Kate Tempest - The Bricks that Built the Houses

‘Oh good.’ Miriam’s eyes grow wider and wider. ‘Does he take you out to the clubs, show you off?’

‘That’s exactly what I do,’ Pete says, straight-faced.

‘What else? Tell me more. It’s nice to hear about young people’s lives, isn’t it, David?’

‘We’re not quite at the knacker’s yard yet, sweetheart,’ David huffs cheerfully.

‘Yes, but you know, we’re not in our twenties, are we, dancing and going out to parties with all our friends. I remember those days. Good times, they were. Enjoy every minute, won’t you, my darlings?’

‘We try,’ Pete says.

‘So, do you take classes?’

‘Yes. I take a couple a week, but it all adds up, so sometimes more, sometimes less, depending on what I can afford.’

‘Waitressing is tough, isn’t it? It’s all tips. And rude people.’ Miriam leans forwards, enjoying the presence of a young lady in her house. Her daughter is so boyish that she’s more like another son.

Becky laughs. ‘Yeah, tell me about it. But it’s my uncle and auntie’s place, so I like to help out.’

‘Oh that’s good. If it’s a family business.’ Becky glances at Pete.

‘And I do massage as well. So it’s just about enough. We survive.’ Pete grows rigid in his seat.

‘Oh how nice. Lucky you, eh, Pete?’ Miriam winks at him.

Pete detonates the bomb strapped to his chest and his body explodes and splatters the room with his insides. ‘Very lucky,’ he says. Squeezing her shoulder again.

‘I love all those holistic therapies,’ Miriam tells her. ‘I get Reiki every other Thursday. And I’ve had past-life regression.’ Miriam grins at Becky, looking for understanding. ‘David thinks I’m barmy for it, but I love it. I’ve had it a few times now.’

‘What did you see?’ Becky asks her.

‘The first time, I was in ancient Egypt.’

Pete closes his eyes, sighs, leaves them closed for a full second before looking back at his mother.

Becky nods. ‘Right.’

‘I was a boy. I was a noble boy, but I was running in the slums, being chased. I had stolen something and I knew that I’d done wrong and I knew that I was done for.’

‘Scary,’ says David. ‘I once had to run from a gang of thugs when I was a lad.’ No one responds.

‘I don’t know what I had stolen, or why, but I ran, through dirty yellow alleyways, past workmen, women carrying babies on their backs and fronts, market stalls, wagons.’

‘Just like on TV,’ Pete says.

‘Shut up, you.’ Miriam wags a finger at him. ‘I’m talking to Becky.’ She gives her a knowing look. Becky moves her hair behind her ears. ‘It was hot. The middle of the day. Blazing heat. A group of young people threw a ball in the shade, and beyond, I saw the building site, a pyramid! Unfinished! Thousands of bodies, everywhere, I kept ducking through gaps, into doorways and around corners, but they caught up with me, I felt a hand grab my hair and pull me backwards. And that must have been the end of that life.’ She sits back in her chair. Nodding slowly, eyebrows raised.

‘It’s like I’ve always said.’ David spreads his palms, implores the room. ‘We contain multitudes.’

Pete and Miriam stare straight ahead. Becky looks at him and smiles appreciatively at his wisdom.

The doorbell goes.

‘I’ll go,’ Pete says, scraping his chair on the tiled floor.

‘How many times, Peter?’ Miriam calls after him. ‘Don’t scrape your chair like that.’

Pete opens the door and Becky hears voices. She looks around the dining room. Pete walks back in followed by his sister. Becky looks up and the house falls in on her.

‘Harry, this is Becky,’ Pete says, standing between them. Harry stands in the doorway. ‘Becky, this is my sister, Harry.’

Harry feels her guts lurch. Her body is a dry sponge. Becky feels her lungs expand, each pocket fills with air. She is suddenly aware of every organ in her body, working at the same time.

‘Hi,’ she says quietly. Her hair falls in front of her face. She sweeps it across. ‘Nice to meet you.’

Harry leans down and kisses her cheek gently. ‘Hi.’ Her smile is kind and quiet. Becky is grateful for it. Miriam shifts in her seat to see it. Harry sits down next to her mother and offers a guarded smile. Pete chews his thumbnail. Harry can’t breathe.

‘Well,’ says David, ‘here we all are.’ And he claps his hands together, jubilant.

‘OK then,’ Miriam says, getting up and leaving the room. She returns wearing oven gloves and holding five plates. ‘Nice and warm,’ she says happily.

She heated the plates . Becky’s never had a family meal, not like this. She sits back in her chair, her body poised, always. She sneaks a look at Harry. Her tiny frame leant back on her chair, she’s rubbing her cheeks with both hands. Their eyes meet briefly, a current courses between them, leaves a trail of ashes in its path. Harry looks away, her restless hands grip the edge of the table as she tucks herself in and examines her cutlery.

Miriam leaves again and comes back with a big pot and puts it in the middle of the table on a serving mat. ‘I just made a stew, so. Nothing fancy. Pete assured me you weren’t a veggie. That’s right, isn’t it?’

‘Yep. No. I eat everything,’ Becky says.

‘Good, that’s what I like to hear,’ Miriam says. ‘Although I hardly believe it with a figure like that,’ Miriam says on her way out again. Becky squirms, blushes. Looks into her wine. Miriam returns. ‘And mash here,’ she says, ‘and veg too’. She brings two dishes to the table and places them on matching serving mats that also match the serviettes beside each knife and fork. Becky notices all these details. ‘And, here’s some salad too. Just a little salad.’ Miriam puts a big bowl of colourful salad on the other side of the stew. ‘Oh almost forgot.’ She jogs out, they all listen to her footsteps making the short walk to the kitchen and then returning. She comes back through the door. ‘Aaannd the dressing here.’ She’s carrying a jug that matches the plates on the table, she sets it down, and then, before sitting, she removes the lid from the stew and the steam rises up like it’s an advert for a happy home.

Pete leans over and puts his nose above the pot. ‘It smells so good, Mum.’

‘Well, it’s getting colder out there.’ She looks at him fondly. ‘And we need to keep our strength up.’

‘It looks well nice, Miriam, thank you,’ Becky says. Struggling with a ticking grit inside, trying to hold down an anger swelling for every meal she never ate with her own parents.

‘Oh it’s just a little lunch,’ Miriam says, obviously pleased with the compliments. ‘And David helped me. Didn’t you, love?’

‘Oh no, I must confess, I was no help whatsoever. I am useless in the kitchen.’ He pauses, takes a sip of wine. ‘In other rooms, however, I am extremely adept.’

Pete chokes a little on his wine. Becky leans over to rub his back and starts laughing silently into her hand. Feeling better. Harry looks mortified. Doesn’t know where to look. Miriam blushes deeply.

David is unaware of anyone’s discomfort. ‘Have some water, Pete.’ Pete stares at him in dismay. David sees the look, cogs tick in his well-meaning brain. Nobody speaks. ‘Oh God, no!’ he says suddenly. ‘No, I meant the living room. The lounge. I meant I’m very good at putting my feet up and watching the telly. Goodness. No. I would never. Although, you know. We are all adults.’

Nobody speaks. Becky stifles laughter. Pushes her hand into her mouth. Pete drinks water, shakes his head.

‘Right. OK,’ David says. ‘Who wants stew? Pass your plates.’ He dishes out the lunch and once everyone has their food and more wine, he serves himself.