The First Week by Margaret Merrilees

reporter,’ she muttered and stepped in front of Marian. ‘No comment,’ she said more firmly. ‘We’ve got nothing to say.’
    Tightening her grip on Marian’s arm she pushed her along the footpath. Sam trotted along on the other side.
    The man made no attempt to follow them, but when Marian glanced back he was still filming.
    â€˜Shit,’ said Sam. ‘Shit shit shit …’ She stopped herself. ‘Sorry.’
    They walked in silence until they found a coffee shop.
    Marian drank tea, but couldn’t eat her biscuit. The two girls didn’t seem able to eat either.
    Marian made an effort to speak. ‘So you live with …’
    Sam spoke at the same time. ‘Thanks for seeing us …’
    Both of them stopped, confused. Sam smiled hesitantly. She was thinner than Ros. Nervy.
    Their clothes weren’t ragged exactly, just surprising. Ros had on a lace petticoat over her tee shirt and Sam was wearing black mittens and a school blazer. Sam’s hair was too black, startling against her pale skin. Marian could hardly bear to look at the spike in the smooth flesh above and below the eyebrow. But she couldn’t look away either.
    Sam lifted her hand to let Marian go first.
    â€˜You live with Charlie?’ Marian asked.
    â€˜We both do. Have done all this year.’
    Do you know him well? Are you … She didn’t know how to say it, was filled with shame that she should need to ask.
    â€˜Are you his …? I mean … how well …?’
    Sam drew back. ‘Oh no. I’m not … hasn’t he told you about us?’
    Us?
    â€˜Me and Ros. We’re together. We just share a house with Charlie.’
    Together?
    Marian rubbed her face. ‘I’m sorry. Charlie hasn’t told me much about his life.’
    â€˜Charlie and I did sort of go out for a while. A couple of years ago, when he first came to the city. We were pretty young.’
    Marian blinked, but Sam didn’t seem aware of any irony.
    â€˜It was a kid thing, you know? We ended up being friends. When I came out he was a bit weird, but he got over it.’ Her voice faltered and she twisted her fingers in her hair. ‘I thought he did. Now I don’t know what to think. Maybe that was why he did this? You know … it might have been eating at him? I feel like it’s my fault.’
    Ros leaned towards her. Her face was softer than Sam’s. She was plump where Sam was angular, pink where Sam was black. ‘Hey Sam. It’s okay. Charlie was cool about us. It’s not that.’
    Marian stared at them, trying to stop the room from wheeling round her head.
    â€˜Are you all right, Mrs Anditon?’ It was Ros, her face anxious. ‘You look kind of wrecked.’
    Wrecked. That was it. A ship pitching onto rocks, water crashing. She nodded.
    â€˜I reckon you should come back with us. You could crash on Charlie’s bed.’
    Crash. A car accident then.
    Marian let the two girls steer her into a taxi. She sagged in the seat, images whirling behind her eyes. Faces mouthed at her, cars roared, trees toppled.
    Ros shook her arm. ‘Mrs Anditon? We’re here.’
    Aware of nothing but Ros’s hand Marian stumbled into the house and collapsed with relief onto a bed. The tangled sheets and duna became waves, and the giddiness rocked her into a black void.
    The first thing she saw when she opened her eyes was a withered apple core, at eye level. Charlie’s room.
    The bed seemed very low. She reached a hand out. Floor. A mattress on the floor.
    That was Charlie too. He never wanted things .
    The apple core was sitting on bare boards next to a battered copy of Lord of the Rings . Someone had picked the book up and dropped it carelessly so that it splayed open, pages bent under the cover, disturbing the dust on the floorboards. Charlie wouldn’t have done that. He loved that book.
    The corner of a photo