as if she was talking to a toddler, or a dog, Matt thought.
“You won’t have to put up with all this for long, love,” she told him. “I’ll sort something out.”
“ What will you sort out?” demanded Matt. “Are we going back to Norwich? What about Dad?”
She brushed at her hair with a clawed hand. “I don’t know,” she said. Then she shook her head, decisively. “No,” she corrected herself. “I do know. I’m not going back. I told Carol I’m going to find work down here, then find somewhere to live.”
“And me?” It sounded so selfish, as soon as he heard his own words. He wasn’t the only one whose life had been ripped apart. “What about me?”
“We thought it best you stay here, for the time being. Your father is travelling a lot over the next couple of weeks.” She swept her hair back again, in a sudden, jerky movement that made Matt jump. Then she went on, “You’re old enough to decide what’s best for you. You need to do what you think is right. But, Matt, I love you... I want you to stay with me.”
“You knew all along, didn’t you?” said Matt. “When we came down here – you knew you were leaving Dad. You knew you were breaking up.”
His words hurt her, he could see, and he felt a small thrill of satisfaction.
She shook her head. “I didn’t know that that was it,” she said, in an unsteady voice. “But it had been on the cards for a long time, Matt – you must have been aware. Suddenly, coming here... it made me think... And then it just happened.” She gathered herself, then continued, “I spoke to your father on the phone this afternoon and it was only then that I actually realised we’d split up. It just happened, Matt. It wasn’t planned, it wasn’t deliberate. It just happened.”
He rolled over onto his side, so that his back was to his mother. He had stared at the ceiling for long enough. Now he would stare at the wall.
~
That night, everything changed again.
Matt had never endured a more strained evening. He refused to acknowledge his mother’s presence, even though she was continually on the verge of tears. Uncle Mike glowered at everyone, making it quite clear that this arrangement wasn’t going to last for long if he had anything to do with it.
Matt couldn’t bear it. He couldn’t get his mind straight. He pushed his chair away from the table, aware of all the eyes turning towards him.
Away from the dining room, he felt some of the pressure lifting. He decided to go up for his book, although he knew he wouldn’t be able to concentrate.
On the first floor, he hesitated.
Gramps had been up here all day. His door was open now and Matt could see him, sitting in an armchair in his pyjamas and dressing gown, poring over one of his old photograph albums.
Matt was surprised to see his grandfather looking so calm. So normal. He approached the door and then, when Gramps looked up, he went in and sat on the edge of the bed. The room smelt of scotch – a near-empty bottle stood on top of a chest of drawers nearby.
No wonder Gramps seemed so placid, Matt thought. He’d been up here all day drinking himself senseless.
“You wanted to tell me something,” said Matt. “Yesterday, when we were in the garden. There was something you wanted to say.”
Gramps looked puzzled for a moment, his pale blue eyes glazing over. “Oh,” he said. Then he seemed to understand. “Oh yes,” he said. He waved a hand dismissively. “Later,” he continued. “You’ll understand it all later.” He smiled. He didn’t seem able to talk in more than a short sentence at a time this evening.
“I’ve written it all down.” He waved at a pile of letters on a chair at the foot of the bed. “Can’t seem to concentrate. It’s better written down. Says everything.” He gestured at the letters again. “One of them’s for you, boy. Go on: take it. You can read it later.”
Matt leaned across and picked up the stack of letters. Each was in its own envelope,
“You won’t have to put up with all this for long, love,” she told him. “I’ll sort something out.”
“ What will you sort out?” demanded Matt. “Are we going back to Norwich? What about Dad?”
She brushed at her hair with a clawed hand. “I don’t know,” she said. Then she shook her head, decisively. “No,” she corrected herself. “I do know. I’m not going back. I told Carol I’m going to find work down here, then find somewhere to live.”
“And me?” It sounded so selfish, as soon as he heard his own words. He wasn’t the only one whose life had been ripped apart. “What about me?”
“We thought it best you stay here, for the time being. Your father is travelling a lot over the next couple of weeks.” She swept her hair back again, in a sudden, jerky movement that made Matt jump. Then she went on, “You’re old enough to decide what’s best for you. You need to do what you think is right. But, Matt, I love you... I want you to stay with me.”
“You knew all along, didn’t you?” said Matt. “When we came down here – you knew you were leaving Dad. You knew you were breaking up.”
His words hurt her, he could see, and he felt a small thrill of satisfaction.
She shook her head. “I didn’t know that that was it,” she said, in an unsteady voice. “But it had been on the cards for a long time, Matt – you must have been aware. Suddenly, coming here... it made me think... And then it just happened.” She gathered herself, then continued, “I spoke to your father on the phone this afternoon and it was only then that I actually realised we’d split up. It just happened, Matt. It wasn’t planned, it wasn’t deliberate. It just happened.”
He rolled over onto his side, so that his back was to his mother. He had stared at the ceiling for long enough. Now he would stare at the wall.
~
That night, everything changed again.
Matt had never endured a more strained evening. He refused to acknowledge his mother’s presence, even though she was continually on the verge of tears. Uncle Mike glowered at everyone, making it quite clear that this arrangement wasn’t going to last for long if he had anything to do with it.
Matt couldn’t bear it. He couldn’t get his mind straight. He pushed his chair away from the table, aware of all the eyes turning towards him.
Away from the dining room, he felt some of the pressure lifting. He decided to go up for his book, although he knew he wouldn’t be able to concentrate.
On the first floor, he hesitated.
Gramps had been up here all day. His door was open now and Matt could see him, sitting in an armchair in his pyjamas and dressing gown, poring over one of his old photograph albums.
Matt was surprised to see his grandfather looking so calm. So normal. He approached the door and then, when Gramps looked up, he went in and sat on the edge of the bed. The room smelt of scotch – a near-empty bottle stood on top of a chest of drawers nearby.
No wonder Gramps seemed so placid, Matt thought. He’d been up here all day drinking himself senseless.
“You wanted to tell me something,” said Matt. “Yesterday, when we were in the garden. There was something you wanted to say.”
Gramps looked puzzled for a moment, his pale blue eyes glazing over. “Oh,” he said. Then he seemed to understand. “Oh yes,” he said. He waved a hand dismissively. “Later,” he continued. “You’ll understand it all later.” He smiled. He didn’t seem able to talk in more than a short sentence at a time this evening.
“I’ve written it all down.” He waved at a pile of letters on a chair at the foot of the bed. “Can’t seem to concentrate. It’s better written down. Says everything.” He gestured at the letters again. “One of them’s for you, boy. Go on: take it. You can read it later.”
Matt leaned across and picked up the stack of letters. Each was in its own envelope,
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