TOYL by Paul Pilkington Read Free Book Online Page B

close the door.

9

    This was going to be a special meal, a new start. Once they had been so close, but they hadn’t even spoken in the past few years, not since he had just upped and left, without even a goodbye.
    But now he was coming home.
    She had made a special trip to the butchers in the high street, to pick up a quarter of best quality steak. It had been so long since she had cooked him a meal. The house had been so empty since he had left.
    But no matter, because he had returned when she needed him the most. When she’d first heard his voice she cried. He’d apologised for just disappearing like that, said that he had to get away, get his head sorted. He’d been having problems with his girlfriend; she knew that, although he’d never confided in her about those sorts of things. But she’d never realised that things had got so bad – that the girl had driven him away from his loved ones.
    What gave her the right to drive a boy away from his mother?
    At first he had called her on the telephone, ringing in the early hours. She didn’t mind being woken at two or three in the morning, not for the chance to speak to him. She would have stayed up all night if that’s what had to be done. He said that he missed home. And although he was still far away – though she didn’t like to ask him where he was, in case it scared him off – he promised her he would be home soon. But she had wondered where he had spent all those years. What job had he been doing? Had he met another woman?
    Then, after numerous phone calls, he announced that the time had come for him to return home. And that was today.
    She looked at her watch; he was now fifteen minutes late. What if he’d changed his mind, decided that he could do without his mother? She pushed that thought aside, bending down to the oven, checking that the meat was not overdone. She then turned the gas down on the hob and reached for the glass of wine.
    She never used to be a drinker, but this was a celebration.
    She emptied the glass and poured herself another, again glancing at her watch.
    Where was he?
    She moved out of the kitchen, through the drab, darkened living room and across to the bay window. She scanned the street, half expecting him to be standing there, just waiting to be invited in. But there was no one there.
    ‘Please come back to me,’ she mouthed. ‘I love you so much.’
    She stared out of the window for a few minutes, imagining what life would be like in the house, totally alone. Then she remembered the meal, dashing back into the kitchen. The pans had boiled dry, ruining the vegetables and potatoes. And the meat was crisping up. How long had she been daydreaming?
    Where was he?
    She grabbed an empty pan from the draining board and hurled it across the kitchen, sending it slamming into the wall and bouncing across the floor. The sound of steel against floor-tile reverberated around the room, hurting her ears.
    She finished another glass of wine and then reached for the knife block, pulling out a six-inch blade. She watched her own reflection in the knife, warped like in a fairground House of Mirrors, wondering what the hell she was doing. As if shocked into sense, she suddenly placed the knife back into the block.
    He wasn’t coming, and it was that stupid girl’s fault.

10

    ‘What are you thinking?’ Lizzy asked, as Emma stared at the closed door. She’d knocked a couple of times, but didn’t want to risk antagonising him too much.
    Emma turned and stepped away from the door, beckoning Lizzy to the other side of the landing, out of earshot. For all she knew, Mr Henderson could have been standing on the other side of the door, trying to listen.
    ‘I think he might be hiding something.’ Emma lowered her voice. ‘I might be wrong, but it just didn’t seem like the full story.’
    ‘You really think so?’ Lizzy replied in a whisper, glancing over at Mr Henderson’s door.
    ‘Look how he reacted when I started asking him whether it was