Amber by Heather Burnside (great novels of all time .TXT) 📗

had said that she couldn’t manage on her own. Amy didn’t know what she meant but she had a feeling it had something to do with money because the treats always stopped once the uncles were no longer around.

All of a sudden, she heard Sean yelling. He sounded even angrier now and she could also hear her mother pleading with him. But, instead of it calming him down, he seemed to grow even angrier. Her mother began arguing back as Amy lay in her bed with her heart thumping and her hands clenched.

Then she heard footsteps and she held her breath. She was frightened they might have heard her eavesdropping on the landing. What if they were going to punish her? As she heard her mother’s bedroom door swing open her muscles tensed. But then she heard the heavy tread of footsteps on the stairs and let out the breath she’d been holding.

The footsteps were followed by the sound of a slamming door downstairs and then her mother sobbing. Amy sat up in bed wondering whether to go and see if her mother was alright. She crept out of her bed and onto the landing once more. To her surprise, her mother’s bedroom door was ajar, but she didn’t see Amy. She was lying on the bed, sobbing into her pillow, and Sean was no longer there.

Amy instinctively knew they’d had a big falling-out and she tentatively entered the room and walked over to her mother who looked up momentarily, her face blotchy and tear-stained. Amy took her mother’s lack of words as a sign that she wasn’t angry, and she sidled up to the bed and climbed in, flinging her tiny arms around her. Loretta turned and snuggled her sodden face into Amy’s chest.

‘You’re such a good girl, Amy,’ she said, her voice shaky.

They lay there for a few precious minutes, Amy feeling a bit awkward and not really knowing what to do or say to offer her mother comfort, other than to stay and hold her till they both drifted off to sleep.

*

May 1997

Amy was late out of bed the following day, still tired from the events of the previous night. As she dragged her feet down the stairs, she could hear her mother’s voice drifting up from the living room, and she guessed she was on the phone. Being a curious nine-year-old, Amy decided to eavesdrop, knowing her mother would probably be confiding in her best friend about what had happened.

She crept into the hall and stayed there, afraid to get too near to the living room in case her mother spotted her as the door wasn’t fully shut.

‘No, I’m not,’ Amy overheard. ‘He’s not worth it. Anyway, it’s been coming to a head for a few weeks. He’s so bloody jealous of the kids and when he knew one of them was up and about, he went ballistic, frightened in case they came in the room while we were getting busy.’

Amy knew her mother was referring to her and what had happened the previous night. She felt a pang of fear, worried that her mother might blame her for the breakdown of the relationship and, as she listened to her mother’s side of the conversation, she chewed her bottom lip nervously.

There was the sound of reluctant laughter before her mother spoke again. ‘I know, I’m a fool to myself but I keep hoping this one will be different, that maybe one day I’ll meet someone as good as Greg. They never bloody are though, are they? There’s none of them can hold a candle to him. I just wish he’d had the sense to arrange some life insurance instead of leaving us in this mess.’

Then she paused a minute, as though listening to the person on the other end of the phone before she replied. ‘I’ve got no bloody choice, have I? I can’t manage on what the social security gives us. Anyway, it’s nice to be taken out once in a while and treated.’

There was another pause then her mother said. ‘Doing what? I’m not bloody trained for anything. I always thought Greg would be around to take care of everything. Well, who wouldn’t? I certainly didn’t expect him to die at that age. Anyway, even if I managed to find a job, I’d have to start on minimum pay so I’d probably be worse off than I am now.’

The conversation seemed to go on for a while, but Amy had heard enough so she went through to the kitchen and swung open one of the cupboard doors. While Amy helped herself to some cereal she thought about her mother’s words. She didn’t have any memories of her father, Greg, as he’d died from a heart attack when she was only two and her mother was heavily pregnant with Nathan. What Amy knew about him was mostly from what her mother had told her and a little from other people. She wished he had lived because, from what she had been told, he was a wonderful man and a highly successful bank manager.

Amy’s mother said they hadn’t wanted for anything when her dad was alive but after he’d died, they’d had to sell up and Amy had only scant memories of the house where they used to live in Cheadle. Then, as time went on, even renting a smaller house became a struggle and they were always short of money.

When Amy was settled at the dining table eating her breakfast her mother walked into the room.

‘Oh, hello, love, how long have you been up?’ she asked, sounding surprised.

‘Not long,’ said Amy, looking up and smiling tentatively at her mother who pulled up a chair next to her.

Loretta smiled back but Amy could tell she was doing it for her sake. She wished she could tell her that she didn’t have to act happy and that it was OK to cry if she wanted but she knew it would sound stupid saying that to a