‘I should stay under the radar.’
‘It’s better that way.’
I drain the spaghetti in a colander, ready to serve, and move to the bottom of the stairs, looking up between the spindles.
‘Evie! Dinner.’
49
Evie
Morning. Still dark outside. The radiators are ticking and clanking. The house feels different today than yesterday. Elias is the reason. He was up late last night, watching TV in the sitting room, flicking through the channels, laughing at ancient TV shows like Seinfeld and The Vicar of Dibley. And now I can hear him snoring in Mitch’s old room – the one he used for two nights before being sent back to prison.
Cyrus is up already. I hear him in the shower and then on the stairs. I pull on my hoodie and Ugg boots and join him in the kitchen. He looks tired and there is the shadow of a beard on his cheeks. A coat with wide shoulders is hanging over the back of his chair.
‘Where are you going?’
‘Radford Road police station.’
‘I don’t want to be home alone with Elias.’
‘He won’t hurt you, Evie.’
‘Yeah, well, I read about that guy who they released from a psych hospital and within two months he’d killed and eaten three people.’
‘Is that according to Google?’
‘Yes, but it’s true.’
He changes the subject. ‘Do you want sourdough toast?’
I hold up two fingers, meaning slices. ‘Have you seen the sitting room? It’s full of crisp packets and soft drink cans and old Playboys that he must have found in the attic. You said he wasn’t allowed up there. You promised.’
‘I’ll have a word.’
‘I’m not cleaning up after him.’
‘You don’t have to.’
‘What am I supposed to do?’
‘Walk Poppy. Study. Look for another job.’ He pauses and says, ‘You could do me one favour. Elias needs to pick up his meds from a pharmacy.’
‘I thought he wasn’t supposed to leave the house.’
‘He can go with you. I have to let Rampton know.’
Clearly, this is a part of me ‘pulling my weight’。 Maybe he’s also testing Elias. We’re like guinea pigs in some psychological experiment, or weird reality TV show. Put the psycho and the freak girl together and see who blinks first – only I don’t think Elias would blink. He’s like a snake. Cold-blooded and lidless.
‘I’m busy today,’ I say, not meeting his gaze.
‘Doing what?’
‘All of the aforementioned tasks.’
‘Your vocabulary is improving.’
‘Fuck off!’
Cyrus laughs. ‘Do this for me.’
His eyes are kind and warm and lingering and I just want to hug him, which is weird because I don’t usually like touching people and I’m frightened that my skinny body and the pimple on my forehead will repel him.
The toaster pops up. He shrugs on his coat. I catch him at the door and hold out my hand.
‘I need cash for petrol.’
‘What about your money?’
‘I bought a car and lost my job; and I’m doing you a favour.’
He puts a twenty-quid note on my outstretched palm. I motion with my fingers, and he adds another twenty.
‘When will you be home?’ I ask.
‘Early as I can be.’
‘If I get murdered in my bed, I’m going to come back and haunt you.’
‘You haunt me now.’
After he’s gone, I take Poppy outside so she can do her morning business and scare away the squirrels. Elias doesn’t appear downstairs until almost midday, smelling like he’s drowned himself in cologne. He’s wearing the same baggy corduroy trousers, but a different shirt.
‘Why do you dress like a boy?’ he asks.
‘Why do you smell like a pimp?’ I reply.
Elias cups his hands over his mouth and sniffs his breath. What a moron!
He sits at the table and asks if we have any bacon and eggs. I tell him we have eggs.
‘I’d like two poached.’
‘This isn’t a hotel,’ I say. ‘Get your own breakfast.’
Elias cocks his head to one side like Poppy does occasionally when she doesn’t understand a command.
‘And clean up the sitting room. It’s a pigsty.’
‘Don’t you have a cleaner?’
‘Yeah, she comes in with the butler and the chauffeur.’
He recognises my sarcasm and gets a box of cereal from the cupboard. When he sits down his cuffs ride up, revealing his ankle monitor locked around his pale shin. Self-consciously, he hides it from me.
‘I used to wear one of those,’ I say. ‘I was always escaping from the children’s home.’
‘Why?’
‘I didn’t like living there.’
‘What happened to your parents?’
‘What happened to yours?’
Boom! His face creases and I want to take the question back. Cyrus would call it a cheap shot, but I don’t know what makes a comeback cheap or expensive or just plain nasty.
‘I’m supposed to take you to a pharmacy,’ I say, changing the subject. ‘Are you ready to go?’
Elias takes a prescription from his pocket. ‘I have an address.’
The Queens Medical Centre isn’t far, but I take Poppy with me for added protection. She surrenders her usual front seat for Elias, who squeezes into Mouse, pressing his knees against the dashboard. Despite the cold, he lowers the window and holds out his hand, fingers wide, feeling the air push against his palm as we head along Derby Road, past Wollaton Park. Elias points out landmarks as though I’m new to the area, talking about places that served the best pizzas and fish and chips.
‘I used to drive,’ he says. ‘Got my licence first time. Perfect score on my test.’
‘Modest, aren’t you?’
My sarcasm bounces off him.
‘I was saving to buy a car. Had my eye on a Subaru Impreza. Nought to sixty in six seconds. What does this do?’
‘No idea.’
‘You must get good mileage.’
‘If you say so.’
I take the exit onto Clifton Boulevard and immediately turn left, following signs to the hospital. As we pass a cluster of parked ambulances we give way to a police car. Elias goes quiet at the sight of it.
We reach the visitor parking area. I point to the sign that says Main Entrance. Elias doesn’t move.
‘You have to come with me,’ he says. ‘I’m not allowed to be on my own.’
‘Are you going to run away?’
‘No.’
‘Well, I’ll wait here.’
He has beads of sweat on his top lip. He licks them away.
‘I don’t need the medications today. I can come back another time.’
‘Show me the prescription.’
He hands it to me. I crack my window and leave Poppy on the back seat. Elias catches up when I’m halfway across the parking lot. The automatic doors slide open and we follow the overhead signs to the pharmacy, which is on Floor B.
I walk to the counter, where a pharmacist in a blue medical smock has reading glasses hanging around her neck and a mole on her top lip. I explain that Elias needs a prescription filled. She glances at the form and back at Elias. I wonder if she can tell by looking at the prescription what’s wrong with him.