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television. I dropped out of school at sixteen and got a job as a receptionist in a hair salon. I worked crazy hours to try to make ends meet. On the plus side, I’d never had really close friends at high school but I made some goodfriends at the salon. After reading some vague article about chronic fatigue syndrome, I began to make excuses for my schedule – always having to be at home to look after Cole – by telling people my mum had chronic fatigue syndrome. Since I knew very little about the complicated condition, I pretended to find it too upsetting to really talk about. It felt, however, much less shameful than the truth.
    I looked up from under my lashes, the resentment in my gaze burning through the woman on the bed and not even causing her to flinch. Mum had once been a stunning woman. I got my height, trim figure and colouring from her. But now, with her thinning hair and bad skin, my forty-one-year-old mum looked closer to sixty.
    ‘You’ve got no gin left.’
    Her mouth trembled. ‘Will you go get me some?’
    ‘No.’ I never would and I’d forbidden Cole from getting alcohol for her as well. ‘I have to get ready for work anyway.’ I braced myself.
    Her lip immediately curled up in disgust, her bloodshot green eyes narrowing hatefully. Her accent thickened with her venom. ‘Cannae even get yer mam a fuckin drink! Yer a lazy wee slut! Don’t think I dinnae know what yer up to oot there! Whorin around. Spreadin those fuckin legs fur any man that’ll have you! I raised a whore! A goddamn whore!’
    Used to my mum’s ‘split personality’, I shuffled out of the room, feeling Cole’s fuming anger as I passed the door to the sitting room and wandered into the kitchen for a sweeping brush. Her voice rose, her insults coming quick and fast, and I glanced at Cole as I passed, saw his fist crumplingaround a piece of paper. I shook my head at him to let him know I was okay, and continued on into our mum’s room.
    ‘What are you doin’?’ she stopped her tirade long enough to ask me as I bent to clean up the broken bottle.
    I ignored her.
    ‘You leave that there!’
    ‘You’ll cut yourself if I leave it, Mum.’
    I heard her whimper again and felt the change. I’d been dealing with her long enough to know which side of her I was about to be subjected to. There were only two choices: the pitiful sweetheart or the acerbic bitch. The pitiful sweetheart was about to make an appearance. ‘I’m sorry.’ Her breath hitched and she started to cry quietly. ‘I didn’t mean it. I love ye.’
    ‘I know.’ I stood up. ‘But I can’t get your drink for you, Mum.’
    She sat up, her eyebrows drawn together, her fingers trembling as she reached for her purse on the bedside table. ‘Cole will get it. I’ve got money.’
    ‘Mum, Cole’s too young. They won’t serve him.’ I’d rather she believe that it didn’t have anything to do with him being unwilling to help. I didn’t want him having to deal with her bile while I was out at work.
    Her arm dropped. ‘Will you help me up?’
    This meant she was going out herself. I bit my tongue to stop myself from arguing with her. I needed to keep her sweet if I was going to be gone. ‘Let me get rid of the glass and I’ll be back to help you.’
    When I stepped out of her room, Cole was already waiting by the door. He held out his hands. ‘Give me that.’ He nodded at the glass. ‘You help her.’
    An ache gripped my chest. He was a good kid. ‘When you’re done, take your comic book into your room. Stay out of her way tonight.’
    He nodded, but I saw the tension in his body as he turned away from me. He was getting older and more frustrated with our situation and his inability to do anything about it. I just needed him to get through the next four years. Then he’d be eighteen and legally I could get him out of here and away from her.
    When Joss discovered the truth about my situation, she’d asked me why I didn’t just take Cole and leave.