He grunts and starts scrolling through his messages.
“Liam . . .” I say under my breath. Cal looks up immediately.
“Yeah, Dad—no screens at mealtimes. It’s the law.”
Liam slams his phone down and pinches a piece of Cal’s toast.
“Who made you the sheriff of this house, anyway?” He pulls one of Cal’s ears. “Where’s your badge?”
“Get off! What’re we doing today, Dad? I’m bored.”
“Bored? It’s only eight o’clock. Go and get dressed. We’re going over to Brighton.”
“Yay! Can we go on the arcades?”
“No—I’m not made of money. I’ve got to see someone.”
Cal sighs heavily and puts his head on his arms.
“Who?” I say, trying to keep my voice even.
“Oh, no one you know. It’s a favor for Dave. He’s paying for my petrol.”
I give him a look. He knows I hate him going back to Brighton. Back to old times. Old ways. But he pretends not to notice.
Cal is messing about, trying to get his toast back, so I have to leave it at a look. I’ll talk to Liam later.
* * *
—
At the Neptune, Dave is quiet this morning. He sits on one of the barstools while I wash up. I’m about to ask about Liam and this favor when his son comes through from the back.
“Dad . . .”
“What?”
“Any chance of a lift to Portsmouth?” Ade says. “I thought I’d go and see Tracy.”
Dave gives him a death stare.
“You’re supposed to be sorting out the crates in the cellar. We agreed you’d do it and I’d pay you.”
“Oh, yeah . . . I forgot.”
“So no,” Dave says, and turns away.
“Well, can I have an advance—for the bus fare?”
“Are you kidding me?” Dave roars. “No, you bloody can’t.”
“Well, I’m going. I’m already working behind the bar tonight. And you can’t run my life. . . .”
I’m holding my breath, waiting for Dave to go full tonto with him. It happens at least once a week lately. But I knock over my can of spray polish with my elbow and they remember I’m here. Dave gets hold of Ade’s arm and takes him outside.
He’s got his hands full there. I hope Cal doesn’t get like that.
My phone goes off in my pocket and I look but I don’t know the number, so I don’t answer. Bloody scammers are ringing all the time lately. But the caller leaves a message and I listen to Claire, a social worker from the old days, give me the bad news.
“Dee?” Claire says. “I’m so sorry but your brother has died. I know you haven’t been in touch for a long time but I thought you’d want to know.”
“What happened?” I say when I ring back but I don’t really need to ask. My big brother, Phil, had been in a terrible state the last time I’d seen him. Four years ago—at Mum’s funeral.
It’d been Claire who had rung that time too. It had taken her a while to reach me by way of addresses in Brecon and Brighton and it’d been a shock—but only because I’d assumed Mum was already dead. The last time I’d seen her, she’d had a needle in her arm and barely recognized me. She’d looked a hundred.
She’d been so pretty once. And needed to be told. We were always moving to be with her next man—that was why we came to Ebbing. It was the best year of my life. I was five and Phil was thirteen. The social worker put us in a holiday flat with a window that looked over the sea, and me and Phil used to sit on the beach and feed chips to the seagulls. Mum’s bloke that year was nice—he didn’t hit Phil, anyway. I don’t know why she left him but it was on to the next one. Jeff, or was it Jed? Can’t remember now. He didn’t last long enough to commit to memory.
Mum used to try to get us to call each new one “Dad” but even she’d given up trying to insist when we got to “Dad” number four. I remember his name. Tony. A skinny man-child ten years younger than Mum who bought her sexy underwear and heroin and felt up her boobs in front of Phil and me. He didn’t want us. He was too young to want kids around. Closer to Phil’s age than hers.
Phil had it much harder, being the elder, but he never took it out on me. We had different fathers and it must have been a pain having a little sister to look after but he did it anyway. He’d bring home sausage rolls for tea when Mum forgot to buy food and we’d curl up in front of the TV when she and Tony went out. Phil liked violent stuff and scary monsters. Funny when I think of it now. We had enough of those in the house.