‘He’s all right about it, isn’t he?’ Sue asked, acutely aware that this was the old man’s house and that she shouldn’t be here if he didn’t want her to be. In fact, it would be a relief to use his reluctance about having her here as an excuse to get the hell out.
‘Course he is,’ Dave assured her. ‘Anyway, this is your room,’ he said now, squeezing past her to get to the door of the last room on the landing. ‘It’s only small, but it’ll do for now.’ Whispering now, he added, ‘If you’re still here when the old fucker pegs it, you can have his room, ’cos that’s bigger, and Connor can keep this one.’
It chilled Sue to hear him talking so glibly about his father dying, but she supposed he must have his reasons. It couldn’t be easy for a man like him, who obviously liked being clean and orderly, judging by his room, to have to tolerate living with someone as dirty and lazy as his dad.
Following Dave into her room when he unlocked it now, she was glad to see that it was as tidy as Dave’s, although there was far less furniture in it, and no ornaments or knickknacks of any kind. Just a bed, a chest of drawers, a wardrobe, and a chair.
‘The mattress is fairly old,’ Dave told her, handing her the key. ‘But it’s clean, and I bought you some new sheets and a duvet, and that. Sorry there’s no TV,’ he went on. ‘But you can come and watch mine at night when Connor’s in bed. And Connor can watch the downstairs one in the day,’ he added, letting her know that the invitation into his room extended only to her. ‘Anyway,’ he finished, rubbing his hands together. ‘How about you make a coffee and get yourself used to where everything is while I get your bags out of the car?’
Standing in the kitchen a few minutes later, Sue looked around in despair. There was no way she was touching anything while it was in this state; and
no
way she was drinking out of one of these filthy cups. But she could hardly say that to Dave when he’d been kind enough to let her stay. So she rolled up her sleeves and tentatively opened the cupboard under the sink – surprised to find several bottles of cleaning fluids, a half-empty pack of sponges, and a dusty box of rubber gloves.
Guessing that they were leftovers from when Dave’s mum had still been alive, Sue pinched a pair of the gloves out with her fingernails. Shaking them vigorously in case they had spiders or bugs inside the fingers, she slipped them on. Feeling better already, she removed the dishes from the sink and stacked them on the ledge. Then, dousing the sink with bleach, she set about scrubbing it.
Dave came in just then, carrying three of the bin bags, while Connor followed miserably with the last one. Grinning when he saw what Sue was doing, he said, ‘Now that’s what we like to see, isn’t it, Connor? A woman who knows her place.’
Smiling and frowning at the same time as she peered round at him, Sue said, ‘You’d best be joking, Dave Miller!’
Winking cheekily, he said, ‘Course I am. I’m just glad you felt comfortable enough to get stuck in without all that usual
is it all right if I open this cupboard
, or
do you mind I use that plate
rubbish.’ Then, eyes twinkling, he jerked his head at Connor, saying, ‘Come on, let’s get this stuff up to your room while your mam gets on with her job.’
Chuckling when Sue flicked the sponge at him, sending a spray of foam across the room, Dave lurched out. Glancing plaintively at Sue, Connor pleaded with his eyes for her to come with them and save him from having to be alone with Dave. But she waved her soapy hand at him, hissing, ‘Hurry up. Don’t let him do it all himself or he’ll think you’re ungrateful.’
Pointing to a corner of the bedroom when Connor joined him, Dave told him to put the bag he was carrying over there.
Shaking from head to toe, Connor did as he was told. Dave hadn’t said anything nasty to him since that day at McDonald’s last week, but he was still terrified of him.
‘That’s a good lad,’ Dave said quietly, looking down at him. ‘And if you just carry on doing as you’re told, we’ll be fine. But you’re in my house now, so I don’t want to hear any of that whingeing you’ve been doing lately. Right?’
Nodding quickly, Connor stared up at him with wide eyes.
‘Good,’ Dave said, seeming satisfied. ‘Because you’ve been acting like too much of a baby for my liking, and it’s time you started being a man. So no more whining and crying, and no more grunting at your mam, ’cos she’s got enough to put up with without you upsetting her.’
Nodding again, Connor waited to see if there was more. But Dave had finished with the rules. Jerking his head at Connor, he walked out of the room, saying, ‘Let’s go see how your mam’s getting on with that coffee. Then if you’re good, you can stop in and watch telly while I take her to get a bit of shopping. And you can bet your life she’s already making a list, ’cos that’s what women do: demand, demand, demand.’
Connor didn’t really understand what Dave was getting at, but he sensed it wasn’t good. Although Dave sounded quite nice again, like he’d used to sound before he got angry that day, so maybe he was only joking.
Following him back down the stairs, Connor peered nervously into all the dark corners they passed. He didn’t want to stay here on his own, knowing that that creepy old man was in the room upstairs. But there was no way he was going to whinge to get his mum to take him along, because Dave would get mad. Anyway, if they were only going shopping, they wouldn’t be gone too long. And, scary as it was, he’d rather be here than in Dave’s car, because he felt sick every time his mum made him get into it, worrying that Fred would spot them and batter him for it when he eventually went back to school. And he didn’t even want to think about what Fred would do if he found out that Connor was living at his dad’s house.
No, not living
, he corrected himself;
staying
. Because that was all they were doing, according to his mum: just staying for a little while, until the council gave them their own house. Back on the old estate, with any luck. Near his dad.
Connor couldn’t wait.
‘I need a mop,’ Sue said as soon as Dave walked into the kitchen. ‘And some more washing-up liquid, because this one’s rubbish. Oh, and the milk’s off, so I couldn’t make you that coffee.’
‘See?’ Dave smiled down at Connor. ‘Am I always right, or am I always right? What was I just saying about women and lists?’
‘Oh, I see,’ Sue laughed, relieved that they seemed to be getting on so well. ‘Ganging up on me already, are you?’
Dave’s father heard Sue’s laughter floating up from below and pursed his wrinkled lips. He’d actually seen her a few times when he’d still lived in Rusholme, but he hadn’t recognised her today because she’d been a teenager then, and just one of numerous girls who had occasionally walked home from school with David and his gang.
David had always preferred the company of boys, and there was a time when Jack had wondered if he was a pooftah, and all the aggressive, trouble-making behaviour was just his way of disguising it. But it wasn’t. David just preferred male company – and used women for sex.
He’d met his match in that Carole one that he’d had the kids with, though, and she’d lasted a good deal longer than most of his tarts. The one time Jack and Mary had met her they’d known that she was as bad as David, so they hadn’t been surprised that their sons had turned out to be loutish, ill-mannered replicas of him. But Leanne was a different kettle of fish. A beautiful, wilful child, she had been their favourite from the off – just as she was David’s. And Jack still had a soft spot for her, even though he hadn’t seen her in years. But he wasn’t in any rush to go looking for her, because he had no doubt that she’d probably be just like her mother by now.
Hearing the front door slamming shut, Jack narrowed his eyes and listened out for David’s car. Hearing the distinctive crunching sound of tyres crushing gravel a few seconds later, he exhaled wearily.
Jack’s older brother Ernie had inherited this house from their dad, and when he’d died it had been passed down to Jack. And he and Mary had jumped at the chance to move into it, despite the fact that it had been almost as much of a hovel then as it was today. It was the perfect retreat for them to see out their remaining years in peace – away from David and all the trouble that seemed to linger in his wake.
David hadn’t bothered them too much over the next few years, too busy with his own life to pay more than the occasional visit. And only then when he needed to tap a few quid out of his mother, if a deal had gone wrong or he’d gambled a bit too much away. But since Mary had died, Jack had scarcely laid eyes on him in years.
Then,
wham
! He leaves Carole and turns up with his bags, declaring that he might as well move in and get used to the place, seeing as how it was going to be his soon enough anyway.
It depressed Jack to know that his son was waiting so eagerly for him to die. And even more so to know that it wasn’t going to happen any time soon. But what could you do when your body was determined to carry on functioning as usual? And he refused to even think about speeding the process along by artificial means – although David probably had more than enough foreign substances lying around in his room to make it very quick and painless. But Jack could never do something as sinful as that and risk losing the chance to meet up with Mary again on the other side. So he struggled on: despising his disrespectful son more with every passing day, and rarely venturing out of his room unless he thought he had the house to himself.
Like now.
Holding tightly onto the banister rail now, Jack eased himself slowly down the stairs, his bones creaking and cracking with every step. Irritated to hear the sound of the TV before he reached the bottom, he was muttering about the waste of electricity as he pushed the living-room door open. Walking across to switch the TV off, he caught sight of Connor out of the corner of his eye and hesitated, his finger still hovering over the knob. If it had been one of David’s boys, they would have yelled at him to leave it on – and called him a few choice names to boot, despite the fact that they were only eight and thirteen years of age. But this boy looked petrified.
‘You watching this, son?’ Jack asked, his croaky old voice sounding odd to his own ears, never mind the boy’s, because he rarely used it these days except to mutter to himself under his breath.
Getting no reply, he left the TV on and went over to his chair.
‘So, who are you, then?’ he asked, taking his tobacco pouch out of his pocket and rolling himself a cigarette. ‘I’m David’s dad, Mr Miller,’ he went on when Connor still didn’t speak. ‘And I take it your mummy is David’s new lady friend, is she?’
Tutting softly when he got absolutely no response, Jack squinted at Connor. Apart from the terror, there was something dark and sad in the boy’s eyes, and Jack hoped it had nothing to do with David. He liked to play the big I am; the life and soul of every party; the charmer. But he was a nasty little bugger behind the façade, and he detested weakness – especially in lads. He liked them to be rough and rude, and capable of scaring the shit out of everyone – like his pair. But this little one looked like a cry-baby, and David wouldn’t like that.
Glancing quickly around now, to make sure that David hadn’t sneaked back in, Jack said, ‘Is there anything wrong, son? Only you don’t look too happy, if you don’t mind me saying. And if there’s anything you want to talk about, I’m a pretty good listener.’
Aware that he was staring at the man, but unable to drag his eyes away because he’d never seen anyone as old and wrinkly before, Connor didn’t so much as move his head. The man sounded kind, but Connor didn’t trust him. He was Dave’s dad, so it might be a trick. Dave could be hiding somewhere, waiting to pounce when Connor talked, so he could prove that he’d been lying all along and get his mum to send him away.
Giving up, Jack lit his roll-up and smoked it in silence. The TV programme that had been on when he came in had finished now, and an old western starring John Wayne had started up. It was one of Jack’s all-time favourites, but the boy was making him feel too uneasy to enjoy it. Sitting on the sofa as stiff as a poker, his eyes so big and dark in his pale little face, he reminded Jack of one of the children out of
Village Of The Damned
. So, finishing his cigarette, he went back upstairs to watch the film on his little black and white portable instead.
Connor gasped for breath when the man had gone. Lately, when he got scared, he’d started to make funny wheezing noises. His mum hadn’t mentioned it, so she mustn’t have heard him doing it yet. But when she did, she’d hate it, he was sure. Just like she hated all the other noises he couldn’t help making. So now, when it happened, he held his breath.
And that was why he was glad the man had gone, because he’d held it for so long this time that he’d started to feel really peculiar. His head had gone all tingly and buzzy, and everything had started to go black around the edges of his eyes.
Feeling reasonably normal again, his brow soon puckered into a frown when he felt the tell-tale signs of needing a wee. His mum had stopped putting nappies on him during the day, telling him that he was a big boy and shouldn’t need them any more – and that he’d best not let Dave know that he was still wearing them at night while they were staying with him, or else.
Without the security of the nappy, Connor knew that he would have to get up and go to the toilet asap. But the bathroom was upstairs next to Dave’s dad’s room, and he really didn’t want to go up there. There was another one that Dave had pointed out to them when they’d first arrived, but that was in a little brick shed outside, and he didn’t know if he was allowed to go outside. But if he didn’t he would wet himself right there on the couch, and that would be awful, because there would be no way of hiding it or cleaning it up in time.
Deciding to risk it, Connor eased the living-room door open and crept back out through the kitchen and the porch. Making a dash for the shed, he pushed the door open, squealing with fear when a huge spider dropped down in front of his face. Fortunately, he’d already pulled his zip down, so when the wee immediately began to squirt out, he was able to aim it straight into the dirty toilet pan.