Trust (16 page)

        Another awkward silence. `I don’t know how else to put it, Tom. She hate’s me.

        She’s…’ `She’s what?’ `Oh, Jesus, I don’t know what’s going on anymore. I think she must be ill. She was fine when we got home yesterday and she seemed all right this morning when I took her to nursery. It’s only since I picked her up that I’ve noticed it.’ `Noticed what?’ I asked, concerned. `What’s the matter with her?’ `I can’t explain,’ she sighed, her voice rapidly filling with emotion. `I’m probably just being paranoid but I’m really worried. I’ve never seen her like this before. It’s like I’ve bought someone else’s child home with me by mistake.’ `So what’s she doing?’

        Yet another pause. `It must be me you know, Tom. I must have changed. I must have said something because it’s almost as if she can’t stand to be in the same room as me anymore. She came downstairs for a few minutes for her tea but she didn’t say a frigging word. She’s been up in her bedroom ever since.’ `Has it got anything to do with her dad? Do you think he saw her at nursery today?’ `I don’t know. I think he’s working away…’ `Do you think she could be reacting because she didn’t see him yesterday. She might not have said anything but kids do pick up on things…’ `I don’t know,’ she snapped again.

        `It’s got to be that, or something else that happened at nursery perhaps? Maybe another one of the other children said something to her and…’ `So why doesn’t she tell me?’ Clare interrupted. `Why is she taking it out on me like this?’ `Because you’re her mum? Because you’re the only one there. Because you’re the one she sees the most and you’re the only one she’s got to blame?’

        I didn’t like being so blunt with Clare, but she needed to be told. I didn’t think for a second that Penny really did hate her.

        Yesterday the two of them had been inseparable. I felt sure that the little girl was suffering greatly as a result of the break-up of her parent’s marriage. She was too young and innocent to be able to put her feelings and concerns into words. Maybe this was her way of dealing with what had happened? `I’m frightened,’ Clare said, her voice little more than a fragile whisper. `Why? What is there to be frightened of? This is just a phase she’s going through.’ `I’m not sure…’ `Look, she’ll snap out of this as quickly as she managed to snap into it,’ I interrupted. `I’m sure she will.’

        I didn’t have much confidence in what I was saying. I thought it was what Clare needed to hear. `I don’t know,’ she mumbled. At that moment I began to sense that there really could be something wrong with the little girl her mother’s intuition was rarely wrong. `I’ve seen her have bad moods and off-days before, but never anything like this. She’s never been like this before…’ `Why do you say that? What’s different about today?’ `I’ve heard her throwing things around her room. And when I try to go up and see her she slams the door and sits with her back against it so I can’t get in. She tried to shove her bed across to block it but it was too heavy for her.’ `What?’ I said, trying to make sense of what I was being told. `I swear, Tom, she’s not my Penny tonight. I sat outside her room for over an hour before I phoned you. I could hear her crying and talking to herself and…’ `And what?’

        `And I’ve just never seen her like this before. And I’m frightened.’ `People have bad days,’ I said pathetically, trying unsuccessfully to reassure her. `Take Joe Porter for example. I was helping out on the farm today. I’d been there for a couple of hours and the cantankerous old bastard just turned on me.’ `Why?’ `Don’t know. Practically ordered me off his land.’ `So what had you done?’ `Nothing.’ `You must have done something.’ `Not that I know of.’ `So what are you saying? That there’s something in the bloody water?’ `No,’ I snapped, annoyed that she was mocking me, `I’m just trying to say that…’

        I shut up quickly when I realised that I didn’t know what I was trying to say at all. `Can you hear that?’ Clare asked. `I can’t hear anything.’ `Listen…’

        I held my breath and listened carefully with the phone pressed hard against my ear. I could hear something, but I didn’t know what it was. I concentrated as hard as I could but it was difficult to hear anything more than a few muffled bangs and dull and distant crashes. `What is it?’ I wondered. `That’s Penny.’ `What’s she doing?’ `Tearing her room apart. Throwing things at the door. I told you, she’s been like this since we got home. I’ve yelled at her and I’ve begged her to stop but…’ `Why’s she doing it?’

        I knew that was a bloody stupid question to ask. `Don’t know. You tell me. I wish someone would.’

        Clare was crying. `Do you want me to come over?’ I asked pointlessly. `Why? What are you going to be able to do?’ `You need someone with you. What about your mum?’

        `She’s not here. She’s staying with my aunt in London.’ `Is there anyone else who could…’ `Who could what? What’s anyone else going to be able to do?’ `Have you thought about calling the doctor out? He might be able to give her something to…’ `She doesn’t need drugs,’ she said abruptly. `Look, just do me a favour and think about it will you?’ I pleaded. `It might help her to…’ `No!’ `Maybe she just needs sleep then. Let her get this out of her system and I bet she’ll be fine in the morning.’ `Do you really think so?’

        If I was completely honest I didn’t, but that wasn’t what I told Clare. `Of course I do,’ I lied through gritted teeth.

        I heard another loud crash from the other end of the phone line. Clare sniffed back more tears. `I’ve got to go,’ she sobbed. `Do you want me to come over?’ I asked again. `No, it’s okay. If I need you I’ll call.’

        Another crash. I heard Clare call out to Penny before she put the phone down.

23

        In stark contrast to the previous morning, the next day I hid myself away in bed for as long as I could. I lay on my back with my head buried under the covers, almost too afraid to look out.

        What the hell was happening to my world? It seemed to be falling apart at the seams and I had no idea why. I began to think that I must have been the cause of all the grief. I was, after all, the common denominator. In less than forty-eight hours my girlfriend had accused me of having an affair, an old family friend had turned against me for no reason and, now, my best friend’s little girl seemed to be beginning to self-destruct.

        Normally I would have confided in Rob and asked him his opinion. Nowadays, however, everything I told him seemed to be freely shared with his alien friend. I much preferred to keep my mounting problems to myself.

        Yet again I had spent a sleepless night staring at the walls and ceiling of my bedroom for what had felt like an eternity. The bed had seemed huge, cold and empty without Siobhan. In the darkness I managed to convince myself that it really was me who was to blame. It had to be. The sudden change in the behaviour of many other people around me was inexplicable. The idea that I was losing my mind seemed much more probable than the bizarre alternative that Siobhan, Penny and Joe Porter had somehow all lost their collective grip on reality.

        Just after seven I had heard the front door slam shut. That had been Rob leaving. I was seeing less and less of him each day, not that that was a problem. But he always seemed to have that fucking alien in tow. There were only three hundred and sixtyodd aliens as oppose to Christ knows how many millions of humans in the country. So why did that one in particular want to spend all his time with my brother?

        Eight o’clock slowly passed, as did nine and then ten. I watched the figures on my alarm clock as they marched on mercilessly towards eleven. Minutes before the hour I finally forced myself to get up, more because I desperately needed to go to the toilet than for any other reason. As soon as I was up I felt dangerously vulnerable, tiptoeing through the house in my underwear, bracing myself against the bitter autumn cold. The central heating had long since gone off. Had I got up earlier I would have been warm, but that was the price I paid for my laziness. The thought of going back to bed again was dangerously tempting. There was nothing stopping me spending a day hiding behind the soft armour plating of my duvet and sheets.

        The kitchen cupboards were bare. I didn’t even have enough milk for a cup of tea and I quickly reached the inevitable conclusion that I was going to have to go down to the shops. The thought filled me with dread. The last thing I wanted to do was speak to people. The prospect of traipsing along the cold, wet and miserable streets of Thatcham was far from appealing.

        Dejected, I showered and dressed.

        Outside was as grey and unpleasant as I had expected. I stepped out into the bitter late morning air, locked the door behind me and then turned round to face the world. My breath condensed around my face in cool, billowing clouds and I shoved my hands deep into my jacket pockets in a vain attempt to keep warm. The streets below looked fairly quiet. The entire scene looked lifeless and drained of colour almost monochrome. The once lush green hillside upon which my house stood was now covered in spiky, brittle-branched trees. Their spiteful, spindly wooden bodies seemed to climb, twist and claw their way up into the ominously overcast sky as if they were trying to escape.

        I met Tony Wilson halfway down the cobbled footpath which ran past the front of my house and down into the centre of Thatcham. Tony was a member of the local coast guard. He was walking towards me, coming back up the hill and away from the village. He had made eye-contact at a hundred yards. Although I wanted to keep myself to myself at all costs, I knew that I had no option but to acknowledge him.

        `Morning, Tony,’ I said when he was only a short distance away.

        Tony said nothing.

        Perhaps he hadn’t heard me. I tried again. `Morning,’ I said again, this time a little louder.

        Wilson lowered his head and quickened his pace. The footpath was narrow and he barged past me, pushing me to one side. I turned and watched him disappear around the corner. `Ignorant bastard,’ I hissed under my breath as I began to trudge towards the centre of the village.

        Ken Trentham, the old drunk who I often ignored in The Badger’s Sett, was standing perfectly still at the side of the main road. He was leaning heavily against a lamppost with his head resting against the metal and his arms hanging down at his sides.

        His yappy little dog was sat at his feet, barking incessantly. True to form, Ken, I thought. Pissed again.

        The main shopping area of Thatcham was in reality little more than a glorified high street lined with a motley collection of small gift shops, offices, banks, charity shops and a single medium-sized supermarket. I hoped that I would be able to get everything I needed from that one shop. For the sake of my sanity and my temper I needed to get in and get out as quickly as possible.

        I walked inside through the clattering automatic doors and picked up a battered wire basket for my shopping. `Morning, Tom,’ a familiar voice suddenly said from behind, startling me for a second. I turned and saw that it was Ray Mercer, the landlord of The Badger’s Sett. `Morning, Ray,’ I replied. `How you doing?’

        I suddenly felt a little more positive. I had finally found someone who was actually willing to speak to me and who was still civil, friendly and rational. `I’m okay,’ Ray sighed sadly. `Not too bad considering.’ `Considering what?’ I asked instinctively.

        He shook his head and shrugged his shoulders. `Nothing,’ he mumbled. `You know what they’re like.’ `Who?’ `Women,’ he whispered secretively.

        `Tell me about it,’ I agreed, understanding more than he knew. `I just don’t know what’s going on from one day to the next,’ he continued. `She was all right yesterday. Don’t know what I’ve done to upset her today…’ `Who?

        Brenda?’

        He nodded. `Married for thirty-two years and hardly ever a cross word.

        This morning she can’t even bring herself to talk to me.’ `What happened?’ `I left the kitchen window open.’ `What?’

        He shrugged his shoulders again. `That’s the only reason I can think of. Stupid, isn’t it?’ `What’s she said then?’ `Not a lot. She’s screamed at me quite a bit like a bloody banshee she was but she hasn’t actually said a fat lot that I’ve been able to understand. Bloody hell, Tom, you’d have thought she’d caught me with another woman the way she’s been acting today.’

        Ray’s words immediately struck an uncomfortably familiar chord with me. His rift with Brenda was as unexpected as mine with Siobhan. The pair of them had been inseparable in the time that I’d known them both. Their warmth and friendliness was the main reason why their pub was always the busiest pub in the village. Okay, so Brenda liked a drink (rumour had it she drank gin with her breakfast) but she lived in a pub it was part of the job. I could tell from the empty sadness and confusion on Ray’s face that what he’d seen this morning had absolutely nothing to do with alcohol. `I know just how you feel, mate,’ I quietly admitted, allowing myself to speak without thinking. `Do you?’ he said, obviously not believing me.

        I couldn’t avoid telling him about my problems with Siobhan.

        I guessed that it might have helped him to know that he wasn’t alone. `Same thing happened with me and Siobhan,’ I said. `Everything’s fine one minute, then she went off on one like your Brenda.’

        `Sorry to hear it,’ he sighed. He was obviously preoccupied with his own problems but still sounded genuinely concerned.