Mother’s weak spot Mother’s weak spotI looked back down to the abandoned village once I had gone through the forest and gained some height. I could make him out, crouched over, digging at something I suppose. Looking for treasures. That was what he did, I thought – he had so bloody little life of his own that all he could do was collect the detritus of other lives and pore over the stories of ghosts.
When I got back the Life Source was audible in her kitchen. The Fat Controller (only she was skinny); the arch manipulator. I went straight to the kitchen, knocked and asked to borrow some milk. She was making pastry – she really was, her hands were all floury and she told me to help myself from the fridge. She was making steak and kidney pie for Calum.
‘D’you make his dinner every day?’
‘If he was left to his own devices he’d live on bread and cheese.’ She gave a little laugh. Did she imagine it would amuse me? She went on rolling and cutting while I stood there. I noticed there was a nice row of jars of red jelly on the dresser. So those poisonous rowan seeds would be waiting in the compost in a squishy mass. I should go and find them later.
‘What exactly’s wrong with him?’
‘Nothing. Nothing. He’s just a bit different.’
‘Can’t he get a job?’
‘There’s not much on the island.’
‘It’s nice for swimming here in the summer isn’t it?’ I wanted to make her lose her temper. She poured a saucepan-ful of meat and gravy into the pastry shell. She was concentrating as if she hadn’t heard me. ‘Does he enjoy swimming?’ I needled.
‘Oh Calum can’t swim.’ She began brushing the edges of the pastry with water then spread the pie lid over it and crimped the edges. She was giving the pie 99 per cent of her attention.
‘Why not?’
‘It’s not a good idea.’ She broke an egg into a cup, beat it with a fork and began brushing the top of the pie with it.
‘But he fishes.’
‘Not from a boat.’
‘Why can’t he go in a boat?’
She didn’t reply.
‘Don’t you think his life’s a bit restricted?’
She put down the pastry brush. ‘He comes and goes as he pleases. He has his food cooked and the run of the place.’ She picked up the pie ready to put it in the oven.
‘That’s not much more than you’d give a dog.’
There was a little silence while she stared at me and I waited for her to crack.
‘I’m glad you popped in,’ she said. ‘I wanted a word with you about your room.’
‘My room?’
‘Yes. I’m going to be needing it. I’d like you to find somewhere else.’
‘Needing it for what?’
She opened the oven, slid the pie in and closed the door. ‘I’m giving you notice.’
‘Why?’
‘I don’t think I have to answer that question.’ She started scraping up the pastry scraps with the side of a knife.
‘What have I done? What have I done wrong?’
‘It’s unsettling for Calum to have someone in his old room.’
‘He’s enjoyed talking to me–’
‘I’d be grateful if you’d leave him alone from now on. He’s not used to young women.’
She turned to the sink and started running the water. I felt as if my head was going to burst. I ran to my room before I started screaming and swearing at the bitch.
She wanted me away from Calum. She knew Calum was her weak spot. Calum was the only person who could hurt her or fool her, so Calum and I had to be separated. It was so obvious. And I had been playing into her hands (again) by falling out with him. I had been too stupid to realise the only way we could beat her was together.
Calum. Calum and I had to work together. Together we had a chance.
I set off at a run from the house; jogging back the way I’d come, up the track past the iron mine and down towards the dripping forest. I was sweating and gasping for breath, get back and make it up to Calum. Get back to Calum and win him round. Persuade the poor dope I never yelled ‘Fuck off!’
After a bit I had to slow down. There was a movement in the ditch beside the track – my eyes fastened to it before I realised what it was. Black. A crow, pecking away at something dead. Not a crow, please, not a crow. I turned my head away and walked on quickly and it didn’t fly up past me it didn’t force me to look at it, I hoped I might have got away with it.
I plunged into the still forest – when I came out Calum wasn’t at the ghost village. I walked across the empty lumpy field and the sound of laughter came to me – fractured jeering laughter. It was coming from the other side – the seaward side of the field. I went to the edge and looked down. It was a drop of a hundred feet or so to a rocky shoreline and the flat sea. Calum was on the rocks and there were three men with him – sitting, sprawling on the rocks. As I watched one threw a can to another and he missed; it crashed against a rock and burst in a shower of white froth.
‘Dickhead!’ The one who’d missed the catch got up and went to fetch another can. He was young – they were all youngish, no more than twenty. Calum was drinking too, I watched him tilt his head back and drain the can. Calum’s friends?
There was a steep narrow little path away to my left, it zigzagged down the cliff face, in places it was steps cut into the rock. I started to scramble down. Mud and rock skittered out from under my feet. One of the youths looked up at me and wolf-whistled. ‘That your girlfriend?’ he called to Calum. He didn’t have a local accent. Calum pulled the tab off a new can and it sprayed in his face. They were braying with laughter. Now I was closer I could see they were watching him. They were nasty, full of pointless energy. I reached the bottom and called.
‘Calum. It’s time to go.’
‘He’s gonna show us ’is treasure,’ said one with thin greasy brown hair. ‘Have a lager.’
‘No thanks. Calum?’
‘Give us a chance, ’e’s the first bleeder we’ve met since the ferry. ‘E’s gonna show us the sights.’
‘What are you doing here?’
‘Daytrip, innit.’ The others laughed.
‘What ya got in that bag?’ the biggest one asked Calum. He was fat, with a tight black T-shirt. Calum was intent on his can. He waved his arm at the rucksack and Greasy Hair kicked it over to his mate so they could look in it. Big Tub tipped out the piece of driftwood, old brown bottle, fragment of tile and heap of stones Calum’d collected so far.
‘Wow! Antiques Roadshow!’ The one who hadn’t spoken yet, shaven hair and spots around his mouth. ‘Chuck us the bottle.’ Obvious what was going to happen and I said ‘Don’t’; Big Tub glanced at me then threw it, it smashed at Skinhead’s feet.
‘Oo-er, should’ve listened to Miss,’ said Greasy Hair. Calum scrambled over and began to pick up the biggest pieces of glass.
‘Calum, leave them, you’ll cut yourself. Let’s go.’
‘You his sister?’ said Skinhead. ‘Wanta come for a drink with us?’
‘No.’ The first person in the world to take me for my brother’s sister.
The other two began laughing and then they started shaking their cans and spraying each other. They threw another can to Calum who caught and opened it.
‘Calum I’m going. Are you coming?’
‘Aar aar!’ Big Tub doubled up with laughter and Skinhead stood up and jerked his crotch at me. ‘Coming Miss! I’m coming! Uh! Uh! Uh!’ They weren’t dangerous they were just stupid little fuckwits.
‘This the best beach you got?’ Greasy Hair asked. Neither Calum nor I spoke; the skinhead said, ‘Island of fucking dreams this, innit?’
‘Tropical paradise mate,’ said Greasy. ‘Lucky that wanker in Skye told us about it–’
‘Yeah,’ said Big Tub. ‘What about them palm trees and coconuts and them big rollers on the golden sands–’ He gestured to the grey stony beach and flat brownish sea.
‘You like living on this shit heap?’ asked Skinhead.
‘I – I – it’s not a–’
Big Tub shook his can and sprayed Calum’s face. ‘Sh-sh-shut it you.’ The others laughed.
‘Not a sh-shit heap,’ persisted Calum, wiping his face.
‘Is too,’ said Skinhead. ‘There’s fuck all here. What’s there to do?’
‘Shag,’ muttered Big Tub and they glanced at each other.
‘Sat what you do?’ Skinhead asked Calum. ‘Shag yer sister?’ He turned to the others: ‘That’s ’ow they get divs like ’im!’ All three of them laughed but Calum was getting up, his mouth was opening and closing.
‘You gonna show us this treasure then?’
‘You sh-shouldn’t–’ began Calum.
‘S-S-Suck my knob, Braindeath,’ said Skinhead and the other two roared with laughter and Skinhead tipped his head back to finish his can. And Calum hit him.
I knew it was coming from the minute I saw them all together, but it had happened the wrong way round. ‘Calum! Calum!’
‘Call fucking King Kong off!’ Greasy shouted. He was scuttling away backwards over the rocks, he didn’t want a fight. Skinhead was kicking and flailing at Calum and Calum was shaking him.
‘Let go you shit you thick fucking ape.’ Skinhead was crying and Calum’s face was wide like a grin and he was holding Skinhead with one hand and pulling back with the other to punch him and Big Tub was shouting, ‘Kill the bastard Gaz! Gaz! Kill ’im!’ and Calum punched him hard and he went down. Big Tub darted in to help him but Calum swiped him away and went for Gaz again. He was roaring, he honestly was, roaring like a ham in a horror film.
‘Calum! Calum! No!’ He was completely gone, he didn’t even blink, he was just grabbing for Gaz who was scrambling on his arse over the rocks to get away. Greasy Hair was coming back in at the side of the picture with a long splintery plank. He was edging around to try and get behind Calum. Nothing would stop Calum, I could see that. I threw myself after him and grabbed his arm just as he was raising it to throw another punch. And he took no more notice of me than a fly, he simply punched with me on the end of his arm and I went sprawling at his feet. I lost it briefly then, I could hear but I couldn’t see for a minute. Calum must have stood still staring at me because it gave them time to leg it. I heard their retreating voices screaming abuse and threats. I started to pull myself up, I could taste blood on my lip, my cheek was numb. Calum was just standing there panting, staring at me.
‘You fucking idiot look what you’ve done.’
Calum sat down. ‘Sorry.’
‘Sorry! Sorry! You could see they were fuckwits why did you let them–’
‘I lost my temper.’
That nearly made me laugh. I pulled myself up and sat down next to him, I felt giddy.
‘I’m sorry. Does it h-hurt?’
‘Of course it fucking hurts. Why didn’t you stop?’
‘I j-just – I just get so–’ He was gulping for air, like his stammer was stuck in his throat. Suddenly he leaned over to the side and vomited. He kept coughing and choking on it for a long time and when he finally lifted his head up he was crying. It stank, it was nothing but the lager.
‘Stop it. I’m more hurt than you, I should be crying. Come on, move away from the smell.’ I took his hand and led him along the beach a bit. We both had to sit down again. ‘Calum. Stop it–’
‘Sh-she told me not to d-drink. And now I’ve hurt you …’
‘I’m alright. Let’s go home.’
Hand in hand we crawled back up the cliff path and onto the track. After a bit he stopped snuffling. ‘He said I sh-shag my sis–’
‘He was being stupid. He was a pillock.’
‘I h-haven’t sh-shagged anyone.’
‘No. That’s alright.’
We walked in silence for a bit longer then he said, ‘I’d like to shshag someone.’ I let go of his hand. My head was splitting I could feel my cheekbone ringing now every step I took, I had completely and utterly had enough.
‘Shut up. Stop talking about it.’
He did shut up but when I glanced at him I saw he was crying again, silently. ‘Stop it.’
‘You d-don’t like me.’
‘How can anyone like you when you behave like an idiot?’ I was so dizzy I could hardly put one foot in front of the other. My eye had started to throb. By the time we got to the house he was leading me and the vision in my left eye was blurred. He took us in the front door and I sat on the chair by the telephone. My head was clanging. He called and his mother came shuffling out of the kitchen. There was some exchange between them I don’t know I couldn’t look up, the hall seemed to be filling with dark mist it got darker and darker. I could still hear her voice I was straining to get my eyes open but they were open, all they could see was blackness. Then I pitched into it.
When I woke up I was on my bed and there was something cold and wet pressing on my left eye and trickling down my cheek and into my ear. There was a noise – I could hear something – someone in my room. The sound of a drawer being eased out; the rustle of clothing being shuffled through. Someone going through my things. With my right eye all I could see was the wall by the bed and a mound of duvet. The drawer was gently slid shut. I closed my good eye and held still. The liquid trickling into my ear tickled maddeningly. Careful shuffling footsteps moved to the wardrobe. The door opened, there was a tiny clink of clothes-hangers as she riffled through my clothes – my pockets? – what was she looking for? What the hell was she doing? I heard her move again, closer to the bed. There was no one but me and her there. She could do anything–
I half turned to my right, giving a kind of cough, then ostentatiously woke up. When I opened my right eye she was leaning over me with a bottle in her hand.
‘Are you awake? Good, you can have a dose of this for the bruising.’ She started to measure teaspoonfuls into a glass. It was dark green.
‘I don’t want it.’
‘It’ll do you good – it’ll bring down the swelling.’
‘I don’t want it right now. I’ll take it later.’
She had the glass in her hand ready to hold it to my lips.
‘Thank you. Leave it by the bed for now.’
She put it down slowly. ‘That poultice needs changing as well.’
Before I could react she’d grabbed it off my eye. I opened it and got a letterbox slot of vision. The whole side of my head ached. She was fiddling with something in a bowl and told me to close my eye again.
Anything – she could be doing anything to me and who on earth would know? I knew she was dangerous and yet I’d come and casually – unthinkingly – put myself at her mercy. Got myself hurt and helpless under her care. So she could go through my stuff; snoop, steal things, do what she liked to my injuries. Call yourself intelligent, Nikki? Call yourself in control?
I tried to slow my breathing. She slapped something freezing cold and stinging on to my eye and I yelled out.
‘It’s all right, it’ll feel cold for a minute or two, that’s all.’
I didn’t want her to see how scared I was. I wanted her out of the room. She shuffled towards the window, the room got darker. Her voice was apologetic. ‘Calum’s very upset. I’ve told him – it’s the alcohol–’
‘I’d like to go to sleep.’
‘He doesn’t know his own strength, that’s the trouble, he doesn’t know when to stop.’
‘I should have kept out of it.’
There was a sudden silence, she must have frozen, then I heard her shuffle on to the table and sit down. She spoke quietly. ‘One day he’s going to kill someone. One day there’s going to be someone who doesn’t say it’s all right and he’s going to end up in jail.’
‘It’s all right.’ The sound of my own voice sawed through my bony skull.
‘But it’s not, is it.’ There was a long silence. ‘He’s like a child. While I’m alive – to pick up the pieces – to keep an eye on him – we stagger along. But when I go …’
I turned my head fractionally to see her better, she was just a dark hunched silhouette against the white light of the window. She was holding her head in her hands, she was sniffling. It sounded as if she was crying. I couldn’t follow her convolutions, first she was trying to excuse him, then when I said it was my fault she wanted to tell me how seriously dangerous he was. Was she threatening me with him? Saying she couldn’t be responsible for his actions, he might run amok and kill me? The whole room was fuzzy. She was sobbing, her back was to me. ‘I wish he was dead and buried. Sometimes – I do. Then I’d know he was safe …’
Well. I suppose if everyone was dead we’d all be safe and nothing nasty would ever happen to us again.
‘Please will you let me go to sleep now.’ My voice squeezed up out of my sandpaper throat. I wanted her out away gone I didn’t want another glimpse or squeak of her. She stood up slowly and shuffled to the door, opened it and shut it behind her with a little click. I levered myself to sitting upright, fireworks were going off in my head. I felt my way along the wall to the door. Turned the key in the lock. Then I staggered to the sink and filled a glass with water, held myself upright there and swallowed it mouthful by mouthful. My whole body was heavy and slow, she had drugged me already I could tell, she had given me something to slow me down. I wouldn’t let her in again. I lay down and fell into deep blackness.
When I woke it was morning. I touched lightly at my face with my fingertips. The left side was swollen, my lip, my cheek, even my forehead on that side felt puffy. There was a squashed green mess of soggy leaves on my pillow. I crawled along the bed till I could see my reflection in the wardrobe mirror. It didn’t look as bad as it felt. I was hungry and my head was clanging like a doleful bell but I was clear. Her potions hadn’t deprived me of my senses yet. Unless this – being here on all fours on the bed – was a delusion.
I boiled the kettle and made some tea, I made toast and scrambled eggs. Moving my head was strange and I had to tilt and turn it like something mechanical a periscope or something, to see everything I needed to out of the right eye. I sat at the table and ate my breakfast and I felt surprisingly well.
There was one of her brown bottles on the bedside table. Latin hand-written on the label. I sniffed – it had a sweet dark syrupy smell. She was nice to me because she was afraid I might report Calum’s violence to the police or someone. She worried about what would happen to him after her death. She would do anything for Calum – even to the point of being willing to have him die – if she thought it would protect him.
The only way I could hurt her was through Calum. It came in a stab of light as I turned my bad eye towards the window. A piercing shaft of illumination. Calum was the only thing on earth she cared about. If I took Calum away from her I would take away her reason for staying alive. Everything she did she did for him; without him she would be as unnecessary and unloved as she had rendered me. Taking Calum away would be the punishment she deserved; to kill her would, in comparison, be a kindness.
The sun was shining brightly. I opened the back door. On the step was a jamjar full of tiny orange flowers like stars, and purple Michaelmas daisies. There was a folded bit of lined paper nestled amongst them; I opened it up and saw that it was childishly printed in pencil.
NIKI I DINT SAY THANKYOU FOR HELPPING ME THANK YOU I HOP YOU ARE AWRITE AND I AM VERY SORY. XX CAL.
There you are. I helped my brother. What d’you think of that? A selfish bitch who can’t even help herself, wading into a fight and saving her big strong brother from murdering or being murdered. Makes a change eh? I put the flowers and note on the mantelpiece. And I thought if she comes snooping I hope she’s fucking jealous.