Дэвид Муди - Strangers

And again, Tammy’s heart sank. Is this really the best I can do? Hanging around in a park, watching a moron hurl abuse at the village idiot? It hurt. Christ, she couldn’t remember ever feeling so low before, not even when Mum and Dad had first split up. She walked away, trying hard not to let Heather see she was crying.

‘Wassup Tam?’

‘Nothing.’

‘You missing home?’ she asked with surprising perception. Tammy nodded, then the floodgates opened. ‘Come on,’ Heather said, getting up and putting her arm around Tammy’s shoulder. ‘Let’s go back to mine.’

They walked towards the estate, passing Joel as he came running back up the hill they were walking down. ‘Lesbians,’ he shouted at them.

‘Fuck off,’ Heather shouted back.

‘That’s my sister, you prick,’ Jamie said, and he booted Joel in the backside then chased him around the back of the community hall.

Tammy managed to get a text through to say where she was going, then phoned Michelle a few hours later, asking for a lift home. ‘Have you seen the car keys?’ Michelle asked.

‘I’ve got them,’ Scott said, tapping his pocket. ‘Why?’

‘Tam needs picking up.’

‘I’ll get her.’

‘It’s okay. It’s just around the corner.’

‘Did you not hear me? I said I’ll get her. Give me the address.’

Michelle did as he said. It wasn’t worth arguing.

Sunday afternoon. Michelle didn’t know how much more of today she could take. George had picked up a cold – probably from the change of surroundings or mixing with new kids, she thought – and he was making life hell for everyone, moaning and grizzling and constantly demanding attention. Tammy and Phoebe were bickering about something, probably nothing, and now Scott was making a hell of a noise downstairs. She dumped George in with the girls and went to see what he was doing. She found him in the kitchen, shifting furniture. She tripped over a bucketful of tools he’d left in the doorway.

‘What are you doing, Scott? I nearly crippled myself just then.’

‘What’s it look like I’m doing?’

He didn’t give her time to answer, just swung a sledgehammer at the wall between the kitchen and dining room. It hit with a deep thud which resonated throughout the entire house. Everything in the kitchen shook. It snowed with dust. She dived for the still wet washing-up on the draining board, re-wiping and shoving plates and dishes into cupboards, cringing as the sledgehammer hit again. And again. And again.

She covered up what she could, then waited in the doorway for him to stop, watching the knee-level hole in the wall getting bigger and bigger. Already there were mounds of plaster and broken brick on either side.

‘What?’ he said, panting with effort, pausing for breath.

‘You pick your moments.’

‘Don’t talk to me like that.’

‘Well I’ve tried being tactful and that doesn’t seem to work. I thought we were going to wait a while.’

‘This needs doing.’

He turned his back on her, adjusted his safety goggles, then swung the sledgehammer again. Three more hits and he stopped, conscious she was still there and still watching.

‘What’s your problem?’

She just looked at him, seething. ‘A bit of notice would have been nice.’

‘I told you, this is the most important job. This needs doing first.’

‘I thought we were waiting,’ she said again.

‘Waiting for what?’

‘Waiting to get back on our feet, to get some cash behind us again. I thought you’d at least wait until we’d finished unpacking.’ She peered through the hole. ‘The carpet in the dining room’s ruined.’

‘We were gonna change it anyway.’

‘That’s not the point. We can’t afford to change it, not yet. You know that. We talked about it.’

Three more hits. After the third strike Scott waited for the dust to settle.

‘I don’t know what your problem is,’ he said.

‘Where do you want me to start? Summer’s over, Scott. With a bloody great hole in the wall we’ll lose the heat.’

‘Not when I’ve finished.’

‘But you said it would take weeks.’

‘Let me get on with it then. I don’t know why you’re being so cranky, love. I’m doing this for us.’

‘If you were doing it for us, you wouldn’t be doing it now.’

‘It’ll be worth it.’

‘How many times have I heard that before?’

‘I mean it.’

‘You always mean it. This is the central part of the house, Scott. How am I supposed to cook meals in the middle of a building site?’

‘You’re exaggerating. It won’t be that bad.’

‘You try it then.’

He looked at her again, face more serious. ‘I’m at work all day. Cooking isn’t my job.’

She swallowed hard. ‘It isn’t my job either, but I do it because we need to eat. Same as all the cleaning I do, and the laundry and everything else.’

‘Damn right too. You’re sitting at home all day anyway,’ he said, lifting the sledgehammer to start again. ‘You’d be bored otherwise.’ Michelle bit her lip. He just looked at her, waiting for a response, but knowing he wouldn’t get one. ‘Oh well, I’ve started now. Can’t leave it like this, can I?’ He swung once more, then stopped again. She was still there. ‘Well?’

‘Why do you keep doing this to me, Scott?’

‘Keep doing what? I don’t know what you’re on about.’

‘You keep undermining me, taking away the little control I’ve still got.’

‘Now you’re just talking rubbish. You’re paranoid, love.’

‘I’m not. You put the house on the market without consulting me, made an offer on this place without me even seeing so much as a picture. You do it on purpose, don’t you?’

He turned his back on her and started hammering on the wall with more force than before.

Another hour and he was knackered. He had to stop. He stood back and admired what he’d done. He’d made good progress, managing to knock a roughly door-shaped hole through into the dining room. He’d cleared some of the rubble too, but he’d have to finish the rest after work tomorrow. If only Michelle could see things the way he did. She just didn’t share his vision, always thinking about things in boring, practical, day-to-day terms. You need to take chances from time to time , he kept telling her. She was the one who was always banging on about wanting them all to eat together in the dining room eventually. Well, now she could carry their food straight through from the kitchen.

She was back again, hovering in the doorway. ‘Looks the business, doesn’t it?’ he said, but she didn’t seem to hear him. ‘What’s up with you now?’

‘Have you seen Tammy?’

‘No, why?’

‘She’s gone.’

‘What do you mean, gone?’

‘What do you think I mean? She’s not here.’

‘Well have you tried her phone?’

‘She’s not answering.’

‘She must have said something. She’ll have told Phoebe.’

‘Phoebe’s been in with me and George for the last hour.’

‘But she must have said something?’

‘If you really want to know, last time I spoke to her she said she was sick of your bloody noise and she wanted out.’

‘When was that?’

‘Just after you started knocking hell out of the house.’

‘And you didn’t think to say anything? Bloody hell.’

Scott kicked his bucket of tools into the corner of the kitchen and grabbed his jacket.

‘Where are you going?’ Michelle asked.

‘Where do you think? I’ll go and look for her.’

‘All due respect, I think it’d be better if I—’