Seven Days by Eve Ainsworth Read Free Book Online

around the soggy lump of a bag. Two heaped spoons of sugar and just a hint of milk. He says he likes tea you “can stand a teaspoon up in”. To me it just looks dark and angry, a lot like him. I wonder if it stains him inside. Once I made it too milky and he threw the cup against the wall. It took me ages to get the stain out of the carpet. That was a particularly bad day.
    I think I might actually hate him.
    I place the cup carefully on the table beside him, making sure I use the coaster. On Saturday, I spilt a tiny bit. I didn’t hear the end of that for hours.
    Clumsy, inconsiderate bitch…
    He looks up at me and nods, slow and grudging. His lips are pulled into a sneer. He reminds me of a bear, but not a friendly one like Winnie the Pooh. Lois has a dad like a teddy bear, a friendly, cuddly one. My dad should be kept in a zoo. He closes his eyes and goes back to his music. He has no interest in me now.
    I barely register the front door opening and Mum walking in. But then I see the Co-op bag clutched between her thin fingers and I know what she was sent out for. His cigarettes and yet more cans. We live our lives around him.
    “This is pathetic,” I hiss at her, barging my way past. I make her wobble off balance.
    “Where are you going?” she says. She looks at me with those wide blue eyes that take over her tiny, bony face. I swear I’m losing a bit more of her every day. A puff of wind will blow her inside out like a useless umbrella. Even her hair is more candyfloss than curls.
    “I’m going out,” I say, grabbing my bag again. I need to get some air. I just know I can’t be here.
    “But you’ve only just got back?” Her voice is whiny, pleading. She needs me here, I know that, but I can’t face it. She puts the bag down. I see the light reflecting off the cans inside and want to kick them across the room. Why does he need more? More beer spells trouble.
    “What’s the point of talking? He’s bad enough at the moment –” I gesture towards the living room, “ – and you’re just encouraging him.”
    Her eyes drop. “He just said he wanted more for later. It’s been a tough day.”
    “But he has enough in the fridge. Why does he need more?”
    “You don’t understand,” she says lamely.
    “No, I don’t!” My eyes are drilling into hers. Why does she let this happen?
    “What’s going on?” Dad’s voice booms over the music.
    “Nothing, Stu!” Mum shouts back. She turns to me. “Please, Keren. Please come inside. You can’t keep walking away.”
    But I grab my jacket and leave, hearing Dad’s shouts behind me as I slam the door.
    Like I said, it’s easy to shut the problems away.
     
    “Hi, Lyn.”
    I can hear his soft breath on the other end of the phone. “Hi. Where are you?”
    I don’t think I can tell him that I’m in the Mac. He’ll just think that’s weird, like I’m stalking him or something. I’m not. My feet just took me here automatically. Now I’m staring up at the grainy, graffiti-stained buildings of the Macmillan Estate. I know he lives up in the flats on the main block. I even know he’s on the seventeenth floor, he told me once when he was boasting about the view. But he’s still not taken me there. I wonder if he ever will.
    “Just getting some fresh air,” I say.
    I walked away from my tidy little house nestled in the roads where Lyn never goes. I went through my wrought-iron gate, past my dad’s battered Audi and down the tree-lined streets, with the neatly cut verges. I walked without even thinking. Ten minutes later and I’m here. Mum calls it hell. I call it real.
    “Really? It’s freezing out. Rather you than me.”
    I wonder what he’s doing. Probably playing Xbox or chatting online. What else do you do when you’re alone, Lyn? Why do I feel like I don’t really know you at all?
    “I just wanted to hear your voice,” I say softly, squinting up at the brightly lit windows of the tower. I can picture the families inside; sitting down