Дэвид Муди - Hater

‘Edward!’ I shout over thumping party music. People turn and look at me like I’ve gone mad. ‘Ed!’

‘Dad!’ I hear him shout back. I can see him now, down by one of the climbing frames at the far end of the room with a friend. I run towards him.

‘Get your shoes and your coat,’ I tell him, ‘we’ve got to go.’

‘But Dad,’ he starts to protest.

‘Get your shoes and your coat,’ I tell him again.

‘What’s going on?’ someone asks. I turn round and see that it’s Wendy Parish, the mother of one of Ed’s friends.

‘There’s some trouble in the pub,’ I tell her, watching anxiously as Ed disappears to find his stuff. ‘I’d get out of here if I was you. I’d get everyone out of here.’

I look up and see that staff from the pub have reached the staff of the fun-barn and they look about to make a tannoy announcement to clear the building. Ed’s back with his coat on. He sits down and starts putting on his shoes.

‘Come on, son,’ I yell over the noise. ‘Do that outside.’

Confused, he jumps up and holds onto me as we run towards the exit, weaving around the suddenly scattered tables and chairs. We push our way out into the car park and I can see Liz and Ellis standing over by the car. I run towards them. Ed hobbles along beside me, one shoe on and one shoe off. I can hear sirens approaching.

‘You okay?’ Liz asks.

‘We’re fine,’ I answer, rummaging through my pockets for the keys. I open the door and between us we bundle the children inside. I gesture for her to get in and she does. I finish strapping Josh into his car seat and then get into the front and lock the door.

‘Should we wait for the police?’ Liz wonders, her voice little more than a whisper.

‘Bollocks to that,’ I answer as I start the engine and reverse quickly out of the parking bay. Cars are already queuing up to get out of the car park. ‘No-one else is stopping,’ I say as we join the back of the queue. ‘Let’s just get out of here.’

7

It’s half-past nine and I’ve been trying to get out of Ellis’ bedroom for the best part of the last hour. Poor kid’s obviously been shaken up by what she saw earlier. I’m not surprised, it scared the hell out of me too. Outwardly she doesn’t seem too upset but she won’t stop talking about what happened. You don’t know how kids are affected by seeing things like that. I’ve been sitting on the end of her bed answering a constant stream of questions since she shouted out for me. I’ve done my best but my patience is starting to wear thin. She’s just milking it now, trying to keep me in here as long as she can.

‘So why were they fighting, Daddy?’ she asks (again).

‘Ellis,’ I sigh, ‘I’ve already told you a hundred times, I don’t know.’

‘Have they stopped now?’

‘I’m sure they have. The police would have stopped them.’

‘Would they?’

‘Yes, that’s what the police do.’

‘Did one of the men get hurt?’

‘Yes.’

‘Will he be in hospital now?’

‘Yes,’ I answer. I don’t tell her that he’s probably in the hospital morgue.

The questions suddenly stop. She’s tired. I can see her eyelids starting to flutter. She’s going to sleep but she’s going to fight it all the way. I should wait until I’m sure she’s gone but I’m desperate to get out of here now. I slide along the bed, get up carefully and then begin to edge towards the door. She stirs and looks up and I freeze.

‘What about my chips?’ she mumbles, her voice slow and drowsy.

‘What about them?’ I ask, moving away again.

‘I didn’t finish them.’

‘None of us finished our food. Mummy and Daddy didn’t finish either.’

‘Will they still be there?’

‘Will who still be there?’

‘My chips.’

‘I doubt it.’

‘Has someone else eaten them?’

‘No, they’d have gone cold by now. Someone will have thrown them away.’

‘Can we go back tomorrow and see?’

‘No.’

‘Why not? I want to finish my chips…’

‘Ellis,’ I interrupt.

‘What?’

‘Shut up and go to sleep please.’

I’ve finally reached the door. I flick the light-switch off and wait for her to react. She doesn’t. The only light in the room now comes in from the hallway. I can still see her shuffling around in bed but I know she’ll be asleep in a few minutes.

‘Night, Daddy,’ she yawns.

‘Night, sweetheart.’

I’m about to leave when she speaks again.

‘Is he dead, Daddy?’

What do I say to that? Do I tell her the truth or do I lie to save more questions and reassure my little girl? I’m a coward. I sit on the fence.

‘I don’t know,’ I mumble quickly. ‘Goodnight.’

I wait for a little while longer until I’m sure she’s asleep. Finally free but exhausted I drag myself down the corridor towards the living room. Halfway through the weekend and I don’t feel like I’ve had any chance to relax yet. There’s a film on tonight that Liz and I wanted to watch. After the last couple of days it will be good just to sit down together and relax for a while.

I look around the living room door and see that Lizzie is asleep. She’s sprawled out along the full length of the sofa snoring. I’m disappointed but not surprised. I fetch myself a drink and something to eat from the kitchen before finding somewhere to sit and watch the TV. The other seats are piled high with the children’s toys and clean washing waiting to be put away. I can’t be bothered to move any of it. I sit down on the floor in front of the sofa.

Now I can’t find the remote control. I upend most of the washing and turf through the toys but I can’t find the damn thing anywhere. I bet one of the kids has hidden it. Josh has a habit of putting things in the bin. I check through the rubbish then under all the chairs and the sofa. When I’m on the verge of giving up I finally spot the end of it peeking out from underneath Lizzie. She’s fallen asleep on top of it. I pull it out from under her. She grunts and rolls over onto her back but she doesn’t wake up.

Just in time. Seconds to spare and I’m finally there. I change the channel and sit back to enjoy the film. Looks like it’s already begun. Actually, it looks like it’s been on for a while. I check the TV listings. Bloody thing started three quarters of an hour ago.

Saturday nights are beginning to depress me. For a while now they’ve begun to feel empty and, if I’m honest, pathetic. We’re still young and we should be out enjoying ourselves but we’re not. I always start the weekend with the best of intentions but things never seem to work out how I planned them. Family life gets in the way. I don’t have many close friends to go out with or any spare money, the kids wind us up and wear us out and Lizzie and I are both tired all the time. More often than not I’m left sitting here on my own like this in front of the TV watching pointless drivel. It’s almost midnight now and I’ve wasted hours here on my own. Liz got up and went to bed ages ago.

The film I missed was the only thing worth watching tonight. It’s crazy — the more TV channels we get, the fewer programmes worth watching there are. I’ve been sat here with the remote control in my hand constantly flicking through the channels and all I’ve found has been terrible game shows, chat shows with boring guests, pointless reality TV programmes, soap operas, talent competitions, made-for-TV films, repeated dramas and crappy compilations of CCTV footage and home video clips. I’ve ended up watching the news as usual. It’s a rolling twenty-four hour news channel which was interesting for a while but the headlines are on a fifteen minute loop and my eyes are starting to feel heavy now that I’m watching the same thing for the third time. I should go to bed but I can’t be bothered to get up.