Page 24 of From Now On

Duke

Duke can hear Nina and Aunt Violet arguing downstairs. He can’t make out what they are saying but their words are fast and angry. He doesn’t need to hear what they are shouting because he knows what it’s about.

The same thing it has been about for the past two weeks.

Duke picks up another book –Tiddler.

He is way too old for this one but he remembers the time he had chosen it for his story every single night, shifting over on the bed so Mum could stretch out her legs, his head resting on her shoulder as they both read the story aloud. He had loved rhymes, the rhythm of the words; it felt like everything made sense.

Now, nothing makes sense. He is that small, lost, frightened fish in an unknown ocean, wishing desperately that everything can go back to the way it was before.

It can’t.

Duke drops the book into the box. It’s nearly full and he hasn’t even begun to pack his Lego yet. Aunt Violet said not to bring too much stuff as his bedroom at her house is much smaller but how much is too much? She has only given him four boxes and all of those are full.Perhaps his new room isn’t a room at all but a cupboard under the stairs. He looks around sadly; there’s his green light shade covered in dinosaurs his dad had bought after their visit to the Natural History Museum – ‘so you don’t forget our trip,’ he had said, but it was the only time Duke has ever been to London and he’ll never forget the constant noise, the people. He had shrunk into his mum’s side, clutching her hand tightly.

His curtains are blue and have trains on them and he doesn’t like trains anymore so they don’t matter quite as much but Mum had still made them for him on her sewing machine. There’s a glass lighthouse filled with different coloured sand he had carefully collected on the Isle of Wight, layers of orange, yellow and purple. Nina had one too. He’d liked it there, the waterfall and Carisbrooke Castle where Dad had bought him a wooden sword and shield, and he’d pretended to be a knight, but he had been sick on the ferry on the way home, and again in the car.

What will happen to the rest of his things? To this house? Will it be sold? Will this be someone else’s bedroom one day?

The thought makes his stomach feel sort of empty and he wonders for the first time if Charlie had felt that way when Duke had moved into this room that used to be Charlie’s.

Perhaps if he says sorry, tells Charlie he understands, he might come back; he could even have this room – and then they could all still live here and everything would be… not the way it was before but better, he thinks, than it will be at Aunt Violet’s. He doesn’t know what Aunt Violet said to Charlie to make him leave. She might be scary but she’s not exactly Gollum.

He picks up the phone that Sasha bought him. There are still only three numbers in his contact list and Charlie is one of them.He presses the green button and waits and waits, listening to the ringing loud and unanswered against his ear.

Charlie doesn’t pick up.

There’s a slam. Through the paper-thin wall that separates their bedrooms he hears Nina howl with rage and the heavy thud as she throws something.

Duke tentatively taps on her door before pushing it open. ‘I’ve finished my packing. Do you want me to help you—’

‘I don’t need to fucking pack because I’m not fucking going anywhere.’

‘But—’

‘Go away!’ she screams as she hurls a glass towards him. Duke begins to shake as it shatters against the doorframe, shards of glass splintering the carpet. He wants to tell his sister that he is not the enemy. The enemy is sitting downstairs, looking too much like his mum, the same eyes and the same full lips, but Aunt Violet’s mouth never seems to smile. He quickly retreats.

Duke creeps downstairs. He can help Billie get ready at least. She’ll want her favourite toy, the cuddly penguin she got for Christmas. She has long since pulled the stuffing out but she takes the scrap of material to her basket every night. He hopes Aunt Violet has a big garden, somewhere Billie can run around in and perhaps somewhere where he can grow vegetables.

Aunt Violet is sitting at the kitchen table, her head in her hands.

‘I… I’ve filled the boxes,’ he says.

She raises her face to his. She looks like she’s been crying. ‘At least one of you does as they’re told. I don’t know, Veronica has let you both run wild.’

‘Nina’s upset. This is her home. Our home.’

‘I know that—’ she pats the chair next to her and he slips into it ‘—but I have my own home. Really good neighbours.’

‘We have Pippa—’

‘I have a life. It isn’t fair to expect me—’

‘We don’t expect you to do anything. You could go back to your house, Charlie could—’

‘Charlie can’t—’

‘I know you probably think we’re better off with you because you’re old… older,’ he quickly corrects, as he sees the frown line on the bridge of her nose deepen, ‘but Charlie did look after us really well and—’

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