The first time I saw the drain man in our house, properly inside it, was that night, and he was too large to fit. He was as imposing as Gulliver surrounded by the puny Lilliputians. It didn’t feel right having him encased inside walls, it felt like he would burst through the rotting seams of the house. Mother must have felt the same, I saw her cowering as he spoke. She led him out, through the floor-length window in her bedroom to the verandah, but not before he’d lectured her about the state of the house and the tree and the roots and the steps.
‘Dropping’ – he flung an arm behind him, pointing to the said steps – ‘dropping off the back of the house.’
I stayed awake for hours determined not to sleep, so I could hear when the drain man left, if he left. I lay on my back so I couldn’t get comfortable and kept one finger in my mouth and every time I felt myself lowering into sleep, I bit my finger hard so I’d stay awake. With the added noise of the tree rubbing at the window it wasn’t that difficult. I heard them stirring eventually, crouching down to step through the window back into the house, then moving towards the front door. I knew Edward was still awake, I could see him through my window bent over his books, but with half an ear listening out as well.
He didn’t see what I did though, the two of them by the front door in the shadows embracing. I hadn’t meant to see them, but I had, and my mother was furious and shocked and I must have looked like the spy I was, standing in the hallway not even trying to hide.
They kissed like people on television and I must have squealed because I was so cross I wanted to cry, but I had paid my mother back, without realizing it, ten-fold for betraying me to the priest and Mr King.