Cat Kin by Nick Green Read Free Book Online Page B

cosy place. Mum had grown so snappy.
    He stroked his face. The last part of the class, learning to develop Mau whiskers, had left him light-headed. When he fused those blue and green eyes in his mind, had he really felt the air
stirring to life? Imagination could do a lot. Yet it was as if musical strings had been strung to his skull, each buzzing with its own note. And those notes had translated to pictures in his head,
as if he were
seeing
the whole studio as a landscape of vibrations. He could see (feel? hear?) the people around him, blurred shapes through a fog, growing fainter with distance. For those
brief moments he could have run blindfold around the room. Had Mrs Powell hypnotised the lot of them? Or was it something more?
    Wandering by the deer enclosure, where a baby-faced doe nosed up to the wire, he toyed with his mobile phone. Dad had hinted that Thursday might be D-Day on the Stanford front. Ben had been
half-expecting a call all afternoon. His voicemail was empty. He selected
Dad
and pressed the green key.
    Brrrr brrrr
    He let the deer nuzzle his fingers through the fence.
    Brrrr brrrr
    Dad hated a ringing phone. He always picked up by the third ring.
    Brrrr brrrr
    Ben looked at his watch. Five to eight. Too early for Dad to be at the pub. The phone continued to ring. Might he be eating out? There was always the possibility—galling though it
was—that Dad had a girlfriend.
    Brrrr brrrr
    He moved his thumb to the red hang-up button.
    ‘H-hello?’
    ‘Dad!’ Ben grinned. ‘Did I get you out of the bathroom?’
    ‘Er—yes.’ There was a moment’s silence on the line. ‘You okay, Ben?’
    ‘Yeah, great. So…any news?’
    No answer. Ben started to feel uncomfortable.
    ‘It’s not a bad time to call, is it?’ he asked.
    ‘No, no, Ben. It’s just…’ Dad cleared his throat. ‘I guess you want to know if I spoke to Mr Stanford.’
    The line was thick with static. No, not static. But Dad’s voice sounded odd. Slurred. As if he’d had a lot to drink.
    At eight in the evening?
    ‘Hello?’ Ben held the phone more tightly.
    ‘I’m here.’ Dad’s breathing rasped in the earpiece. ‘Ben. I have to tell you something important. Listen. You and your mother can’t stay in that flat. You
must get out. I can put you up at my place for a while.’
    ‘What? But Dad—’
    ‘Ben, this is important. Tell your mother to accept Mr Stanford’s offer. Sell the place and cut your losses.’
    Thell the place
. It sounded like
thell
.
Cut your lothes.
    ‘Dad? Dad, what’s wrong?’
    ‘I’m sorry Ben. I really am. I made a mistake. Try to help and I only make things worse. I’m…I’m not much of a dad, am I.’
    The concrete path seemed to wobble under Ben’s shoes.
    ‘What happened? Did you go round there? What did he say?’ A horrible thought took shape. ‘What did he do? Did he—’
    ‘Don’t worry about me.’ Dad paused a moment. ‘Stanford had this guy with him. A big bloke. I wasn’t about to start any trouble with him there. I
wasn’t.’
    A big bloke. That caveman Toby.
    ‘Did he…hit you?’
    Dad made a sound, like a shred of a laugh.
    ‘I’m okay. Still here.’ He went silent for a while. ‘People mend.’
    Ben sucked in deep breaths. He knew that as soon as he turned his phone off he would throw up all over the footpath.
    ‘Dad…We’ve got to tell the police.’
    ‘No!’ There was something in Dad’s voice he had never heard before. Fear. ‘No, you can’t do that. I’m not going into details. Stanford made it clear. You tell
Mum to take whatever he’s offering and pack her bags. Tell her. Do it for me, Ben. Or I won’t sleep at night.’
    ‘
Dad?
’
    ‘I’m sorry, Ben.’ Raymond Gallagher’s voice sank to a whisper. ‘I’m so sorry.’

FELINE FACES
    ‘Hurry, slave-girl. Fetch me my drink.’
    ‘At once, your Excellency.’ Tiffany bowed before the electric wheelchair as Stuart trundled into the living room. ‘Will it be nectar, ambrosia or