183 Times a Year (38 page)

Cassie just keeps looking at me then looking at her phone then gets really angry.

She doesn't shout like she does at home but I can hear her whispering the same words she uses in a really angry voice.

Maisy's make-up is all smudged round her eyes from crying and she's hugged me twice now. Maisy never normally hugs anyone except the cat. She smells quite nice actually. I think she's wearing some perfume like Mums and her hair smells of strawberries.

Grandad
keeps trying to make me laugh but then it's like he forgets I'm here and keeps going really quiet until he looks up and sees me again. Nan just keeps rubbing my hands – I'm not really sure why – and buying me drinks. I'm not normally allowed fizzy drinks, except at Christmas or on my birthday coz Mum says they're bad for me but Nan says I can have as much as I like today. I kinda don't want to drink the second one Nan's just bought me though coz I've sort of made a pact with myself, promising not to drink it in return for Mum to be okay.

Uh oh, Cassie is standing in the middle of the corridor shouting really loud at her phone. I can't really understand her words coz they're all jumbled up with her crying and shouting. The only one I can understand is “why” – she keeps saying that word a lot.

Oh no, she's done it now I reckon. Simon is walking up to her really fast and his face looks really angry. Thought so, he's grabbed her phone off her and – oh – he's hugging her. And she's letting him. That's a miracle coz she never normally lets Simon (or Simple as she calls him) anywhere near her. She's put her arms around him and he's holding her really tight, and stroking her hair, kinda like the way I stroke Freddy.

Nan has bought me some chocolate. I think she's put all her money in that vending machine. I open the packet and put one of the chocolates in my mouth. I normally love chocolate but my tummy feels like it's going round and round and the chocolate feels like it's stuck in my throat coz it's hard to swallow. I fold the packet up and put it in my pocket. I think I'll eat the chocolate later. I'll share it with Mum coz I know she likes chocolate a lot.

I don't say it out loud but I actually feel really scared.

MAISY

Please don't go.

Chapter 35

LOSING CONTROL

SIMON

I still can't believe I'm doing this. Lizzie is desperately hanging onto life and I've left her to speak to this idiot. I should have punched his lights out years ago. I can't stand to see Cassie so upset though. I love her, I love all the kids. I've done my best to fill the colossal gaps this prick's left in his children's lives but Cassie needs her Dad. I get it. So why the fuck doesn't he?

A wild fusion of fury and fear is building and bubbling just below my civilized surface. I'm seething and fuck political correctness. It's moments like this that social etiquette evaporates. The moments every man fears; the unleashing of the beast within; that crass, almost base animal just waiting for its moment to break free, to cut loose the reins of social politeness and moral decency and run unrestrained from the nuisance of reason. In short I want to pulverize his fucking face in.

How dare you take me away from the woman I love, the mother of your children? Oh god, I should have been there for her. That's my job, to protect my woman, my family. And fuck this equality shit, she is
my
woman, it is
my
job.

I think of Lizzie's face. Was she frightened? I laugh a little, if she were she wouldn't have shown it. She may be slight but she's a proud, feisty woman. She would never have given whatever ruthless pig attacked her, the pleasure of seeing how frightened she was. But then again, how the fuck do I know? I wasn't there. Even if she did successfully conceal the terror of the situation
she
would have felt it. And she was alone with that fear.

I feel sick. I pull over and stop the car. I should have been there for her. What kind of fucking man am I? Oh God what if she…dies? Life without Lizzie would be unbearable. And what about the kids? What about Cassie and Connor? And Maisy, she can't lose another Mother. Fuck, fuck, fuck it all to fucking hell. Why didn't I tell Lizzie – every day – just how much I love her? I place my hands on the steering wheel and squeeze them until my knuckles turn white before head butting it with full force.

‘I should have been there. It should have been me,' I shout. My head hurts but I don't really feel it. I leave my head resting on the wheel as thoughts I don't want to think plague my mind.

After a few moments I look up and inhale deeply before exhaling slowly. I can't do this. I can't think like this. Salocin reckons we're all interconnected and vibrate across different dimensions or something. He says projected negative thinking only brings negative results. He said we have to stay positive, send out positive thoughts. Sounds like a load of bollocks to me but right now I'll hold onto anything that keeps my Lizzie with me.

I pull my reasonably priced car onto the large drive of Scott's almost stately home, next to the brand new Range Rover and BMW. Spirituality doesn't reside at this address, only spirits of a material world. I shake my head in amusement. This man pays nothing towards the upkeep of his children and gets away with it, by law. I walk tentatively towards his mock something or other front door constantly repeating the words
I will not punch his smug face in
to myself.

I knock loudly and a rather harsh looking woman half opens the door.

‘Yes?' she says.

‘Can I speak to Scott please?'

‘
Mr Lloyd' she turns and shouts through the house. ‘There is a man here for you.' She turns her attention back to me again and frowns. ‘What is your name?' she asks in a thick Eastern European accent.

‘Just tell him it's Simon.'

‘Is Mr Simon,' she turns and shouts again.

I hear footsteps along the hallway and a man muttering loudly. ‘Who?' He sounds irritated and impatient. ‘Bloody immigrant workers. Waste of bloody time … Oh Simon … mate,' Scott says pulling the door wide open and stepping in front of the now very disgruntled looking woman still hovering. ‘Yes thank you Agnieszka,' he orders, his tone arrogant and dismissive. He looks a little thrown and runs a hand through his floppy brown hair. ‘Bloody housekeepers.' He rolls his eyes. ‘Can't get a decent one if you try.'

‘I wouldn't know.'

‘No, well . . .' he falters for a moment and hides behind his throat clearing silence that whiffs of embarrassment. ‘God. Anyway how's Lizzie?' he eventually asks. I laugh inwardly, wishing I could believe the concern in his voice.

‘Not good.
Really
not good.'

‘No,' Scott replies shaking his head. ‘Terrible. Shocking in fact. Any idea who did it? Cassie did phone me. In floods of tears she was. I could barely make out what she was saying.'

‘That's why I've come, because the kids want you to come to the hospital.'

‘Ahhh mate, I would if I could. But …' He trails off and shrugs his shoulders. I look at him dumbfounded.

‘But what?'

‘Well, I've got Harriet to look after and…'

‘Bring her with you.'

‘I can't mate, really.'

‘She might die,' I blurt out. ‘Lizzie may actually not make
it.
The kids need you.' I'm pleading with him but at the same time desperately trying to control the red mist now descending upon me.

‘Yeah I know,' Scott replies, visibly squirming. ‘It's shocking. And sad, it really is very sad and everything, but it's not …'

I look at him, gobsmacked. ‘Not what?'

‘Liz isn't … well, isn't …' He pauses to sigh. ‘Look,' he continues. ‘Liz isn't really any of my concern. Sharon wouldn't like it if …'

‘Not any of your fucking concern?' I shout, interrupting him. ‘They are
your
fucking kids for god's sake. Their mother is lying in hospital in a coma and there's every possibility she won't make it, and it's no fucking concern of yours?' My voice, raised from the pit of my stomach, is demonic. I grab Scott forcefully by the neck. ‘Don't you care at all?' I spit into his face. ‘I don't fucking understand you. What the hell's wrong with you man. Cassie and Connor have your blood – are part of you for fuck's sake. Doesn't that mean anything?'

Scott just stares at me, wordless and open mouthed. The rage that has almost consumed me is simmering dangerously below my thin veneer of rationality, threatening to boil over at the next tiniest provocation. I release my hand from his throat and stare into his empty eyes.

‘Tell me, because I'm really keen to know. Why not abandon the kids completely? Surely abandonment would have been far kinder than this barely there, barely caring relationship you persist with? Have you any idea how much heartache you cause? How much destruction you leave in your wake?'

Scott doesn't reply.

‘You know what?' I ask without waiting for a reply. ‘I can see it in his eyes; Connor gave up on you a long time ago. He may be younger than Cassie but he's an old soul in a young body, more worldly somehow. God knows how but he seems
to
manage your rejection. Cassie on the other hand is far more vulnerable. She's desperate to be Daddy's girl, constantly trying to make sense of your blasé dismissal of her. And it doesn't matter how many times we tell her it's not her, she still doesn't get it. And frankly neither do I –
mate.
'

I spit the last word out as I lean in towards him again. ‘Cassie's your daughter –
your
little girl for fuck's sake. True she's a bloody pain the arse at times, but she's also innocent and trusting; touchingly grateful for any attention, especially the negative kind you seem to be so fucking good at dishing out.'

Scott continues to stare at me, speechless and quivering like the spineless excuse of a man he is. ‘Seriously, would it be so very hard to throw Cassie one tiny crumb of affection, one morsel of love and support?' I wait for his response, but nothing comes. ‘Well?' I demand.

‘They can't live with us – if Lizzie dies – they can't live with us.' Finally, the bastard speaks and this is his pathetic response. ‘We … we can't afford it,' he stutters. At any other time, I'd laugh at this low life. Ridicule his moral code – or lack of. But today the woman I love is as close to death as it gets and today I'm not the person I was yesterday. Scott flinches as I raise my fist above his head. He puts two arms up to defend his face.

‘Dooonnnt …' he shouts.

Something inside me has snapped and I lash out in a way that is primeval and instinctive. The beast within me has awoken and possess me now, body and soul. My right fist propels hard into his left cheek. I'm done with talking. I need to act. He moves, I follow with speed and catch him hard on the chin with my left fist. Punching someone hurts, more than I remembered, but my adrenalin-fuelled body cares little for the pain I feel, and even less for the recipient of my inflictions.

I pummel Scott, blow after blow; my normally dormant beast keen to make the most of this rare appearance before
being
yanked back and restrained by the shackles of civility. I slam into him with my full body weight and knock him to the floor. Blood as red as my rage splatters and gurgles from somewhere and the taste of hot, liquefied metal fills my mouth. This isn't just about Scott though. I'm not just beating him, I'm pulverising the cunt that hurt my Lizzie too. Blood squelches between my fist and Scott's face and I can hear the cracking of bone. Is it his nose? His cheek? His neck? I don't give a fuck. The beast is free and can't be stopped.

‘STOOOOOOOOOOOOOOP IIIIIIIIIIITTTTTTTTT.'

Mid-punch I'm suddenly alerted to someone screaming behind me. I look at the bloody face below me and feel the beast reluctantly begin its retreat. I stand up and stagger away from Scott turning to look in the direction of the screaming. I stare straight at Cassie's tear-soaked face. Scott has clearly caught me a blinder because my blurred vision runs red across my left eye.

‘I'm … so … sorry … Cas … ee,' I say bending over, holding both knees. My body is coming down from its adrenalin rush and I'm surprisingly out of breath. Clearly I'm not as fit as I thought I was. Cassie's shoulders shudder in time with her pitiful wailing. She looks from me to Scott then back to me again.

‘You shouldn't have done this Simon,' she cries. ‘Mum always says violence solves nothing. Look what violence has done to her. You're both pathetic.'

I raise one of my hands; I'm still trying to catch my breath. ‘S'all my fault Cassie,' I admit. ‘I started it, not your Dad.'

‘No Simon,' she replies, her face marked with pain. ‘I heard every single word you said and every single one of them is entirely true.' She turns to look at Scott, her outstretched arm pointing at him. ‘If he even
tried
to be some sort of Dad you wouldn't be here beating him up.'