An image of the goat frothing at the mouth comes to mind. His voice wavers slightly as he tries to convince himself that he is doing the right thing, being the responsible father, and that this is, after all, the best fate for a girl like me. I turn to look at him, to challenge the lie in his eyes, but he looks away.

His voice is full of Rachiu as he says, ‘You are a lucky girl, Nico … you will see the sea. I have always wanted to see the sea.’

8. Sammy

8

Sammy

I look at Luce’s back walking away down the road, and know what I’ve done. I’m not sure we can ever come back from this, even as I tell myself it’s for the best, in her best interests, anyway – she has parents who adore her and she’ll get on much better in school without me around. What I didn’t think about was how bad it would make me feel. I really didn’t think at all. It just happened, like last night just happened; things just happen in my life and I’m powerless to stop them. When that mad feeling takes hold, I can’t think straight, I just do whatever it tells me to do – it’s like I have that demon puppet master living inside me. I’m not so unlike Mother after all. When that switch has been activated in her, that’s when the crazy shit happens. What I just said to Luce is exactly the kind of poison Mother spews at me, especially after consuming a bottle plus of Chardonnay.

The B&B is on a side street, up a back alley, in behind a big swanky office building, all glass and chrome, with a fountain out front, none of which I’d noticed before as Brian and I came in the night, off our heads. The door is painted a matte black and looks fairly innocuous. I knock, then push on into the hallway, which is dark and dank, and I feel ice cold the moment I step through. I go to the desk and wait. There is no bell or buzzer or anything, so I shout as politely as I can, ‘Helloo, anybody there?’

A woman passes me by, wearing dark sunglasses, skinny jeans and high heels, her long dark hair swaying down her back, the skin on her scrawny arms loose and saggy and tattooed, jangling bangles from her elbows to her wrists. She turns to me. ‘What you looking for?’

I tell her I’m looking for a room.

‘Jesus, they’re getting younger by the day,’ she says to no one in particular.