Jenny Downham: You Against Me

‘No, silly. And when it’s raining I’m going to make puppets.’

Karyn twisted round to look at Mikey. ‘And I’m getting a computer.’

Mikey was tempted to ask what he was going to get, but managed to keep his mouth shut.

‘It’s from a charity,’ Mum told him. ‘They give old ones a service and hand them out again, good as new. The social worker reckons we might get a desk for the girls’ room as well – I just have to write a letter and say why we need it.’

Mikey laughed. ‘Remember when you got that paint for Holly?’

‘For me?’ Holly’s whole face gleamed. ‘What paint? When?’

‘You were just born,’ Mikey told her, ‘and the council said Mum could have a budget to paint the bedroom, but they said the paint had to be white and she wanted yellow.’

Mum laughed out loud. ‘Yellow and blue. I stood in that office and told them I wasn’t leaving until they agreed. It was a ridiculous policy – everyone having white walls – what rubbish. I said, why should my kids have to stare at four plain walls, when they can have the colour of sunshine and sky in their rooms?’

Holly plonked herself on her mother’s lap and gave her a hug that was so brand new and abandoned that Mikey wanted one for himself. Karyn shot him a shy smile over their heads and he felt a rush of something for them all – love? Shame? He actually felt like he might cry. It was crazy – the four of them having an OK time together for once, and here he was, choking up.

‘Uh-oh,’ Mum said, ‘here comes trouble.’

Mikey peered over the balcony, glad of a distraction. Jacko was pulling up in his car, reversing into a space over by the bins.

‘He’ll get clamped there,’ Mum said. ‘Run and tell him, Holly. Tell him they’ve clamped three cars down there today.’

‘I’ll go,’ Karyn said. ‘I could do with a walk.’

She slipped on her sandals and the three of them watched as she got up from the deckchair and walked slowly, as if walking was a new thing, along the balcony to the lift door. When she pressed the button, Holly scrambled after her and took her hand. When the lift came they stepped in together.

Mum got herself a new cigarette and offered Mikey one. Their eyes met across the lighter.

‘So,’ he said, ‘she’s outside then.’

‘Ever since Gillian left.’

‘Amazing.’

‘She’s invited her mates over later as well. I think something very important happened when your friend swapped sides.’

‘Swapped sides?’

Mum shrugged. ‘You know what I mean.’

They looked down at Karyn together. She was leaning into the car window, talking to Jacko. Holly was walking across to the boy with the ball.

Mum said, ‘Have you spoken to your friend today?’

‘She rang me from a phonebox when she got out of the police station.’

‘Is she OK?’

‘Not really. Her brother’s not allowed to live in the same house now she’s a witness for the police.’

‘You’re worried about her?’

‘She says her dad’s going to go crazy when he finds out. She was going to a café with her mum to work out how to tell him.’

‘At least she’s got her mum with her.’

‘I suppose.’

Though Mikey wasn’t sure that skinny woman he’d met all those weeks ago would be any help. He took a long drag of his cigarette and exhaled slowly. Ellie had had a weird calm about her on the phone, and when she’d said goodbye, she’d made it sound like for ever. Never before had he been so hungry for someone – never so specifically, so desperately. Whenever he closed his eyes he saw her, her arms spread above her head, her legs wrapping him warm.

He wiped his face with his sleeve and took another puff on his cigarette.

His mum was staring at him.

‘What?’

‘If you hadn’t got to know this girl, Karyn wouldn’t be outside today. You think about that.’

‘You’re saying me knowing Ellie is a good thing?’

‘I’m saying you tried to help your sister and that’s a good thing. I’m not sure any of us would have done any different if we’d been in your little friend’s shoes.’

‘Yeah, well I don’t think Karyn sees it like that.’

‘Give her time.’

He rubbed his nose and thought about it. He looked around at the place where he lived because he didn’t know the answer. There were newly-planted trees in the courtyard, thin little sticks protected by their own wire fences. He looked at the sand pit, the swing, the football area with its goal marked on the wall in red paint. The boy with the ball was still there and Holly was laughing with him about something. Mikey took a last drag of his cigarette and stubbed it out in the Christmas tree pot, picked up a stone he found and held it so it warmed in his hand.

‘I lost my job, Mum.’

‘Oh, Mikey!’

‘I mucked them about too much.’

She shook her head as she stubbed out her own cigarette. ‘Did you tell them how difficult everything’s been?’

‘Not exactly.’

‘You should’ve done. It might’ve helped.’

‘Yeah, maybe.’

‘I’m really sorry about that.’ She looked sorry too. ‘What will you do now?’

He didn’t know. It struck him how suddenly the world goes and changes. Here he was sitting on the step and he couldn’t think of a single thing that was the same as the day before. Yesterday he was with Ellie and today it was over. Yesterday Tom was getting away with it, and today he wasn’t. Yesterday Karyn was glued to the sofa and now she was down in the courtyard. Yesterday he had a job. He sighed and stretched his legs out. Even the weather was freakishly different – constant rain replaced by a low sun pulsing in the sky.

‘Maybe I’ll go down and give Holly a kick-around,’ he said. ‘I’ve been promising her one for weeks.’

‘You do that,’ Mum said. ‘And I tell you what. Why don’t I make us a proper dinner? There’s some chicken pieces in the freezer and I could do potatoes and veggies like I used to. Would you like that?’ She leaned over and stroked his arm.

‘Thanks,’ he said. ‘That’d be great.’

He knew it wouldn’t last for ever, knew it was only one of her cycles, but it was kind. And maybe, like a game of footie with Holly, like the sun in April, it was important to appreciate good things when they came.

Ellie sat on the sofa next to her mother. They’d been sitting there for so long that the room had fallen softly into darkness. Upstairs, Tom was in his bedroom packing. Dad was helping him. Ellie could hear the drag and tear of parcel tape as he sealed up boxes on the landing.

‘Dad’s never going to forgive me,’ she whispered.

Mum squeezed her hand. ‘Your father loves you.’

‘That’s different.’

‘It’s all we’ve got though. When it comes down to it, it’s all we have to hold on to.’

It felt like a belt tightening as Dad came down the stairs. Every muscle in Ellie’s body moved into tension as she watched him stack two new boxes on top of the others in the hall. It was like Tom was dead and they were clearing him out.

‘Is that his Xbox?’ Mum said. ‘Won’t Ben have things like that he can use?’

Dad snapped the lights on in the lounge and stood in the doorway, watching them blink into light. Surely he would stop being angry soon. Surely his fury would simply run out.

‘Ben’s at college all day,’ he said, ‘so Tom will be dependent on the parents’ hospitality. You want your son to feel uncomfortable, asking if he might please watch TV or perhaps borrow a console to help distract him from this nightmare?’

Mum didn’t answer and he shook his head at her as if that simply proved he was right. He strode off down the hallway to the downstairs bathroom. Ellie imagined him rooting through the cabinet in there, hunting down Tom’s shaving gear and deodorant, his favourite hair gel.