I am in a foul mood by the time I return to Mum and Dad’s house.
I’ve just got back from an early evening emergency call- out to a boiler that had lost its pressure. It wasn’t that urgent a job but they were insistent I came straight away, despite my higher call-out charge. I need the money so I was hardly going to refuse. Immediately, I could tell there was something a bit iffy about the job. The boiler was a brand-new model and the tap that controlled the pressure gauge had been turned to the off position. It was too stiff for it to have been accidental.
The customer was as fit as you like and really friendly when she ushered me in. I gave the boiler the once-over to make sure there were no other issues, but this woman wouldn’t stop hovering while I worked. By now, she wasn’t trying to hide that she knew who I was. She kept trying to get me to talk about the tough time we must’ve had lately, if I’d been inside the house since the bodies were found, how it had affected Mia and me. And she wasn’t taking the hint from my one-word answers. They were the kind of questions a mate might ask you, not a total stranger, even if she’s hot. She had a hidden agenda and I’d had enough.
‘Who are you really?’ I asked, squaring up to her.
‘What do you mean?’ She was a poor actress and easily intimidated.
‘Cut the bullshit.’
She continued to protest as I packed up my tools and headed for the front door.
‘My name is Aaliyah Anderson and I’m a freelance journalist,’ she admitted finally. There was an air of desperation in her voice, as if she was seeing the biggest scoop of her career slipping through her fingers. ‘Look Finn, people just want to hear your side of the story; what it was like being in that house, how it feels knowing all those kids’ bodies were a few feet above you.’
‘No comment,’ I muttered and began walking up the driveway.
‘How’s Mia coping? I hear she’s back in touch with her ex, Ellis Anders. Do you feel threatened by that?’
Without warning, a photographer appeared from behind a parked car and started clicking away, blinding me with the white of the flash. I pushed my way forwards and he wouldn’t stop, which is when I really lost my rag. I grabbed the camera out of his hands and hurled it to the ground, breaking it. He called me all the names under the sun, but he was only a scrawny fella and didn’t try and fight back, which I was grateful for because the mood I was in, I’d have kicked the shit out of him. I rummaged around the camera’s debris until I found the memory card and snapped it in two. ‘Come on, that’s my livelihood!’ he said, exasperated. But I was not feeling charitable.
I’m still angry now as I lock up the van on my parents’ drive. My time has been wasted on a non-existent job I haven’t been paid for and I’ve not eaten since lunchtime. Even from here, my stomach growls from the smell of meat cooking on the barbecue in the back garden. Before I join my parents, I stop at the Annexe to see if Mia and Sonny are there. I can’t remember a time when she last met me with a kiss or even a ‘How’s your day been?’
I hear Sonny bawling before I open the door. It’s funny how quickly you recognise what he wants by just his cries.
This one is high-pitched and desperate and tells me he’s hungry. I know the feeling, son. I call my wife’s name but she doesn’t answer. I find them both in the bedroom, her curled up in a foetal position on the bed, cradling her belly and wearing her headphones. Tinny music and drumbeats come from them. She has her back to Sonny, who lies in his carrycot next to her, his face bright red and his cheeks wet with tears. He’s been crying for a while.
‘Mia!’ I say, picking up Sonny and repeating myself twice more before finally she blinks and sees me.
‘Oh, hi,’ she replies and slips her headphones off. Her smile is weak and forced.
‘Didn’t you hear him?’ I don’t disguise how pissed off I am. The bottom half of Sonny’s Babygro is sodden. ‘When’s the last time you changed him?’
‘Um . . .’ She thinks. ‘Earlier this afternoon.’
‘It’s almost eight o’clock! You need to stay on top of these things.’
‘I’m sorry. I fell asleep, I was just waking up when you arrived.’
She’s lying but I don’t argue the point. I set about stripping off Sonny’s clothes, throwing them into an overflowing wash basket and pulling a fresh nappy and clothing from the drawers under the changing table.
I glance at knackered Mia. Dark rings surround her eyes and her skin is pale. I keep telling her that she needs to go outside and get some sunlight but she doesn’t listen. ‘Did you get much sleep last night?’ I ask.
‘No.’
‘Have you tried the tablets I bought?’ ‘I can’t take them if I’m expressing.’
‘Well maybe you should rethink not using formula. I bet Sonny won’t notice the difference.’
‘Of course he will.’
For the last week, I’ve been sleeping on the sofa bed in the lounge. Mia’s constant tossing and turning and then
waking up to feed Sonny means neither of us are getting any sleep, and I need my wits about me at work. I can’t be bothered to argue tonight so I change the subject. ‘Are you coming outside for dinner? Mum and Dad are doing a barbecue.’ I hold a fresh and clean Sonny up in the air. His eyes are as brown as mine and I catch my reflection in them. He appears content.
‘Do I have to?’
‘It would be a nice thing to do.’ Mia makes no effort to get off the bed. ‘Are you coming then?’
She sighs and tells me she’ll meet me outside once she freshens up. I take Sonny and a bottle of milk with me.
The sky is darkening when Mia finally appears. She’s put a little make-up on. She ignores the cooked burgers and hot dogs cooling on the rack and gravitates towards the salad. She hasn’t once acknowledged Sonny, whose head is peeking over his grandmother’s shoulder.
‘You should have a burger,’ Mum says to her. ‘The iron will do you good.’
I wait for Mia to argue. Instead, and without looking at Mum, she says, ‘Okay,’ and takes one. She barely nibbles at it.
‘So, your text message earlier,’ I direct to Dad. ‘You said you wanted to talk to us about something?’ He’s not a great texter, or a great communicator, period. So he must have something important to say. He rests his bottle of beer next to a handful of empty ones on the table. He’s started early again tonight, I think.
‘Your mum and I want to help you,’ he begins. ‘We had a telephone conversation yesterday with the bank and they’ve given us the go-ahead to remortgage our house if we want to. It means we can lend you what you need to buy somewhere new.’
Their offer takes me aback and I remind them that, because the killings are historic and nothing to do with us, the Home Office will fork out for all the repairs.
‘Yes, but that could take months and months,’ Mum adds. ‘I don’t want to see you go, but you’re going to need a place of your own sometime. This means you can buy it now and you can pay us back when you sell the other house.’
Mia looks up but I can’t read her.
‘Shouldn’t you be putting that money back into the business?’ I ask them.
‘You and Sonny are our priorities,’ Mum explains, before realising who she has excluded. ‘You as in you and Mia, of course. There’s a place just down the road that’s up for sale and definitely worth a look.’
‘The Michaels’ house?’
Mum nods. ‘It’s in immaculate condition; they’ve only just had one of those Shaker-style kitchens fitted. And there’s plenty of space outside for Sonny to play.’
This could be the answer to all our problems but I doubt Mia will see it that way. She’ll tell me they’re trying to control us.
‘Well?’ I ask her tentatively. ‘What do you think?’ ‘It sounds great,’ she says with a thin smile.
Mum and Dad glance at each other, then at me. We’re all as surprised as one another.
‘I’ve actually made an appointment to view it tomorrow afternoon,’ Mum says, ‘just in case you were interested. Because, mark my words, it’ll go quickly.’
‘We can do tomorrow, can’t we?’ I ask Mia.
‘You go. You don’t need me there.’ Then she pushes the remains of her food to one side, tells us she’s tired and heads back to the Annexe, leaving Sonny out here.
None of us is quite sure what to say next. Mum recently confided in me that she thought all wasn’t right with Mia. I dismissed it because, to be honest, mental health is a minefield and I’d have no clue where to begin in helping her. But I’m starting to agree with Mum. It’s more than just headaches and a lack of sleep that’s troubling her.
