‘This rain isn’t stopping,’ Mum said from the sink. ‘What shall we do?’
Dad stood up. ‘Let’s go. Get it over with.’ He looked down at Ellie. ‘Any messages for Gran?’
‘Um no, not really. Tell her I’ll come and see her soon. Tell her I miss her.’
He nodded, bent down and brushed the top of her head with a kiss. ‘Work well then.’
Warmth flooded through her. He hadn’t done that for years and years.
And now the ritual of finding things. Mum fumbled in her handbag for the car keys, which she eventually found in her coat pocket. Dad watched her in a distracted way before checking his own pockets for the keys she’d already found. He scooped up his wallet, turned on his mobile and then realized he had no idea where his glasses were. Mum, meanwhile, was convinced she’d lost her purse and had to root through her entire handbag again.
How vulnerable they seemed. How old and grey they’d be one day. I could come with you, Ellie wanted to say. I’ll look after you. Let me sit in the back of the car and we’ll sing songs. When we get to the nursing home, Gran will give us Murray Mints and we’ll take her out for a spin in her wheelchair.
But, really, she knew how that kind of day would work out, and it didn’t solve anything. At least if she stayed at home, everything would be different by the time her parents got back.
Mikey
When Mikey walked into the lounge, his mum switched off the vacuum cleaner to admire him. Holly and Karyn looked up from their game of Snakes and Ladders and wolf-whistled simultaneously.
He laughed. He had on his new T-shirt and favourite jeans. He’d shaved, showered and even used mouthwash. He knew he looked good and gave a male-model strut across the carpet to prove it.
‘Look at my son,’ Mum said. ‘Look at my gorgeous boy.’
‘Who’s it today, then?’ Karyn asked as she shook the dice and threw them on the table. ‘’Cos that’s more effort than most of them get.’
She gave him that cheeky half-smile he’d forgotten about and he felt a bit bad then. But there was no way he could tell her about Ellie, not until he’d got all the information he needed. She wouldn’t understand.
Holly reached for his hand, tucked her own into it. ‘Where will you take her?’
‘Don’t know yet. Out and about.’
He sat at the table and watched them play. Karyn was going down ladders as well as snakes to let Holly win. She winked at him when she clocked he’d noticed.
Mum switched the vacuum back on and they pulled their knees up so she could get to the spaces under their feet. It made Mikey feel like a kid.
‘I’m going to buy some new cushions,’ Mum yelled over the noise. ‘They’ve got some nice ones in the market with embroidery on. New cushions would look lovely in here, don’t you think? And maybe a rug.’
Mikey nodded in agreement, then checked the clock. Twenty minutes to go. He tapped his pocket for the car keys. He felt crap lying to Jacko, but there was no way he’d have lent him the car and agreed to postponing the golf-club recce a second time if he hadn’t.
‘There are things they look for,’ Mum said as she switched off the vacuum and coiled the lead up. ‘They look for dirt, but they also look for smells. I’ve had the windows open all morning and I got one of those plug-in air fresheners.’
She stood, hands on hips, pleased with herself.
‘It’s been like zero degrees with those windows open and she wouldn’t let me shut them,’ Karyn said, her eyes amused.
Mum smiled across at her. ‘You’re cold because you don’t eat enough, and that’s what’s happening next – toast.’
Karyn packed the game away and got Holly some paper and pens instead. Mum made four cups of tea and buttered some toast, even spread it with jam and cut it into squares. She placed Karyn’s plate gently on the table in front of her.
‘It’s ages since I saw you eat anything,’ she said.
Karyn sighed with pleasure and picked up a square of toast. Easy as that.
She looked happier than Mikey had seen her for days. He knew why. She thought every day was going to be as cheery as this from now on. She thought Mum would save her.
It was easy to believe as they sat there together, sipping their tea and eating toast. Things had been better since Gillian’s visit on Monday. Mum had sobered up and collected Holly, then phoned the social worker to apologize. Monday night, she’d sat down with the three of them and promised never to disappear like that again. ‘Everything’s going to be different from now on,’ she said.
Over the last four days she’d spring-cleaned the hallway, the lounge and the kitchen. The whole flat was beginning to look bigger and brighter. Over the weekend she planned to work her way upstairs. Mikey knew what would happen then. She’d fill dustbin bags with old toys and clothes. She’d get ridiculous with it, start throwing things away that people still wanted. Mikey remembered his denim jacket going that way last year, and Holly weeping for hours over her football card collection. Next week, if Mum still hadn’t run out of energy, she might get the local paper and look for jobs. She’d circle them, maybe cut them out and put them in a pile somewhere. And then she’d start saying stuff about how they all took her for granted, how nothing good ever happened to her. And then she’d give herself a little reward – maybe a cheap bottle of red from Ajay’s over the road. ‘Just the one,’ she’d say.
And round and round they’d go again. It was so predictable.
‘OK, Mum,’ he said, ‘a little test before I go. Monday morning. Ding-dong, there’s the social worker again, all smiles, wanting to help. You’ve been cleaning for days and in she comes, very impressed. First question: Why has Holly been off school?’
‘She won’t ask me that.’
‘She might. What will you say?’
‘I’ll say she was sick.’
‘What was wrong with her?’
‘She had a headache.’
‘Kids don’t get headaches.’
Mum moved the ashtray a centimetre to the left, matched the lighter with the edge of the table, making patterns. ‘It’s all right, I can handle it. I told you, it’s going to be different now.’
‘Tell them a fever and a cough, or that she kept throwing up. Not a headache. And don’t smoke in front of her.’
He knew how important his mum’s fags were, how they kept her calm. He knew he was being unkind.
‘Stop worrying,’ she said. ‘It’s only a support visit, nothing else. I’ll sit by the window. I’ll tell her I never do it with Holly around.’
‘Show her the smoke alarm,’ Holly said, pointing up at the ceiling with the end of her felt-tip pen.
Mikey followed her gaze. Sober for days, and a tidy flat was one thing, but a fully-installed and working smoke alarm was definitely something new.
Mum grinned at him. ‘You’re impressed.’
He couldn’t help smiling back.
She glanced at the clock. ‘Go and have fun, Mikey. Go on, you’ve done enough.’
He checked his mobile. No new messages, but that was OK. It was all agreed. Two-thirty at Ellie’s house. He’d leave in a few minutes.
‘Like my drawing?’ Holly said.
She held it up for them all to see. It was Karyn, outside with her hair streaming behind her in the wind. She was holding a piece of string with a dragon on the end and a flaming sword.
‘Nice picture,’ Karyn said.
Holly smiled, carefully tore the page from her book and laid it on the table. ‘I’m going to draw you at school next.’
‘Let me keep the dragon,’ Karyn laughed. ‘I’ll need it if you’re sending me back there.’
Mikey took the plates to the kitchen, had a quick look in the fridge while he was there. It was stuffed – juice and yoghurts, cheese and milk, all sorts. Mum had even bought a pack of bacon and some sausages.
By the time he’d washed up the plates, all three of them were huddled together on the sofa watching a rerun of TopGear – some mou
ntain climber was talking about how he got frostbite and later, after surgery, he had a very hot bath and his toe came off and he left it on the side of the sink for his wife to find. They cackled like witches at it. Mikey smiled, wanted to leave them with something. He went over and put ten quid on the table.
‘Here,’ he said, ‘get yourselves a DVD and some sweets.’
You’d think he’d given them a fortune, the way they passed it between them.
He almost didn’t want to leave. It wasn’t that long ago when this would have been his idea of a perfect Saturday afternoon and he’d happily have squeezed in with them on the sofa.
‘I’ll be off then.’
Mum raised her cup of tea. ‘Have a lovely time.’
Ellie blushed, actually blushed, when she opened the door. Mikey wanted to sweep her up and kiss her, but he had to save that until they were safely away from the house.
‘Ready?’ he said.
She smiled apologetically. ‘Not yet. I haven’t made the picnic.’
‘We’ll get fish and chips.’
She wagged a finger at him. ‘Every adventure has a picnic. Come inside, it’ll only take a few minutes.’
‘Why don’t I wait in the car?’
She shook her head. ‘There’s nobody home, don’t worry.’
What choice did he have?
When Ellie closed the door behind them, a dim blue light shone through the coloured glass and splashed the floor. There were paintings on the wall and a statue on a stand – a man and a woman wrapped together. Mikey touched it with a finger, surprised at how smooth it felt.
‘It’s not real,’ Ellie said.
He pulled his hand away, embarrassed.
‘It’s a copy. Well, of course it’s a copy. No one has a real Rodin.’
He nodded, as if that was obvious, mentally cursing himself for knowing nothing about anything.
She led him through a sitting room – sofa, chairs, display cabinet full of family photos (Ellie looking sexy with a swimming trophy) – through to the kitchen, right at the back of the house and smaller than he remembered. On the table was a chopping board, bread, various things for the picnic all spread out. The back door was open and beyond was the garden, that cool expanse of green that amazed him again with its endless lawn and trees.
A dog lay on a blanket and flapped its tail sleepily at them. It was an old dog, with grey hair round its nose. Here was something he recognized at least. He knew what to do with dogs.
‘What’s his name?’
‘Stan, but she’s a girl.’
‘Does she bite?’
‘Only if you’re a biscuit. Stroke her if you like. No one else gives her any attention.’
Girls liked blokes who liked animals and he didn’t even have to pretend. He took great care, was gentle and slow. The dog turned belly up and let him fuss her. Mikey smiled, forgetting where he was for a minute. ‘She’s a lovely dog.’
‘She’s my gran’s. We’ve got her goldfish as well.’
He glanced up quickly. ‘Is your gran here?’
‘No, no, she’s in a nursing home. Cup of tea while you wait, or do you want something else?’
His heart thumped. ‘What have you got?’
‘Wait there.’
She wasn’t gone long. He heard her run down the hallway, heard a door open and shut. She came back with a bottle of wine and passed it over. She was trying to impress him.
He unscrewed the top, took a couple of gulps and passed it back. She tipped the bottle to her mouth and took the smallest of sips. She wiped her mouth with the back of her hand.
‘What about this picnic then?’ he said.
‘It’s only sandwiches.’
‘Well, let’s make them.’
They really had to hurry up. He wouldn’t relax until they were out of here.
He started sorting through the stuff on the table – a bag of expensive lettuce, some cheese in a wooden box, tomatoes, olives. She’d been planning on some complicated sandwiches, though the fresh ingredients were going to be interesting to work with. She yanked more stuff out of the fridge – a red pepper, a handful of rocket.
‘You want butter?’ she said.
‘Not if it’s been in the fridge. You got mayonnaise?’
She passed it, along with a knife from a wooden holder on the cabinet. He sliced the bread and spread it with mayo, shredded the lettuce and cut up tomatoes. He liked her watching, knew it looked cool. He unpacked the cheese from its box and laid thin slices on the bread with the salad.
‘Got any black pepper, any salt?’
She came over with the grinders and did it for him. When she twisted, her hips swung and her skirt shifted. It was pretty the way her skirt did that, like it was part of her.
He cut the sandwiches in half diagonally, wrapped them in foil and stepped back from the table with a bow.
‘There you go.’
‘You could be a chef,’ Ellie said, ‘the care you took.’
They smiled at each other.
‘Shall we be off then?’ he said.
She glanced at her mobile, then sat down at the table, pulled a packet of tobacco from a drawer, papers, a lighter and a small hunk of dope.
‘What’s that for?’ he asked.
‘What do you think it’s for?’
She hadn’t a clue how to make a joint, it was obvious. She forgot to heat the dope, then when she figured it out, put way too much in and could barely handle the rolling at all. He wanted to tell her she didn’t need to do this to keep him interested, but wasn’t sure how to say it.
‘I didn’t know you smoked,’ was all he managed, as she licked the paper and stuck it down.
‘I don’t.’
‘What do you call that then?’
She looked at the joint in her hand as if it had nothing to do with her, gave a little shrug. ‘I call it exceptional circumstances.’
She made a roach for it then, tearing a strip from the Rizla packet and rolling it small.
‘That’ll be too tight,’ he said.
She unrolled it and started again. Every now and then she threw him a glance, but he pretended not to notice. He wasn’t going to let her freak him out. Or the situation. He kept hearing noises even though he was sitting really still. The afternoon seemed full of them and he couldn’t work out if they meant anything or not. Maybe they were regular noises that houses made – boilers and radiators and all the special objects sparkling. But maybe they meant something. Maybe they were noises that mattered, even in the distance. The noise of a car pulling up the drive or footsteps on gravel, or a key in the lock.
‘So, where is everyone?’ he said. He couldn’t help himself, needed to check.
‘At work.’
He shot her a look. That was a lie. Rich people didn’t work weekends.
‘And my brother’s playing golf.’
Heat rose from Mikey’s chest to his neck, to his face.
‘Done it,’ she said, wiggling the finished joint at him with a smile.
‘Well, do you want to smoke it in the car?’
‘No, let’s have it here.’ She shoved it at him. ‘You do the honours.’
He sparked up, took a couple of tokes and passed it to her. She took one puff, didn’t even inhale, then handed it back.
He shook his head. ‘I’m not really into it, to be honest.’
She looked surprised, stubbed the whole thing out on a saucer and picked up the wine. ‘You want some more of this?’
Why weren’t they leaving? Jacko’s car was outside, the picnic was ready. He took the bottle, had a couple of glugs to calm himself down.
‘Shall we go now?’ he said.
She checked her mobile. ‘How about a tour?’
‘What do you mean? A tour of the house?’
‘Yeah, why not?’
And she stood up, grabbed the wine bottle and simply walked out of the kitchen.
Like an estate agent with no hope of a sale, Ellie named rooms that la
y behind closed doors. Cloakroom, study, bathroom, spare room. Outside her brother’s room, Mikey slowed down. It was padlocked, still a crime scene. He laid his hand flat against the door. Ellie kept on walking.
They ended up in her bedroom, sitting together on her bed. There were books and revision papers spread on the desk and all over the floor, but when he tried to crack a joke about it, she ignored him. There was something cold about her, not warm like at the river, not flirty like at the harbour. It was messing with his head.
He got his tobacco out and rolled a thin one. She knelt up on the bed, opened the window and leaned out. He imagined her climbing up on the window ledge like a bird might, her arms open wide. Maybe she could fly. She seemed capable of anything today.
She said, ‘Come over here if you’re going to smoke.’
He knelt next to her and together they looked down at the garden, all green and leafy with its electric gate keeping it safe. You could have heard anything fall – feathers, dust. How did a place get to be so quiet?
‘Don’t you want to go swimming any more?’ he said.
‘Sure I do. We’ll leave in a minute. Here.’
She handed him the wine and he took another swig. She had her finger in her mouth as she watched him. Suck, suck, suck, she went. He couldn’t stop looking.
‘What are you thinking?’ she said.
‘I’m not thinking anything.’
‘Yeah you are, people are always thinking.’
He frowned at her. ‘OK, I’m thinking you’re being really strange.’
‘Am I?’
‘It’s like you’ve gone away inside yourself. Why have you done that?’
‘I don’t know what you’re talking about.’
A car spluttered in the distance, making them both jump. And that’s when she yanked her T-shirt over her head and let it fall to the floor. She was wearing a bra, white lace.
‘What are you doing?’
‘Getting changed.’
She sauntered to the wardrobe and began to lazily flick through the hangers. He was getting turned on watching her. He could see every bone of her spine. Her shoulder blades looked like wings.
She held up some see-through thing and waved it at him. ‘What about this one?’ But she didn’t put it on. He kept telling himself that this was ordinary. This was what rich girls did when they invited blokes to their bedrooms. But at the same time he knew it wasn’t ordinary at all.
Love Hurts Page 11