didn’t … ’
Michael snapped off the radio. ‘We were driving the streets all night, Toby. I was terrified we were going to get the call from the police saying you were hurt or you’d …’ He stopped,and Toby realised how upset he was. ‘Your mother never stopped crying.’
They drove on in silence. The red lights seemed interminably long.
‘I guess it’s because you’re our only one, Toby. Your mum had so wanted a little brother or sister for you, but that wasn’t to be. So we worry about you more. I know that can be a bit suffocating for you, but … I drove all night, Toby.’
Toby stared down at his lap. ‘Sorry.’
His dad muttered something back under his breath, but Toby didn’t catch it.
When he looked up again, they had arrived at school. A couple of stragglers were running in, trying to beat the bell.
‘Just get into school. We love you.’
‘Love you too, Dad.’
He got out stiffly, but didn’t want to show it. He headed into school and turned at the gates. Michael was still parked there. Watching him. Toby waved, a little half-heartedly, then went inside. He wondered whether, if he turned and looked back outside again, the car would still be there, if his Dad was still waiting and watching. But then he saw some bigger boys coming towards him and he hobbled away to class, as quickly as his sore feet would allow.
THREE
Each time I see Jeff now, I feel jittery. I’m alright at home, but the way he laughs (his stupid bloody jokes) and the way he watches me only makes me more and more stressy. I thought this would all calm down but it hasn’t. It’s building inside me, I can’t explain it right; it’s like my body’s really unhappy and my brain doesn’t know why. At the end of every day, Jeff offers to drive me home, but I can’t face him at the moment. I tell him I’m fine and say something about some job I want to tinker with. He’s a bit unhappy about this, but eventually he lets me be and goes. I wander around the garage, restless and twitchy about things I just can’t put my finger on. I feel worried, and not knowing why is just a bigger wind-up.
When I get home, it’s quiet in the house. I go upstairs and find Carrie, Emma and Joe in our bed. She’s reading a story for Emma, but Joe’s crept into the bed even though he’s too old for the book. They both listen with eager, earnest faces. Carrie looks up, smiles and carries on. I want to run over and hug them so tight. But I am still shaking inside. I listen to the story. The lines rhyme. It’s witty, sweet, smart. Clear and easy.
I retreat to the boxroom. Turn on my computer. The machine powers up, but the screen is dead. I’m screaming inside as I bend down to check the plug, but it’s in, on, so there’s no obvious reason. I’ll need my toolbox.
Carrie appears at the door. ‘They want a cuddle before they go to sleep.’
All I can manage is a grunt. She comes into the room, puts an arm on my shoulder.
‘What’s wrong with the computer?’ I say.
‘No idea, I haven’t had a moment free today. Joe managed to block the sink with …’
She keeps on talking, but I don’t want to hear the details. Because they’ll suck me away from where I am now. They’ll make me feel safer and comfortable. I need the fix she offers, but I have to stay awake now.
And suddenly I feel I’ve been here a hundred times before. On the verge of opening my eyes and seeing it all, but deciding instead to turn my back, to slump down, to let it all slip blissfully away.
‘The screen doesn’t work, the computer’s on but the bloody screen’s buggered.’
She looks at me, confused. She was saying something and I’ve cut across her.
‘Well, it has,’ I mutter. ‘You’ve not used it?’
‘No. I said. What’s with you?’
‘I’ll go see the kids.’
‘No, hang on, you’re all wound up. Did something happen at work? Was it that prick Jeff?’
It’s nice that she doesn’t like him either.
‘I’m
Michael snapped off the radio. ‘We were driving the streets all night, Toby. I was terrified we were going to get the call from the police saying you were hurt or you’d …’ He stopped,and Toby realised how upset he was. ‘Your mother never stopped crying.’
They drove on in silence. The red lights seemed interminably long.
‘I guess it’s because you’re our only one, Toby. Your mum had so wanted a little brother or sister for you, but that wasn’t to be. So we worry about you more. I know that can be a bit suffocating for you, but … I drove all night, Toby.’
Toby stared down at his lap. ‘Sorry.’
His dad muttered something back under his breath, but Toby didn’t catch it.
When he looked up again, they had arrived at school. A couple of stragglers were running in, trying to beat the bell.
‘Just get into school. We love you.’
‘Love you too, Dad.’
He got out stiffly, but didn’t want to show it. He headed into school and turned at the gates. Michael was still parked there. Watching him. Toby waved, a little half-heartedly, then went inside. He wondered whether, if he turned and looked back outside again, the car would still be there, if his Dad was still waiting and watching. But then he saw some bigger boys coming towards him and he hobbled away to class, as quickly as his sore feet would allow.
THREE
Each time I see Jeff now, I feel jittery. I’m alright at home, but the way he laughs (his stupid bloody jokes) and the way he watches me only makes me more and more stressy. I thought this would all calm down but it hasn’t. It’s building inside me, I can’t explain it right; it’s like my body’s really unhappy and my brain doesn’t know why. At the end of every day, Jeff offers to drive me home, but I can’t face him at the moment. I tell him I’m fine and say something about some job I want to tinker with. He’s a bit unhappy about this, but eventually he lets me be and goes. I wander around the garage, restless and twitchy about things I just can’t put my finger on. I feel worried, and not knowing why is just a bigger wind-up.
When I get home, it’s quiet in the house. I go upstairs and find Carrie, Emma and Joe in our bed. She’s reading a story for Emma, but Joe’s crept into the bed even though he’s too old for the book. They both listen with eager, earnest faces. Carrie looks up, smiles and carries on. I want to run over and hug them so tight. But I am still shaking inside. I listen to the story. The lines rhyme. It’s witty, sweet, smart. Clear and easy.
I retreat to the boxroom. Turn on my computer. The machine powers up, but the screen is dead. I’m screaming inside as I bend down to check the plug, but it’s in, on, so there’s no obvious reason. I’ll need my toolbox.
Carrie appears at the door. ‘They want a cuddle before they go to sleep.’
All I can manage is a grunt. She comes into the room, puts an arm on my shoulder.
‘What’s wrong with the computer?’ I say.
‘No idea, I haven’t had a moment free today. Joe managed to block the sink with …’
She keeps on talking, but I don’t want to hear the details. Because they’ll suck me away from where I am now. They’ll make me feel safer and comfortable. I need the fix she offers, but I have to stay awake now.
And suddenly I feel I’ve been here a hundred times before. On the verge of opening my eyes and seeing it all, but deciding instead to turn my back, to slump down, to let it all slip blissfully away.
‘The screen doesn’t work, the computer’s on but the bloody screen’s buggered.’
She looks at me, confused. She was saying something and I’ve cut across her.
‘Well, it has,’ I mutter. ‘You’ve not used it?’
‘No. I said. What’s with you?’
‘I’ll go see the kids.’
‘No, hang on, you’re all wound up. Did something happen at work? Was it that prick Jeff?’
It’s nice that she doesn’t like him either.
‘I’m
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