By the time she arrived inside her own house, Adele was feeling even more down than before she had set off for her mother’s. The silence felt oppressive. It was accompanied by an absence of feeling, which was emphasised by the sound of her footsteps echoing in the tiled hallway. There was no John to embrace her or make her pulse quicken. No messy male clutter to niggle her as she walked through the lounge. No coffee aroma to greet her. Instead there was nothing, and the rooms felt bare.
She looked around at the pristine furniture, ornaments and furnishings. They were nothing without the warmth of her lover. She’d give anything to see John’s mess scattered around the place now. He had been so right for her, and she couldn’t help but feel bitterness towards her family. If only she didn’t feel responsible for them then she would have gladly gone to London with him. That was where she belonged, with John; not here by herself. But she couldn’t change anything. She knew how much her mother needed her and, even though it grated on her, she felt responsible for her.
She felt OK while she was at work. Adele poured herself into the job, working much harder than usual, so that she could take her mind off things. She also had her bookkeeping exams to study for, which gave her something to focus on. But it was in the late evenings when she was at home that she felt the worst; there were just too many reminders of her absent ex-boyfriend.
Adele settled onto her cosy couch to watch some TV but nothing held her interest. She felt lonely. In the fridge a bottle of wine beckoned to her. She tried to resist but eventually gave in. It was the fourth time she’d drunk alone this week. As she sipped the glass of chilled white wine, she promised herself that she wouldn’t let this become a habit. Thoughts of her father’s bad relationship with alcohol were all too clear in her mind.
After two glasses she was becoming mellow and able to focus more on the television but as she neared the bottom of the bottle her sombre mood returned. She switched the TV off and played some ballads instead; sad songs which conveyed how she was feeling. She cried at the poignant words then muttered drunkenly in agreement with the sentiments.
When her tears had dried, she decided she needed someone to talk to. Someone who would empathise with her situation. Someone who understood her. And someone whose focus could help ease the pain. She ran through a list of people in her alcohol-fuddled brain. Who could she talk to?
Then it came to her. She lifted the telephone receiver and made the call, her greeting exaggerated and overenthusiastic due to her intoxication, ‘Hiya Bro, long time, no see. How are you?’
*
Peter had just come back from a job, and was hyped up. He was counting out cash into two bundles; one for him and one for David. The ringing of the phone made him jump; his senses still finely tuned. He thought about ignoring the call while he continued to count but its ringing was insistent so he took a quick note of where he was up to and rushed to answer it.
The sound of his sister slurring down the phone caught him off guard. He hadn’t heard from her for so long. She had always been the sensible one and the fact that she was ringing him drunk late at night must mean there was something wrong.
‘Hiya, Adele. What’s up?’
‘Nothing, jussst thought I’d catch up with my little brother,’ she slurred. ‘How are you anyway?’
‘I’m all right. What about you?’
It was obvious to Peter that the pretence of just ringing him for a chat was difficult to keep up in her drunken state so she got straight to the point. ‘Bastard’s dumped me.’
‘What, that John d’you mean?’
‘Yeah, pissssed off to London and left me here on my own.’
‘Right. Well… he was a bit of a dick anyway to be honest.’
‘Oh thanksss for telling me now. I’ve only been living with the dick for the lassst year.’
‘Sorry, sis. I just meant he’s a bit stuck-up, isn’t he?’
‘No, he isn’t. He’s all right once you get to know him,’ she responded, defensively.
‘So why didn’t you go with him if you’re that bothered?’
‘Oh, yeah. And leave my mam on her own with him?’
When she mentioned her parents he was more responsive. Peter knew too well what things were like between his mam and dad, and he felt a sudden pang of guilt knowing that he had left Adele to do the lion’s share when it came to helping their mother. He’d had the perfect excuse to opt out; his father hated having him around. That meant Peter had to choose a time when his father wasn’t there and one which rarely seemed to fit in with his life.
‘Can’t you still see him; maybe arrange to go down there at weekends?’ he asked She was obviously very stuck on the guy.
‘He won’t ssspeak to me.’
‘Why not?’
‘We rowed about him going.’
‘Well make it up with him.’
‘Dunno, maybe I could.’
After Adele and Peter had chatted for a while, they agreed to get together soon. When he had put the phone down Peter spent a few moments reflecting. He had mixed feelings about getting back in touch with his sister.
On the one hand, he was pleased as well as flattered that she had turned to him when she was feeling a bit down. But, on the other hand, he had concerns. He was involved in some heavy stuff now and the last thing he needed was his sister finding out and giving him grief. She was far too strait-laced to know what he got up to or what weapons he carried. So, while he was happy to meet up with her, he decided to keep quiet about some of his activities.
He strode over to where the guns were kept and examined them once more. Yes, he thought, fingering the smooth metal of one of the gun’s barrels. She must never find out about these beauties.