by Anna Jacobs
As an afterthought she went into the garage and took a few tools: a hammer, screwdriver and some bits and pieces for cleaning the car. She was shocked at how dusty things were there. Sam couldn’t have touched his workbench for months, though he’d still been coming out here. What had he been doing? Why had he changed so much?
Carrying the final few things in a bucket, itching now to be away and done with what felt like pillaging, she walked out of the house, nearly jumping out of her skin when she saw her neighbour of ten years looking over the fence.
‘Oh, it’s you, Nicole. I was just checking. I didn’t see your car in the drive and thought you’d be at work. You can’t be too careful these days, the number of burglaries there are.’
‘I took my car round the side to load things, because … I’m leaving.’
Her neighbour’s mouth dropped open. ‘No! Oh, my goodness, I—’
Nicole didn’t linger to explain or discuss it. They weren’t close friends, after all. As she put the bucket into the car boot and slammed the lid down, it occurred to her that the reason she wasn’t better friends with any of their current neighbours was because Sam didn’t like getting too close to them. And lately he’d been avoiding social events altogether, saying he was tired, even with their long-time friends.
He’d not looked well, but had refused point-blank to go and see the doctor so she was helpless to do anything.
Getting into the car, she backed out down the drive. When she hit the gatepost, she yelped in shock and jumped out to inspect the damage. Fortunately she’d been going so slowly there was only a small dent and a scratch. Sam would have gone mad at that. His car was his most treasured possession, a glossy, well-polished beast. She wouldn’t bother to get this tiny bit of damage to her car repaired.
She was thoughtful as she drove to her new home. And sad, so very sad. It was as if leaving Sam had opened the lid to problems she’d been avoiding dealing with for a long time. She hadn’t stood up for herself as she should have done. Compromise was one thing, giving in to your partner was another thing altogether.
Sam was late home that evening. He was sick of meetings and yet more meetings, and beyond reason tired. His head was aching again. It seemed to have been aching on and off for weeks. Perhaps Nicole was right and he should see the doctor, or start taking vitamins … or something.
It had been a hell of a day and he’d had to stay behind after the meeting to catch up with an important project that simply couldn’t wait because he’d had to go to William’s school yet again. Couldn’t his damned son stay out of mischief even for one day? That had robbed him of most of the afternoon.
He hadn’t passed on the job to Nicole because she’d not been getting on with William lately. His older son seemed to be deliberately looking for trouble, challenging the boundaries in every direction.
And William hadn’t been at all repentant after the interview, had offered him only a mouthful of cheek and had been highly reluctant to see the counsellor! Only the threat of a complete withdrawal of his allowance had got him to agree to that. Sam had to make an appointment to see the counsellor, too, but he couldn’t do that without his work diary so he’d told them he’d ring later.
For two pins, Sam thought wearily, he’d take off into the wide blue yonder, go somewhere he could be peaceful and quiet, and only spend time with people he really cared about. Families seemed to sap your energy, especially teenagers. And Nicole was too bossy. William was right about that. It wasn’t an attractive trait. She’d been much softer when she was young. She’d changed a lot. And why she hadn’t done something about the kitchen, he couldn’t understand. She didn’t have to work such long hours.
Paul was in the kitchen, eating a sandwich.
‘Is your mother home?’ Sam realised he’d not even noticed whether her car was in the drive.
‘No, she’s not. Um, Dad – there’s an envelope on the mantelpiece.’ He pointed.
Sam turned round and saw his name scrawled across it in Nicole’s oversized writing. Why would she be writing to him?
He picked it up, staring at it, making no attempt to open it for a few seconds then, suddenly apprehensive, tearing it open.
Sam, I’m leaving. I meant what I said. I’ve had it with being treated as an unpaid servant by you and the boys.
We seem to have fallen apart as a family and I can’t put the pieces together on my own. You don’t even seem interested in trying. Perhaps now you’re responsible for the boys, you’ll make more effort to keep them in order. William doesn’t listen to me at all.
I’ve rented a flat. Get in touch with me when you’ve decided what you want to do about things.
Nicole
He reread the note with a sick feeling of shock, collapsing on to the nearest chair because his legs had suddenly gone wobbly and his vision had blurred. It had done that a couple of times lately. Stress, he supposed. Well, there couldn’t be much that was more stressful than your elder son going off the rails and your wife leaving you.
‘Dad?’
He became aware of Paul leaning over him.
‘Dad, are you all right?’
‘Not really.’ He thrust the letter at his son. ‘Read that.’
Paul scanned the letter quickly, then read it again more slowly, wishing suddenly that he’d been more supportive of his mother. He didn’t want her to go.
He looked at his father for guidance. ‘Did you have any idea she was thinking of leaving, Dad? Had you discussed it, splitting up, I mean?’
‘No. We’ve not talked much at all recently. I’ve been a bit … um, busy. Where’s William?’
‘In his room.’
‘Fetch him.’
Paul hesitated then went upstairs and poked his head round the door of William’s room.
‘Get out!’ his brother yelled.
‘Something’s happened. It’s bad. Dad wants to see you.’
‘It’s probably that thing from school. They’ve suspended me again, just because I wasn’t taking shit from anyone, and they couldn’t get Dad to answer his phone.’
‘What the hell have you done now?’
William shrugged. ‘Refused to listen to that sports teacher who thinks she’s a man.’
Paul rather liked the sports teacher, but he knew better than to say that. ‘Well, this isn’t about you at all. Dad hasn’t even looked at the letter from school yet. It’s Mum. She’s left us.’
William gaped at him then scowled. ‘That’s all I bloody need.’
Paul didn’t wait, but went back down, worried about his father. He felt even more anxious when he saw that his dad’s face was chalky white. He hadn’t moved, was just sitting in the same place, staring at the floor. He’d been doing a lot of that lately, looking dopey and spaced out. Was he on drugs? No, of course he wasn’t. Not Dad. But he didn’t look well.
Something was wrong with the whole family. Mum was right about that.
William shoved Paul roughly out of the doorway and he didn’t try to shove back because his brother was a lot bigger than he was, and getting more muscular with it. That was because he was taking steroids. Paul had seen them. Stupid twit!
‘Dad?’
Paul watched. His dad didn’t seem to have heard William, didn’t stir, let alone respond.
In the end Paul took the letter out of his dad’s hand and passed it to his brother. ‘She left a note.’ It was eerie that his dad still didn’t move.
William read it and threw it on to the table. ‘Shit!’
‘Is that all you can say?’
‘What else is there to say? The bitch has bailed out on us.’
Paul waited for his father to tell William not to speak of their mother like that and when he didn’t, found he couldn’t let it pass. ‘She’s not a bitch. And I don’t blame her, actually. We’ve left everything to her. You don’t even pick up after yourself.’
‘Well, I blame her. She got a family, and it’s her job to look after it.’ He kicked a chair to one side
and it fell over with a clatter.
Paul glanced at his father, but he still didn’t move.
‘These damned feminists have changed the whole world,’ William went on. ‘And for the worse. It’s up to us men to take charge again.’
‘You’re just saying what those weirdos tell you. And you’re not a man yet. You’re still at school.’
His brother looked at himself in the mirror and smirked. He’d been doing that a lot lately, as if pleased with what he saw. ‘I’m a man physically. I’m bigger than Dad now. And my friends aren’t weirdos. They’re real men. What they say makes sense.’
‘They’re thugs – and worse. That’s where you’ve been buying your stuff, isn’t it?’
William shot a quick glance at their dad and muttered, ‘You keep your big mouth shut about what I do.’
‘I have.’
His brother left and Paul wondered what to do next. His dad stood up, but he didn’t say anything, just pushed his chair back so violently it fell over on top of the other one. He went upstairs, slamming the bedroom door behind him.
Was that all Dad could do? Hide in his bedroom?
Suddenly Paul wished desperately that Mum was here. This was way too heavy for him to deal with.
He picked up the letter, but it didn’t say where she was going. She’d still be working at the library, though. Surely she would? He’d go there and talk to her tomorrow, promise to help more in the house, even if he had to do some of William’s share, beg her to come back.
He definitely didn’t want to be left alone with his brother, who had that angry look on his face again. As William usually took that out on someone, Paul went upstairs to his bedroom, shooting the bolts he’d fitted inside the door.
But he didn’t feel safe there, didn’t feel safe anywhere at the moment. His world was falling apart and at fifteen he couldn’t manage without at least one parent around. The last few days had shown him that.
What was going to happen to them now? Would his dad snap out of it? Or would his mum come back if he begged her, promised to do more?
Nicole felt embarrassed as she went into the library on Tuesday morning. She’d slept badly, unable to settle in a strange place and it had felt weird to wake on her own and get her breakfast without interruptions. She’d put a lot of her possessions away, but there were still a few things to sort out.
Her boss cocked one eyebrow as she walked through the staff room to hang up her coat. ‘You all right?’
‘I’m fine. I must give you my new address. I’m getting a landline connection but they can’t fix that till tomorrow.’
‘Good, good.’
Helen demanded much more information and in between customers Nicole gave her a blow-by-blow account of the weekend and the move.
‘Want to go out for a meal tonight?’ Helen asked in a lull between customers.
Nicole hesitated. ‘Another time, if you don’t mind. I’m still getting the flat straight.’ And she didn’t want to risk meeting anyone she knew and having to tell them. Or worse still, running into Sam.
She went to work at the returns and issuing desk near the entrance and as they were busy, the morning passed quite quickly.
Just before noon she looked up to see William come through the door.
‘Isn’t that your elder son?’ Helen asked.
‘Yes.’
‘Phew! Storm brewing!’
He stood for a moment, looking big and surly, then cut rudely across the path of an older woman to reach the counter. He glared at his mother. ‘I need some money for food – for me and Paul. Twenty pounds will keep us going for a day or two.’
She was so shocked she couldn’t speak for a moment or two, then she shook her head. ‘Ask your father. He’s in charge of household matters now.’
‘He was gone by the time I woke up this morning.’
‘Well, ask him tonight, then.’
He thumped one clenched fist on the desk, making her jump. ‘I’m hungry now and I’m not leaving till you bloody well give me the money!’
She nearly did it, nearly went to fetch money from her purse in the staff area, then she pulled herself together, mentally running over the food supplies she’d left behind. ‘There are some beans, tins of fruit, packets of biscuits, enough to keep you going till tonight.’
‘I want some proper food. Meat. Eggs. Bacon.’ He leant forward. ‘And I’m quite prepared to create a scene if you don’t give me the money.’
He’d said the wrong thing. She might have fetched him a couple of pounds, but she wasn’t going to be bullied. And she certainly wasn’t giving him twenty. ‘Why aren’t you at school?’
‘Suspended for a week.’
‘But you’ve only just gone back! What did you do now?’
He shrugged. ‘Refused to listen to rubbish from one of the feminist lezzos on the staff.’
‘Don’t use that word,’ she said automatically. ‘What did your dad say about that?’
‘He didn’t even open the letter. And if he had, he’d not have done anything. He hardly says a word about anything these days. I think he’s losing it.’ William pointed to his head and made a circular motion with his forefinger. Then he thumped the desk again. ‘I need some money! Give me some!’
‘No.’
He swept a pile of books off the desk with such force they scattered across the floor. Customers scattered too, taking refuge behind the bookshelves, since he was between them and the entrance.
When she didn’t move, William gave her a nasty grin and reached out for the computer screen, grabbing that.
Instinctively she held on to it to stop him moving it, horrified that her son would behave like this.
He continued to smile, with the sneering confidence of a bully confronting a smaller, weaker person. ‘If you don’t give me the money, I can easily bust this.’
‘And if you do, we’ll call in the police,’ a voice said near her.
She turned in relief to see her boss standing next to William.
‘Your older son? No wonder you left home.’
With a roar of fury, William punched him in the face, knocking him to the ground, glared at his mother and said, ‘You’ve not heard the last of this.’ He turned and ran out, shoving another woman aside.
People came rushing up as Michael struggled to his feet.
‘Call the police,’ he said, holding a tissue someone had given him to his bleeding lip.
Nicole hesitated.
‘I know he’s your son, but he’s big and violent, and he needs bringing up short.’
She realised he was right and made the call.
Two police officers came within minutes. They looked round outside but there was no sign of William, which didn’t surprise her. Then they took over Michael’s office and interviewed everyone involved in turn.
Nicole felt utterly humiliated by what had happened, but didn’t try to minimise what her son had done.
‘I should definitely watch your step,’ the officer told her. ‘He sounds like a very angry young man. Do you think he’s – on something?’
‘Drugs?’ She looked at him in shock.
‘Violent mood swings, always needing money, that sort of thing?’
‘Yes. He’s changed. But I don’t see how he could afford drugs. I mean, they’re quite expensive, aren’t they? I thought it was just, you know, hormones going wild. He’s grown so much lately. He’s a man physically now.’
‘Anything else going wrong?’
‘Yes. He’s been suspended from school for bullying. Twice. And he was trying to bully me into giving him money today. That’s not how we brought him up.’
His voice softened. ‘Kids go off the rails sometimes, we don’t know why. You could be right. It could just be too much testosterone. But it might be drugs, so bear that in mind. Look, we’ll drop by your house a couple of times during the day and see if we can catch him.’
‘Um – I’m not there any more. I left home yesterday.’
‘Ah. That’ll have upset him.’
‘Only because he’s lost a cook–housekeeper!’
‘Do you have your husband’s work phone number?’
When she went for her lunch break, she sat numbly in the chair, still unable to believe what had happened. She took out a sandwich and put it away again, bit into an apple, but only ate half before putting that back into her bag as well.
Was William’s behaviour her fault for leaving home? No, she didn’t think so. He’d been belligerent and rude for a while now, in trouble at school several times during the past year, mixing with a group older than himself outside school, people he never brought home. She’d seen him with them, though.
Should she ring Sam? No, the police were going to do that. She’d just – get on with her own life. Dealing with William was out of her hands now she’d left home, especially now that the police had been called in.
Surely William wouldn’t risk coming here again after the police had cautioned him? They were bound to find him soon. He’d have to go home to eat and sleep, after all.
She remembered William’s threat suddenly. You’ve not heard the last of this. And shivered.
Janey decided to go to the Just Girls group that afternoon. She wouldn’t know anyone there because the hostel where she’d stayed at had been on the other side of her hometown, Swindon, but she didn’t usually have trouble making friends.
She felt very cut off from her former friends now, though. Having the baby had broken the links. She couldn’t get together with them because there were no convenient bus routes and anyway, getting on a bus with a baby and all its gear was not something to be lightly undertaken. She couldn’t even email them unless she went into the library or an Internet café. And phone calls from a pay phone cost money, something she didn’t have much of.
So she was going to make a huge effort to find new friends.
It was colder today and looked as if it was going to rain but she still preferred to be out and about so she went for a short walk. Staying in one room all day with not even a television or computer was very depressing.
As she got ready to go out again in the afternoon, she began to feel a bit nervous, wondering what the other girls would be like. How many would there be? Would some of them be intelligent? That sounded snobbish. Was she snobbish? She hoped not. At the hostel several of the girls had spent most of their time goggling at the television and gossiping. They’d talked only of their babies and fashions, the guys they’d known and the television programmes they watched. She’d found that boring.