by Lee Kerr
‘Yeah, Sammy, I'm still here,’ he says, his attention gone. ‘What happened?’ he says, walking across the room to collect his controller. ‘Fucking missus is what happened. She’s having a benny, and yeah, it’s all about those fucking kids.’
‘They’re in the next room,’ she says, to the back of his head.
‘Yeah, they’re still around,’ he says, then falls back onto the sofa – her sofa, which already has a sweat patch forming on it from all the easy days he has spent sitting in the same spot. And that’s when it hits her; the future that is spread out before them. Fast forward two years and this scene will look exactly the same. He will have new pants but still no T-shirt – same arguments, same Sammy, same not listening. Fast forward five years and there is new wallpaper and probably a new console too. Same hard work from Hannah. Sammy got a job, found a life, realised he has to work for what he wants. It's now Levi. Slightly younger, the same age Blake was when she thinks he should have grown up. But Blake doesn't realise this, doesn't want to know, and so he’s still exactly the same boy. He’s gained a little weight – more of a burden – he really should wear a T-shirt now.
Fast forward ten years: Blake still wants to play all day but he's not allowed to now. He knows Hannah will shout a lot if he does. She doesn't want to nag but she has no choice, because if she doesn't moan then he won’t move. The two kids she insisted that they had are their new burden and now she’s properly weighing him down, except that he's lost his appeal. The only thing he had ever had to offer was a decent body – his abs formed nicely but a brain never did. But there turned out to be nothing beneath them and now they're gone, covered by the ample layers from a decade of laziness. He can give her nothing but he knows that now, and so due to his inability to move on and her desperate love of their children they keep things stable, keep them safe.
She suddenly wakes up, snapping into real life. ‘I don't want any of that,’ she says.
‘What the fuck are you talking about?’ he says, gently but firmly pushing her bum until she’s no longer blocking to his game. ‘Totally lost it, Bruv,’ he says.
She watches as he taps commands into the precious thing he is cradling in his hands, as the television – her television – makes various clicking noises behind her. ‘Let's get going again, Sammy. This time she won't get in the way.’
She finally walks away, now determined to show the truth of his words.
‘Hey!’ he shouts, just before she reaches the kitchen.
She turns around, more from a natural courtesy than any actual curiosity. She immediately wishes she hadn't as she sees his joggers on the floor and his thick cock standing to attention. ‘This will need sorting when you're done feeding them,’ he says, as though he’s doing her a favour, giving her a toy that she hasn’t already had enough of.
‘For God’s sake, Blake, in the living room?’
He smiles. ‘Sammy don't mind.’
She leaves, hearing him still laughing with his cyber-mate, or whatever he’s called. ‘Sure, Sammy doesn't mind,’ she mutters. ‘We'll see about that.’
*****
‘Why won't you suck it?’ he asks, whining like a little kid. ‘You used to love sucking me off. Don’t you remember? You'd do it anywhere and everywhere.’ He’s lying on the bed now, having finally lost his joggers but still not managed to take a shower.
‘Maybe I've grown out of it,’ Hannah says, keeping herself busy folding clothes. She sniffs the towels. She knows that they remain fairly unclean when washed by hand, but what choice does she have now that there is an energy suppression order in force throughout the neighbourhood? She looks down at him. ‘Maybe I need more now.’
He looks up at her as he lies there, his legs spread apart. He strokes his balls and occasionally rubs his cock, keeping it hard, desperately trying to find new ways to keep her interested. She realises what this looks like; she has learnt all about this. They are now in a parent-child relationship and she’s trapped firmly in the role of the bad girl with a sweetheart boyfriend from school. He hasn’t changed; he’s exactly as he has always been. Hannah won’t accept that and so she is now trying to force him to be something he isn’t, which he is actively rebelling against. It’s clearly all her fault for ever expecting him to gain any emotional depth or maturity. When he finished school, he declared he would become a mechanic, a builder, a plumber. None of these jobs required him to remain at school, but as Blake is learning now, they did require further study, a lot of early starts and a significant amount of hard work.
When she started minding Poppy and Noah she thought that she would have these behavioural problems with Noah, as he was due to turn ten about six months into her time as the nanny for the Anderson family. It didn’t worry her – it was just part of the challenge of looking after children. She had always known she would go into childcare and she imagined setting up her own child-minding business. She would have a few kids and a house, and then would slowly expand the business. It would be fine because the house would be big enough, with a large kitchen, big utility room and a separate games room. Her husband wouldn't mind either. He would be out working in the daytime, getting the tube to his busy banking job. He would leave early in the morning, safe in the knowledge that everything would be fine and that their children would also be cared for by Hannah.
Once her business had grown and he had been promoted a few times, they would get a bigger house with a plot of land on the side. By then he would be travelling to London by train, but the commute would be worth it, especially considering that they would be able to get a much bigger place outside of the capital and that this would mean better quality of life for the whole family.
She looks down at Blake and he looks up at her, his eyes pleading. He's still got hold of his cock, his fingers wrapped around the base. He jiggles it, slapping it onto his stomach, smiling at the noise it makes. She was never really meant to end up with him; at school, she just saw him as a bit of fun – entertaining his great cock together. They were both supposed to move on after that: his practical side and her childcare studies should have pulled them apart, and it wouldn’t matter what kind of body her executive husband had, because it would be all about the bigger picture. She would always have the memory of Blake but that is all he was ever supposed to be. She sees now that where he is still throbbing for her, she has moved on and wants more, sees a different future.
She watches him, thinking that he's quite lucky that he has remained youthful. He was a slightly late developer at school – probably somewhere in the middle – his balls didn’t drop early enough for him to be accepted by the coolest kids. Hannah was always happy about that because he never became a real tough guy, although he was never bright enough to be with the geeks. And look at the bright ones now – five years after leaving school they are the doing the best in life. At the ten year reunion they will be the ones turning up in Porsches, while the Blake’s and Sammy’s of the world will laugh about how those guys drink posh wines, go to yoga and would never cope down the proper local pub that real men go to.
He shakes it again. ‘Oh, come on, babe. You know you love it!’
She looks at it, the simple bit of flesh, and she thinks about the sacrifice she has made and the life she really wanted. ‘That isn't going to build me a house in Guildford, is it?’ She walks towards the tiny en-suite, not caring about what his response is.
He quickly storms past her and slams the door; she feels the thin wall vibrate. ‘I need a shit,’ he shouts. ‘Then you can suck it.’
She sits on the bed and thinks about the disrespect he shows to her and everything she has built. All those precious things that her inheritance went into making a reality, so she could have a better life until that cool city guy in the Porsche came along to woo her with tales of a better world. She wishes right now that she had stayed in the Andersons’ home with the kids, but when their parents didn't return on time she didn't like being alone in that big house. She has watched the news enough recently t
o know she wanted to be at home. In her home. With a man to look after her.
She looks at the bathroom door and quickly realises how stupid that thought was. She hears what is spilling out of him, splashing into the bowl. He'll flush the toilet, if she's lucky, but he won't look around. He won't check the mess he's made. He will simply come back into the room and lie on the bed, his arse-crack stinking of shit and staining the sheets that she has just changed. He will never understand how much she has fought for what they now have; the shopping trips she made to see if her favourite things had gone on sale yet – her endless battle with the budget. She always knew what she wanted and would check, compare and wait, willing to compromise on nothing but her time. It’s what her parents would have wanted, and what she has got so far would have made them proud.
Everything except for Blake, that is. ‘What do you see in him?’ they would ask. ‘You’ll need more than his legendary cock to keep you going,’ her friends would say. It turned out to be quite true, but now she's stuck – intelligent enough to want more, stupid enough to have got herself trapped. And now she’s got kids pinning her down as well, even if they aren’t actually hers.
Those poor children are both scared and worried. Their parents somewhere in America – a trip they apparently couldn’t avoid and one which has meant they have been added to the list of the many that are missing. They are now just a desperate memory in the minds of their helpless children and a hasty report filed with the police, who were able to offer little care or advice. ‘Will the kids be okay with you?’ the policeman had asked, already filing the paperwork away. In normal circumstances, they would have been referred to child services, and someone in authority would have come round within a day. She didn't even have any faith that what he had written would ever make its way into a computer database, let alone into the hands of someone relevant and obliged to intervene. There was too much happening: too much chaos – reports were being received of missing people everywhere, with little good news from anywhere.
Hannah knows that she is on her own and that something has to happen. Now she can either stay at home or go back to the Andersons’ house to wait another day. She also had the third option, the only one that she hasn’t really given much thought to, mainly because it is unlikely to do any good. Even though Mrs Anderson had written down their details she had repeatedly told Hannah it would be pointless. The police would be a better option, she had said. Look how that turned out, Hannah thought. She hadn’t expected much, but had already tried the number and left messages. They are the grandparents we don't really speak to, Mrs Anderson had said. On his side of the family and always been a bit weird. Not interested in us and certainly never helpful.
They didn't see the children as their grandkids, apparently. It was his dad's fault, she had said, her eyes rolling as the story unfolded. Since he had remarried, both he and his new wife had agreed that she was never really going to be a dutiful mother or grandmother. Mrs Anderson said that they never saw either of them, because his father had said that he had worked all his life for his two boys, and now he planned to see the world and achieve what he wanted. But since Mrs Anderson’s parents were all the way in America she probably felt that it was wise to leave a family phone number. She probably thought it was more likely to be used if they died while they were away – something serious, something like what is happening now.
They were listed as “Mr. and Mrs. Grump (grandparents, apparently)”.
Their entry was at the bottom of the page, after a couple of friends; almost an afterthought. She had tried the neighbours and these friends already but had got nothing but voicemails or permanently turned off mobiles. The ones she had managed to get hold of told her they had moved away, out of London, to somewhere safe in the country. ‘It's coming your way,’ they would say. ‘Get out whilst you can.’
Hannah couldn’t have agreed more, but she felt such a loyalty to the kids, at least enough that she was determined to get them to their family, whether they were welcoming or not. She had done her duty, been the diligent carer, but now she had to think about the future.
Blake walks out of the bathroom. ‘Needed that,’ he says, giving her a kiss on the cheek. ‘And I even cleaned up because I know that bugs you.’ He pulls himself over Hannah, knocking her head as he moves, and then lies down beside her. ‘See, I can be an awesome boyfriend when you need me to be.’
She looks at him as she takes a deep breath. ‘That's hardly awesome. Once past infancy it’s assumed that you are capable of cleaning up after yourself.’
He frowns; she knows he is getting annoyed. It's the way he always behaves when she nags too much. He picks up the remote and looks at the television, still playing with his cock. His subconscious is teasing it, doing what she has obviously failed to do.
She picks this as her moment and curls up closer to him, stroking his chest. ‘Since you're in the mood to be a dutiful boyfriend, could you perhaps do one more thing?’
He looks at her, his eyes unmoving, his mind unwilling to commit to anything that will take him away from the final level with Sammy tomorrow. ‘I'm not watching those kids. I'm not bloody doing it. I've told you to drop them at the cop shop and let's both move on.’
‘I’ve said many times that you don’t have to mind the kids, but this is about them.’
He throws the remote down, his manhood shrinking by the second. ‘Oh, for fuck’s sake.’
Hannah grabs his arm, squeezing it tight. ‘But it's about moving them on. The police can’t help as there's too much going on but I have another solution.’
‘And it involves me, doesn’t it?’
She takes a deep breath, ready for the inevitable sulk. ‘You and a car. Neil's car, if you can get it?’
‘You want me to go all the way to Croydon? I need a lie-in tomorrow.’
‘Blake, every day is a lie-in for you.’
He shakes his head. ‘Neil ain't gonna just lend me his car without some cash.’
She nods; that’s the least of her worries. ‘It’s fine, I’ll pay.’
‘And what you gonna do, anyway?’ he asks, his head already shaking, his mind already denying the possibility that he might need to leave this flat tomorrow.
She figures that she needs to explain her plan in a way that will mean as little work for him as possible. She wonders how she can possibly sell him on the idea of driving to North London to track down these kid’s disinterested grandparents, who will likely turn them away anyway, making it a wasted trip. Her thoughts turn to the help she needs, to Blake: he was almost sweet at school, but now he’s a total waste of space. Perhaps she is wrong: perhaps he was never that nice and she only imagined it. Either way, she knows he will eventually help but he won’t ever come quietly.
*****
‘I'm getting really sick of this now,’ he says, taking his eyes off the road for just a second so he can look at her properly. ‘We've been driving for hours.’
She sighs, knowing this was a big mistake the moment he arrived with his brother’s car. He has given her nothing but grief since then: for taking too long, for the kids not being ready, and for the state of the traffic. It was all her fault – all of it – including the shit that was going on in Central London. Protests were happening everywhere about the lack of information from the government, and whenever the police intervened, riots ensued, then killings, followed by more protests.
She wonders if the reason for his latest outburst was that he hated asking someone else for the use of a car, that perhaps he was embarrassed to ask his brother who was three years younger. Maybe it makes him think about how little he has achieved with his life and perhaps surfaces some vague feelings of shame? And then Hannah wonders if perhaps she is expecting a little too much from Blake, considering his obviously limited depth.
‘I knew this would be a waste of time,’ he says, this time looking only forward.
‘Blake,’ she says, as calmly as she can, giving him time to register whatever she is about t
o say. ‘Please try to remember that the kids are in the car and we have only been driving for 2 hours. It’s really not that bad, so please stop moaning about something you agreed to do for your girlfriend who you live with and share a bed with every night.’
He shakes his head, silently refusing to accept any responsibility for the burden she has rested at his doorway. ‘Well, just you remember that Neil needs the car back by five and the traffic will be just as shit on the way back. You’ve seen how many roadblocks there were just getting here and we’ve got to go back through them all again.’
He continues to moan and Hannah continues to ignore him. She has said her bit; made her plea and found it has had no effect. She turns and pats both kids on the knee, one at a time. Poppy looks back at her with a longing stare, showing her need for only her mum. She looks set to burst into tears at any moment and Hannah knows this continual need to be validated and reassured is never going to go away.
Noah pushes Hannah’s hand off his knee. ‘I don't need your help. I'm fine as I am.’
As much as she knows that isn't true it almost makes her feel better; she has one less thing to worry about. Her whole week has been filled with anxiety and confusion and it doesn't seem likely to stop now. A cloud of doom has been hanging above all of London, but Hannah feels it’s affecting her more than anyone else. She doubts this trip will make any difference – after all, the grandparents might not even be there. She doubts the kids will ever see their parents again, not with everything that is going on. All she knows is that she dreads the prospect of looking after these kids forever, never knowing where their parents are.
These thoughts instantly make her feel guilty and she turns around to tell them both that it will be okay, that she will find their grandparents and it will be good to be with their real family again. She doesn’t wait for an answer, expecting only more tears from Poppy, and Noah insisting that she is their real family now. She continues her story, telling them both that if, for whatever reason, it doesn't work out then they can stay with her until she finds their parents. It's all she can think to say to stop guilt from setting in, and Blake immediately huffs in response.