Mark Haddon - The Red House

Two sweetcorn chowders, a slightly disappointing goat’s cheese tart, two Stilton ploughmans…Alex and Daisy were sitting on either side of Benjy, conspicuously looking after him, showing their parents how to be parents. Benjy was reading Guinness World Records. Look, this man lifted 21.9 kg using his nipples .

Benjy, seriously, why would I possibly want to look?

Alex observes his father. It seems both impossible and completely obvious. They didn’t love each other, did they, Mum and Dad, didn’t like each other half the time. A little flash of sympathy for Dad, then he thinks of the dirtiness, the lying, the disrespect. He wants to tell someone, but who? Daisy has enough on her plate. He could tell Richard, perhaps, but there’s something unmanly about handing over the responsibility. He has to confront Dad. If he doesn’t then the knowledge is going to eat away at him, but every time he pictures this encounter his heart hammers and his palms sweat. Though it would resolve something, wouldn’t it? Something that has haunted him since the night in Crouch End.

Guess the record for the most underpants worn at the same time .

Benjy, just eat that potato .

One hundred and thirty-seven .

Benjy…

I’m a bit full actually .

Of what?

Nothing .

We had some ice cream .

Daisy looks at Mum who seems a little better now, more awake, more focused, stringing actual sentences together with Dad. That echo of Gran. Made her blood run cold. Though when she thinks about it maybe Mum deserves a bit of suffering. All the shit she’s given her over the past year. Schadenfreude. Is that a dreadful thing to think? Well, if she’s leaving the church then thinking dreadful things without feeling guilty has to be one of the compensations.

Banana split, treacle pudding, cappuccino…Richard picks up the bill.

♦

Daisy was waiting at the zebra crossing when she saw Melissa sitting on the stone wall across the road at the pre-arranged taxi rendezvous point. She bodyswerved rapidly towards The Shop of Crap and stood beside an aluminium dustbin full of brooms. No, wait. She was tired of feeling cowardly, feeling vulnerable. Fuck what Melissa thought, fuck what Mum and Dad thought. She turned and looked back across the road, Melissa still unaware of her presence. Spiteful and shallow. Like they always said about bullies. Underneath they’re frightened . Because she had her own bluebird tattoo now, didn’t she? And there were things she’d learnt in the church that remained true in spite of everything. Putting on the Armour of Christ, kneeling in the street, that drunk woman spraying them with a can of lager. If you believed with all your heart then none of it mattered. What doesn’t kill me only makes me stronger .

Gay . What a wet fucking word it was.

She waited for a Post Office van to pull up then walked over the road. Melissa seeing her now and something extraordinary happening. The glossy thoroughbred look, the slow-motion hair, it counted for nothing. It was this confidence, wasn’t it, the Armour of Christ. Melissa was shrinking just as she had shrunk in Melissa’s presence four days ago. Daisy sat down beside her.

What? said Melissa nervously.

Daisy closed her eyes. She could let this moment run forever.

♦

Once again, Dominic was deputed to sit up front and converse with the taxi driver. Young white guy in his twenties, polyester tracksuit top, tiny diamond earring, driving a little too fast, but not fast enough for Dominic to complain.

Five days and the landscape was fading already. The gash of gold and the green distance. How pleased we are to have our eyes opened but how easily we close them again. The barn owl on the telegraph pole. It was picturesque, then it wasn’t picturesque, then it was background.

Daisy stared through the window trying to discern a future that wasn’t clear yet. These were not her people, this was not her family.

The mobile was sitting right there in Mum’s bag. Melissa wanted to just grab it, have an all-out bitch fight, but Daisy would have loved that.

Louisa was remembering those family holidays in Tenby. Auntie May’s boarding house, though she wasn’t technically an aunt, of course. Deckchairs and slot machines, sharing a double bed with her brothers, the day Dougie smashed a crab with a rock and the time it took to die. There was an island out in the bay. She can’t remember the name now. There was a monastery on it and there were boat trips, but they never took one. It came back to her in dreams sometimes. Of course Richard should meet Carl and Dougie. Why had she been so frightened of this?

Outside the damp green world sliding by. Ash and poplar. Cord moss and hart’s tongue fern.

♦

Angela had offered Alex the front seat on the way back so that she could sit quietly with Benjy in the back without being quizzed by Richard who was giving Alex a brief lecture on CT scanning. Iodine, barium, how The Beatles helped because EMI used their profits to make the prototype.

What’s this? asked Benjy, dipping his hand into the green plastic bag that was squished between him and Mum.

Oh , said Angela, it’s something I bought .

Alex looked round and saw that Benjy was holding a Victorian doll, stained lacy dress, blank china face, too broken to be an antique, too weird to be a toy.

Who’s it for? said Benjy.

For me , said Angela. For someone .

Benjy slipped it carefully back into the bag, half believing that it might hiss and bite him if he treated it roughly. Can you put it on your side? He lifted the bag gingerly by the ends of his fingers. I don’t like it .

What’s that? Richard glancing into the rear-view mirror, now that they had exited the narrow chicane of high hedges. Alex caught his eye and gave the faintest shake of his head, meaning Don’t ask , because he, too, knew now that something was wrong.

♦

Louisa turned to him as he came into the bedroom. What do you think?

He scanned her top to toe. Hair? Clothes? The earrings . Metal sunflowers, bronze and silver. They make you look younger .

How much younger? Thirty is good. Sixteen is not .

Ten. Ten years younger. I like them . He swivelled and lay down with his head on the pillow. Sorry about this .

About what?

Family holiday. Not quite as restful as I had planned .

This is restful . She lay down next to him.

They stared at the ceiling, a king and queen on a tomb. The smell of cocoa butter. He liked Benjy, he liked Daisy, he liked Alex but he didn’t like Dominic. Something weak about him, insubstantial. And his own sister…? They had the same parents, they had lived in the same house for sixteen years but he had no idea who she really was.

Hey .

What?

You’re off duty . She checked her watch. One hour . She rolled onto her side and propped her head on her hand.

The spill of blonde hair, hips curved and creaturely. Desire coming back as strong as ever, that switchback of feelings. Wanting, not wanting. Anxiety, content. How fluid and unpredictable the mind was.

Wait . She put her finger to her lips, got to her feet and locked the door.

Are you sure this is a good idea?

I think it’s an excellent idea . She lay down beside him again.

What if someone hears us?

You can apologise publicly over supper .

He lifted her blouse and put his hand on that little bulge of warm flesh above her waistband. I’m afraid I can’t be too gymnastic in my present state .