BooksBarbecue
Back Found Save as PDF
Chapters (62)
  1. Title
  2. Copyright
  3. Contents
  4. About the Author
  5. About the Book
  6. Dedication
  7. Your Worst Nightmare
  8. ONE
  9. TWO
  10. THREE
  11. FOUR
  12. FIVE
  13. SIX
  14. SEVEN
  15. EIGHT
  16. NINE
  17. The Answer to All Your Prayers
  18. TEN
  19. ELEVEN
  20. TWELVE
  21. THIRTEEN
  22. FOURTEEN
  23. FIFTEEN
  24. SIXTEEN
  25. SEVENTEEN
  26. EIGHTEEN
  27. NINETEEN
  28. TWENTY
  29. TWENTY-ONE
  30. TWENTY-TWO
  31. TWENTY-THREE
  32. TWENTY-FOUR
  33. TWENTY-FIVE
  34. TWENTY-SIX
  35. TWENTY-SEVEN
  36. TWENTY-EIGHT
  37. TWENTY-NINE
  38. THIRTY
  39. THIRTY-ONE
  40. Somebody Else’s Child
  41. THIRTY-TWO
  42. THIRTY-THREE
  43. THIRTY-FOUR
  44. THIRTY-FIVE
  45. THIRTY-SIX
  46. THIRTY-SEVEN
  47. THIRTY-EIGHT
  48. THIRTY-NINE
  49. FORTY
  50. FORTY-ONE
  51. FORTY-TWO
  52. FORTY-THREE
  53. FORTY-FOUR
  54. FORTY-FIVE
  55. FORTY-SIX
  56. FORTY-SEVEN
  57. FORTY-EIGHT
  58. FORTY-NINE
  59. Sunlight on Water
  60. July
  61. September
  62. Acknowledgements

‘I’m not being ridiculous!’ Suddenly, Stewie’s yelling. ‘I’ll tell you what’s ridiculous – expecting me to carry on like nothing’s happened! Like I should just let it go that my best mate’s disappeared, and you’re like, that’s a shame, off you go, Stewie, back to that place, day after day after day! And when I get home, nearly every day who’s here but bloody Claire, wanting to talk about him, picking my brain like some weird vulture. I don’t want to talk to her, OK? Why do you even let her in here? Why can’t you just tell her to fuck off and leave me alone?’

‘Claire needs our support, Stewie.’

‘No, I need your support, and I need you to keep her away from me! I’m not her fucking son substitute or whatever she thinks I am and I am not going back to that school! Ever!’

There’s a long silence between them, broken when SpongeBob’s voice cuts in from the living room.

Vicky sighs.

‘OK, sweetheart,’ she says. ‘Take the day off. We’ll talk about it when Dad comes home tonight.’

EIGHT

EIGHT

4 January

Evan’s room is a dilemma. Despite the time that he’s been gone, it’s barely been disturbed. In the beginning, a policeman took away his laptop to trawl its depths for undesirables, for virtual contacts who had no business being Evan’s ‘friends’ or visits to chatrooms which exist only for dark purposes. It hasn’t been returned, and its place on his cluttered desk remains a hollow. Then they bagged up his comb, the Liaison Officer explaining as Matt stared at him, pale and dismayed, that hair samples were needed to match any remains.

Apart from that, Evan’s room is exactly as he left it that morning to come downstairs and eat his breakfast: two slices of toast and honey and a slug of milk from the container, for which – God forgive her – Claire told him off.

His book-bag and his rugby kit were by the door, and he picked them up before submitting to a quick kiss.

‘See you later, Mum,’ he said, and pulled the door shut behind him, leaving her life.

And she walked indifferent to the kitchen and finished her own breakfast, the last but one meal she ate that isn’t ashes in her mouth.

See you later, Mum.

The dilemma lies in the freeze-frame of the room’s abandonment: in the balled grey school sock lying by the laundry basket, in the dented pillow and the rumpled bed-sheet, in the smiling Lego fireman on the bookshelf and the Xbox controller waiting to be picked up for the next game.

How long can the room be left before she cleans it? How long before the clothes must be laundered and disposed of, the bed stripped, the Xbox and the Lego packed away?

It has to be done sometime.

Just not today.