right one.
As Maggie stood up from the sink she let out a gasp. In the mirror, staring blankly at her was Tommy.
‘Tommy … Jesus. You gave me a fright.’
‘Did I, Maggie? I thought you were the brave one.’
Maggie looked at Tommy. He looked pale and she could see sweat dripping down his forehead. He was clenching and unclenching his fist. Maggie took a step towards him but he stepped back quickly.
‘Tommy, why don’t you come downstairs, babe? Mum’s making the tea.’
Tommy sat at the kitchen table with his mother and Maggie. It was the first time he’d seen her properly since she came out. It was nice to see her but he didn’t know how to tell her that. He’d wanted to say it when they’d been upstairs in the bathroom, but instead he’d just stared at her.
He watched as his sister laughed, a dimple on her right cheek forming as she did so, her big blue eyes lighting up. All he wanted to do was hold her but all he could do was sit and stare. He could see he was making her feel uncomfortable.
‘You alright, Tommy?’
Maggie stretched out her hand and touched his arm. It was like an electric shock and she was clearly hurt as he pulled his hand away.
‘I’m fine, why shouldn’t I be?’
‘I dunno; you just don’t seem yourself, babe.’
Tommy gave Maggie a tight smile. She was trying to make things better, she’d always done that even as a kid. Fussing around him, desperate to make sure everything was alright, desperate to make him feel loved and safe when nothing ever did and nothing ever could be.
He watched his mother and Maggie gassing away, seeing their mouths moving but not hearing anything they said. Things were getting difficult; muddled. He wanted to stop it but it was like the train had started rolling and he didn’t know how to get off it.
The voice in his head was becoming deafening, the sounds getting louder until he wasn’t able to think straight. The nightmares had come back and he’d started waking up with his body sweating and his mouth parched dry.
Last night he’d found himself walking through Soho in the early hours, stumbling around as if he was drunk. He’d visited the sauna on Brewer Street where he’d had a massage and then the full works. He’d thought it would’ve made a difference, releasing some of the energy which was whirling around his body but it’d only added to the feeling. He’d been like a wild dog; he’d fucked the Tom so hard she’d cried out for him to stop and that’d only made things worse. He’d apologised profusely but all he saw was the fear in her eyes as she looked straight at him. A look he’d seen many times before. All he’d been able to do was run; but he knew already there was no running from himself as the memories came back.
He could smell the blood. Her blood. And Tommy closed his eyes for a moment. He was tired. It’d been a long night. Even though it was cold, he could feel the sweat on him. He could see it on her naked body. The room lay silent now. She’d given up screaming. She could see it was pointless. He wasn’t going to let her go. It was only going to make things worse.
‘Tommy? Tommy?’
His mother was speaking to him with a worried look on her face. He snapped at her, jarred by being brought back to the present.
‘Fuck me, where’s the bleeding fire.’
‘Ain’t no fire son, only my words falling on deaf flipping ears. Where’ve you been? Next time take me with you.’
‘Believe me, Mum; you don’t want to go where I’ve been.’
His mother grinned at him and got back up to make another brew. He turned to Maggie who was sitting back in her chair and quietly watching him. They held each other’s stare for a moment. Then Maggie spoke quietly and quickly before their mother came back to sit down.
‘Tommy, whatever it is; I’m here. It doesn’t matter what time of the day or night it is: if you need to talk, I’ll listen.’
Tommy stood up and moved around to his mother, placing a kiss on the top of her head.
‘I’m off out. Dad wants me to do some bag money with him.’
‘Be careful Tom, give me a call on my mobile. Let me know you’re alright.’
He smiled at his mother, then looked over at his sister and nodded before turning away with a leaden feeling in his heart.
Gypsy Taylor stood in the hallway and cursed Frankie under her breath for not getting the maintenance guy to fix the squeaking sound on the front door. It was ridiculous, she’d twice tried to open the door to sneak out, and twice the creaking sound had echoed around the hall as if she’d set off a box of Chinese firecrackers.
What was she doing? She hadn’t acted like this since she was a teenager, hiding before sneaking out of the house, but she had somewhere to go that she couldn’t cancel. She’d an evening appointment. They hadn’t had anything else for over a month, so she’d taken it.
She was in two minds whether or not just to go and tell Frankie she needed to go out for an hour. The problem was she knew he’d want to know where she was going; hell, he might even want to drive her there himself. She couldn’t tell him and she certainly couldn’t have him taking her there.
There’d been enough rowing since Lorna had arrived and as much as Gypsy had a gob on her to rival the firing of the cannons in the Battle of Trafalgar, she hated having cross words with Frankie.
She loved her husband but she wished he could see what a stirring old cow his sister was. More than that, she wished he could see she also needed her freedom.
There wasn’t any part of her inclined to run off with the nearest fella; Frankie satisfied her in every way possible. She just needed to feel she owed her life a bit more and she wasn’t just an extension of all his business empire. There’d never been anyone else, well not really. Not anyone who counted.
The clock in the kitchen chimed out. It was eight o’clock. If she stood there any longer she’d miss her appointment and be back late.
Gypsy knew nine thirty was her safety net to be back by. Frankie was as regular as her old Nan’s bowels when it came to watching the poker championships on Sky which had already started. Nothing could budge him once he’d tuned in. He’d often joke about it telling her, ‘If there’s a fire babe, leave me till last, just let me finish watching the game.’
The poker finished at ten fifteen so it gave her plenty of room. She was only popping close to home so there was no panic about having to catch a bus or tube back. It was close enough to walk to and close enough for her hopefully not to be missed.
Bracing herself, Gypsy opened the door, trying to ignore the loud creak. She quickly looked around, making sure nobody had been disturbed within the house and once she saw the coast was clear, she hurried into the street.
After
