Cold Boy's Wood by Carol Birch (if you liked this book TXT) 📗

‘Poor woman! Has she got mental health problems?’

It sounded so simple when she put it like that. Gary, that was his name.

‘I don’t know. Yes, I’m sure she has.’

‘And how did you get the number? For the daughter? I’m writing this down.’

He sensed officialdom down the line, swinging into action.

‘I took it out of her pocket.’

‘You took it out of her pocket?’ She laughed. ‘How?’

‘I gave her a cup of tea.’

There was a silence.

‘She took her coat off. I went in her pocket when she wasn’t looking.’

Another little pause, then she said quietly, as if she didn’t want the people at her end to hear, ‘You are such a nice man.’

‘Anyway,’ he said.

‘Do you think you could show me where she lives?’

Oh fuck, he thought, what have I done?

‘Might be good for you to introduce me.’

‘No, wait a minute,’ he said, and his words started stumbling. ‘I’ll go first,’ he said, ‘I’ll go in first so as not to take her by surprise, then you can come in after.’

‘Is she volatile?’

‘Volatile?’

‘Yes, do you think she’s likely to get very upset, do you think we should bring somebody else along to…’

‘Oh no, I don’t think so,’ he said, ‘she’s not dangerous or anything.’

He heard her tap her teeth. ‘Can’t do a thing today,’ she said. ‘Chocca. Just on my way out. Listen. If I come round your place tomorrow about nine, would that be OK?’

Oh Christ, he thought, it’s not going away. I’m still involved.

‘OK,’ he said, then walked round and round the kitchen saying shit shit shit and thumping his head.

29

Terry was there for eight days. Lily and he didn’t seem to take much notice of each other, and he was very polite and kept out of the way. He spent a lot of time in the yard at the back of the co-op polishing his beloved car. He ate everything I put in front of him gratefully, stuffing it away as if it was a mechanical process. Lily stayed out a lot at Sage’s or Jude’s or at Drama. Terry made a lot of mess very quietly. Once I said he could put some of his washing in with ours and after that he just shoved all his stuff in our laundry basket and left it there, and he had loads every day because he seemed to have a one-wear policy for everything. I kept finding myself draping his boxers over the radiator. ‘This isn’t fair,’ I said to Lily, ‘you’ve got to help more.’

‘I didn’t invite him in, did I?’

The rubbish bin filled up too quickly. I was taking it down to the bins one evening and some sharp-cornered thing cut through the plastic and split the bag and the rubbish went down the last flight of stairs, split teabags, coffee grounds and all. The thing that had split the bag was the sharp plastic corner of a discarded package that had contained a spanner. Who was buying spanners? Damn Terry, can’t be anyone else. It was from a place on the Uxbridge Road. I’d have to come back with a dustpan and cloth and clean all this up. Bloody Terry, I thought, you’ve moved in all right.

‘You should see the amount of rubbish since Terry moved in,’ I said to Johnny, getting the cloth and the dustpan and brush.

‘Never mind,’ he said, ‘won’t be for long.’

‘And the washing.’

‘I feel sorry for him,’ Johnny said.

‘You like Terry now, don’t you?’ I said.

‘I quite like him,’ he replied guardedly, ‘but I don’t respect him.’

*

One day Lily came into the kitchen and whispered to me, ‘Mum, he’s driving Phoebe Twist to her son’s tomorrow. Johnny’s at Hatchet all day, so I said Mark could come round with a video. Is that OK?’

Damn. My day off work. Never any peace.

‘I suppose so,’ I said. I’d like my own room. Just a little room where I could go. Johnny went out later, he took his guitar with him. He didn’t come back. I went to bed at one, slept till four and thought he might have come in and be sitting up reading or something, but he was not in the flat. I worried then. It had happened once or twice before but it wasn’t usual. About six the phone rang.

‘It’s me,’ he said, ‘sorry I didn’t call earlier. It was an all-nighter. You know what it’s like when there’s a lot going on.’

‘No I don’t. You should have rung.’

‘Sorry.’

‘Sure,’ I said.

‘Don’t be like that. I’ve got to go to work now.’

‘Oh, you have, have you?’

‘Yeah. It’s OK. I’ll have a good sleep later.’

‘Fuck off, Johnny,’ I said.

‘Fuck off, you too.’

I rang off.

I slept again and when I woke I could hear Terry already up and making himself some toast, so I got up and put on my dressing gown and went in to make coffee.

‘What time are you off?’ I asked.

‘Picking her up at half nine.’

He’ll be gone soon, I thought, on his way to Dorset. Yawned. The phone rang. Terry was next to it. ‘Bet you anything that’s her,’ he said, picking it up with his buttery hands.

His end of the conversation was all oh, yeah, uh, OK, thanks.

‘She’s got a cold,’ he said when he hung up. ‘She don’t wanna go. I knew this would happen. I don’t think she ever meant to. ’S’OK though. She’s still paying me.’

‘Well, that’s good.’ Christ, I thought, Mark’s coming round with a video at one.

Harriet came out in her pyjamas with her hamster in her hands, sat down on the settee and turned on the telly. Lily was still in bed.

‘So you’ve got a whole free day,’ I said brightly.

‘Yeah.’ Terry grinned and sat down next to Harriet, another big kid.

I knocked on Lily’s door, went in and closed it behind me. ‘Lily!’ I hissed. ‘Terry’s not going! She’s cancelled.’

‘What?’ She was sitting up in bed reading The Rats by James Herbert and looked grumpy at my intrusion.

‘Terry’s not going. Phoebe Twist rang up and cancelled. She said she’s