Page 6

I wasn’t superstitious, but the minute we arrived at Mac’s house, the sun came out, bringing warmth to my chilled skin. Goosebumps erupted again, and I rubbed my arms, shivering at the sensation.

“Let’s get you inside and out of those clothes.” Mac guided me towards the door and inserted the key.

I knew he didn’t mean it like that. He was just being nice, but it made me smile. He had a kind face and eyes that didn’t judge, and that made him okay in my book.

“You didn’t have to do this, you know.” I toed off my trainers at the door, not wanting to dirty the rug in the hallway. I stood awkwardly, my arms dangling at my sides. Where should I go?

As if hearing my thoughts, he replied, “You were soaked through and had nowhere to go. If you want to take a shower, the bathroom is straight through the kitchen. You can’t miss it. There are fresh towels on the shelf.”

“Um, thanks. I’ve got no clean clothes, though.” I gazed around the hallway, a stone floor, uneven whitewashed walls, and thick wooden doors.

“No worries. You’re smaller than me, but I’m sure I can find something that’ll work. Go on. I’ll leave them outside the door.”

He’d dropped a backpack by the front door and removed his shoes, too, revealing a hole in his sock. Guess we couldn’t all be perfect. He ran up a flight of stairs to the right, his footsteps noisy on the floor above.

I made my way through the kitchen. It reminded me of the ones you got on a ship. Long and narrow, with cupboards on either side. Dirty dishes filled the sink, with another pile, likely washed, on the drainer. Mac wasn’t tidy, that was for sure.

A door led to a dimly lit, all-white bathroom with only a small window to let in light. It didn’t matter that the sun was out; in there, I reckoned it’d always be dark, especially in winter.

It was compact, with a toilet, handbasin, and a shower cubicle big enough for one. A small pile of clothes was nestled in the corner. I undressed slowly, my wet jeans sticking to my legs, and added my clothes to the pile.

The shower was easy enough to operate, but the pressure wasn’t great. I guessed living out in the sticks meant you had to put up with some things, poor water pressure being one of them.

I lathered up a sponge with some flowery-smelling shower gel. It smelled expensive; the froth bubbly and thick. Not like the stuff we used at home. Brian stole it from the hotel where he worked. I said hotel; it was a cheap bed-and-breakfast, but he said they wouldn’t miss it if he robbed stuff. It made up for the shitty wages they paid him.

I wasn’t used to such extravagances, especially where shampoo and conditioner were concerned, and slipping the band from my hair, I washed it thoroughly.

I rinsed off quickly, unsure how much water would be left. Brian would go mental if we used all the water at home, so speedy showers were the norm.

I wrapped myself in the towel, luxuriating in its softness. I could get used to this. Posh shower gel, fluffy towels. Not like the rough, threadbare ones at home.

Fuck. Home. I bet Mum was wondering where I’d got to. Not that she’d be bothered. No, she probably wanted me to look after Logan. It was bingo night, after all, and she never missed a piss-up with her mates.

Tempted as I was to check my phone, I ignored the urge and dried off. True to his word, Mac had left some clothes outside the door. They were a hundred times better than the clothes I’d taken off. How would it feel to not have to worry about money?

I didn’t think I’d ever know, but I refused to be like Brian and sponge off others, stealing when it suited him.

Nah, I’d pay my way in life. Gran had instilled these ethics in me, and I refused to let her down. Not like Dad, and definitely not like Mum.

The clothes fit mostly, but the sweatpants legs were too long. I wasn’t tall, probably around five feet eight, whereas Mac had to be six feet, if not more.

I followed the sound of his voice and ended up in a conservatory with views out to the countryside. Who knew this was here? I’d lived in and around town all my life, and apart from the odd trip out, I hadn’t realised what was right on my doorstep.

“Yeah.” Mac gestured for me to sit while he finished his call, and I watched as he nodded and paced around the room. “I will. I promise I’ll come visit.”

He rolled his eyes and circled his finger as if winding up the call. I smiled tightly, not wanting to eavesdrop on his conversation.

I took out my phone and, sure enough, there were several missed calls and texts from Mum, asking where I was and demanding I go home.

I was twenty, not two. I could please myself, but even as the thought flitted through my head, the telltale tumble of my stomach signalled the guilt I felt.

Dad had walked out without a backward glance. No calls, no texts, no nothing. I couldn’t blame Mum for wanting to keep tabs on me, but I had my life to lead. She hated that I did and made it abundantly clear in the many arguments we had, in which she’d tell me I was just like my dad.

I was nothing like him, and if I ever had kids of my own, I’d make sure to be around, and I’d treat them better than Brian treated Logan and me.

By now, Mac had finished and flopped onto the sofa opposite me. “Sorry about that. Dad likes me to go around on a Sunday if I’m off work, especially in summer. He’s just bought a new barbecue and wants to try it out.”

“Sounds nice.” I wasn’t sure I’d ever been to one.