You Against Me

He rubbed his nose and thought about it. He looked around at the place where he lived because he didn’t know the answer. There were newly-planted trees in the courtyard, thin little sticks protected by their own wire fences. He looked at the sand pit, the swing, the football area with its goal marked on the wall in red paint. The boy with the ball was still there and Holly was laughing with him about something. Mikey took a last drag of his cigarette and stubbed it out in the Christmas tree pot, picked up a stone he found and held it so it warmed in his hand.

‘I lost my job, Mum.’

‘Oh, Mikey!’

‘I mucked them about too much.’

She shook her head as she stubbed out her own cigarette. ‘Did you tell them how difficult everything’s been?’

‘Not exactly.’

‘You should’ve done. It might’ve helped.’

‘Yeah, maybe.’

‘I’m really sorry about that.’ She looked sorry too. ‘What will you do now?’

He didn’t know. It struck him how suddenly the world goes and changes. Here he was sitting on the step and he couldn’t think of a single thing that was the same as the day before. Yesterday he was with Ellie and today it was over. Yesterday Tom was getting away with it, and today he wasn’t. Yesterday Karyn was glued to the sofa and now she was down in the courtyard. Yesterday he had a job. He sighed and stretched his legs out. Even the weather was freakishly different – constant rain replaced by a low sun pulsing in the sky.

‘Maybe I’ll go down and give Holly a kick-around,’ he said. ‘I’ve been promising her one for weeks.’

‘You do that,’ Mum said. ‘And I tell you what. Why don’t I make us a proper dinner? There’s some chicken pieces in the freezer and I could do potatoes and veggies like I used to. Would you like that?’ She leaned over and stroked his arm.

‘Thanks,’ he said. ‘That’d be great.’

He knew it wouldn’t last for ever, knew it was only one of her cycles, but it was kind. And maybe, like a game of footie with Holly, like the sun in April, it was important to appreciate good things when they came.

Forty-four

Ellie sat on the sofa next to her mother. They’d been sitting there for so long that the room had fallen softly into darkness. Upstairs, Tom was in his bedroom packing. Dad was helping him. Ellie could hear the drag and tear of parcel tape as he sealed up boxes on the landing.

‘Dad’s never going to forgive me,’ she whispered.

Mum squeezed her hand. ‘Your father loves you.’

‘That’s different.’

‘It’s all we’ve got though. When it comes down to it, it’s all we have to hold on to.’

It felt like a belt tightening as Dad came down the stairs. Every muscle in Ellie’s body moved into tension as she watched him stack two new boxes on top of the others in the hall. It was like Tom was dead and they were clearing him out.

‘Is that his Xbox?’ Mum said. ‘Won’t Ben have things like that he can use?’

Dad snapped the lights on in the lounge and stood in the doorway, watching them blink into light. Surely he would stop being angry soon. Surely his fury would simply run out.

‘Ben’s at college all day,’ he said, ‘so Tom will be dependent on the parents’ hospitality. You want your son to feel uncomfortable, asking if he might please watch TV or perhaps borrow a console to help distract him from this nightmare?’

Mum didn’t answer and he shook his head at her as if that simply proved he was right. He strode off down the hallway to the downstairs bathroom. Ellie imagined him rooting through the cabinet in there, hunting down Tom’s shaving gear and deodorant, his favourite hair gel.

‘I suppose I should draw the curtains,’ Mum said. ‘It’s dark outside.’

But she didn’t move.

Dad came back in with Tom’s toilet bag in his hand. ‘How has this confession of yours helped anyone, Eleanor?’ he said. ‘How has it got any of us anywhere?’

‘It was the truth, Dad.’

‘The truth? Oh for God’s sake! I have never, repeat, never, seen your brother this way before. Is that what you wanted?’ He stabbed a finger at the ceiling. ‘He’s sitting up there on his bed, barely able to speak, let alone pack.’

‘Should I go up?’ Mum said.

‘You’re asking me?’

‘Yes, I am.’

‘You’re his bloody mother – shouldn’t you know?’

‘I’m asking you if he wants me up there. If he needs me, I’ll go.’

‘Very noble of you.’ He looked down at their hands clasped together. It seemed to infuriate him more. ‘You should’ve stopped her. You should’ve nailed her bloody feet to the floor.’

‘I couldn’t stop her.’

‘Couldn’t? She’s a child, isn’t she? Do you have no control over your children?’ He scowled at her, his mouth a taut line of disapproval. Then he spun off and out, thumping furiously back up the stairs.

‘Oh God,’ Mum said, and she hid her face in her hands.

Ellie didn’t know what to say, or what to do. ‘I’m sorry,’ she said. It was all she could think of.

She’d done nothing but apologize since they got back from the police station. Mum had sat everyone down in the lounge and told Dad not to interrupt, told Tom she loved him, then informed them both of the new statement Ellie had signed and of her relationship with Mikey. The accusations had gone on for hours.

Dad was climbing up into the loft now. Ellie could hear the creak of the step ladder. Maybe he was getting the Meccano down, the Lego, Tom’s toy farm. All the plastic animals – the cows and horses and sheep, the rows of geese and ducks – would soon be lined up at the door.

‘He’s not on my side at all,’ she said.

‘He is. Of course he is.’

But he wasn’t. She was sullied. Other. No longer his little girl. He had a new blind look, as if he might see someone he couldn’t bear if he looked at her properly.

‘Anyway,’ Mum said, ‘it’s not about sides. I sat in that police station and listened to you and I wanted two things at the same time. I wanted you to stop talking, because I didn’t want to hear terrible things about Tom, and I wanted you to talk all night, because I could see how much it was hurting you to hold it inside.’

She moved over to the window, slid all the pot plants back on the ledge and drew the curtains. The familiar swish was comforting.

Dad broke the spell by coming down with Tom’s cricket bag and balancing it carefully on the hall table, even though the cricket season hadn’t started yet and it could safely have stayed in the loft. Mum sat back down next to Ellie as he crossed the lounge to the drinks cabinet. He took no notice of either of them, poured himself a generous measure of whisky and took one, two, three gulps, swooshing each round his mouth before swallowing. He walked over to the window, reopened the curtains and looked out into the dark as if he was waiting for something. The press? TV crews? He thought this was enormous, bigger than all of them. His daughter had crossed the enemy line. She was anti-Parker. No longer part of the team.

‘How many times did you meet the boy?’

This again. Ellie took a breath. ‘Not many.’

‘Where?’

‘I told you – different places. We went for walks mostly.’

He turned and narrowed his eyes at her. ‘Were you with him yesterday?’

She nodded. It had become imperative to tell the truth, as if any grain of goodness that was left in her life