Chapter 8
Emma lay awake in the pre-dawn, contemplating her life and feeling displeased with the dreadful turn in circumstances. She was jobless and by the time Rohan got fed up and took her back to Lincoln, she would probably be homeless as well. The little furniture she owned before Nicky’s stay in the hospital the previous year, was ruined by the time she got home. In less than a week, her house had turned into the local crack convention and Emma shivered at the memory of facing the stoned occupants.
“We thought you weren’t coming back,” her neighbours muttered guiltily, helping her rid the house of ruined carpets and a two seater sofa. Someone had put their foot through the ancient tube television, but Nicky sobbed for hours at the state of his bed.
“Ugh!” Emma rolled over in the comfy double bed and covered her face with her hands. She felt sickened at the thought of returning. She reached for her usually unwavering sense of optimism and felt it gone. She could start again, find work and a place to rent but it would probably be on yet another government housing estate and she lacked the energy to push through. She heard a strange sound in the darkness, an odd clicking noise which was strangely familiar. Emma listened through the closed bedroom door. She knew the noise but couldn’t place it. “Crutches,” she said finally to the darkness. “But it can’t be.” The house felt suddenly unfamiliar and threatening. Failing to draw comfort from her depleted inner reserves, Emma sought the next best source.
She slipped from the warm bed and padded across the floorboards in her socks. Light streamed out from underneath Rohan’s bedroom door and she heard his ensuite toilet flush as she pushed into Nicky’s room. The suitcase was against the door and groaned on the floorboards as Emma sneaked through. He sat up immediately. “Mummy?”
“Hey baby,” she whispered back. “Why’s all this stuff against the door? I checked on you last night and it wasn’t here.” Emma slipped under the covers and pulled her rigid son into her, rubbing at his stiff back.
“I waked up and got scared,” he grumbled. “I found the bathroom but was too scared to flush. You was snoring so I set a trap so they couldn’t get me.”
“Who couldn’t get you?” Emma whispered. “There’s only us and Uncle Ro here. Nobody else. And I don’t snore!”
“Yeah you do,” Nicky said, matter-of-factly. “You sound like a gremlin. I heard noises. My trap didn’t work though.”
“Yes it did. The suitcase made it hard to get in.” Emma rubbed her son’s warm back and kissed the top of his head. She jumped at the sound of a loud twang and a clunk as something hit the wall behind her head. “What was that?”
“Oh, it did work then. It was late.”
“What did you do? Please don’t damage anything, Nick, we’ll probably have to leave if that happens.” Emma heard the fear in her own voice and worked to quell it, for the child’s sake.
“I set up Action Man bungee jumper. I used his twangy rope like a sling shot and put Lego in it. It should’ve whacked you in the face but it sounded too low. I’ll have to reset it.”
“It might have hit a midget in the face, but only if they moved like a tortoise!” Emma sniggered. “Don’t reset it, Nicky. We’re safe here. It’s not like...home.”
“But there’s funny noises,” Nicky maintained.
“I didn’t hear any.”
“I think Uncle Ro makes them,” the boy whispered. “Through this wall.” Nicky raised his arm and tapped the wall behind his head with a forefinger. His blue eyes glinted in the semi-darkness. “It’s like this.” The child made a whimpering sound and Emma hugged him tighter, knowing what it was.
She made her voice light and unperturbed so Nicky wouldn’t detect her sadness. “He’s dreaming, Nick. He can’t help it. He saw upsetting things when he was a soldier and it comes out when he sleeps. It’s not his fault.”
“Ok. Should I pray for him like Father Delaney said?” Nicky asked earnestly and Emma nodded.
“That would be really kind. It would definitely help him.”
“Mum? Can I go to school today? I want to go to the one Uncle Ro talked ‘bout. In the park.”
“I don’t think it’s actually in the park. I think it’s near the park.”
“No, they play on it. Uncle Ro said they do rugby training on it and games. There’s swings and stuff. He knows somebody there.”
“We can maybe look,” Emma ventured. “I’m not really sure what the plan is. I don’t know if Uncle Ro has work today.”
“He doesn’t.”
“How do you know?” Emma nudged at her child, amazed how he always seemed to know everything. She chided herself about the one thing he didn’t know and hoped he didn’t ask.
“I heard him tell that screechy woman last night. She came up ‘ere after you went to bed and did talking wiv ‘im. They didn’t do...other things. She finks she’s ‘is girlfriend.” Nicky yawned and pushed his face into Emma’s chest.
“She is his girlfriend.” Emma heard her voice sounding flat and tinged with disappointment.
“Whatever.” Nicky giggled as Emma patted his bottom with the palm of her hand. He pushed his tiny fingers under her ribs and tickled her. Emma’s laughter rang like tinkling bells and she snorted and tickled him back.
A knock came on the bedroom door and the giggling pair froze in position. Emma missed her opportunity to clamp her hand over Nicky’s mouth and he yelled, “Come in, Uncle Ro!” at the top of his voice, wafting Emma’s hair with his breath. She groaned and buried her face under the covers.
Rohan pushed the door slowly open and put a foot across the threshold. There was a more forceful twang and another Lego flew through the air, narrowly missing his head. Rohan swore and Nicky giggled.
“Nicky!” Emma blew, horrified. “You didn’t say there were two!” She turned over in the bed and sat up, her hair tumbling around her breasts and down her back. “I’m so sorry,” she gushed, her eyes wide and frightened.
“Yerunda!” Nicky exclaimed and Emma drew in a huge intake of breath.
“How does he know Russian swearwords? Not from Anton.” Rohan’s voice sounded suspicious.
“Nana Lucya said it heaps,” Nicky replied. Emma felt him cringe in her arms, obstinacy radiating from his tiny body.
“It’s rude!” she chastised. “If you knew what it meant, you wouldn’t say it.”
“I do know what it means,” Nicky said, matter of factly. “I taught Mo it.”
Emma sighed but Rohan remained pensive, hovering in the doorway. “Who’s Lucya?”
“She died,” Nicky said, a catch in his voice. “We loved her so much, didn’t we Mummy?”
“Yeah,” she replied, her tone wooden. Clearly Rohan had no knowledge of his paternal grandmother; a sad fact, but an incredible blessing for Emma and her son. It made it easier to avoid awkward questions.
Rohan sighed. “How’d you make that trap?” He directed his question at the child and Emma let out her waiting breath.
Nicky tumbled from the bed and scuttled round to a space behind the door. He produced two dilapidated Action Men which were third hand by the time he got them as a birthday gift. Emma felt embarrassed in a way she never had before and hung her head in shame at their torn, faded outfits. Action Man bungee jumper’s face was redrawn in biro, giving him the resemblance of an orc. “I maked ‘em into slingshots,” the child expounded, preening himself at his success. “The parachute one worked better though and I don’t get why.” He turned huge blue eyes on Rohan, looking for an explanation. Rohan took the battered parachutist from Nicky’s outstretched hands and turned him over a few times, holding his silken accessory out behind him.
“This is why, look.” He pulled the material and let it twang back again. “This has more elasticity than the bungee jumper’s cable. It shouldn’t have, but the cable’s frayed and at some point, it’s been pulled past its capacity. But this,” he twanged the parachute again, “this is still really elastic. It’s physics.” Rohan looked around the room. “How did y
ou trigger it?”
The boys grappled around in the corner of the bedroom with Lego pieces and Action Man paraphernalia. Emma looked with misery at the sight of their blonde heads close together and cringed inwardly at the coming storm. You’ve let desperation push you where you didn’t want to go, she chastised herself. Emma, what have you done?