Page 49 of One Step Behind
So why doesn’t it feel like it? She imagined the three of them hanging out on her bed, talking about which boys they fancied and playing truth or dare. But nothing has gone right.
Sophie waves goodbye at the front door and tries not to listen to Flick and Vicky’s laughter carrying down the road. After tidying up the chocolate wrappers in the kitchen, Sophie goes to find Matthew. She hopes he’s not upset about Flick’s stupid comment.
Matthew is in his room, slouched on his bed and staring at nothing. The window is open and the room smells of the sickly-sweet floral air freshener her mum keeps in the bathroom. There’s another smell underneath and it takes Sophie a moment to realize what it is. Smoke.
Sophie eyes the bowl of blackened paper by the window. A box of matches sits beside it.
‘I was trying to make some paper look old for my history homework,’ Matthew mumbles.
Sophie isn’t sure she believes him. ‘Don’t tell Mum, OK? She’ll get mad.’
He nods.
‘You use black tea or coffee and pour it on to the paper. When it dries it looks like old parchment or something,’ she says, trying to read his face.
‘Wanna play a game of rummy?’
Sophie pauses at the door and smiles a little. Matthew might be her brother rather than her friend, but at least hanging out with him is easy. She doesn’t have to constantly worry about what he’s thinking. ‘Sure, if you don’t mind losing.’
‘As if.’
‘I’ll go get the cards.’ Sophie tucks the matches in her pocket and takes the bowl to the kitchen to tidy away. If her mum finds it in Matthew’s room she’ll freak out and no doubt it will be Sophie who gets the blame.
Chapter 27
Tuesday, 18 June
Jenna
Bright morning sunlight pours through the bi-fold doors, highlighting every smear and smudge on the glass, and the remnants of the grey fingerprint dust on the cupboards. I stare out into the garden, my eyes pulling like they always do to the bare patch of lawn in the shape of a J. We’ve reseeded but it’s been too dry for the grass to grow; it’s a constant reminder of the terror you’ve wielded over me.
‘So you’re taking us to school today and picking us up?’ Archie sing-songs as he dances around me.
I look down at him and feel my head spinning from the circular motion of his movements. Last night, I managed three hours of sleep before I was shaken awake by a dream of sitting beside you in the hospital, your arm grabbing me, hurting me.
‘Yes,’ I smile, wishing his joy was infectious. ‘Sit down and eat your breakfast, please, Archie.’
‘And tomorrow?’ he asks, continuing his circle, just a bit slower now.
‘Yep.’ I close my eyes, fighting a sudden nausea.
‘And the day after that.’
‘She said all week, Archie,’ Beth hollers from the living room.
‘Thank you, Beth.’ I open my eyes and focus them on Archie. ‘Baby, would you please stop walking around me?’ I take a step towards the counter and busy myself washing up a cup that could easily go in the dishwasher.
‘And we’re going on a bike ride after school?’ he asks, still skittering like a puppy at my legs.
The nausea builds and with it the frustration. ‘Archie,’ I snap. ‘Will you sit down and eat your breakfast?’
A silence falls over the kitchen, my outburst too loud, too extreme. I should have asked again nicely.
Archie’s little feet grind to a halt. His big brown eyes fill with lip-wobbling tears. ‘I want Daddy,’ he croaks.
The guilt balloons up. Hurt pulls at my chest – not my own hurt, but Archie’s, and the knowledge that it’s me who’s caused it. ‘I’m sorry. Archie, I’m sorry for shouting. I did ask you twice already to stop walking around me. It was making me feel ill.’
I crouch down and scoop him into my arms, lifting him up and holding him close to me. A second passes and then I feel his body relax against me and his arms stretch around my neck. It’s so easy to forget he’s only six years old, he’s only just started eating with a knife and fork, only just learning to join up his writing, to add up and take away.
