AllFreeNovel
Share Us
‘No, babe, like I said, I just popped in.’ She walks to the door, turns to force a smile.
‘It’s my submission deadline on Monday, the show opens on Friday. I feel all at sea…?’ I’m annoyed at how pathetic that sounds, but I can’t bear her to go.
‘Then focus on it. It’ll work out with Gethin. Good luck with the installation, babe.’
No tomorrows – Jez
The clock ticks through the numbness as I sit. Hands wrapped round the cold coffee mug. The world has dropped away – only the bed and the chair, pool of light from the lamp. Cool smoothness of the mug. Line of my combats against the dirty cream bedspread. His face on the pillow: grey line of square chin, hollow cheeks, dark eye sockets. How long since that last quiet breath? The clock ticks but time doesn’t move.
Still I’m convinced I see his chest rise under the covers. Hold my hand to his nose to be sure. Can’t believe he won’t wake up and shout me to roll a fag to hang between his dried-up lips. Moisten his mouth with whisky ice-cubes. That time last night when he suddenly stirred, staring at me with opaque blue eyes, like he was right far away trying to locate himself. I held his hand. Wondered how that could possibly help.
I look at his face again, the lines of his life somehow smoother. He’s not there anymore. I’m like watching myself watching.
Shiver through my body – am I cold? What did Sandy say to do? Phone the doctor? I’ve been sitting here all day and half the night. His rattling breath the only sound for hours, getting quicker, slowing right down until finally there wasn’t another breath. I don’t know when I made the coffee – black, like it was for him. Something like fear rises through the numbness – clench my teeth to keep it in. My hands are cold, but I’m breaking sweat.
Look at the clock: two in the morning. What time did he die? What if it was like an endless agony when time has no meaning? Fear rises again – call the doctor. I key the number without thinking. Count the rings, one, two, three, four…
‘Hello?’ Her worried voice.
‘Mum?’
Running through trees towards the duck pond. Ken chasing me, howling like a demented dog. Down the grassy slope, his rasping breath behind me. Slip and fall on muddy grass. He pins me to the ground, face waxy yellow, breath hot and sour as he plants a wet kiss on my cheek. No, Ken, get the fuck off me!
‘Woof, woof.’
I wake with a jolt and it’s a scrawny boy licking my face.
‘What the hell?’ I push him off and he pulls himself up to kneel beside me.
‘Woof.’ He cocks his head, tongue hanging out.
I rub my eyes, working out where I am. On the settee at Mum’s? The boy pants and paws at my arm. He’s about eight, all matted curls and cheekbones poking out of a greyish face. Pond-water eyes. I pat him on the head. The dream-sense still live – Ken reincarnated into this mad boy-dog? I push my feet against the arm of the settee to stretch out. How familiar is this room with the worn flowery carpet, grubby mint-green walls? The dancing elephant batik hanging over the litter of photos and homemade ornaments on the mantle-shelf. Stuff everywhere. And in the corner a new widescreen telly. Dad’s latest dodgy deal?
The boy-dog barks as the door opens.
‘I see you’ve met Joey.’ Mum hangs on to two cups of hot tea as Joey bounds on all fours towards her. He’s got a brown furry tail sewn into the back of his jogging pants. He rubs his head against Mum’s pyjamaed legs, woofs as she nods at him.
‘Let me put this tea down, Joey.’ She hands me a cup, sits on the edge of the settee. Adjusts her old red dressing gown. Joey leans against her thigh as she strokes his hair.
‘Your latest foster?’
‘Been here two weeks, haven’t you Joey?’
‘What’s with the tail?’
‘It helps him put his trousers on the right way round.’ She laughs.
I notice his Action Man T shirt is on back to front – six pack hanging limp from Joey’s bony back. Mum sighs, looks over at the DVD clock. It’s only 7:15. Joey curls up on the furry blanket lying by the settee.
‘That’s right,’ Mum says. ‘Joey have a doggie-nap.’
‘What day is it?’ I ask.
‘Wednesday. He’s off school for an inset day. But no lie-ins at this joint, I’m afraid. You could have a sleep in my bed, the little ones will be down soon.’
I shrug. Sip my tea. ‘How come you’ve got the girls?’
‘Sonya and Ron have been working flat out on this house they’re doing up. They need to get it on the market.’
