Jenny Downham - You Against Me

In a minute he’d try Ellie again, and if her phone was still off, he’d leave another message asking to meet tomorrow. Then, in the morning, all the normal routines would kick in – he’d get up, take Holly to school and go to work. Mum would sleep off the booze, Karyn would stop being mad at him, and when he explained to Ellie what had happened, she’d agree to come round to the flat and meet them. They’d like her. They’d drink tea together and decide what to do next.

His mum was yawning now, leaning against the window looking exhausted. She smiled wearily at him. ‘I think someone finally stole your heart, didn’t they, Mikey?’

He rolled his eyes. ‘Go to bed, Mum.’

‘I always said you weren’t as tough as you made out.’

‘Serious, go to bed.’

She leaned in and kissed him goodnight. ‘It’ll all be clear in the morning, won’t it?’

‘It’ll be fine.’

‘I’ve got a daughter down there who needs me, and I want to do the right thing for once.’

‘Sleep on it. We’ll talk tomorrow.’

She nodded, walked away across the landing. At her bedroom door she turned and looked at him very seriously. ‘I want to be a good mum.’

‘Don’t worry about it.’

She laughed. ‘I do though, that’s the trouble.’

Mikey held the fish by the head and scraped the scales away with the edge of a spoon. ‘From the tail towards the gills,’ Dex said. ‘Keep your strokes short and quick and work carefully around the fins – they’re sharp.’

Mikey was only half listening. Most of his attention was on his phone, which he’d stuck in his jeans pocket on vibrate. He’d left three messages with his mum already and she hadn’t returned any of them; he’d left at least ten with Ellie and she hadn’t got back to him either. He didn’t know whether to be relieved, or worried. No news was good news and all that, but if Mum woke up early and decided to ring Gillian, then anything could happen, and here he was, stuck at work.

He washed the fish under the tap, then gave it to Dex, who turned it belly up on the chopping board and slit it with a knife from its tail towards its head. Then it was blood and guts all over the place as Dex spread the fish open with his fingers and dragged the entrails out. They were bulbous and glistening as he flung them into the open bin, strangely pastel-coloured too – cream, yellow and pink, like something that belonged to summer. Dex washed the fish again, scooping his thumb up and down its insides, getting rid of the blood along its ribs and backbone and nudging off the last of the scales.

‘We’ll keep the head,’ he said. ‘Some fish you cut off behind the gills, but not this one.’

The fish looked up at them coldly as Dex explained how its eyes should be bright and round, not dehydrated or sunken. Mikey half expected it to blink, or to open its mouth and complain about having all its insides showing and nowhere to hide. Dex slapped it on the draining board and picked up the next one from a bucket at their feet.

‘These aren’t for the pub,’ he said, ‘but for me and Sue later – a little peace offering from you, Mikey. Tell her you thought of it all by yourself and tell her you’re sorry.’ He winked at Mikey as he handed it over. ‘Here you are, keep going.’

Mikey held it at the bottom of the sink and scraped away with the spoon, the water numbing his fingers. Dex stood at his shoulder, encouraging him, explaining how a bit of thyme, a bay leaf, some lemon and salt could turn the fish into a meal. It reminded Mikey of the time he’d dug up potatoes at primary school – his surprise at discovering chips came from the ground and were once covered in dirt. Here he was, all these years later, his fingers sticky with fish scales, still learning about food.

‘Is there anything you don’t know, Dex?’

‘Not much.’

They grinned at each other and Mikey wondered what it would be like to have Dex as a dad – someone to be on your side, someone to show you stuff and advise you when you didn’t have a clue. He wouldn’t want Sue as a mum though. Here she was again, slamming into the kitchen – second time this morning and still furious.

‘What are you doing in here?’ she snapped, pointing a finger at Mikey.

‘Gutting fish.’

‘When I’ve got toilets that need cleaning and a bar about to open?’

‘My fault,’ Dex said. ‘The lad wanted to prepare a feast for you, Sue, to show you how sorry he is.’

She scowled at them both, as if it was bound to be a trick.

‘I encouraged him,’ Dex told her. ‘I thought it showed good heart.’

A shadow of a smile, which she quickly covered with a frown as she turned to Mikey. ‘I hope you know you’re only in a job because of my husband?’

Mikey nodded.

‘And you know if you muck me around again, I’ll fire you?’

He nodded again and she went for it, telling him how rude and ungrateful he was, how the previous day had been their busiest of the season and she’d had to turn customers away at the door because he hadn’t bothered showing up. She asked him why he couldn’t be more like Jacko, who was always reliable and cheerful and who, incidentally, had been given the morning off for good behaviour.

‘Maybe there’s a lesson for you in there, Mikey,’ she said.

It struck him that Sue was the third person to shout at him in less than twelve hours and he probably should be getting used to it by now, but he wasn’t. All the yelling seemed to be adding up to something that dragged him down.

Dex shot her a look. ‘Give the boy a break, Sue. I’ll send him through to you as soon as he’s done here.’

She took a few paces towards him, hands on her hips. ‘I don’t know what you want to turn him into, Dex, but to me, he’s a cleaner until he earns my respect. Now get rid of that fish, Mikey, and come straight out to the bar. I’ve got a floor that needs mopping after you’ve done the toilets.’

When she’d gone, there was silence. Mikey rinsed the fish under the running tap, laid it on the draining board, then washed his hands with warm water and soap. He used the scrubbing brush and took his time. Dex chopped herbs on a board. Warm midmorning light flooded through the window and splashed the floor.

‘She’s angry you didn’t tell her,’ Dex said after a while. ‘If you wanted a day off, you should have asked, that’s all.’

‘Something came up.’

‘It always does.’ Dex stopped chopping and looked at him. ‘You’re a clever boy, Mikey, and you could be a great chef. Don’t waste your talent.’

Mikey couldn’t help grinning as he dried his hands on a towel. Did Dex really believe in him that much? He wanted to please him suddenly, to make him think he was worth all the trouble.

‘I’ll finish the fish later if you like,’ he said.

Dex looked at the fish on the draining board, the entrails in the bin, the three fish still in the bucket.

‘A kind offer, but Sue has plenty to keep you busy, I think. I’ll finish these off and tomorrow I’ll show you how to make a stock out of the trimmings.’ He patted his belly. ‘I’ll teach you bouillabaisse – the best French soup you ever tasted.’

They shook hands on it and Mikey had something to look forward to again, just like that.

In the toilets he called Ellie again – still no joy, and no reply from his mum either. He risked phoning Karyn, figured it’d be worth getting yelled at if he found out what was happening.

She picked up straight away. ‘What do you want?’

‘Just wondered how it’s going?’

‘Fantastic.’

She sounded like she meant it, which was worrying. ‘Is Mum up?’

‘Yep.’

‘Can I speak to her?’