Page 51

The day after the attack, we’d gone around to Gran’s and picked up the key. Who knew what they’d do with my stuff while I wasn’t there. I wouldn’t have put it past them to throw it out and steal the little money I had.

We staked out the house, lying low in the car as we watched Mum take Logan, and finally, Brian left for the day. Mac had never visited this house, and at first, I worried about what he’d think. Mum wasn’t the tidiest person in the world, but you know what, I couldn’t give a fuck anymore.

I wouldn’t be moving back there. I’d live in a shelter rather than risk my life.

The door creaked open, the kitchen a complete mess. Cups and plates littered every surface, dirty pans in the sink, and don’t get me started on the smell.

The stench of stale food and cigarettes hit my nose. They’d really let it go in the few days I’d been gone.

“Was it always like this?” Mac asked, kicking at a pile of rubbish on the floor.

“No, it wasn’t. I kept this place as tidy as I could, but neither Mum nor Brian did anything. I washed, cleaned, and cooked.”

“An unpaid maid?” He placed a foot on the bottom step of the stairs.

“Something like that. My room is the box room. What if they’ve ransacked it?” I followed him, my movements slow and pained.

“Then we’ll replace what we need to, but you’re not stopping here for a minute longer than you have to.”

It took time, but eventually, I made it to the top of the stairs. Mac stood in my doorway, a frown on his face.

“Is it a mess?” I asked, hoping against hope they’d left it alone, but the look of sorrow on his face confirmed my worst fears.

“I’m so sorry, Frankie.” He stepped aside and allowed me to enter. My bed was unmade, but not dissimilar to how I’d left it. The small drawer next to my bed had been removed, the contents strewn on the floor. The small amount of clothes I had in the wardrobe were on the floor. I bent to pick one up, disappointed to see it torn. No, not torn, cut.

Who had done this? I couldn’t see Mum doing it, so that only left one person.

Brian.

Did he hate me so much he couldn’t bear to see anything of mine in the house? I sifted through the clothes on the floor, sorting out what was salvageable. In a stroke of luck, he’d missed the backpack I’d stashed the other day, tucked behind a load of unwanted stuff at the bottom of the wardrobe.

That was some relief at least.

“Here, let’s put what you want in here, and leave the rest. What do you need?” Mac asked and knelt next to me, his thigh touching mine.

I closed my eyes and sighed heavily. “Everything. Nothing. I’m not sure I want what he’s touched. It’s tainted, you know? Let’s just take what’s in the bag. Shit, I need my phone charger and money. They can keep the rest. I have some stuff at Gran’s. Guess I’m travelling light.”

My attempt at humour resulted in a shot of pain in my ribs. I sucked in a breath and held it before slowly letting it go.

“We need to get you some more medication. We’ll finish up here, then go. Are you sure you don’t want anything else from here?”

I shook my head and pulled out the shoe, hoping to God it still contained my meagre savings.

“Thank fuck for that.” I held up the money triumphantly and counted it out. Two hundred and forty quid. Nothing was missing. “I don’t need anything else. I know it’s not much, but it might give me a running start until I can get a job.”

I stood and searched the floor for my phone charger. It was nowhere to be found, but it was replaceable. I stumbled and caught myself on the wall. Was this it? Was this all I had to show for my twenty years? A backpack full of clothes and two hundred odd quid?

“Are you okay?” I took Mac’s offered arm, and together, we walked out of the room.

“No, I’m not.” I’d grown up in this house, but it held no happy memories for me. It had never been my home.

“Let’s get you home and settled. You need to rest.” He helped me into the car and put the backpack in the boot.

And that was what I did. I rested, but I was bored shitless. There was only so much daytime TV I could watch, and my phone had run out of data. I’d connected to Mac’s Wi-Fi, but I had nothing to do. At least at home, I had the tidying, looking after Logan, visiting Gran. Now, I had nothing.

“How about we visit Dad tomorrow? It promises to be a good day. You can sit in the garden while we work.”

“Don’t you need to go back to work? Surely, your four days are up.” I shifted uncomfortably on my favourite sofa in the conservatory. I loved sitting there, looking out over the garden and the surrounding countryside. I’d come to the decision that I was a country boy, despite being born in a built-up area. There was something about the sights, smells, and sounds that hit differently, and I’d have happily stayed here forever.