.

  Once her application was in she switched screens ready to get on with BtG work, for the last thing she needed was to lose the one regular job she had. ‘Have we heard anything from Dougie or Mark Fields about whether they got the jobs at the building site?’ she asked, thinking of Martin Stone and wondering what he might be doing today.

  ‘Actually, we have,’ Emma confirmed. ‘I got a call from someone called Cliff Mercer. Right charmer, he was. He said he’s willing to take on a couple of our losers – yes, he actually called them that, prick – so I’ve let Dougie and Mark Fields know that they’re in.’

  ‘That’s good,’ Angie murmured, feeling glad to have a chance to thank Martin for making this happen. ‘I’m sure they’ll be pleased. I should find out how Craig got on with his interview at the care home.’

  ‘Hamish rang earlier. Apparently they quite liked him and they’re going to be in touch.’

  Emma watched Angie drop her head into her hands, and understanding how overwhelmed she was feeling she said softly, ‘Why don’t you go home? I can cope here and when I’m done I’ll come and give you a hand with … things.’

  Realizing Emma was referring to the packing that needed to be started, Angie felt herself recoiling from the horror of it. She couldn’t even think of how to begin, much less where she was going to put everything or how she was going to pay for storage while they waited for their new place to come free.

  Maybe something else would come up between now and then that they could move into straight away.

  Her eyes closed against the resistance that was building to a pitch inside her. She didn’t want to leave Willow Close. She just couldn’t give up the home she loved so much.

  Before Angie left, Emma said, ‘Let’s all have tea at mine later. We can pop round the corner to pick up some fish and chips, the kids always like that, and I don’t know when you last ate, but I’ll bet it wasn’t any time this week.’

  Angie forced a smile. ‘It’s not quite that bad,’ she assured her, but it was bad enough, for in truth she couldn’t actually remember when she’d last eaten, or even when she’d l
ast had an appetite.

  When Angie got to the van she decided to send a brief email to Martin before going anywhere else. Thanks very much for stepping in to help my residents. I shall warn them they’ll have me to deal with if they let you down. Angie Watts.

  She didn’t expect a reply straight away, nor did she get one.

  Instead of driving home she parked the van in a side street not far from the church and caught a bus to Temple Fields, the district, not the estate. With fares to anywhere in town being only a pound she’d save some money on petrol by making the journey to the pawnshop this way.

  As she passed through the labyrinth of terraced houses that spread down over the hill towards the seafront, she was recalling how her mother had once tried to explain to her and Emma that bad things could happen to good people. The subject had come up because of something on the news that day – Angie was sure it was about Nelson Mandela being released from prison. She and Emma were aged around eight and nine at the time, and were bewildered by why someone so important and who everyone said was a hero had ever been locked up in the first place. The memory of how her mother had tried to explain apartheid had gone, but later, when she’d succumbed to cancer the words had come back to Angie.

  Bad things – and cancer was one of the worst – can happen to good people.

  For no rational reason her thoughts moved to the woman with dark hair whom she’d seen at Asda filling the foodbank box.

  She doubted very much that the woman had ever been inside a pawnshop, but how could she know that for sure? If she had, Angie suspected it would probably have been to buy something that had caught her eye, a collectable, or something precious that had belonged to her cleaner, or a luckless friend who’d just confessed some kind of hardship. She only wished that she had someone to come along after to her to buy back her wedding ring and the treasured locket that had belonged to Steve’s mother which she was about to sell. They were her last possessions of any real value, and handing them over left her feeling so bereft that it was as though she’d parted with her very soul.

  When she re-emerged from the shop ten minutes later with less than a hundred pounds in her purse, she was so upset by the exploitation of her misery that it was hard to look calm as she crossed the busy street to the bus stop. Still, at least she could pay for the fish and chips tonight. She could also put some petrol in the van, and just to buoy her a little further, when she checked her phone she found she’d had a reply from Martin.

  Hope it works out for them. Are you really terrifying? Do I need to be worried? M

  Laughing, she typed a quick message back, Completely terrifying. Ask anyone and she added four smiley faces.

  She was still feeling good as she boarded the bus, but it wasn’t long before she began focusing on what else she needed to do with her ninety-four pounds. To begin with she should drive into town to buy Zac the school shoes he needed. And then she wondered if she should give them to him before, or after, she dropped the bombshell that would shatter his young life all over again.

  Zac stared at his mother in confusion. His small, freckled face, with his father’s deep blue eyes and his mother’s permanently rosy cheeks, was showing his struggle to understand what she’d just told him.

  ‘We have to leave this house,’ she’d said softly. ‘I know you won’t want to, but I need you to be brave and to start thinking about what you’d like to take with you.’

  There was nothing in any parental guidebook she’d ever seen to advise on the best way to do this, nothing that had gone before in her life to warn her that one day this was where she would be.

  She wondered where Zac’s thoughts were going now, how fractured they might be, how frenziedly they were darting between his special bedroom, his toys, gadgets, video games and collection of football magazines. Maybe they were in the chill-out shed his dad had built in the garden so the children had somewhere to take their friends on rainy days for sandwiches and cartoons on the specially installed TV. Maybe they were across the street on the green where he played football and rounders; sang carols at Christmas and fished for sticklebacks in the stream most summers. There were so many things he wouldn’t be able to take with him, so much of his past that was here and had shaped him as a boy, shaped them all as a family.

  She glanced at Emma and received a small smile of encouragement.

  Zac said shakily, ‘Will I still go to the same school?’

  Angie nodded and smoothed a hand over his messy hair. ‘Probably,’ she replied. ‘I hope so. We’ll definitely stay in Kesterly so we can always be near Auntie Em and the boys.’

  ‘You can stay with us any time you like,’ Emma told him. ‘You know how much you enjoy sleepovers in Jack’s room.’

  Zac’s troubled eyes went back to his mother. ‘Jack’s got Minecraft on his computer,’ he said, his words tripping on an awkward breath telling her how hard he was finding it to process this. ‘He lets us play it sometimes.’

  Aching for the way he was trying to salvage small pieces of the world that was crumbling around him, Angie said, ‘He told me you’re good at it.’

  Zac’s eyes moved to the front window, and following them Angie saw Grace coming across the footbridge towards the house. Her heart turned over in dread. She’d expected to be past the shock stage with Zac before talking to Grace, had hoped he might be upstairs with Emma by now, starting the big sort-out of what he wanted to take with him, but he was still right here on the sofa and Grace was putting her key in the lock.

  Angie watched her daughter come into the sitting room unwinding the blue knitted scarf she’d made herself. She seemed to be in a good mood, until registering the way she was being watched by her mother, her aunt and her brother, she came to a stop. Angie wondered why she was only noticing now how lifeless and endy her daughter’s beautiful hair had become; how it had almost changed colour to a faded, strawlike version of its natural honey tones. Was it the washing-up liquid they’d had to use instead of shampoo over the last months; the poor diet, though Angie tried hard to make sure the children had the right nutrients, the fact they couldn’t afford a proper hairdresser, or was it simply a lack of summer sun? It would be all of the above. Her clothes were faintly shabby too, a second-hand puffer jacket that didn’t quite fit her any more, and fake Ugg boots scuffed at the toe. With a heart-wrenching clarity she realized how hardship was blurring them all, taking away their colour, their verve, the very essence of who they really were.

  ‘What is it?’ Grace asked, staring wide-eyed at her mother.

  Before Angie could tell her to sit down, Zac said, ‘We have to leave this house,’ and running to her he circled his arms tightly around her waist.

  Angie watched Grace’s face, the way her complexion paled and her mouth tightened as she registered her brother’s words. Her eyes became dark and accusing as she glared at her mother.

  Angie started to speak, but to her dismay no words came. Using a thumb to rub the place where her wedding ring had been, as though seeking strength from Steve, she tried again, but Grace was tilting Zac away from her and looking down at him.

  ‘It’s OK. I’ll always be here for you,’ she told him in a tone that was more harsh than comforting.

  Angie felt the words like a slap in the face, and knew she’d been meant to. Her chest heaved with guilt-filled pain, and so much love and shame that she had no idea what to do or say.

  Emma said, ‘We’ll pull together as a family, sweetie. All of us need support right now, especially your mum, because she’s the one …’

  ‘… who got us into this,’ Angie finished. ‘I’m sorry, Grace. I didn’t mean … I thought … Grace!’ she cried as Grace turned into the hall, taking Zac with her.

  Emma put out a hand to stop Angie going after them. ‘She needs to feel angry and afraid, and she probably needs to hurt you too. But you know what she’s like, she’ll come round. She always does.’

  Angie didn’t argue; she was so knotted up in this terrible nightmare that she’
d lost all sense of what must come next. She could feel a terrifying distance creeping between her and her children, as if a gulf were opening up in their world with them on one side and her on the other.

  ‘I can’t lose them,’ she whispered to Emma.

  ‘You won’t,’ Emma said softly. ‘We’ll make sure of that.’

  ‘Grace is right to blame me. I should go and speak to her.’

  ‘Give her some time. Let her talk to Zac first. It’s what they both seem to need.’

  Angie swallowed hard and looked around the room. She felt sick and panicked, as everything that was left of what she and Steve had brought to this home, the things that hadn’t been sold or pawned, seemed to look back at her in sadness and with a need not to be thrown out or left behind. She knew it was crazy to see her furniture, the remaining photograph frames, the coffee table, bookcase and books as part of the family, but it was how they felt. They’d been specially chosen because they were wanted and admired and loved, and were still here, she had to admit, because they had no value to anyone else.

  Knowing she couldn’t allow herself to break down, that she had to stay strong for the children, and even for herself, she took Emma’s hand and held it between her own. ‘I need to decide what to do about the furniture,’ she said hoarsely. ‘We’ve got nowhere to store it, but we’ll need at least some of it when we get somewhere else.’

  ‘You can leave it here,’ Emma told her. ‘They won’t be able to sell it to cover your arrears, and the law says they have to keep it for a reasonable time. I don’t know exactly how long, but at least it’ll be safe for a while.’

  ‘He’ll charge me for storage,’ Angie said. She took a breath and brought Emma’s hand to her cheek. ‘I still have Steve’s and Liam’s things upstairs. I’ve never had the heart to …’