Disappearing Home (4 page)

‘Watch it, you!' a man's voice shouts after me. Everyone looks. My heart feels like it's grown a new thud.

Once I am outside I hear Mum's voice.

‘Robyn. Over here!' I spot them on the other side of the road. The bones in my legs feel like they're dissolving. ‘Run,' I scream. They bolt away across the road. I'm behind them, running as fast as I can, holding the bag tight against my chest. I don't look back.

We knock at Joan's house and she opens the door with a huge smile on her face. ‘Come in. Wasn't expecting company. Have to excuse the mess and the smell, but with so many lads. It's their feet.'

They tell me to sit down on the settee while they talk in the kitchen. Mum takes the bag with her. Up on her walls there are pictures of the Virgin Mary and Jesus. Mary's red heart is on the outside of her clothes, decorated with a row of flowers. She has red lips and blue, gazing eyes. Flames leap from her heart and she looks so sad. On the bottom of the picture it says, Bless This House.

Knots of laughter drift in from the kitchen. My shoulders ride up towards my ears, hands together between skinny knees.

Finally, they come out.

‘Who's a clever girl then?' Joan beams holding the christening suit up high. ‘He'll look like an angel in it. A few stitches and we'll have that button on good as new. Thanks, love,' she says, patting my knee. ‘You did good.'

Mum hands money to my dad. He pushes it into his pocket.

‘Well, got to get going, get this one a drink.'

Joan hooks the christening suit over the frame of the Virgin Mary. It covers her face. She sees us to the door.

I look back at Joan and she smiles. ‘You did good,' she says. It doesn't feel good stealing things. Good to me is sitting for a whole day with Nan telling me stories, or getting all of the washing to fit on the line with just a few pegs. This is the kind of good I want back.

After tea I fall asleep on the chair. When I wake up I hear Dad talking about me, so I don't open my eyes.

‘She nearly messed up on us today. More trouble than she's worth. She was too interested in that fucking rocking horse,' he says. ‘She wasn't concentrating.'

‘I don't like town,' Mum says. ‘It was lucky they only got her coat.'

‘Fucking rocking horse; at her age an' all.'

‘That coat still had loads of room in it. Some of them assistants think the shop belongs to them the way they follow you around.'

I hear a creak from the living-room door; Nan's stick bangs against it, her cup and saucer rattle.

‘What does she want?' Dad says.

‘She's only getting a drink.'

Nan is angry. ‘I can hear you, you know.'

‘This is every fucking night now. Tell her to close that door, there's a draught on my back.'

‘Close the door, Mam.'

‘That's my coal fire warming your feet.'

Mum's voice. ‘So you've said.'

I hear Nan banging around the kitchen, rattling cutlery. The sound of the kettle being filled. After a few minutes I hear her stick bang against the kitchen door.

‘Turn that telly up,' Dad says.

‘Robyn's asleep.'

‘I said turn it up.'

‘Move that paper, Babs, while I sit down,' Nan says.

Dad says, ‘For fuck's sake, there's no privacy here. Why can't she drink that in her room?'

I can hear Nan slurp her tea extra loud. I know that she's tipped it onto her saucer to take the heat away.

‘Tell her, will you. Like being in the fucking zoo.'

‘Mam?'

More slurps.

‘Oh, for fuck's sake. I'm not sitting here listening to that. I'm going to bed. Turn everything off before you come in.'

‘I'll be in now.'

‘Hurry up.'

The living-room door slams shut.

‘He treats you like a child,' Nan says.

‘Can't you be happy for me?'

‘He'll never work for you.'

‘Leave it, Mam.'

‘Lazy good-for-nothing.'

‘Here we go.'

‘You gonna take that, day in day out?'

‘I said leave it.'

‘You threw better away.'

‘You mean better ran away.'

‘He came back.'

‘Yeah, when it was too late.'

‘And what about Robyn?'

‘What about Robyn?'

‘She's asked to live with me.'

Silence.

‘And what did you say?'

‘What do you think I said?'

‘If she asks me, I'll say no. Anyway, of course she wants to live with you, you spoil her rotten.'

‘That's not the reason and you know it.'

Dad's voice shouts in from the lobby. ‘You comin' in or what?'

‘Better do as you're told.'

‘I'll go when I'm ready, not when I'm told.'

‘Not finishing your cider?'

‘No. I'm not. I'm going to bed. You made sure at the housing we're down as living here, didn't you?'

‘Course I did. Wouldn't see my own family out on the street.'

‘No. You're all heart, aren't you?'

‘There's still half a bottle left in this cider. That's a waste.'

‘You take it, you're taking everything else. The sooner you move out the better.'

Dad's voice louder this time. ‘Babs?'

‘Your father will be turning in his grave.'

No answer from Mum.

‘I said …'

‘I know what you said. Let him turn fucking somersaults for all I care.'

The living-room door slams shut; Nan's cup and saucer rattle. She covers me with a coat, turns off the light; shuts the door.

I open my eyes, look out of the window. Mum will have a cob on with me now for wanting to live with Nan. She'll think I love Nan more than her. I love them both, but it's wrong to want to leave Mum. I'm being selfish. Mum would miss me if I left. Outside, the light in the window opposite goes out.

M
um and Dad haven't come to bed yet so I get up. Earlier on, about an hour after tea, Nan went to the pub to meet Nellie and her husband, Chris. She had to ask Nellie a favour.

Nan hasn't said anything for a couple of days about moving out. Mum says the people at the housing were probably lying about having a place for Nan, to get rid of her. I hope that's true.

The telly is on but the living room is empty. I call out to them, heading for the kitchen. ‘Anyone in? Mum, Dad?' I check the clock. Ten past nine. I look out of the back window; it's dark outside. I can see two shapes I know lit up under a streetlight. Mum and Dad hurrying towards the Stanley. I tell myself they've only gone for the last hour, that's all; they'll be back soon.

The glass is cold on my nose. There's not a soul in the big square, not even a dog or a cat. It's creepy. On the television a beautiful woman lies in bed. Her windows are open wide and a man with a powdery white face appears. He wears a black cape with red shiny lining. His black hair is brushed back.

He strokes the woman's cheek with the back of his hand. The camera zooms in on her face as she wakes up. She sees him and
screams. He hisses and I can see two long, white teeth. He flips the cape to the side of his face, stoops low. When he has finished, drops of blood trickle down the sides of his lips. The camera swings back to her neck and there are two tiny red marks. He flaps his cape. It turns him into a black bird and he flies out of the window along with whatever she could have done to save herself.

I grab the brush from the cupboard and use the end of the pole to push in the
OFF
button on the television. Once it's off, I go back into the bedroom, sit on the side of my bed. My legs shake. The more I tremble the more I'm terrified he'll come through the window. After a while I tell myself I am being silly. People can't come out of the television and if they did they'd only be as big as a hand. Mum and Dad must have gone out and left me in before; nothing bad's ever happened. So why should it now? I distract myself by rummaging around in Mum's wardrobe. I love trying on her clothes.

She has a skirt with tiny houses, cottages I think, printed along the hem. I asked Mum if she'd save it for me for when I'm older and she said she would. There's no harm in trying it on now.

I drag out Mum's clothes, all the while listening for the scrape of a key in the lock. I sort them on her bed; skirts, tops and trousers. She has four skirts but the new one's not there. I choose a black flared one with huge pink and green flowers printed all over. My mum did a twirl in it once, the hem ended up around her shoulders. I try it on, bunching up one side of the waistband and wrapping it tight with an elastic band. I match it up with a black polo neck sweater and black patent leather slingbacks. A safety pin holds strap to buckle to finish off the look. I pretend I'm getting ready to go to the Stanley.

Her make-up bag is in the bathroom cabinet. Panstick, powder puff, ruby red lipstick, pressed powder and a peach blusher, all
nearly empty. I've looked before, but never used any of it. This lippy isn't like the one in the vanity case, it's softer to touch. I have to push the tip of my finger right down to the bottom of the tube. Most of it ends up inside my fingernail. I dab it onto my lips, press powder all over my face.

Nan tells Nellie things she doesn't want me to hear, she sends me from the room with her eyes. She told Nellie Mum's let herself go. She said Mum was always smart when she worked in the Odeon, before she met him, never wanted for nothing. Then Nellie tells Nan that Chris is on his way out, coughing up blood. He's promised to pack up the fags but won't see Doc Atwood.

I watch my red lips move in the mirror. I try out a new word I heard our headmaster, Mr Merryville, say to Mr Thorpe:
‘As most of the building repairs are complete, there is a possibility that the trip to Colomendy will go ahead after all
.'

Po-ssi-bil-it-y.
I count the beats on my hand. The picture that comes into my head is of a five domino. I say the word out loud, five times. Try it out as the fifth word in a sentence.
I think there's a possibility it could rain rabbits.
Ha!

Back inside the cabinet, neatly folded, is one of my mum's big bandages. I open it up, there are two thin loops either end. I place it on my head, where my fringe starts, then curl the loops around my ears. I twirl and twirl, start to sing:

‘
On the mountain stands a lady, who she is I do not know …'

I don't hear the front door closing. I can't smell the ale on them yet. Don't see their eyes deciding whether or not to tell me off.

‘Well, well, look at you. Aren't you the belle of the ball?'

I scream, holding my chest. When I turn around my face burns.

‘Don't tell my mum.'

They look at each other. Burst out laughing.

‘What is that on your head, Robyn?' Nellie asks.

‘A hairband; I made it.'

‘Of course it is. Come over here.' My nose is squashed against Nan's shaking chest as she unhooks it. ‘Take no notice of us, we're way behind with the mysteries of fashion. Get washed now and back into your pyjamas. I've just seen your mam and him in the Stanley. They'll be back soon.'

Nellie fishes about in her pockets and shakes her head at me. ‘You're a peculiar one all right,' she says. ‘Here, take this slummy and buy yourself a real hairband.'

I don't take her money. She says she'll leave it on the mantelpiece for me.

‘Where are the boxes, May?'

‘What boxes?' I say.

‘You'd better hurry and get changed. They'll be back any minute.'

I get changed fast; wash my face in the bathroom sink. Tidy all Mum's stuff before they get back.

Chris knocks, asking for the door key off Nellie. I let him in, watch him pick up Granddad Jack's photograph. ‘We had a time of it me and you,' he says. Chris's face is red. He sways like he's on a boat, calls me in from the doorway with his head. He talks at the picture.

‘Worked together me and Jack, blacksmiths.' He flops down in the chair, coins jingling inside pockets. I sit on the couch; Nan and Nellie are laughing in the kitchen. I hear the crick crackles of the chip pan heating up.

He shakes his head. ‘Still can't believe he's gone.' He puts up his fists and punches the air. ‘One of the best, his dad, his name, it'll come. Trained him in a barn in Crosby … trained him with the little bit he knew. If Jack Crown punched you, it felt like, like Thor's hammer had landed.'

He hiccups, pulls out a cigarette from behind his ear, lights it, throws the match into the dead fire.

‘Did you see him fight?'

‘Only missed one; Nellie went into labour with our Mary. Sammy Garrison he fought.'

He takes a long pull on his cigarette, index finger smudged yellow like his hair.

‘I saw him in his best fight. Hundreds had tickets but got locked out.' He smiles into the other side of his eyes. Punches air. Ash drops into the shiny turn-up on his trousers. ‘Come on, Jack, finish him, that's it give him a taste of Thor's hammer.'

I want to turn his eyes inside out. See what he sees.

‘Tell me what you see.'

He opens his eyes. ‘Eh?'

‘What can you see? Tell me.'

He stands. ‘Remember, Jack was a welterweight, but quick, quick, like this.' He sniffs. Fists tucked under his chin. Weaves his head from side to side, up and down, like a window cleaner's rag.

The kitchen door opens. Nan brings us a plate of chips and two slices of buttered bread each.

Chris tears off the end of his cigarette, throws it in the fire; hides the other half behind his ear. Nan shakes her head at Chris, puts the plate on his knee, gives me a smile. ‘Make yourselves a chip butty before they get cold.'

Nellie brings out the same for her and Nan to share.

Once we've finished Chris stands up, swaying, taps one side of his nose at me.