Sweet Home

by Wendy Erskine

  Emma had worked as a cleaner before, hoovering up other people’s whatnot, hair and skin and the like. You’d just wiped their thickened piss from under the toilet seat, she had observed, and there they were, clutching their purse, how much do I owe you, giving you their tatty little note and some change, like they were the duchess. Hard not to laugh. You’d have to think about something really boring like a potato so you didn’t laugh. At Gavin and his wife’s place there was an alarm system and Emma had to key in five digits. The first time she went there, she wondered what had happened to all of their stuff because at home they had more crammed into their front room than there was in this entire place. It was empty as a church. The huge fruit bowl had a tower of apples, really green and shiny. Emma dusted the fruit, and if any of the apples were not looking so good, she replaced them with others from the fridge, taking care that they went back in exactly the same position. There was great suck on their vacuum cleaner, though. Powerful. When you opened their hot press, there were stacks of towels, all the same colour, folded in rows. Back at home Emma and Bucky just shoved the towels any way into a cupboard. One time she had shouted to Bucky when she was drying Carl, bring me a towel would you and he had yanked out a Carlsberg towel. I’m not drying the baby with that, not a Carlsberg towel. You’re just being a dick, he had said. It’s still a towel. Carlsberg or not. The woman’s clothes hung on wooden hangers. There was a nice clink as they hit off each other. Rows of grey trousers. Rows of grey jackets. She wouldn’t even think about trying them on.

  One day when he was going into the kitchen to get himself something, the man Gavin said, Doing a good job there. Just let me know if I’m in your road. She’d thought, it’s your house pal. I’m the one in the road. He had asked her if she wanted a coffee. No you’re alright, she had said. And then she had added, my wee fella’s sleeping upstairs in your spare room, is that okay? He had said that was fine.

  In the people’s centre there was a small library, housed on the second floor. Pod chairs and geometric white plastic created a sci-fi aesthetic which made the books seem relics from ancient antiquity. All Gavin seemed to be able to find were cookery books and biographies, mainly sports related. They were to the left and to the right. He had to call the woman over. Christ, he said. All I’m wanting to find are a few children’s books. She pointed over to the corner with the cushions.

  It had been two months since Emma had started as the cleaner. What had begun to irk Gavin was the amount of time that little kid spent in front of the TV watching saccharine US animations. He sat straight-backed on the floor with the curtains closed, mesmerised by the stuff. It couldn’t be good for language acquisition and development. And Emma there: don’t do that. Gonna kill you if you do that again. He wondered about the kid’s diet. He wasn’t judgmental, he would happily eat a takeaway every night of the week, but children needed something better. Every week the kid arrived at the house eating a packet of Wotsits. Emma would quickly take them from him before they came in, but Gavin had seen. She sometimes gave him another bag when they were leaving. He had seen that too.

  The next time they were there, Gavin was in the sitting room. Look what I found! he said to Carl, showing the books. You want to have a story? Emma needn’t worry; he would keep an eye on Carl. It’s no problem, he said. Seriously, no problem at all. Between the bouts of the hoover she could hear Gavin reading, putting on all of the voices.

  Later that night, Emma and Bucky were having a drink after Carl had been put to bed.

  What do you reckon to that Gav then? Emma said.

  Oul Gav’s alright.

  You think so?

  I do, he said.

  Okay.

  Why you asking? Bucky said.

  It’s just, oh nothing.

  Nothing what? asked Bucky.

  Nothing.

  It’s just, you don’t think he’s one of them paedos do you?

  Nah, said Bucky. Gav? No way. Absolutely no fucking way.

  He reconsidered. Well you never know, he said. Remember that fella—

  Yeah, I know who you mean before you even say it, the guy that ran the old shop? Exactly Bucky. Who would’ve thought?

  Why you think Gav’s a paedo? he asked.

  Dunno.

  You just can’t think it for nothing. Must be something.

  Well, I’ll tell you what it is, said Emma. It’s just that he was sitting reading stories to Carl pretty much the whole time I was round there. And it was just the two of them in the big room. Kept an eye on it like. You know, I knew what was happening.

  Right okay, Bucky said. Carry on.

  No but that’s it, said Emma. That’s it.

  Well, said Bucky after some consideration, I wouldn’t be worrying. Thing is, look, what it is, he had a kid himself one time that died. Wee girl, died of one them things. Can’t remember what it’s called, one of them illnesses kids die of. Don’t know what. He told me about it one night.

  Oh Jesus, said Emma. She could see the little girl on a website, sad smiling photos, all the tributes underneath and the little candle emojis.

  Yeah, well. Tough like.

  What was the wee girl called?

  Think it was Orla, Bucky said. One of those sort of names.

  Aw that’s nice, said Emma. Orla. Poor wee girl.

  God love him, Emma said, he’d even gone and got a load of books from the library for him and everything. God help the poor fella.

  Well, there you go, said Bucky.

  So, hold on a minute. That means that your woman had a kid?

  Yeah.

  Fuck’s sake!

  The rooms in the new house were high-ceilinged with rococo cornicing. Although the grates were empty, most of the rooms had ornate fireplaces. An old house, it creaked. As Susan lay awake at night, she heard the floorboards relax to a restful position. The room where she worked was painted white and she could walk its perimeter in thirty-seven steps. The view from the window was of the path straight down below, although it was partially broken by a large, thick-leaved bush. That bush. It was aggravating, where it was. It would be impossible to avoid that bush and it was the only window. She needed to get a new laptop because working on the plane required something smaller than her present model. Deadlines in the diary, all underlined.

  She didn’t need Emma to come in here because she could clean it herself. If the child was there, she wouldn’t come downstairs. One day she’d discovered it sleeping in the spare room. It was lying on its back in the middle of the bed, head turned to the side. Why did it live and her own child die? She hated the curve of its cheek and its socks, one of them half off, the slow rise and fall of its chest. She sat down on the bed beside it and laid a hand on its ankle. It felt warm. Its cheeks puffed a little as it breathed out and on its lips there were flecks of something orange that it had eaten. It would thrive, this child. It would make its sturdy progress. It would love and hate and grow old.

  Emma was standing at the door.

  I thought I heard a noise, Susan said.

  Right.

  And they both looked at the sleeping child.

  Is that you nearly finished, Emma? Susan said, standing up.

  I still need to hoover downstairs.

  Well, I better not keep you back.

  Susan closed the door quietly behind her.

  When Emma had told Bucky she was pregnant, when she’d waved that little stick around, he wasn’t unhappy. It was just one of those things. She wasn’t the best, but she wasn’t the worst. They’d got a place together and it was fine, although not as good as being at his ma’s house. Things were better washed and better cooked there. It was a bit disappointing he had to admit to have to narrow everything down to one woman. He always liked attention. Manual job like his meant he was always in decent shape. Sometimes he caught the women gawping out at him. Objectify away, love, objectify, on you go. Especially if you’re good looking. Not the old grannies, Jesus, yuck, but a couple of bored lonely housewives getting their garden
s done, one or two of them of whom were reasonably hot? Most of the time it wasn’t sunny enough to have the top off but it didn’t deter him. He’d throw his head back, glug his can of coke slowly. Gav’s wife though: one time he had seen her dark head in the kitchen and then later on up in one of the back rooms. He couldn’t think that she wasn’t watching him. Gav could do with losing some weight, that wadge of fat sitting on top of his belt. Bucky had started messing about with the hose, holding it in various poses, and then, accidentally on purpose had squirted it all over himself, a bit male stripper. He came into the kitchen dripping wet, beads of water on a hard tanned chest.

  Towel, Susan said, holding it out with one hand while continuing to work at the table.

  Thanks, Bucky said. He made a bit of an attempt to caress himself with the check tea towel but she didn’t see.

  Hose malfunction, said Susan.

  A woman was at the backwash, getting her scalp bleach rinsed off. It was proving stubborn and the water kept running cold. It was Emma who was doing the rinsing. She still worked for Gav and Susan during the week, but she’d started doing one evening and a Saturday at the hairdresser’s. She occasionally said to the woman to move her head back a bit, but most of her chat was with the girl beside her who was working up spectacular suds. So the woman says to me, Emma said, the woman I work for, she says, is cleaning what you want to do your whole life? Well no, I says, I got a childcare qualification. Oh, she says, is that so? Maybe Gavin should try to get that qualification too. He’s got enough experience. I thought why you getting at me, cos, you know, she was slagging me because Gavin her husband sometimes looks after my kid when I go round. Nobody asks him to. He just does.

  So what you say?

  He’ll need to wait till September if he wants to do NVQ level 2. That’s when the enrolment is. She shut up then. But thing is she got me thinking what do I want to do and that’s why I’m here. Excuse me love but could you keep your head back? Yeah, that’s better. I could just see me owning my own salon eventually. Everything really like, mauve and gold.

  What’s her hair like, your woman that was doing all the slabbering?

  Just, just kinda boring. Wee sort of crap bob. She doesn’t really bother much.

  The scalp bleach had dried out too much. It was hard to get it to shift. Emma rolled her eyes at the girl who had finishing rinsing away the suds. Why couldn’t your woman keep her fucking head back?

  The basalt cladding of the town’s biggest gallery was already coming loose; the building was covered in thick net and strong hoarding to protect those passing from falling stones. A lump of basalt could kill. As she and Gavin went in, Susan looked to the top of the building where it met the sky. Every time they came to this place on a Saturday, their morning for going into town, Gavin made the same comment. Jeez, what a mess. Who designed this? Falling apart at the seams. It wasn’t to do with the architects, Susan pointed out, it was the nature of the stone that had been sourced.

  Yeah right, said Gavin.

  Gavin’s head was sore and he had made plans to visit his mother in the afternoon. Bucky had been round yesterday and after he’d finished it had been the usual, except that a friend of Bucky’s ended up there too. This friend had a lot of good grass with him and they had smoked late into the night. Gavin woke on the sofa in the morning. Bucky’s friend was an interesting guy who certainly had a lot of stories to tell. He seemed to know some very interesting people. Sitting outside as the sun went down a glorious pink, listening to music, smoking, it all felt real. And very, very cool.

  Rock hard jet of total nonsense, said Gavin. Total bullshit. Do you not think Susan? What you’re reading on the wall there. Steady rock hard stream of rubbish.

  Meaningless conceptualising from a fucking collective, a dopey bunch of practitioner ponces. That’s why the place was empty apart from Susan and him. He had noticed though, that on the floor below, there was a kids’ section, where the paintings they had done were clipped with pegs to a washing line strung from one wall to the other. He wondered if he should bring Carl here. Bit far maybe.

  There’s art classes at the people’s centre, you know, said Gavin.

  Yeah? said Susan.

  Oh yes, said Gavin. Very varied programme of stuff. There’s mindfulness classes on all the time. Slimming clubs. A lot of very, very fat people around. Sometimes the kids use the big meeting space to play football. Saw it the other day when I called in. Well, I say football, it was actually a cushion they were using. Having fun anyway. Having a laugh. From your dim and distant past, do you recall that?

  I recall, said Susan, that you used to be less of a prick.

  Oh wow, how spirited, Gavin said. Bravo.

  He’d been floating on wads of cloud but it was just the duvet over his face. Now awake Bucky lay there waiting for Carl noises, Carl movements but there was only the TV going downstairs. Half ten though: he needed to get up. Emma had left over an hour ago. But no matches, no chip pan fires, no swigging the caustic soda, wee Carl was happy enough watching his programmes. Today he was meant to go to Lurgan with Dale. He didn’t feel like it, didn’t really want to, but he would get some cash for going and all he needed to do was sit in the car. He’d be back before Emma but he didn’t really want to bring Carl. He would grab something to eat and see if his ma was in. Last night had been alright but Bucky wished he hadn’t said to Dale to come along. So I just turned round and I says. Most of Dale’s life seemed to have been spent just turning round. Dale had a gun. The week before he went with Dale and some of his crowd away up the coast to a big forest park, pine trees really tight and close. They were there to shoot a deer. In all that dark and all those trees Bucky never thought they’d find one but they did. Bucky could remember when the lights were shining on it and it knew it was going to die. They slung it in the boot afterwards and it didn’t seem so very big at all. But even so, Dale would have had a hard-on when he shot it. No butchers or restaurants wanted it. Why would they? Dale coming in with that thing.

  There was no answer at Bucky’s mother’s. She would be down the town by now, buying her Saturday stuff. He could always ring Dale and say look mate, it just doesn’t really suit, but he didn’t really want to do that. It wasn’t out of the question to take Carl with him, although he doubted Dale would have a car seat. He could always try Gav, he supposed.

  It was Susan who answered the door.

  Hi ya, Bucky said. Don’t suppose I left my wallet here last night? Can’t seem to find it.

  Come in and have a look, she said.

  Gav was just taking off his coat in the kitchen. Hey! he said. How’s it going? You just caught us. We’re just back from the town. You want a cup of tea? How you doing wee man? Carl was waving at him from the buggy.

  No mate, no. You’re alright. I’m just looking for my wallet. Didn’t leave it here?

  Not seen it.

  Maybe it’s in the house then. I’ll need to have another search before I take a spin down to Lurgan.

  Oh right. Lurgan.

  Yeah. Bucky sighed. Better shoot to be honest. Having to bring this wee guy with me though. Emma’s working at the hairdressers. Hope he’s not going to get carsick. Right old journey that. Nothing else for it though is there wee lad?

  Well, said Gavin, we’re not doing anything. I’m not doing anything. Leave him here.

  Does that mean you are going to cancel visiting your mother today? she said.

  Bucky said, Aw no now. I couldn’t do that. Couldn’t leave him if you’ve got things on.

  Well, Gavin said, doesn’t need to be today. It’s not set in stone. Could still go later anyway if I want.

  You sure now? Only be an hour or so, two hours tops now, Bucky said as he left.

  The child was lifted out of the buggy. It looked round the kitchen as Susan looked at the buggy, its folded plastic hood.

  Why don’t you take the child to see your mother? Susan asked.

  Why would I do that?

  She might enjoy seeing
a child.

  I doubt Carl would like it. It’d probably scare him. All those wizened faces. Place stinking of piss. Anyway, we’re going to head out. You fancy a walk, Carl? Course you do. Where’s that jacket?

  Gavin had bought Carl a coat. No massive largesse, didn’t want to embarrass anyone, it was just a plastic mac. There had been a couple of times when Carl had been at the house with nothing and it had been raining. He zipped it up carefully. They wouldn’t take the pushchair. It was too annoying getting it in and out of shops. They would look at the waving lucky cat in the Chinese takeaway, go to the toy aisle in Wyse Byse, buy some streamers in the party shop, get an ice cream, have some lunch in the cafe.

  The woman had parked her car to drop some clothes in at the charity shop and then she had gone to the bakery for an apple tart which she put on the passenger seat. As she was pulling out of her parking space she noticed a young child walking with his grandpa. They both had ice creams. As with all these things, it happened so quickly, the child saw something, maybe a balloon that floated away, or a funny looking dog on the other side of the road, and so he had broken free and dashed away. The child caused the woman to brake and down went the apple tart onto the floor. But the child scooted on into the road where he collided with a white van which sent him arcing into the air before he landed in the middle of the road. The woman in the car was the first to phone emergency services and the ambulance was there within minutes. A crowd gathered round, shocked and excited. Someone who had just bought a throw for their sofa pulled off the plastic wrap and placed the fake fur softly over the child. The howls of the man were what everyone said they’d remember. He sounded like an animal.