by K. L. Slater
At last, footsteps sounded and a tall middle-aged man with salt-and-pepper hair, a long, thin nose and twinkling eyes appeared from a door at the back.
‘Hello, boss.’ He grinned. ‘Found us a customer already?’
‘This is Alice,’ Finn said as Jim and I shook hands. ‘She lives in Nottingham and is interested in the gallery assistant position.’
‘Ay up, mi duck!’ Jim laughed. ‘That’s what I’m told they say around these parts by way of a greeting.’
I nodded and laughed, warming to him immediately. It sounded as if this place would be welcoming to ordinary local people, not just educated arty types. That was the kind of inclusive atmosphere I wanted to be a part of; bringing art into the wider community.
Mr Visser cleared his throat. ‘So, this would be your place of work, Alice. What are your thoughts on our proposed accommodation?’
‘Astonishing,’ I breathed, looking round again. ‘There’s so much light and space. It would be any artist’s dream to exhibit here.’
They both nodded and exchanged a glance.
‘I think Alice would make a fine gallery assistant, Jim… if she wants the job, of course?’
The two of them looked at me expectantly, and it was all I could do not to burst into tears.
‘Yes please,’ I managed to squeak.
Present day
My hands jump up from the armchair as my phone gives out a shrill tweet to both rouse me from my reminiscing and signify an incoming text. I reach for it, feeling a little raw as I’m ripped away from my happy early memories at the gallery.
OK if Archie stops at yours tonight? Sorry, wouldn’t ask unless urgent. L x
I twist one hand up to rub at my sore shoulder. I can hardly say no, and it’s not worth asking where she’s going at such short notice because I learned long ago that Louise always has a smart answer at the ready.
That’s fine, I text back.
I wonder if she’s given Archie the bad news yet. I’m guessing that my flat is the last place he’d choose to come.
You’re a star! I’ll bring him over about 6.
I lean my head back on the sofa and close my eyes. It’s going to be a long night unless I can formulate some kind of a plan to win my nephew over.
CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO
Louise’s cheeks look very pink and she’s chewing her lip as Archie slips inside past us both.
‘I’m sure that kid winds me up just for the fun of it,’ she says between gritted teeth before blowing out a breath. ‘He tests my patience every day. Thanks for having him, though, you’re a lifesaver.’
‘I think there are lots of kids with worse behaviour,’ I say lightly. ‘He’s a good boy really, when he’s got things to do.’
‘Spend a lot of time with eight-year-olds, do you?’ Louise grins but I sense the steel behind it.
She hands me Archie’s stuff, bids us goodbye and swiftly disappears off down the communal landing.
‘Nice to see you, Archie. Had a good day at school?’
He stands in the hallway looking a bit distracted, as if he’s thinking about something else, but then he registers that I’ve asked a question and grunts by way of reply.
I’ve braced myself for a difficult evening, but before I know it, he’s kicked off his shoes and hung up his school coat without any prompting at all from me.
‘What’s this?’ he says as I follow him into the lounge.
He’s looking at the Scrabble board and bag of tiles I’ve set out on the floor, flanked by two brightly coloured bean bags that I found in the spare bedroom.
‘I’ve been sorting through some old board games, stuff me and your mum used to play years ago. Your gran brought them here from the old house. So many happy memories linked to them, I suppose she couldn’t bear to throw them out.’ I’ve already hidden the TV remote control, and although Louise has brought his Xbox in a bag again, I left it at the door and shuffled him quickly through to the other room. ‘I thought, if you fancied it, we might have a game.’
He looks at me, confused. ‘What, you’ll play with me?’
‘Of course. Board games need at least two players.’
‘Oh wow, thanks, Auntie Alice! At home I have to pretend to be the other player, too.’ He runs over to the game and I feel a pull on my heart. ‘I’ll sit this side, is that OK? Will you be able to get down here with your bad back?’
‘I think I’ll be fine getting down, it’s getting up that’ll be the challenge.’ I’m only half joking, but it’s sweet of him to ask. ‘You might have to leave me in here for the night, Archie.’
‘If you can’t get to your bedroom, I’ll bring my pillow and quilt in here.’ His face remains serious. ‘I wouldn’t just leave you here on your own.’
I grin to mask the rising emotion that threatens to embarrass me and ruin our upbeat mood. ‘Come on then, let’s make a start. I’ll get juice and sliced apple while you prepare for me to give you a Scrabble masterclass!’
He whoops in delight and punches the air.
The next hour flies by. Archie tells me he’s never played Scrabble before, but once I’ve explained the basics, he is a delight and a more than worthy opponent. I’m in awe of his vocabulary and word skills.
‘Z-E-N-I-T-H,’ he spells aloud as he places his tiles on the board. ’Eighteen points and… I win!’
‘You’re a hustler! All this time and I never knew you were a Scrabble master.’ I shake my head in disgust. ‘How does an eight-year-old boy even know a word like that?’
‘I’m nearly nine,’ he corrects me politely. ‘And zenith means the highest point of something. In science, we learned about planets colliding at the zenith because of the magnetic pull.’
‘Like learning about the planets, do you?’
He nods. ‘Mrs Booth, my teacher, says I’m really good at it too.’
‘Very well done, Archie, I’m impressed.’ I clap my hands. ‘OK, you pack the game away and I’ll make us more drinks and snacks, and then we’ll watch a bit of TV together.’
I brace myself for a loud protest swiftly followed by a demand to set up his Xbox, but it doesn’t come.
‘OK, thanks for playing with me, Auntie Alice,’ he says, pulling the Scrabble box towards him.
I place my palms on the floor and clamber with difficulty onto all fours. After a few seconds, I sit back and upright. Easy does it.
‘Hold onto me if you like.’ I look up to see Archie standing next to me with his hands out. ‘It might help you to stand up.’
‘Thanks, Archie.’ I smile weakly, trying not to show how bad the needling pain is. ‘That’s kind of you.’
‘That’s OK, Auntie Alice,’ he says simply. ‘I used to think it was boring coming here, but now I like it.’
‘That’s good news. I like having you here.’
‘Best of all, we can look after each other when we feel bad.’ He smiles as I get to my feet. ‘This is what it must be like to have a friend.’
Once I’ve lost the stiffness, I carry a tray through with our drinks and two small bowls containing crisps and cheese biscuits.
The game has been neatly packed away and the bean bags have been placed against the wall.
‘Good job tidying up, Archie,’ I say, taking the remote control that’s been hidden in the kitchen drawer from the tray and aiming it at the television.
‘I suppose you’re going to watch soaps now,’ he says morosely.
‘Wrong!’ I sing out. ‘I thought this would be far more interesting.’
Archie looks at the TV expectantly as I press a couple of buttons and the screen flickers into life. Whilst in the kitchen, I had a bit of a brainwave and searched catch-up viewing for programmes about planets, finding one I felt Archie was sure to enjoy.
‘Whoa… the 2017 eclipse!’ he gasps when the intro comes on. ‘So cool! Are we actually going to watch this together?’
When he’s not scowling, he looks like a different boy.
‘Yep, we actually are.
I think you’re definitely the expert on this stuff, though,’ I tell him. ‘So you might have to explain bits to me if it gets a bit technical, OK?’
‘Deal!’ He grins. ‘I already know all about this, Auntie Alice. They called it the Great American Eclipse and it was a TOTAL solar eclipse if you happened to be viewing it from a certain part of the USA.’
‘Wow.’
The programme is interesting. I learn a lot about the 2017 eclipse, but I learn even more about my nephew.
Louise has told me on a number of occasions that Archie struggles at school and that he’s currently under assessment for ADHD. But the kid sitting next to me right now is totally focused. He’s bright and hungry for knowledge.
We watch the programme together, and for forty-five minutes, Archie barely moves.
He doesn’t fidget, manhandle the cat or throw anything at the wall.
He doesn’t even touch the crisps or cheese biscuits.
The only time he takes his eyes from the screen is to fill me in on bits he’s learned at school. It’s a wonderful thing to watch him emerge from a combative, angry shell and come alive right in front of me.
Later, he changes into his pyjamas, and when I tuck him up, there are no scowls to be seen. I sit on the edge of his bed as we continue to chat about the programme for a few minutes.
We both feel a bounce at the bottom of his bed and Archie looks startled.
‘You are honoured!’ I say. ‘Magnus has stopped by to say goodnight.’
The cat stalks up the bed and Archie pulls the quilt up under his chin. Even I’m unsure of Magnus’s intentions.
‘You know, I think he must be impressed by your knowledge of the planets.’ I smile, scooping Magnus up as I stand. ‘Cats are really intelligent too, so he’ll appreciate what a boffin you are.’
Archie’s face relaxes into a grin. We say goodnight and I turn off his lamp.
‘I hope I dream nice things… like about the eclipse,’ he says nervously. ‘I hope I don’t have a nightmare.’
‘A nightmare? What about?’
‘I don’t know,’ he says in a small voice. ‘Just bad things… angry shadows.’
‘I’m sure you’ll be fine. There are no angry shadows here, poppet.’ I smile, bending to kiss his forehead. ‘And I’m only next door if you need me. Night, night, Archie.’
‘Night, Auntie Alice. Thanks for doing stuff with me.’
And again I feel that pull on my heart.
CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE
Three hours later, I wake with a start from a deep sleep. The glowing digits on my alarm clock inform me it’s well past midnight.
Buzz, buzz, buzz… The phone is vibrating again on the floor upstairs.
I’ve only met Jenny once, but maybe I should take up her offer and call in for a cup of tea. Somehow, I might find a way to casually mention the phone problem. It must disturb her rest too, unless she’s lucky enough to sleep so deeply it’s not a problem.
But tonight, it’s not just the phone that’s woken me. There’s something else too. A shuffling noise, near the door.
I half sit up in bed and squint into the semi-darkness, my heart hammering, trying to tell me something is wrong.
As my eyes adjust, I see that Archie is in my room, standing at the bottom of the bed. His eyes are wide and he’s shivering.
‘What is it, Archie?’ I whisper, sitting up fully and swinging my legs too quickly over the side of the bed, starting a dull ache in my hips. ‘Are you OK?’
‘I’m really sorry, Auntie Alice,’ he whimpers, hugging himself. ‘I’ve wet the bed.’
* * *
The next morning, I sit quietly at the table, my cup of coffee rapidly turning cold in front of me.
Archie is still sleeping; it’s only 6.30, too early to get him up for school yet.
After sorting him out in the night, I feel like I didn’t sleep at all. In reality, I probably grabbed a couple of hours, but no more than that. I just couldn’t fully relax again, not with the stuff that’s going round and round in my head.
Wetting himself like that, he was bound to be distressed, so there was no surprise there, but the way he acted… distressed was not the word; it was way more than that. He seemed terrified, not because he’d had a night terror but because he was really scared about what my reaction might be.
I realised my first job was to calm him down a little, which I managed to do. I told him it wasn’t a problem and that it was easily sorted.
The thing I remember most clearly about last night was that he kept giving me this distrustful look as I repeatedly assured him I wasn’t annoyed, like he was trying to decide, does she really mean it?
It was very upsetting to see him so afraid of me.
I ran him a shallow bath while he stood and watched silently. He insisted on keeping on his wet pyjamas until the bath was ready, and declined my efforts to help him undress, so I left him to it and went to strip the bed and sponge down the mattress.
It didn’t take long. I gritted my teeth against the banging pain in my legs and shoved the soiled bedding into the washing machine, then moved some ironing from the spare room bed so it was ready for Archie to use.
Then I walked across the hallway to the bathroom and tapped lightly on the door.
‘Archie, you done in there?’
No answer. I heard water splashing as if he was standing up, ready to get out of the bath.
‘I have your towel here.’
I pushed the door gently, just so it would open enough to stick my arm through and hand him a soft towel, warm from the airing cupboard. But the door was locked.
‘Archie? Are you OK in there, love?’
I heard the click of the lock and the door opened a crack. I stepped back, startled as he grabbed the towel.
‘Thanks.’ In his haste, he stumbled and gasped, quickly shutting the door again – but not quickly enough to stop me seeing.
The lock turned on the other side but I couldn’t move. The breath caught in my throat and I steadied myself by leaning on the door frame.
I stood there for a few more seconds, trying to process what I’d just seen.
Five minutes later, dressed in clean underpants and one of my plain T-shirts, Archie climbed into bed in the smallest bedroom. I checked him after fifteen minutes and he was already fast asleep.
As I sit at the table now, stuff is starting to piece together in my head. Things that didn’t mean much to me before take on a far greater significance when placed alongside other pieces of information.
I feel trapped, terrified of doing nothing but afraid that my imagination has gone into illogical overdrive.
Regardless of possibilities, there are some worrying facts and I know deep down that these are what I need to focus on right now.
Archie always seems to be on the edge of his nerves. He’s either kicking off for next to nothing or he’s withdrawn, as if he’s expecting something bad to happen.
I’ve suffered from anxiety long enough myself to know what that looks like from the outside.
I used to think his sudden bursts of anger were just signs of spoiled bad behaviour, but now, after spending more time with him, I can see that the smallest obstacle to an observer is just one thing too much to cope with in Archie’s world.
I run my fingers through my hair and realise it’s been three days since I washed it. I’m a mess, inside and out. It’s fairly easy to sort out my appearance, but there’s a far bigger problem looming now.
Who is hurting Archie and why is he so afraid of me speaking to Louise?
My sister may be many things, but above all she is Archie’s mother and I know she loves him. I think she loves him very much and so none of this makes sense.
Musing over the facts is not going to be enough to clear my conscience. The very least I can do is to ask some considered questions of my sister.
I don’t even know what I’m hoping to achieve, I just know it has to be done. I have no choice, and yet…
The difficulty is going to be not making things worse for Archie.
He’s already terrified of me telling his mother anything at all that happens while he’s here.
And I’ve got a good track record of making entirely the wrong decision and ruining the lives of the people I care about the most.
CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR
The knowledge that you are responsible for ending someone’s life is a terrible, terrible cross to bear.
It’s a weight that remains untouched by the placatory efforts of others who seek to ease your pain.
You weren’t to know what would happen, or You have to learn to forgive yourself.
These are all phrases that sound so logical, so sensible. They’re phrases that are easy to say but that I have found impossible to absorb and believe.
I know this because I’ve tried. I’ve tried so hard.
Words don’t really matter, because the end result must always remain the same. The person is gone. Their life cut short because of you.
I sometimes let myself think about what might have been. That probably hurts the most, like a hot blade slicing through my guts, my organs.
The past will never shift or change, so that just leaves the future.
All I can do from here on in is make sure I don’t harm anyone else again, and the best way to do that is not to make any rash decisions. I must watch myself, keep my mind sharp and balanced.
I didn’t mean to hurt Jack, yet I did.
‘Please, God,’ I whisper. ‘Don’t let me cause harm to anyone else.’
But even as I say the words, I know I can’t shut myself off from other people any longer. I have a duty to make sure Archie is safe.
I just wonder why bad things always seem to happen to other people when I’m around.
CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE
Louise texts to say she’s stuck in traffic and will be late picking Archie up from mine. She usually picks him up directly from school, but today she asked if I could do the school run and bring him back to the flat.
