The Room Upstairs: A Novel

by Wright, Iain Rob

  “You all right, dude?”

  I jumped, bashing my ankle against the radiator on the wall behind me and almost dropping the plate of sandwiches. When I saw it was Sarah’s boyfriend, I resisted crying out in pain, not wanting to embarrass myself in front of another boy. To go with his girly name, Courtney had floppy blonde hair, but he seemed pretty tough otherwise. Sarah had a massive crush on David Beckham and had clearly got herself a cheap copy. “Oh, h-hey, Courtney. I got a splinter, but it’s nothing.”

  “Shit, I hate that. One time, I was playing roller hockey and I got one off my stick the size of a nail. Hurt like a motherfucker for days. I use an aluminium CCM now that’s much better.”

  I chuckled, impressed by the casual swearing. Dad had zero tolerance for bad language, and even Sarah rarely dared cross that line, so Courtney was playing a dangerous game by swearing in our house. Seeing as it was just him and me, though, I supposed it was okay. “Yeah, I um, shitting hate splinters.”

  Courtney grinned. “How was the Big Mac, dude?”

  I blushed. This older lad had indirectly bought me dinner, which was weird. I didn’t know why, but it was.

  “Yeah, good, thanks. I was starving.”

  Courtney tapped me on the shoulder. “No probs, little man. Your sister sent me down to grab some CDs. You know where they are?”

  I nodded. Sarah scattered her CDs all over the place, alternating between her Walkman, the big stereo in the lounge, and the small one in her bedroom. I didn’t mind most of what she played, but when Mum and Dad were out, she pushed her luck with the volume. “I’ll show you where they are,” I told Courtney, “but can you tell her to keep it down? I’m trying to watch telly.”

  “Sure thing, dude. I’ll make sure it’s not too loud.”

  I smiled, unused to being listened to when it came to Sarah. “Most of her CDs are in the lounge, I think.”

  Courtney followed me while I led him to a pile of CDs on the coffee table. He tried to pick them up with one hand, failed, and then carried them in both. He thanked me, then said, “So, what you watching?”

  “Huh? Oh, um, just, you know… wrestling.”

  “Sweet.”

  “Really? Sarah says it’s all stupid and fake.”

  “You can’t fake being dropped on your head by a seven-foot monster in a mask, can you? I reckon it’s all real.”

  I beamed. Part of me knew wrestling was all a big set-up, but it was fun to pretend. “Okay, well, I’ll catch you later, um, dude.”

  Courtney gave me a wink and headed back upstairs. I went into the kitchen with my plate, shoving the chicken sandwiches and the Big Mac carton into our dent-covered pedal bin. The stench was terrible, and I wondered how I hadn’t noticed before.

  Curious, I decided to check out the rest of the slices in the fridge – the fizzy apple juice also warranted closer inspection. Maybe if we returned the items to the supermarket we could get a refund. Money was too tight to waste on spoiled food and drink, right?

  The door on our fridge always stuck, which meant you had to plant your feet nice and firmly on the lino before giving it a hefty yank. I did this now, but the door was stuck even tighter than usual. It took several yanks, and the gritting of my teeth, to finally pull it open.

  The stench slapped me in the face and I immediately started gagging. Flies erupted from the fridge in a buzzing black cloud. I yowled in disgust, but at the same time my sister began blasting Backstreet Boys at full volume and drowned me out.

  Thanks for nothing, Courtney.

  I stared into the fridge and saw rotten food on the top three shelves. The eggs in the side door had turned black and green. The chicken slices were covered in fuzz. Vomit erupted in my throat and I had to turn, spattering the linoleum with chunks of Big Mac. My vision tilted and I stumbled out of the kitchen, back into the hallway. I had to place my hand to my mouth as more vomit spilled out. With tears in my eyes and my stomach in knots, I scrambled to the stairs on my hands and knees. I tried to call out, but my throat was clogged.

  What was wrong with me?

  I made it onto the landing. Sarah’s room was on my right, just past the bathroom, and I clambered towards it, fighting the urge to vomit again. Once my stomach was marginally under control, I then did something unthinkable – I barged into my sister’s room without knocking.

  What I saw next is vaguely imprinted on my mind even now, years later, but at the time it had been a disorientating blur. Sarah and Courtney were lying on her bed. Courtney was topless and Sarah was in her bra and a pair of silk shorts. Her brown hair was a tousled mess. I think my mind shut out most of the other details, but I do remember that green glass necklace sitting against her bare chest. I also remember how furious she was with me – and how much I didn’t care.

  “Martin, you little brat! Get out of my room.”

  Courtney leapt up and pointed a finger at me. “Not cool, dude. I thought you were all right.”

  I ignored their outrage. “Th-The fridge. You have to come see the fridge.”

  Sarah started putting on her T-shirt. Once it was over her head, she glared at me. “What are you talking about, you idiot?”

  “Just… please, come.”

  Courtney wasn’t as friendly as he’d been downstairs, and I didn’t like the way he scowled at me, so I backed up towards the door, keeping my eyes on Sarah. Maybe she sensed the horror on my face, or perhaps it was curiosity, but she sighed and shook her head. “Fine, I’ll come look. Stay here, Courtney.”

  Courtney looked put out, but my sister whispered something to him that made him calm down. He sat on the bed and told us to hurry.

  Sarah followed me downstairs, huffing irritably the entire time. I remained silent. The only way to explain what had rattled me so much was to show her. Our fridge was a disease pit when only an hour ago it had been normal. As a ten-year-old kid, I didn’t understand how that was possible, but Sarah was nearly an adult. She’d know what to do, right?

  We had to clean the fridge.

  We couldn’t just leave it.

  Stepping into the kitchen, Sarah spoke up. “What do you want to show me? It best not be anything gross.”

  “Just open the fridge, but hold your breath first.”

  She frowned, and I wondered if she anticipated some kind of trick, like I had when she’d given me the Big Mac. This was no joke though, and I was glad when she gripped the fridge handle and yanked. I turned my head and shielded my nose. Held my breath.

  “What is this, Martin? What the hell?”

  “You see? Do you see it?”

  “See what?”

  Huh? I turned my head to look inside the fridge and once again the stench hit me. More flies escaped and buzzed around the kitchen. “C-Can’t you smell that? Can’t you see that?”

  Sarah turned and glared at me as if she’d never met anyone so stupid. But she was the stupid one. Didn’t she recognise rotting food when she saw it?

  I pointed a finger at the fuzzy chicken. “It’s gone off. It’s disgusting.”

  “What are you talking about, idiot?” She reached inside and grabbed the packet of chicken slices. I grimaced at the mere fact she could touch it, but when she peeled back the plastic – unleashing an extra putrid odour – I had to cover my mouth to keep from throwing up again. My burning throat could take no more abuse, but Sarah sickened me further by pulling out a slice and sniffing it.

  “Sarah, it’s rotten. Put it down!”

  She rolled her eyes and did the most horrifying thing I could imagine. She fingered the slice of slimy chicken into her mouth and chewed.

  That was too much. I rushed over to the sink and heaved my guts up, but my stomach was empty. All I could do was retch and moan.

  “What the hell is wrong with you?” Sarah demanded. “Do I need to fetch Mum?”

  I wiped drool from my mouth with the back of my hand and groaned into the sink. “Sarah, why are you messing with me? Just tell me you see the mouldy food.”

  “I d
on’t see anything. The chicken tasted fine.”

  I pushed against the counter and turned myself around. Sarah continued glaring at me like I was an idiot, which caused anger to take hold as I decided this was beyond cruel. “You’re a liar, Sarah. It must have tasted like… like… oh no!”

  Sarah shrugged. “Like what? Why are you looking at me like that?”

  “Your nose is bleeding again.”

  Sarah put the back of her hand against her nose and once again saw blood pouring down her wrist. She didn’t panic this time, however, having dealt with the same situation less than a week ago. It was becoming a regular occurrence.

  Was she ill?

  “Move aside,” she said, barging her way to the sink. I was about to protest, but then my eyes caught sight of something that shocked me – something that made me wonder if I was going crazy. The fridge was clean. The food inside was normal. The flies had gone. “I-I don’t believe it.”

  I bent over and vomited over the floor. My stomach hadn’t been empty after all.

  5

  Despite her bleeding nose, Sarah had enough pity to help me. She grabbed a tea towel from the cupboard and placed it against her face to catch the blood, then placed her other hand on my back while I retched, rubbing firmly but gently. Sweat dripped from my every pore, summoning a chill as it soaked my clothing.

  “You’re burning up, Martin. I need to get Mum.”

  “N-No, don’t leave me. Please.”

  “Then let’s at least get you in bed.”

  I agreed and let her guide me out of the kitchen. Her nose was still bleeding, which caused her to bump into the walls, half-blind, but she didn’t take her hand off my back the whole time. We reached the stairs, and once again I clambered up them on my hands and knees. This time I moved like a snail and Sarah had to keep pushing me.

  We encountered Courtney on the landing. He had put his T-shirt back on and no longer seemed aggravated. In fact, he looked freaked out at the state of us – my sister bleeding behind a tea towel and me covered in bile and chunks of Big Mac.

  Sarah growled. “Move out the way, Courtney. Martin’s ill.”

  “What’s wrong with him?”

  I groaned. “I’m sick.”

  “No shit.” Courtney rushed to my bedroom door and held the door open for us like a doctor awaiting a patient. “Take deep breaths, little man. You’ll be all right.”

  “I’m not a little man.”

  “Okay, fine. Take deep breaths, big man.”

  I didn’t know if he was trying to be funny or not, so I ignored him. Leaning against the wall, I dragged myself through the doorway and into my room. It felt like free falling as I flopped towards the bed, and my legs almost collapsed before I made it there. It was a relief when I crashed down on the mattress.

  Sarah leant over my bed, her necklace catching the light and shining in my face. It hurt my eyes and made me groan. “We need to strip you off,” she said. “You’re too hot.”

  I looked across at Courtney, concerned about him being there while my sister tore off my clothes, but he’d turned to face the wall. Once more, I liked him. I knew I had ruined his night, but he wasn’t holding it against me. He was trying to help.

  My stomach began to settle, but my head throbbed. Once my clothes were off, my body cooled, but not by enough. I rubbed my legs against the frigid sheet, trying to cast off more heat.

  “He was fine ten minutes ago,” said Courtney. “And what’s with your nose?”

  “I don’t know,” said Sarah. “It just started suddenly, like it did last weekend.”

  “You had a nosebleed last weekend too?”

  “Yeah. Martin was sick like this too.”

  “Weird.”

  “Yeah.”

  My head pulsed with agony and my sister’s glittering necklace still hurt my eyes. “The light. Turn off the light.”

  Courtney stood closest, so he reached over and hit the switch. My TV was still on, but its muted glow was bearable. In the darkness, it made my room flash and strobe, which added to my nausea. Sarah started touching my forehead. I batted her away. “Stop. Stop touching me.”

  “Here, drink this.” A glass touched my lips and instinctively I took a sip. My mouth filled with sweetness – fizzy apple.

  “It tastes right. It tastes right.”

  “What are you talking about, Martin?”

  I shoved my sister away and sat up in my bed. My vision blurred, but I managed to look at her. “Sarah, I swear to you, everything in the fridge was rotten. I swear.”

  “Martin, you’re ill. I think you have a fever.”

  I couldn’t hold myself up, so I flopped back onto my pillow. Courtney appeared, holding something out to Sarah – a cold, wet flannel that she placed on my forehead. After the initial shock, it was amazing. My panicking gradually stopped. I lay still.

  Then the house shuddered.

  The front door slammed.

  I heard the clink of Mum throwing her keys down on the hallway’s sideboard.

  Thank God. I need you, Mum.

  I tried to speak, but Sarah shushed me. “I’ll go get her,” she said.

  While Sarah hurried downstairs, Courtney sat on my bed. “You’ll be okay, dude. Just a tummy bug.”

  “I’m sorry.”

  He frowned. “What for?”

  “Messing up your night.”

  He punched me gently on the leg. “Don’t worry about it. What was the deal with the fridge though? What happened in the kitchen?”

  I managed to sit up again. “I made a sandwich and it was… it was rotten. I checked the fridge and there were flies and maggots and…” I could see he wasn’t believing me. His eyebrows rose and he looked amused. “Never mind.”

  “Just hallucinations and shit, ain’t it? I remember when I got tonsillitis about your age. Thought the Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles were tryin’ to eat me.”

  I laughed, and covered my mouth when I accidentally spat in Courtney’s direction.

  “Hey, don’t infect me with your AIDS, dude.”

  “Sorry.”

  “You apologise too much.”

  Mum came barging into my room and headed for my bed. She looked worried, but also bleary-eyed. “Honey, what’s wrong?”

  “Little man was sick,” said Courtney.

  Mum looked at him and exhaled. “Thank you, Courtney, but it’s late. I assumed you would’ve already gone home by now.”

  “Oh, um, yeah, I was on my way out but then Martin got sick so I stayed to help. I’ll go now, Mrs Gable. Sorry.” Courtney had pale skin, but his cheeks turned a shade of red now. The way Mum had just spoken to him was mean considering he’d been looking after me.

  I had to speak in Courtney’s defence. I usually hated Sarah’s boyfriends – Dillon had punched me in the back – but I liked this one. “I wanted him to stay, Mum.”

  Courtney gave me a small nod that I thought meant thank you. Mum softened a little. “Okay, well, thank you for helping, Courtney, but I don’t want you getting in trouble. Sarah will see you tomorrow, okay?”

  Courtney gave a small bow. “Happy to help, Mrs Gable. Hope you feel better, Martin.”

  I waved a hand and let it flop onto the bed. I felt a brief throb that reminded me of my splinter. Courtney headed out of my room and I heard him go downstairs. Minutes later, the front door slammed again.

  “Let’s turn off that racket,” said Mum, turning the knob on my TV. From the looks of it, Triple H and Shawn Michaels had been about to close the show, letting loose with a bunch of groin chops. Where had the time gone? My Aston Villa clock said it was approaching ten o’clock.

  Mum put her hand against my forehead. Her lips were bright red as she gave me a thin smile. “You’re still hot. Let me get you some paracetamol.”

  I pulled a face because I hated having to swallow pills. I would always gag and choke, certain I had something stuck in my throat for hours afterwards. When I was three, I apparently choked on a sausage and nearly died.
Although I didn’t remember it, it must have disturbed me enough for me to still have a problem with swallowing. And sausages.

  Mum shuffled out of my room, leaving me with Sarah. Her nose had finally stopped bleeding, but dry gore now caked her face. She looked like my Karazy Klown’s girlfriend. “Mum’s had a skinful,” she said quietly, and she didn’t seem happy.

  I shrugged. Mum got tipsy with Diane once or twice a week, and sometimes more, but I didn’t see why it bothered Sarah so much. I changed the subject. “Your nose has stopped bleeding.”

  “Yeah. Hopefully Courtney can get the image of me covered in blood out of his mind or he’ll probably dump me.”

  “He won’t. He seems nice.”

  Sarah smiled but then frowned. It clearly dawned on her that we were being friendly instead of arguing, and as I was no longer ill her obligation to be nice had ended. “Yeah, well, thanks for screwing things up tonight. He must think we’re a right bunch of weirdos.”

  Mum returned and Sarah used it as an excuse to leave. I propped myself up against the headboard and took the pills Mum offered on her palm. “Drink this,” she said, handing me a glass of milk. “Might settle your tummy.”

  I took the glass and moved to pop the pills into my mouth – but I paused.

  Mum put her hand against my forehead again. “What is it, honey?”

  “I don’t feel ill any more. My stomach is… okay.”

  “Well, these things sometimes come in waves.”

  “Yeah, like at the car boot. It came and went just as suddenly then. Mum, what’s wrong with me?”

  Mum blinked sleepily. She looked old again, which meant she was worried. “It’s just a tummy bug, honey. Take the pills and try to get some sleep, okay?”

  I didn’t feel like sleeping. In fact, I was upset I’d lost the evening to sickness. The wrestling had finished, and it was too late to do anything else. “Can I stay up for half an hour, Mum? I’m wide awake.”

  Mum smiled. It was always easier to get my way when she’d had a drink. “Tomorrow’s Saturday, so you can watch TV for a while longer. Nothing scary though, okay?”