‘I am not soft, David, I am loving. You might want to try it sometime.’
Sally stayed for a couple of hours. The atmosphere was toxic. Birdie didn’t come down from her room, but I heard her ostentatiously coughing and sighing and pacing. When Sally finally left, Birdie swept down the stairs and threw herself into David’s arms and whispered melodramatically, ‘Are you OK, my darling?’
David nodded stoically. ‘I’m fine.’
And then, looking straight at Phin, he narrowed his eyes and said the words that signalled the beginning of the nightmare real.
He said, ‘Things are going to change around here. You mark my words.’
The first thing that changed was that Phin was locked into his bedroom whenever David or Birdie were unable to monitor him. Somehow the adults colluded to persuade us that this was normal, explicable, sane, even. It’s for his own safety was the mantra.
He was allowed out to shower, to tend the garden, to help in the kitchen, for fiddle lessons, meals and exercise classes.
Since we already spent most of our free time in our rooms, this didn’t at first feel quite as sinister as it looks written down like this. It’s very odd, looking back, how accepting children can be of the oddest scenarios. But still, seeing it now, in black and white, it really is quite shocking.
I was sitting cross-legged on my bed one day shortly after Phin returned with his mother. I was reading a book that he’d lent me a few weeks earlier. I jumped at the sight of him because it was late evening and I’d assumed his door would be locked for the night.
‘How …？’ I began.
‘Justin brought me up after dinner,’ he said. ‘Accidently on purpose forgot to turn the lock properly.’
‘Good old Justin,’ I said. ‘What are you going to do? You won’t run away, will you?’
‘No,’ he said. ‘No point now. My mum’s moving into the flat next week and then I’m going to live with her. All this shit will be over.’
I felt as if he’d punched me in the throat. My voice cracked as I replied, ‘But your dad – will he let you?’
‘I don’t give a fuck whether he lets me or not. I’ll be sixteen in December. I want to live with my mum. There’s not much he can do about it.’
‘And what about Clemency?’
‘She’ll come too.’
‘Do you think your dad and Birdie will move out, too? Once you and Clemency are gone?’
He laughed harshly. ‘Er. No. No way. He’s here now. Feet under the table. Got everything going his way.’
A small silence drew out between us. Then Phin said, ‘Remember that night? When we went up on the roof? When we took the acid?’
I nodded effusively. How could I forget?
‘You know there’s another one. Still up there?’
‘Another …？’
‘Tab. Another tab of acid. The guy at Kensington Market gave me two. We only had one.’
I let this fact percolate within me for a moment.
‘Are you saying …？’
‘I guess. I mean, they all think I’m safely locked up. The girls are asleep. No one will come up now. You could go down and tell everyone you’re going to bed, then bring up a glass of water. I’ll wait here.’
Of course I did precisely as I was told.
We grabbed a blanket and put on jumpers. I went first through the hatch, Phin passed me the water and then followed up behind me. It was July but the air was damp and cool. Phin located the little bag where he’d left it in a plant pot. I didn’t really want to take it. I hoped that it had somehow lost its toxicity during the many months it had sat out there, subject to the elements. I hoped that a sudden gust of wind would blow it away. Or that Phin would put it back and say, ‘We don’t need that. We have each other.’