‘Tell them a fever and a cough, or that she kept throwing up. Not a headache. And don’t smoke in front of her.’
He knew how important his mum’s fags were, how they kept her calm. He knew he was being unkind.
‘Stop worrying,’ she said. ‘It’s only a support visit, nothing else. I’ll sit by the window. I’ll tell her I never do it with Holly around.’
‘Show her the smoke alarm,’ Holly said, pointing up at the ceiling with the end of her felt-tip pen.
Mikey followed her gaze. Sober for days, and a tidy flat was one thing, but a fully-installed and working smoke alarm was definitely something new.
Mum grinned at him. ‘You’re impressed.’
He couldn’t help smiling back.
She glanced at the clock. ‘Go and have fun, Mikey. Go on, you’ve done enough.’
He checked his mobile. No new messages, but that was OK. It was all agreed. Two-thirty at Ellie’s house. He’d leave in a few minutes.
‘Like my drawing?’ Holly said.
She held it up for them all to see. It was Karyn, outside with her hair streaming behind her in the wind. She was holding a piece of string with a dragon on the end and a flaming sword.
‘Nice picture,’ Karyn said.
Holly smiled, carefully tore the page from her book and laid it on the table. ‘I’m going to draw you at school next.’
‘Let me keep the dragon,’ Karyn laughed. ‘I’ll need it if you’re sending me back there.’
Mikey took the plates to the kitchen, had a quick look in the fridge while he was there. It was stuffed – juice and yoghurts, cheese and milk, all sorts. Mum had even bought a pack of bacon and some sausages.
By the time he’d washed up the plates, all three of them were huddled together on the sofa watching a re-run of
‘Here,’ he said, ‘get yourselves a DVD and some sweets.’
You’d think he’d given them a fortune, the way they passed it between them.
He almost didn’t want to leave. It wasn’t that long ago when this would have been his idea of a perfect Saturday afternoon and he’d happily have squeezed in with them on the sofa.
‘I’ll be off then.’
Mum raised her cup of tea. ‘Have a lovely time.’
Twenty-two
Ellie blushed, actually blushed, when she opened the door. Mikey wanted to sweep her up and kiss her, but he had to save that until they were safely away from the house.
‘Ready?’ he said.
She smiled apologetically. ‘Not yet. I haven’t made the picnic.’
‘We’ll get fish and chips.’
She wagged a finger at him. ‘Every adventure has a picnic. Come inside, it’ll only take a few minutes.’
‘Why don’t I wait in the car?’
She shook her head. ‘There’s nobody home, don’t worry.’
What choice did he have?
When Ellie closed the door behind them, a dim blue light shone through the coloured glass and splashed the floor. There were paintings on the wall and a statue on a stand – a man and a woman wrapped together. Mikey touched it with a finger, surprised at how smooth it felt.
‘It’s not real,’ Ellie said.
He pulled his hand away, embarrassed.
‘It’s a copy. Well, of course it’s a copy. No one has a real Rodin.’
He nodded, as if that was obvious, mentally cursing himself for knowing nothing about anything.
She led him through a sitting room – sofa, chairs, display cabinet full of family photos (Ellie looking sexy with a swimming trophy) – through to the kitchen, right at the back of the house and smaller than he remembered. On the table was a chopping board, bread, various things for the picnic all spread out. The back door was open and beyond was the garden, that cool expanse of green that amazed him again with its endless lawn and trees.
A dog lay on a blanket and flapped its tail sleepily at them. It was an old dog, with grey hair round its nose. Here was something he recognized at least. He knew what to do with dogs.
‘What’s his name?’
‘Stan, but she’s a girl.’
‘Does she bite?’
‘Only if you’re a biscuit. Stroke her if you like. No one else gives her any attention.’
Girls liked blokes who liked animals and he didn’t even have to pretend. He took great care, was gentle and slow. The dog turned belly up and let him fuss her. Mikey smiled, forgetting where he was for a minute. ‘She’s a lovely dog.’
‘She’s my gran’s. We’ve got her goldfish as well.’
He glanced up quickly. ‘Is your gran here?’
‘No, no, she’s in a nursing home. Cup of tea while you wait, or do you want something else?’
His heart thumped. ‘What have you got?’
‘Wait there.’
She wasn’t gone long. He heard her run down the hallway, heard a door open and shut. She came back with a bottle of wine and passed it over. She was trying to impress him.
He unscrewed the top, took a couple of gulps and passed it back. She tipped the bottle to her mouth and took the smallest of sips. She wiped her mouth with the back of her hand.
‘What about this picnic then?’ he said.
‘It’s only sandwiches.’
‘Well, let’s make them.’
They really had to hurry up. He wouldn’t relax until they were out of here.
He started sorting through the stuff on the table – a bag of expensive lettuce, some cheese in a wooden box, tomatoes, olives. She’d been planning on some complicated sandwiches, though the fresh ingredients were going to be interesting to work with. She yanked more stuff out of the fridge – a red pepper, a handful of rocket.
‘You want butter?’ she said.
‘Not if it’s been in the fridge. You got mayonnaise?’
She passed it, along with a knife from a wooden holder on the cabinet. He sliced the bread and spread it with mayo, shredded the lettuce and cut up tomatoes. He liked her watching, knew it looked cool. He unpacked the cheese from its box and laid thin slices on the bread with the salad.
‘Got any black pepper, any salt?’
She came over with the grinders and did it for him. When she twisted, her hips swung and her skirt shifted. It was pretty the way her skirt did that, like it was part of her.
He cut the sandwiches in half diagonally, wrapped them in foil and stepped back from the table with a bow.
‘There you go.’
‘You could be a chef,’ Ellie said, ‘the care you took.’
They smiled at each other.
‘Shall we be off then?’ he said.
She glanced at her mobile, then sat down at the table, pulled a packet of tobacco from a drawer, papers, a lighter and a small hunk of dope.
