side. The face of a soldier grinning into the camera stared at her, almost making her smile back at its immediate warmth. Lewis wore his desert gear, rifle in hand, helmet on head.
‘He’s your only child, isn’t he?’ she asked, already knowing but wanting to make small talk to ease the sombreness in the room.
Laura nodded slightly.
‘And deployed to Afghanistan three times?’
‘Yes, and I don’t think my Lewis came back at all when he left the army.’ She pointed to the ceiling. ‘What’s upstairs in that bed isn’t my son.’ Laura shook her head, a lone tear escaping down her cheek. She wiped it away quickly before continuing. ‘I just wish I could help him find his way back.’
Josie sighed. She had her doubts that it was possible, but she wasn’t about to give up on Lewis yet.
Chapter Eight
While Josie talked to his mum, Lewis lay in bed upstairs. With his head pounding and mouth dry, even though he’d had a long drunken sleep the night before, he couldn’t see much point in getting up. If he went downstairs, the bloody housing officer would most likely tell him off again like a five-year-old, even though he knew he fully deserved it. Why the hell had he kicked off that mirror? He wasn’t a vandal.
He rolled over on his back. He hadn’t closed the curtains the night before, and the sun’s rays cast a bright image of the window across the carpet. The stretch of good weather coming was supposed to last for the rest of the week, if the long-range weather forecast was to be believed. It wasn’t anywhere near as hot as it had been in Afghanistan, though. How Lewis wished he were there right now, having a laugh with Nathan and the gang.
When he heard the front door open again and voices in the hallway, Lewis padded over to the window. Out of view, he watched as Josie walked down the pathway, stopping to close the gate behind her. She was okay, as far as authority went. He’d met her a few months ago now, when she’d called at the house after a complaint had been made against him. That was about the noise he’d made coming home one night. He’d been drunk then, too.
Lewis scowled. Alcohol wasn’t the best option but if it helped him to get rid of the images inside his head, then the neighbours would have to put up with a little noise here and there. It wasn’t as if he caused a riot every day.
He waited for Josie to drive off before going to take a shower. Once freshened up and dressed, he went downstairs to face the music.
Laura was standing with her back against the worktop when he walked into the kitchen, her arms folded. ‘Afternoon,’ she said, eyebrows raised.
‘Morning.’ Lewis opened a cupboard and pulled out a box of cereal, then a bowl.
‘You need something more substantial than that.’
He shook his head. ‘I’m not that hungry.’
‘You need to soak up the alcohol I can smell on your breath.’
Lewis sat down at the table and poured milk over his cereal.
‘What did she want?’ he asked.
‘She says you vandalised a car.’
‘Ah.’
‘Did you?’
‘No.’
‘You’re lying, aren’t you?’
He nodded.
‘For crying out loud!’ Laura tutted. ‘You can’t go around taking your anger out on innocent people.’
‘It was a car, not a person!’
‘Nevertheless, it belongs to someone who has worked hard for it.’
Lewis looked up sheepishly. ‘Don’t you think I regret it?’
Laura sat down across the table from him. ‘You can’t go on like this.’ She reached for his hand. ‘Whatever is troubling you, son, I’d like to support you. To listen, and to—’
‘What, Mum?’ Lewis snatched his hand away. ‘Help me get through it?’
‘Well, yes,’ she nodded.
‘You can’t help me. No one can.’ Lewis put down his spoon. ‘What happened was my fault.’
‘But what did happen?’
There was a pause before Lewis spoke again.
‘I don’t want to talk about it.’ He shook his head.
‘If you tell me
‘He’s your only child, isn’t he?’ she asked, already knowing but wanting to make small talk to ease the sombreness in the room.
Laura nodded slightly.
‘And deployed to Afghanistan three times?’
‘Yes, and I don’t think my Lewis came back at all when he left the army.’ She pointed to the ceiling. ‘What’s upstairs in that bed isn’t my son.’ Laura shook her head, a lone tear escaping down her cheek. She wiped it away quickly before continuing. ‘I just wish I could help him find his way back.’
Josie sighed. She had her doubts that it was possible, but she wasn’t about to give up on Lewis yet.
Chapter Eight
While Josie talked to his mum, Lewis lay in bed upstairs. With his head pounding and mouth dry, even though he’d had a long drunken sleep the night before, he couldn’t see much point in getting up. If he went downstairs, the bloody housing officer would most likely tell him off again like a five-year-old, even though he knew he fully deserved it. Why the hell had he kicked off that mirror? He wasn’t a vandal.
He rolled over on his back. He hadn’t closed the curtains the night before, and the sun’s rays cast a bright image of the window across the carpet. The stretch of good weather coming was supposed to last for the rest of the week, if the long-range weather forecast was to be believed. It wasn’t anywhere near as hot as it had been in Afghanistan, though. How Lewis wished he were there right now, having a laugh with Nathan and the gang.
When he heard the front door open again and voices in the hallway, Lewis padded over to the window. Out of view, he watched as Josie walked down the pathway, stopping to close the gate behind her. She was okay, as far as authority went. He’d met her a few months ago now, when she’d called at the house after a complaint had been made against him. That was about the noise he’d made coming home one night. He’d been drunk then, too.
Lewis scowled. Alcohol wasn’t the best option but if it helped him to get rid of the images inside his head, then the neighbours would have to put up with a little noise here and there. It wasn’t as if he caused a riot every day.
He waited for Josie to drive off before going to take a shower. Once freshened up and dressed, he went downstairs to face the music.
Laura was standing with her back against the worktop when he walked into the kitchen, her arms folded. ‘Afternoon,’ she said, eyebrows raised.
‘Morning.’ Lewis opened a cupboard and pulled out a box of cereal, then a bowl.
‘You need something more substantial than that.’
He shook his head. ‘I’m not that hungry.’
‘You need to soak up the alcohol I can smell on your breath.’
Lewis sat down at the table and poured milk over his cereal.
‘What did she want?’ he asked.
‘She says you vandalised a car.’
‘Ah.’
‘Did you?’
‘No.’
‘You’re lying, aren’t you?’
He nodded.
‘For crying out loud!’ Laura tutted. ‘You can’t go around taking your anger out on innocent people.’
‘It was a car, not a person!’
‘Nevertheless, it belongs to someone who has worked hard for it.’
Lewis looked up sheepishly. ‘Don’t you think I regret it?’
Laura sat down across the table from him. ‘You can’t go on like this.’ She reached for his hand. ‘Whatever is troubling you, son, I’d like to support you. To listen, and to—’
‘What, Mum?’ Lewis snatched his hand away. ‘Help me get through it?’
‘Well, yes,’ she nodded.
‘You can’t help me. No one can.’ Lewis put down his spoon. ‘What happened was my fault.’
‘But what did happen?’
There was a pause before Lewis spoke again.
‘I don’t want to talk about it.’ He shook his head.
‘If you tell me
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