‘Ma?’ I’m not sure which emotion is stronger. The anger that the bitch has done what she’s done, or the worry that Ma might be more hurt than she made out on the phone. I burst into the cottage. ‘Ma? Where are ye?’
‘Upstairs, lad.’
I storm up the stairs and find her crumpled on the hallway, slumped against the wall. Her head lolls forwards and though she’s awake she’s not fully with it. I crouch beside her.
‘What did she do, Ma? Did she give you somethin’?’
Ma’s lips move, sound escapes them, but I can’t make out what she’s saying. Moving my ear closer to her mouth, I strain to listen.
‘What d’you say?’
She places a hand on my neck, pulls me even closer. Her grip tightens. Fingers digging into my muscle. Nails cutting into my skin.
‘This is your fault. You’re a disappointment.’
She pushes me back, releasing my neck, and I sit in the hallway beside her.
‘Ma, I’m … I’m sorry.’
Her eyes roll back in her head. ‘Didnae I tell you, Callum? Didnae I teach you properly so’s this would never happen?’
‘I tried.’ She’s the only one who can make me feel like this. Small. Like a scared wee lad again. Having her talk like this to me is taking me right back there, to the cupboard she’d lock me in every time I didnae do exactly as she said. I’ve been kinder to my wives than she was to me. Least I gave them food and drink. She’d let me sit and rot in that cupboard, starving, gasping for water, until I’d properly learnt my lesson.
‘I’ve never questioned your choices,’ she says, snapping me back to the present. ‘Not once did I raise my eyebrow when you brought those girls home. All I said was that I didnae want nothin’ to do with it. That it was up to you to keep ’em under control.’
‘Ma, I tried. I did exactly what you’d have done.’
‘Clearly not! I’ve had to get involved, haven’t I? “Ma, Ma, help me, she’s escaped and I cannae find her.” Draggin’ me out, makin’ me get in my truck at that hour o’ the mornin’ and go lookin’ for her, askin’ me to bring her back here and sort her out because you’re not man enough to control her yourself.’ She shakes her head, disgust seeping into her features. ‘You’re just like your pa. Spineless. I thought I raised you better.’
I stare at Ma, her harsh words cutting through me like knives. Even now, when she’s hurt and drugged, she knows exactly what to say to break me. She’s right, of course. All my bravado about being in control, about knowing best, it’s all a sham. I’m a sham. Man of the household my arse. I get to my feet, steadying myself against the wall.
‘Tell me how to fix this,’ I say.
She scoffs. ‘Ye need to drive me back to your place. That’s where she’ll have gone. She’ll be lookin’ for the baby.’