Читать книгу The Mighty Quinns: Rogan - Kate Hoffmann - Страница 9

Prologue

ROGAN QUINN PEERED out the front window of his grandparents’ house, observing the small crowd gathered just outside the garden fence.

“What do you think they want?” he asked.

His twin brother, Ryan, shrugged. “Maybe they want a picture of us crying over Dad, so they can show everyone that we’re sad.”

“I’m not going to do that for them,” Rogan said stubbornly. “I wish they’d just go away and leave us be.” He wandered away from the window, his gaze coming to rest on the closed bedroom door. His mother hadn’t come out all morning.

She’d had good days and bad in the month since their father’s death. On the good days, she managed to appear at the dinner table, usually wrapped in her dressing gown. Food didn’t interest her, nor did conversation. She’d just sit, ignoring her four children, before shuffling back to the bedroom.

She’d become a ghost of herself, frail and silent, her vacant eyes fixed on some imaginary figure in the room.

Rogan had experienced the loss of his father and it had been devastating, but he’d survived the pain. Why had his mother become a victim? Rogan had realized then what love and loss had done to his mother, how it had turned into a poison that sapped her strength and stole her happiness.

Rogan had thought about this so many times over the past few weeks. What was it about the love that existed between his father and mother that was so special? Perhaps it was something only adults understood. Maybe it had to do with sex.

At eight years old, he wasn’t sure of all the details of what went on between a man and a woman, but he’d heard stories. The whispered speculation of his friends sprinkled with a bit of firsthand knowledge. He’d even glimpsed a few photos on the internet, though they’d only created more questions than answers.

But Rogan sensed that when he got older, he’d understand his mother’s grief. He just never wanted it to happen to him.

Rogan rapped on the bedroom door. “Mum? Can I bring you some tea?”

He waited, hoping that this time she’d reply, but there was only silence. He spun around and strode to the window again, cursing beneath his breath at the media vultures that seemed to hover over them. If they’d just go away, maybe she’d come back, maybe she’d be the mother they’d always known—the mother who laughed with them and loved them.

“I’m going out there,” Rogan muttered.

“No, don’t,” Ryan said, grabbing his arm. “Grandmum said we just have to pretend that they’re not there. She’ll be home soon. She’ll run them off.”

“I’m not going to wait for her,” Rogan said. “We can do this. Are you coming?”

There was very little that the twins didn’t do together, Rogan usually leading and Ryan backing him up. This time, Ryan thought about the request for a long moment, then nodded solemnly. “All right.”

Rogan reached for the door and pulled it open. The instant the reporters saw them, they rushed the fence, shouting out questions. Cameras flashed and Rogan held up his hand to ward off the assault. But as he watched them warily, his anger began to build.

With a silent curse, Rogan ran down the front steps and grabbed a clod of dirt from his grandmother’s flower bed. With all his strength, he heaved it at the group. “Leave us alone,” he cried. “Just go away. We don’t want to talk to you.”

The shower of dirt was enough to send them all running. Ryan joined him, heaving clumps of soil over the fence until everyone had retreated to their cars. Rogan found a small rock and hit the windscreen of the closest car. As it drove off, he picked up another and heaved it.

One by one, the reporters and photographers scurried away, and when the street in front of their grandparents’ home was finally empty, Rogan looked at his brother and smiled. “Cowards,” he muttered.

Ryan chuckled. “We really showed them, didn’t we.”

“You ain’t wrong,” Rogan replied.

When they returned to the house, Rogan was surprised to find their mother standing at the window, her fingers clutching at the curtains. She gazed at him and Ryan and gave them a weak smile. “Good work,” she murmured before moving away.

“Mum? Can I make you a cup of tea?” Rogan asked again.

She stopped and drew a deep breath, and Rogan watched her narrow shoulders rise and fall. “That would be lovely,” she said, nodding her head. “I could use a cup of tea.”

Rogan and Ryan hurried over to her, each of them taking a hand and leading her to the sofa. They sat down on either side of her and she wrapped her arms around their shoulders and pulled them close, kissing the tops of their heads.

“You’re my brave, strong boys,” she whispered. “Promise you’ll never leave me.”

“I promise, Mum,” Rogan said.

“Me, too.”

Rogan silently made another promise to himself. If this was what love did to his mother, then he wanted no part of it. It only brought despair and loneliness. No girl would ever be worth all that.