Читать книгу Sadie - Jane Elliott - Страница 10

‘Why?’ Sadie watched her mum wiping down the kitchen surfaces, and wondered why she wouldn’t catch her eye.

‘Because we need the money, Sadie,’ Jackie replied irritably. ‘Stop asking so many stupid questions.’

It was three weeks since Allen had moved in, and apart from that first night he appeared barely to have left the house. The sitting room had become his domain, where he would sit on the settee, his legs stretched out in front of him, the TV remote never far away. And since his arrival, the room had become immaculate – not just the room, in fact, but the whole house. Sadie found it weird: for as long as she could remember she had lived in a chaotic house, and her mother was not one for tidying up and cleaning. But one look from Allen seemed to be enough for her to clear up a dirty coffee cup or wipe crumbs from the now perpetually empty kitchen table. Sadie herself had always kept her room tidy, but since Allen’s reprimand about the dirty plate on his first morning, she had been extra fastidious. There was no way she was going to give him an excuse to tell her off again.

‘But you’re always saying there’s no point you getting a job. What about your benefits?’

Sadie heard her mum start to swear under her breath. ‘For fuck’s—’ But then she checked herself, and turned to her daughter. ‘It’s more complicated than that, Sadie. Grown-up stuff, OK? I’ve got a job in a pub up the road, and that’s that.’

At the word ‘pub’, Sadie’s stomach gave a little lurch. Whatever else she thought of Allen, she had to be thankful that he seemed to have got her mum off the booze. The ciggies too, although she knew from the smell on her mum’s clothes and skin that she still had the occasional crafty fag outside, despite Allen’s ban on smoking in the house. The idea of Mum working in a pub filled Sadie with a sudden fear that she would slide back into her old ways.

‘But he doesn’t do anything,’ Sadie complained, ‘apart from watch the telly.’ She kept her voice low so that Allen wouldn’t hear her in the next room. ‘Why can’t he be the one to go out to work? Why does it have to be you?’

Still Jackie refused to look directly at her daughter, and she avoided her questions. ‘You’ll just have to get used to it, Sadie. Lots of mums go out to work.’

‘But—’

‘No buts, Sadie.’ Allen spoke quietly from the doorway to the sitting room. Sadie and Jackie both turned their heads to look at him at the same time, and waited for him to speak again. ‘Have you thought that your mam might actually want to go out to work, Sadie? You shouldn’t be so selfish.’

Sadie jutted her chin out forcefully, but she didn’t reply.

‘Tell her, Jackie,’ Allen instructed.

Jackie hesitated, but kept her eyes on him. ‘It’ll be nice for me,’ she said in a slightly monotone voice, ‘to get out of the house and all.’

‘Just as long as you keep off the sauce,’ Allen said rather contemptuously. ‘Putting you in a boozer is like putting a cat in a mousehole.’ As he went back into the sitting room, Jackie’s face flushed with embarrassment and she turned back to her cleaning.

‘So when do you start, Mum?’ Sadie asked in a small voice.

‘This afternoon. Late shift. Three till twelve. You can get your own dinner, can’t you?’

Sadie nodded, but her mum didn’t see her, so she slung her satchel sullenly over her head and left.

School was uneventful and passed quickly. It always did when she didn’t want to get home. As she sat daydreaming in her lessons, she thought about what had happened that morning. It made no sense. She loved her mum, but she knew her well enough to doubt that she really wanted to go out to work. And yet she had heard her say so herself. Maybe her mum wanted to go to work so that she could get away from Sadie. She wouldn’t have thought that before Allen had arrived, but in the last few weeks she had been different. Distant. Not the mum she knew or wanted to remember.

What was more, Sadie didn’t relish the idea of being in the house alone with Allen. She couldn’t work him out – sometimes he was nice to her, sometimes mean, and she almost didn’t know which Allen she liked the least. He was always walking up quietly behind her, appearing out of nowhere, getting in the way. Even when she hid herself away in the bedroom, he was always coming in to check on her, knocking gently – three measured raps that she had grown to dread – and entering without waiting for a reply.

The weather had turned. It was still warm, but the dry summer had become wet and the day was punctuated with thunderous showers. The rain started as soon as the school bell went for home time and was torrential on the way home, so Sadie, Anna and Carly barely spoke and concentrated on running back to the estate and its rain-stained concrete as quickly as possible.

Soaked to the skin, Sadie sprinted up the pathway to the front door. Her key was already in her hand– it had been in readiness ever since she entered the boundaries of the estate – and almost on autopilot she tried to open the front door with it. The key slid easily into the lock, but when she tried to turn it, it wouldn’t budge. She tried again, wiggling the key gently at first and then with more force, but it was no good. She rang the bell instead.

The door opened almost immediately. Allen stood in the doorway and observed Sadie as though she was a stranger or a cold caller. After an awkward few moments, during which he did not step aside to let her in, Sadie was forced to speak.

‘Can I come in?’

Suddenly Allen looked as though his attention had been snapped into focus. His lips flickered into a smile, and he stepped aside slightly, though not quite enough for Sadie to be able to enter without her sopping clothes brushing against him.

‘My key wouldn’t work,’ she mumbled as she entered.

‘No,’ said Allen. ‘It wouldn’t.’

‘Why not? It’s always worked.’

‘I’ve changed the lock,’ Allen said as he walked back into the kitchen. Sadie stayed in the hallway, watching him.

‘What for?’ she asked, but Allen didn’t reply, instead walking into the sitting room. Sadie followed him, water dripping off her coat on to the kitchen floor. ‘What did you change the lock for?’ she asked again. She knew she sounded insolent, but she couldn’t help it.

By now Allen was sitting on the settee again, his legs stretched out in his usual position. ‘You’re too young to have your own door key. I’ve discussed it with your mam and she agrees with me.’

Sadie could hardly believe what she was hearing and found herself unable to speak. She’d had her own key for years – Mum and Dad had trusted her, and she’d never done anything to betray that trust. Tears started to brim in her eyes.

‘No use crying about it. It’s about time we knew where you are and when you’re coming back. I know for a fact that you get up to no good when you’re out on your own. I haven’t told your mother what I suspect yet, but if it carries on, I will – don’t you worry about that.’

Sadie was shivering now, half from the wet clothes, half from the way he was speaking to her. Unable to trust herself to open her mouth, she spun round and ran, not for the first time since Allen had arrived, up to her bedroom. Outside the rain continued to hammer on her window and the sky was a deep, felt-tip grey. She slammed the door shut and started to peel off her sopping school uniform. She felt her long wet hair cold against her face.

As the clothes fell to the floor, she froze. She could hear Allen moving around downstairs, his footsteps sounding heavy and impatient. And then she heard a sound she recognized – a click. It was the front door being locked.

A sudden panic arose in her. She held her breath and remained deathly still as she listened with all her concentration. At first there was silence; then there was an unmistakable sound.

It was the sound of footsteps coming up the stairs.

Feeling an irrational burst of terror, Sadie jumped on to her bed. Goosebumps arose on her skin as she crouched in the corner, hugging her knees, wanting to remove her wet underwear and yet somehow not wanting to. As she did so, she counted the footsteps up the stairs.

One.

Two.

Three.

Four.

Five.

And then they stopped – about halfway up, Sadie calculated. For a few moments there was silence and then, more quietly this time, the footsteps disappeared back down the stairs.

Sadie did not move until she was sure that Allen had finished walking around. Instead, she remained on her bed, her skin clammy and her limbs shaking, the sickness of fear suddenly replaced with the hot flush of relief.

After a few minutes, she dared to creep on to the landing. Standing at the top of the stairs, she strained her ears and could make out the low hubbub of the television. By now she knew his habits. She knew that once he was installed in front of the box, he would not move from it willingly, so she crept back to her room, removed the rest of her clothes and put on the blue dressing gown that hung on the back of her door. Then she crept back on to the bed.

How she wished her mum were there. How she wished she could wordlessly snuggle up to her, feel her arms around her shoulders and put her head in her lap. She wished now she hadn’t been so mean before she left for school. When she saw her, she would be really nice. She would make things better between them. Jackie might have been different these past few weeks, but she was still her mum, and Sadie wanted her. It all seemed wrong, being stuck in the house with this man she hardly knew and liked even less – a cruel inversion of the way things were supposed to be.

The rain continued to pound on the window. For a precious minute or two, Sadie allowed herself to be transfixed by the droplets falling like tears down the windowpane.

Unbidden, the image of little Jamie Brown popped into her head. She suppressed a shudder as she remembered the bruising up his arm and wondered, not for the first time, what sort of hell he had to endure when he was at home. All of a sudden she felt slightly ashamed of herself. The little boy who had taken to following her around the playground at breaktime surely had to endure more than she did: Allen might be mean, but at least he never hit her.

Maybe he was right. Maybe she was selfish. Maybe this whole situation was her fault.

How long Sadie sat there, huddled in her dressing gown, she couldn’t say; but she was snapped out of her daydream by the sound of Allen’s voice: he was calling from the bottom of the stairs, ‘Your tea’s ready, Sadie.’

Sadie blinked. He never made her tea; it was normally up to Jackie or Sadie herself to prepare meals for all of them. She felt like calling down to say she wasn’t hungry, but something told her that would not be a wise thing to do, so she quickly pulled on her pink tracksuit and went downstairs. A plate of spaghetti hoops on toast was waiting for her on the kitchen table, with a glass of water.

Silently she sat down and started to eat. The food was only lukewarm, and she barely had an appetite, but she knew that if she didn’t eat it would only cause aggro, so she soldiered on, aware of Allen’s gaze on her all the time.

‘You don’t say much, do you, Sadie?’ he asked after a while.

Sadie chewed her food and didn’t reply.

‘You like spaghetti?’ Allen tried again.

‘’S’all right,’ Sadie said, her mouth still half full.

‘Me too. Mind if I have a bit of yours?’

Sadie did mind, but she knew she couldn’t say so, so she shrugged and watched as Allen stood up and fetched himself a fork from a drawer. He walked back to the table, put his left hand on Sadie’s left shoulder, and then leaned over the other one and lifted a forkful of food into his mouth. Sadie felt her muscles seizing up and she stared intently at the plate in front of her. Allen’s hand remained lightly on her shoulder. When he had finished his mouthful, he helped himself to a second, gave her a little squeeze and went to wash up his fork.

Sadie started eating more quickly. As she heard Allen put his fork by the sink, somehow she could tell that he was looking at her from behind. The moment she had wolfed down her last mouthful, she scraped back her chair and picked up her dirty plate. Allen was leaning against the sink, a strange smile on his face.

‘Excuse me,’ Sadie muttered. ‘I have to wash up.’

With a nod, Allen cleared out of the way and wandered back into the sitting room.

Sadie washed up quickly, and hurried upstairs.

She felt a chill. It was not particularly cold in the house, but she had got soaked earlier on, so maybe that was why. She felt like having a bath, hot and soapy, to warm her up and wash away the uncomfortable feeling Allen had just left her with. Then she would go to bed – early. Changing back into her dressing gown, she took the towel that was hanging on the end of her bed and went into the bathroom.

Immediately she noticed that the sliding lock that had been there ever since she could remember was not there. All that remained were four screw holes and a patch of unpainted wood where the lock used to be. Sadie stared at the door, puzzled: why would anyone take the lock off the door? Admittedly it had always been a little stiff, but it had never been a problem – although she knew Allen never locked the door behind him when he used the bathroom. Looking around her, her eyes fell on the dirty-washing basket that was always kept by the sink. She dragged it across the floor and propped it against the door – at least that would make it clear that someone was in there. She turned the taps on and the sound of running water filled the room.

When the bubble bath that she had poured into the hot water had transformed itself into huge snowy peaks, Sadie let her dressing gown fall to the floor and climbed in. The hot water stung her skin, but she liked it – it felt as if it was cleansing her all the more thoroughly. Slowly she allowed herself to sink beneath the suds and stretch out, closing her eyes to block out the harsh glare of the plastic strip lighting on the ceiling. She slipped gently further down into the water, allowing her head to become half submerged and her long, dark hair to splay out. She loved the feeling of being under water, and the way all the sounds became muted and muffled; she felt as if she was in her own little world, away from it all. She started drumming her fingernails against the bottom of the bath, and focused on that regular, rhythmic, under-water sound.

But then she heard something else. A voice. It could only be one person’s.

Spluttering, she pushed herself up from under the water and wiped the suds from around her eyes. Her pulse was suddenly racing, her breathing heavy, but she was relieved to see nobody in the bathroom. Perhaps she had imagined it. She sat still in the bath.

Suddenly, the dirty-washing basket in front of the door nudged forward a couple of inches as the door was pushed ajar. It nudged forward again. She could see Allen’s fingers curled round the edge of the door. ‘Let us in,’ he said, his voice echoing slightly against the yellowing tiles of the bathroom. ‘Let us in to use the toilet. I’m desperate.’

Sadie found that her breath was shaking, and all of a sudden something snapped in her as she started to scream. ‘Get out!’ she yelled. ‘Get out! Get away from me!’ Her screams degenerated into a whimper. ‘Get out!’ she repeated, her wet hands covering her wet face.

When she looked up again, Allen’s fingertips were no longer round the door; but she had not heard him walk away, so she could not tell whether or not he was waiting for her on the other side. For an unrealistic moment she considered staying where she was, safe under the water, until her mum came back. But of course that would not be for hours: she had to get out.

Still catching her breath through sobs that escaped involuntarily through her throat, she stood up in the bath and, her hands covering herself to afford her some sort of modesty, stepped over the side. She grabbed her dressing gown and tried to pull it quickly over her wet skin, but her fingers were fumbling and the more she tried to hurry, the slower she seemed to go. Eventually she had herself covered, and she wrapped her towel around her shoulders to give her extra protection. She wanted to be in her bedroom. Now. So she pulled the dirty-washing basket away from the door and, with a deep, shaky breath, stepped out on to the landing.

Allen was there.

He was standing at the other end of the landing, at the top of the stairs. His head was bowed slightly, but his eyes were looking straight at Sadie and his breathing was heavy. His lips seemed stuck in a position that was almost a sneer, but not quite. For an instant he looked away from her, but then he blinked again and his eyes were on her once more. She found herself unable to move.

When he spoke, his voice was even quieter than usual. ‘I thought you said come in.’

Sadie shook her head faintly.

‘I thought you were done in there,’ Allen repeated. ‘I thought you said come in.’

‘I didn’t say anything,’ Sadie whispered hoarsely. She returned his gaze as coolly as she dared.

All of a sudden, Allen lashed out. He banged the flat of his hand hard against the woodchip wall, and Sadie jumped. In an instant his face had transformed. His eyes were flashing and his lip curled into an ugly mockery of the expression Sadie was used to. And then he was shouting – not particularly loudly, but forcefully, and with unbridled contempt. ‘I was calling you for ages. You should have shouted back.’

His hands appeared to be shaking, and Sadie took a frightened step backwards into the doorway of the bathroom.

‘Anyhow,’ he hissed, more quietly now, ‘what makes you think I want to see you in the first place? You’re too fucking cocky, Sadie. You’re lucky I don’t see to it that you go into a home.’

Sadie felt her lower lip wobbling. She watched, wide-eyed, as Allen struggled to control his sudden burst of fury. With a hateful look, he turned and stomped down the stairs. As though his disappearance had released her from a lock and chain, Sadie rushed into her bedroom.

Dusk was falling, as was the rain, though less heavily now, and her room seemed saturated with gloom. Sadie did not want to turn on the light, feeling that the half-darkness somehow protected her. She quickly dried herself, pulled on her nightdress and buried herself under her bedclothes, clutching a soft teddy bear her dad had bought her many years ago. She breathed in its smell. Normally it was so comforting, but tonight for some reason it just made the tears come, and it didn’t take long for the bear’s matted hair to become quite wet. And even when she could cry no more, she remained under the covers, curled up and clinging desperately to the soft toy which could not offer her the comfort that she craved.

It was fully dark outside by the time she dared to poke her head out from under the duvet. Late, though sleep seemed only a distant possibility. Slowly, tentatively, she put her head on the pillow and closed her eyes.

Time passed.

After a while, a warm blanket of drowsiness fell over Sadie; but it was ruffled before she could truly fall asleep by the sound of footsteps coming up the stairs once more. They were not heavy footsteps this time, but her eyes sprang suddenly open when she realized they were approaching her door. And then came the sound she dreaded.

Knock.

Knock.

Knock.

She said nothing – she knew there was no point. She heard the sound of the door brushing against the carpet as it swung open, and she closed her eyes, lying desperately still and pretending to be asleep. Despite not being able to see anything, she could sense Allen walking across the room to her bed. He sat on the side of it, and the sickening smell of his aftershave filled her nose.

Then, with a start, she felt him brushing his hand across her hair.

‘I know you’re not asleep, Sadie,’ he whispered.

Sadie wanted to jump out of bed and scream, but some unseen force pinned her to the mattress and she kept her eyes resolutely closed. The stroking of her hair stopped, and suddenly she felt Allen’s warm breath near her face. It smelled of the tinned spaghetti from earlier.

‘Goodnight, pet,’ he breathed, before planting a kiss on her closed mouth, leaving a vile feeling of the wetness of his lips.

Then he stood up and walked out, leaving Sadie alone in the darkness of her room.

She awoke with a start.

It was pitch black in her room, and she had no idea what time it was. In the darkness, however, she heard the front door closing and assumed that it must be her mum coming back from work. That would make it a bit past midnight; she could only have been asleep for an hour or two. The rain had stopped now, and she could quite clearly hear her mum shout ‘I’m back’ before moving through to the sitting room and out of earshot. Sadie wanted more than anything to go down and see her – to hug her – but she couldn’t bear to be in the same room as Allen.

So she just lay there, protected by her duvet and the darkness of the night.

All of a sudden she heard voices from downstairs. Raised voices. Allen was shouting at her mum. Sadie couldn’t hear what he was saying, but she could detect the fury in his voice. Her mum said something – or shouted it, rather – but it was short-lived. There was an immediate and ominous silence; Sadie found herself holding her breath. The silence was broken by the sound of footsteps up the stairs – running, this time, and Sadie recognized the rhythm of her mother’s steps. She sat up in bed, hoping that Jackie would come into her room to say goodnight; but she was disappointed: all she heard was Jackie’s own bedroom door slamming shut.

Something told her that she shouldn’t go in to see her. She lay back down in bed and, despite the turmoil in her mind, soon fell asleep.

If Allen came up to bed that night, Sadie was not awake to hear it.