The Story of Before (28 page)

‘No?’ She laughed. ‘And where else would he be?’

‘I mean . . . not now. Maybe he was earlier on but . . . well . . . I don’t think that’s where he is now.’

She frowned at me and shook her head. Then Kev spat out a piece of fish finger and mashed his last chip flat on his tray. ‘Ah, now, don’t be making a mess, you little rascal,’
she said. He smacked his bowl down, then lifted it above his head and flung it on the floor. Mam let out a heavy sigh and leaned down to get it. Her face was all red when she sat back up.
‘Now, what were you saying?’

And then it all spilled out.

Everything. The Kiss. The Ramblers. The breath of air. And being ‘at it’ in the woods in Westgorman.

It didn’t take half as long as I’d imagined it would. I’d thought about it so often that it was almost like a poem or a part in a play that I’d rehearsed and knew off by
heart. When I finished, Mam’s face was even redder, and she kept looking at me in a really weird way, her eyes kind of bouncing in her head, as if someone had turned her upside down and
shaken her.

My cheeks burned and I bit the inside of my mouth while I waited for her to speak. I could hear the others laughing and then the telly being turned up really loud. Kev started whinging to get
out of his highchair and Mam got up from the table like a robot and plonked a bowl of Angel Delight on his tray. He stuck both his hands in it and splodged a big, pink mess all over his face. She
sat back down and stared at him, but didn’t tell him off or wipe his face or take the bowl away.

Her eyes wandered all over the room. Up to the ceiling and down to the floor. Over the cupboards and the counters and the table and the wall. Ages went by and I started wondering if I’d
actually said anything at all or if I’d only imagined that I’d told her. I was about to smile, almost relieved, when finally she spoke. She sounded so strange; all quiet and far away
and dreamy. ‘You know,’ she said, still looking at the wall like she was in a kind of trance, ‘I never really liked that wallpaper. Not really.’

‘But . . . you said . . . you loved it,’ I said, puzzled, wondering why she was talking about the wallpaper. ‘So . . . you were only . . . pretending?’

She started gathering the placemats up. ‘Your father picked it out when I was in the hospital. I didn’t want to hurt his feelings.’

‘Oh.’

A long, loud moan came from the sitting room, followed by a series of screams. Then Sandra came running in, clutching the top of her arm. Mel had punched her several times, she said, because
she’d changed the channel. He ran in after her, protesting his innocence, saying she’d started it. Mam got up from the table and took Kev from his highchair. ‘Upstairs. All of
you,’ she said.

‘But —’ Sandra began.

‘Just go.’ She handed Kev to me. ‘Give him his bath. Then into bed with the lot of you.’

‘But Dad’s not even home yet! And it’s Friday!’ Mel whined. ‘We always stay up later on Fridays!’

‘Regardless of your behaviour?’ Mam asked, her voice getting louder and much more cross.

Mel knew not to argue. He gave a big sigh and deliberately shouldered Sandra on his way out the door. ‘Now look what you caused,’ he said. They were still belting each other as they
stomped upstairs.

I hung back, waiting for Mam to say something. Anything. But she just continued clearing the table, then began filling the sink with hot water. Kev laughed in my face and rubbed his sticky
fingers in my hair.

‘Mam, I—’

‘Up you go. Now.’ It was her ‘no arguments’ voice.

I shuffled out of the kitchen and was about to climb the stairs when she came out to the hall. She had her rubber gloves on and a blob of suds wobbled on her cheek. She reached out her arms and
I thought she was going to give me a hug, but it was Kev she wanted. She took him from me and squeezed him tight. He clung to her and whimpered, and she rocked him gently, making a kind of muffled,
humming sound when she pushed her face in against his neck. Then she kissed him loads of times and stroked his head, sniffing all the time because her nose was runny.

‘You’re the only one,’ she said as she kissed him one more time, her voice all squeaky and cracked. ‘The only one.’

I lay awake for ages after I got into bed. Kev had gone down easy; the bath had tired him out and he’d only cried for a couple of minutes before he fell fast asleep.
Sandra had hopped into bed with a bag of cotton balls and a bottle of Anne French and had spent about twenty minutes ‘cleansing’ her face. She kept calling me to show me how much dirt
she’d taken off, holding up a cotton ball and saying ‘yuck,’ every single time. I finally told her I didn’t find the subject of her face filth even mildly interesting and
when she leaned over and threw one of the used balls at me, the open bottle of lotion slid off her eiderdown and spilled all over the carpet. She blamed me but I got her back by saying it was her
and Mel’s fault that we’d been sent up to bed in the first place. She said it had to be more than that, that Mam must’ve been in a bad mood or something to have sent us all up
after only a couple of punches.

I suppose I could’ve told her the reason Mam was in a bad mood, and I did think about it. But I wanted to see what was going to happen once Dad got home. For all I knew, Mam mightn’t
even say anything to him, at least not straightaway. And there’d be no point going to all the trouble of explaining everything to Sandra unless I really had to. She fell asleep not long after
she turned her light out and I lay there with the sound of her breathing filling the room while I strained to hear Dad’s key in the front door. I willed myself to stay awake for what seemed
like hours, but I fell asleep without hearing him return.

The next morning, Mam was gone. Dad was in the kitchen when I came downstairs. He was ‘shaggin’’ this and ‘bloody’ that while he stirred a pot,
the smell of burning rising up through the house. Kev sat in his highchair, playing with his plastic cup and spoon.

‘Your mother said to give him scrambled eggs,’ Dad said when he saw me. ‘Shaggin’ scrambled! Do you suppose fried would be out of the question?’

‘Where is she?’ I asked.

‘What? Who?’

‘Mam! Who else? Where is she?’

‘Hmm? Oh, she’s . . . she’s gone to your Auntie Cissy’s for a night or two.’ He cracked an egg on the side of the frying pan and cursed when half of it dripped down
onto the top of the oven.

‘Auntie Cissy’s? Why?’ They must’ve had a fight. She must’ve told him everything I’d said and she’d stormed off. ‘She never said anything about
going.’

‘I know, I know. She just decided on a whim. Said she needed a bit of a break.’

‘From . . . what?’

‘From you lot! What happened last night, anyway?’

‘Um . . . only some punching. The usual stuff. Did she not say?’

‘Ah, she didn’t go into the ins and outs of it. Just said there’d been trouble. They’ll have to be taught a lesson, those two.’

She hadn’t told him at all. She’d let on it was the others fighting that had her in bad form.

‘So . . . that’s why she’s gone to Auntie Cissy’s?’

‘Yep.’ He flipped the egg over and put a slice of bread in the toaster.

‘Without saying goodbye?’

‘She wanted to get the first bus. No point in waking the house, was there?’

‘And she left Kev?’

‘Looks like it!’ he said with a forced sort of laugh, pointing the egg slice at Kev. ‘Stuck with you while your mammy’s away, aren’t we, mister?’

‘But what about Easter and all? And who’ll mind him if she’s not back for Monday?’

‘Easter’s not till next weekend. She’ll be back before then. And if she’s not home before I go to work on Monday, well, then you’ll just have to look after him
yourselves, won’t you?’

‘Why didn’t she take him with her? Will she not miss him?’

‘Stop your moaning, Ruth. The one time you’re asked to mind your brother and you’re complaining.’

‘I was only wondering.’

‘That’s what you call it? Sounds a lot like complaining to me.’

‘So . . . if she’s not home by Monday, when do you think she’ll be back?’

‘I don’t know! Give the woman some time! It’s this sort of thing has her head frazzled. Questions, questions! Just accept it. A bit of responsibility won’t do you any
harm.’

He whistled about the kitchen, buttering toast, throwing sausages onto the pan, and making tea. He filled the burned pot with hot water and a long squirt of Quix, then slung a tea towel over his
shoulder and did a silly dance for Kev. He thought he was being funny but he just looked a bit stupid. He put a sausage and a slice of toast on the table and told me to sit down and eat. I stabbed
the sausage with my fork and nibbled at it while I watched Kev trying to stuff his crusts into the pocket of his pyjamas. Dad sat across from me and bit into his toast.

‘You must’ve been home very late last night,’ I said.

‘I was.’

‘Mam said you were pricing a job somewhere.’

‘That’s right.’ He cut his sausages into little pieces.

‘So . . . how come it took that long?’

He coughed and took a gulp of tea. ‘These things always take time. You can’t rush. If you make a mistake, there’s no going back on your word. People always hold you to your
price.’

‘But that long? I mean . . . it must’ve been way after ten before you got in.’

‘Eleven, if you must know.’

‘Was Mam really upset about the fighting? What . . . what did she say?’

‘Not much. Just that she’d done her best to make you all a nice dinner and that was how you repaid her. By belting the livin’ daylights out of each other.’

‘It wasn’t me, though. I didn’t do anything.’

He stopped chewing and pushed his food into his cheek. ‘No, you never do, do you? Good as gold. Our little angel.’

I didn’t like the way he looked at me. Like he didn’t really mean what he’d said.

Mel came into the kitchen in his bare feet and poured himself a bowl of cornflakes. He asked where Mam was and made a face when Dad told him. Sandra arrived down fully dressed and announced she
was going into town with Diane Grogan, her new best friend from the basketball team. Dad took one look at the thick black lines she’d pencilled around her eyes and the scruffy denim jacket
she’d borrowed from Diane and said, ‘Not looking like that, you’re not.’

I managed to slip upstairs during the argument that followed and flopped down on my bed. Why hadn’t Mam said anything to Dad about what I’d told her? Maybe she just needed time to
think about it all, and what she was going to do. But I felt bad that what I’d said had sent her to Auntie Cissy’s. Her house was dark and gloomy and always freezing, even in summer.
And Thomas the cat’s eye-watering stink was all over the place. He was always miaowing to be let out, clicking over the slippery, cold lino with his tail in the air, showing off his wrinkly
bum-hole. If anyone deserved to be staying in that smelly, icy, cave of a house, it was Dad.

And what if Mam decided to stay there for ages? What if she never wanted to see Dad again? What would happen to us?

I lay there wondering if perhaps I shouldn’t have said anything at all.

David was back.

I saw him on the green the next day after dinner. I’d taken Kev out for a run while the others did the washing up. With Mam away, Dad had had to do the cooking and had flopped down in his
armchair to read the Sunday paper when we were finished eating. Kev was happy I was bringing him outside and he held my hand without moaning. Sunday afternoons in Hillcourt Rise were always quiet;
dead, even. I wasn’t expecting we’d see anyone. But as we got nearer to the green, I saw a lone figure standing beside a cherry tree. Even though I knew he’d be home from Clonrath
for Easter, it was still a bit of a shock to see him after all the weeks he’d been away. He waved when he noticed me but I didn’t wave back. Kev pulled free from my grip and raced
across the grass, flinging himself at David’s long legs and hugging his knees. David held his arms out and took a step backwards, clearly surprised.

‘At least someone’s pleased to
see me,’ he said, lifting Kev up and tossing him in the air.

‘What did you expect?’ I asked. ‘Yellow ribbons round the cherry trees?’

‘Well, nothing quite that elaborate. But perhaps a smile might’ve been nice.’ Kev clung to his neck and David laughed. ‘Unhand me, you fend! He’s a clingy beggar, isn’t he?’

I took Kev from him, relieved to have him back in my arms. I didn’t like David touching him.

‘No more than any little boy,’ I said. ‘You were probably exactly like him once upon a time. I’m sure your mother would tell you if you asked her.’

‘I suppose you think you’re being smart,’ he said.

‘Well, I do think of myself as intelligent, yes.’

‘Smart as in sarcastic, I meant. Not smart as in brainy.’

‘You can think whatever you like. I was only making a comment,’ I said.

‘And which mother do you suppose I ask?’

‘Whichever one will tell you the truth, I suppose.’

‘Unfortunately there’s only one that I actually know, so
I’ll just have to trust her, won’t I?’

‘Well, you can hardly expect other people to be truthful if you’re telling lies yourself,’ I said, putting Kev back down on the grass.