by Dave Cousins
Behind me, Jay suddenly shouts something and runs towards the boat. He plants his hands either side of the nearest porthole and thumps on the glass.
‘It’s Mum!’ he says, pointing at the window. ‘In there. I saw her!’
The silver-haired man looks ready to kill.
For a moment nobody says anything. Then we all hear the voice. It comes from the depths of the boat. Distant and drowsy, but loud enough …
‘Phil? Who’s out there? Who you talking to?’
My body jolts like a charge has passed through it.
‘It’s no one!’ shouts Phil, his eyes fixed on me.
But Jay heard the voice too. He’s beside me now, craning his neck to see into the boat.
‘Mum!’ he shouts.
There’s a noise—a clatter of stuff being knocked over—then Mum floats up out of the darkness. Her face is a pale skull with sunken eyes; her hair, ragged and greasy.
‘Mum?’ Jay’s voice is small and confused.
She stands at the hatch next to the silver-haired man, and puts a hand on his shoulder to steady herself. She peers at us, with a misty bemused expression on her face, wobbling slightly. It’s the Happy Hour Shake—she’s drunk.
‘Hello, Mum.’ The words scrape my throat.
She blinks at the sound of my voice and frowns. ‘Laurence?’
One word.
My word on her lips, and it seals an aching hole deep in my guts, and opens another in my chest. I feel heat slam into the back of my eyes, squeezing the tears out. I want to climb into the boat, jump into her arms and weep. I want her to stroke my hair, kiss my face and tell me that everything is going to be all right now. Mummy’s here. All better.
‘You’ve got kids?’ The silver-haired man turns to Mum, but she doesn’t seem to hear him. She’s climbing out of the boat with this big dopey smile on her face.
Mum laughs as she stumbles and almost falls over, then she’s standing on the grass in front of us.
‘My beautiful boys!’ she says, her arms wide open.
Jay hesitates for a second, then rushes forward and flings himself at her. Mum drops to her knees and wraps him in her arms, laughing and hugging him to her. She looks up and holds out a hand to me—her thin white fingers trembling in the air. I’m scared to touch her, scared she won’t be real. Then I reach out and she pulls me down, absorbing me into the crush of limbs, the smell of bodies and tears—and the sweet stink of booze.
Too soon she pulls away and sits back on her heels, her eyes shining. She looks at the silver-haired man watching us from the doorway.
‘Phil, look! My boys!’
Phil grunts and starts to roll a cigarette.
‘It’s really you,’ she says, wiping at her cheeks.
‘What are you doing here, Mum? Where have you been?’
For a second her eyes meet mine, then she turns to Jay. ‘Look at my Jay Jay! Haven’t you grown!’
Jay grins. ‘We’ve been to the fair! Laurence’s friend was sick! All down the man’s back!’
‘Mum.’ I try again.
‘The fair! That’s lovely!’ says Mum, pulling Jay onto her lap.
‘Mum! What are you doing here?’
Phil touches my shoulder. ‘Can I have a word.’
I leave Jay talking to Mum and follow him along the bank.
When we’re out of earshot, Phil stops and lights his cigarette. He blows a jet of smoke over my head, then offers me the tobacco. ‘Smoke?’
‘No … thanks.’
‘Good boy.’ He nods towards Mum and Jay. ‘She really your mum?’
‘Yeah.’
‘Where’s your old man?’
‘My dad’s dead.’
‘So who’s looking after you?’
‘No one.’
Phil narrows his eyes. ‘No one?’
I shrug. ‘How long’s she been here … with you?’
‘Couple of weeks.’ He takes a drag on his cigarette. ‘I pulled her out the canal you know.’
‘What?’
‘Yeah! Saved her life!’
My chest tightens. ‘When?’
‘Couple of weeks ago. Lucky I heard the splash. Then I see her come up over there.’ He nods towards the tunnel. ‘Thought I’d better go and pull her out.’
I can’t tell if he knows Mum was trying to kill herself, or if he thinks it was an accident.
‘Did you call an ambulance?’
‘Took her back to the boat. Got her dried off, warmed her up. Then she crashed out.’
‘Why didn’t you call an ambulance—or the police?’
Phil frowns. ‘Look, son! I told you—I sorted her out. It was the middle of the night. I let her sleep it off.’
‘And then what?’
‘What do you mean?’ His eyes darken.
‘What happened the next day! She’s been missing for two weeks!’
‘Is the Old Bill looking for her?’ Phil glances across the canal, as if he expects to see lines of police converging on us.
‘No.’
He grunts and sucks on the cigarette, then suddenly his face changes. A moment ago I would have sworn he looked worried. Now there’s something else, almost amusement. ‘You say she’s been missing for two weeks and you ain’t reported it?’
I’m not sure how much I should tell him, but then, I don’t suppose it matters now. ‘Nobody knows. I didn’t tell anybody.’
The beginnings of a smile twitch the corners of Phil’s mouth. ‘Why not?’
‘Because if I had, they would have taken us into care.’
‘Ah …’ He nods and flicks the end of his cigarette into the water.
‘Didn’t she tell you she had a family? Didn’t you wonder where she came from?’
‘What’s it got to do with me? I told you—she never said she had kids.’
I believe him.
‘Anyway, I thought you said you had a letter.’
I nod. I’d almost forgotten. ‘It’s for Mum.’
We walk back to where Mum and Jay are sitting together on the grass. I take the golden envelope out from under my T-shirt. It’s even more battered now, but it still glints in the sun. It still sings like the magical thing it is.
Mum gasps and runs her fingers across the envelope. ‘What’s this?’
‘Open it.’
She looks at me, then pulls up the flap, and a glossy Hardacre Holidaze folder lands in her lap.
‘It’s a holiday. I won it. An all-expenses-paid holiday in the sun.’
Mum turns the pages of the brochure in a daze, her head wobbling around like a bird’s. I can tell she still doesn’t understand.
‘It’s a holiday, Mum! A free holiday. You can go somewhere hot. It’s all paid for. I won it. For you!’
Her face screws up in concentration.’ A holiday? For me.’
‘Yeah!’
Mum strokes the brochure with her fingers, like she’s not sure it’s really there, then looks up at Phil. ‘See what my boy’s done!’ Her voice is cracking and I can see tears in her eyes—just how I pictured it—sort of. She holds up the brochure like a trophy. ‘A holiday! A free holiday! We can go anywhere we want!’ She turns back to me. ‘That’s right isn’t it?’
‘Yeah.’
Phil gives me a doubtful look, then takes the brochure from Mum.
‘We can go away, somewhere hot, by the sea!’ Her eyes are gleaming she’s so happy. ‘You could do with a holiday,’ she says, giving Phil’s trousers a tug.
Something hard slams into my chest. ‘No!’
Mum looks at me.
‘It’s for us!’
She frowns.
‘It’s for us. Just me, you, and Jay.’ I look up at Phil and shrug. ‘I’m sorry.’
He snorts and drops the brochure onto the grass.
The light is draining from Mum’s face. She looks dazed, like she’s just woken up and doesn’t know how she got here.
‘Mum? Are you OK?’
She pushes Jay off her lap and trie
s to get up, but stumbles and falls back onto the grass.
‘I think you’d better go now,’ says Phil, helping Mum to her feet.
‘What are you talking about? She’s coming home with us.’
Phil turns to Mum. ‘You want to go back with these two, Mags?’
She looks at me, and there are tears rolling down her face.
‘Mum, please! We need you.’
She’s shaking her head, backing away towards the boat.
‘Mum! Nelly’s called Social Services. If you don’t come back, they’ll put us into care!’
She stops, but she won’t lift her head to look at me. When she speaks, her voice is a whisper. ‘I can’t. I can’t do it any more. I’m sorry!’
‘Mum!’
The silver-haired man helps her into the boat, then turns back to me. ‘Looks like the lady wants to stay.’
‘But … she’s our mum!’
He shrugs. ‘So what? You’re telling me a big lad like you can’t survive without his mummy—is that it?’ Phil sighs. ‘Look, son—did you ever think why she didn’t come home? Why’s she’s been here all this time? It’s like she said—she can’t do it no more. She don’t want you … and neither do I.’
He climbs aboard the boat and closes the door. I hear the click and rattle of a bolt being drawn.
I turn around and Jay is standing there staring at the boat.
‘Come on, let’s go home.’ I hold out my hand to him.
‘What about Mum?’ he sniffs. ‘Is she coming?’
‘No.’
‘Why not?’
I sigh. I wonder how much he heard … or understood.
‘She wants to stay here for a bit longer, that’s all.’
‘Why?’
‘I don’t know. She just does.’
‘Will she come home soon though?’
‘Yeah! Course she will,’ I lie. ‘But until then it’s just me and you, OK?’
We cross the lock and start to walk back towards the tunnel, Jay watching the boat all the way.
‘We’ll be all right though—me and you,’ I say, in my best Kid’s TV Presenter Voice.
Jay sniffs and nods. ‘And Mina.’
‘Yeah—and Mina.’
‘Our gang, like Scooby-Doo,’ says Jay.
‘Yeah … something like that.’
Jay’s moaning that he’s hungry. He wants some breakfast. But there isn’t any food left and we’ve run out of money again.
The gold envelope is on the kitchen table. There’s a tear down one side now and grass stains to go with the sick. It’s just a shiny envelope. It doesn’t solve anything.
If Mum won’t come home it’s over.
I’ve been thinking that Jay might be better off without me and Mum anyway. He’d get fostered in no time—a proper family, the chance of a normal life. Once I’m sure he’s safe and happy somewhere, I could scarper. No one’s going to bother too much about me. I can pass for sixteen, easy—get a job and a room somewhere …
I don’t know if I’ve got the energy to carry on pretending.
The buzzer goes. I can hear muffled voices beyond the front door—Nelly and someone else—a man. So they’ve finally come. Social Services or the police? I don’t suppose it matters much who it is. They knock, making the chain rattle. I wonder … if I don’t answer, will they break down the door?
I sit on the lino at the end of the hall with my knees pulled up to my chest and wait. I watch the door, waiting for the noise—waiting for the paint to crack, the wood to split and buckle.
Nothing happens.
They’ve gone away.
I’m disappointed.
I go out onto the roof just in time to see Nosy Nelly emerge at the bottom of the steps by the Parade. She’s talking to a man in a denim jacket—our Friendly Neighbourhood Social Worker—it has to be. I watch as he shakes Nelly’s hand, then climbs into a red Citroën 2CV and drives away. He’s gone, but he’ll be back.
I should get some things packed, clothes and stuff, so we’re ready when he does. Maybe I should give Jay a bath and wash his hair. Nobody’s going to want to take him smelling like he does now. My throat tightens like a fist at the thought.
Don’t think, Laurence. Just do it.
I go back inside. I need to find a bag.
Two bags …
Just in case we don’t end up in the same place.
‘I hate baths!’ says Jay, standing in the water, arms across his chest.
‘I know, but we need to get cleaned up before we go.’
‘Go where?’
‘We’re going to go and stay with someone for a while. Just until Mum comes back.’
Jay’s eyes narrow. ‘Who?’
‘I don’t know yet, but they’ll be nice.’ I try to smile, but my face won’t cooperate.
I go and look for a towel. When I get back, Jay is sitting in the bath looking miserable.
‘Are you clean yet?’
He shakes his head. ‘It’s too cold.’
I put my hand under the hot tap—the water coming out is icy. I swear and turn it off. ‘Wait there.’
In the kitchen, I switch on the kettle. There’s a bang—a blue flash—and the smell of burning plastic. I stand there for a moment staring at the kettle, then switch it off and on a few times, but the red light stays dark. Dead.
Something snaps.
Deep inside me.
Something I’ve been holding together for days … weeks … years probably.
Finally it goes.
One moment I’m holding the useless kettle in my hand, and the next I’m on my knees in the middle of the floor—only there must have been an earthquake, because the kitchen seems to have exploded around me. The table is upside down, the bin on its side spewing rubbish. There are pock marks in the wall, little explosions of food and splinters of crockery. I’m shaking, breathing hard through my nose, and there’s blood coming from a cut across my palm.
Did I do this?
I get a flash of Mum all those years ago, in the middle of a sea of broken pigs …
There’s a noise. I look up and Jay is watching me from the doorway, naked and shivering. He sees me, and runs.
‘Jay!’ I stagger to my feet, rubbish squelching and crunching under my trainers. ‘Jay!’
I find him in the bath, frantically dragging the sponge across his body. He’s crying and shaking. He won’t look at me.
‘Jay?’
‘It’s OK. It’s not that cold,’ he says, the words wobbling through chattering teeth.
‘Come on.’ I lift him out and wrap the towel around his body, then hug him to me. ‘I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to frighten you. I just got … angry.’
‘I’m not clean yet,’ says Jay, sniffing in my ear.
‘It doesn’t matter. They’ll just have to put up with us as we are, won’t they.’
He nods. ‘Where are we going?’
I rub his back through the towel and shake my head. ‘I don’t know.’
Our bags are ready in the hall. Mum’s old green suitcase for Jay, and a rucksack for me. There wasn’t much to pack, and most of our clothes need a wash. I got Jay to collect up his favourite toys, then put in as many as would fit.
There’s a thump at the door. They’re back. So this is it.
I walk down the hall and pause, my fingers touching the cold solid metal of the latch.
This wasn’t how it was supposed to end.
But opening the door is easy.
Like letting go.
‘So … how’d you get on?’ Mina breezes past me into the hall. ‘Fancy a chip? I bought an extra bag. Thought you fellas might be hungry.’
‘Mina!’ says Jay, coming out from the front room.
‘Hello, mate! Want some chips?’
‘Yeah!’ Jay claps his hands.
‘Shall I get some plates?’ Mina walks towards the kitchen then stops in the doorway. ‘Blimey!’ She looks at me. ‘What happened in here?’
I shrug and s
queeze past her, picking my way through the debris.
‘So … how did you get on?’ says Mina again. ‘Is your mum here?’
I shake my head.
‘She’s staying with her friend,’ says Jay, sticking close to Mina and the chips. ‘We’re going to go and live with someone else for a bit.’
‘Great!’ says Mina, frowning a question to me at the same time.
She tips some chips onto a plate and hands it to Jay. ‘Why don’t you go and watch some TV, mate, while I talk to Laurence.’
It’s cool out on the roof, the air feels like cold water on my face.
‘What’s Jay on about?’ says Mina, sitting down.’ Where’s your mum?’
I tell her about the disaster at the canal and my decision to give ourselves up.
‘You’re going to do what?’ She pauses, a chip dangling from her fingers.
‘What else can I do? We can’t go on like this. The social’s already been round. They’re going to find us in the end anyway.’
‘So you need to get your mum back here.’
‘I told you! She won’t come.’
Mina puts the chip into her mouth and chews slowly.
‘You said she was drunk when you saw her?’
‘She could hardly stand up.’
‘Well there you go! Are you going to take the word of someone who can’t even stand up? People do all sorts of things when they’re drunk. Things they wouldn’t do or say when they were sober. You know that!’
‘I s’pose.’
Mina sighs. ‘How many days has she been gone?’
‘I dunno. Fourteen … fifteen.’
‘Two weeks,’ says Mina, waving a chip at me. ‘Two weeks you’ve survived—looked after Jay. All that, and now you’re just going to give up?’
‘I can’t make her come home! Not if she doesn’t want to be here!’ The words clog in my throat.
Mina moves across to sit beside me, and puts her hand on my arm. ‘It’s not like that, Laurence. She doesn’t know what she’s doing. She’s ill.’
I stare at the floor, fighting the urge to cry.
‘She’s there because it’s easy,’ says Mina. ‘When she’s with this Phil bloke she doesn’t have to feel guilty—because he drinks too. She doesn’t even have to think about it. That’s why we’ve got to get her away from him. We’ll go early—before she’s had a chance to get drunk.’