saw her home and it was beautiful. Her Nick had given them the best there was and she had never really appreciated it until now. Nick drove her mad. He was a flirt, he was a fucker, he was a drinker - but he was a grafter, and he had grafted for her and her kids. For the first time ever she envisioned life without him and the picture in her mind was bleak.
Nicholas Junior left the room and went back to his brother James. The nanny had already gone home. Nick Senior would not let her live in, said if she did it would be too easy to leave the boys, and he had been proved right.
Nicholas Junior knew that as much as his mother loved him and his brother, she would go out at the drop of a hat. Tammy would go to the opening of an envelope as his father always pointed out when they rowed.
Now, though, it wasn’t such a problem. At twelve he felt he was adult enough to take care of his little brother. So his mother left the house without a backward glance these days. Years before, though, when she would leave them with their granny, Dad would go mad and tear out of the house in search of her, his own mother admonishing him as he wheel-spinned off the drive, ranting and raving about his lazy mare of a wife.
Nicholas Junior sighed.
He wished his parents could be happy, reach a compromise of some sort. But he knew that the way they carried on was more from habit these days, and it saddened him sometimes.
He knew they loved one another dearly, but they talked to each other as if they were mortal enemies. It was awful to watch and to listen to; they scored points off each other constantly. You could almost feel the despair coming from his mother sometimes, and the complete and utter bafflement of his father. He gave his wife everything except his time.
His granny had explained to Nicholas Junior her thoughts on the subject, confided in him even. She said she worried that, when married couples started to ridicule one another, they would eventually lose respect for one another. Once gone it was hard to get that respect back apparently. Granny Leary thought his mother and father had spent so long taking the piss out of each other in a good-natured way that they didn’t take each other seriously any more. It made sense to Nicholas Junior. He had watched them, observed them really, deliberately spied on them in fact. There was love there, he knew that, but not the kind of love that married people should feel. They were more like brother and sister.
His granny said that happened in lots of marriages, it was the day to day that killed romance, but one day something would happen to make them realise that all you had in life was your family. Your children, and the years you had shared.
He hoped she was right.
He hoped this tragedy would make them see the error of their ways, appreciate what they had in each other. Because the worst of it all was, they actually thought they were set like a jelly, that they were happy.
It was almost painful to watch them being happy sometimes.
His brother James was asleep and Nicholas automatically covered him up with a blanket even though the night was warm.
He thought of the boy who had died and pushed it from his mind instantly. They had enough to contend with as it was.
‘So basically, what you are saying is, an Englishman’s home is his castle?’
Nick nodded sadly.
‘I suppose so. The fact that the boy was black had nothing to do with it. I didn’t know anything about him until after the event. When the paramedics removed his balaclava . . .’
He was paranoid about anything in his story appearing suspect. The girl nodded sympathetically, but he was on to the press by then. What you said and what was actually printed were often completely different things.
‘How do you feel about the boy now?’
It was how she said ‘boy’ that really rankled. It made Sonny Hatcher sound like a ten year old.
Nick
Nicholas Junior left the room and went back to his brother James. The nanny had already gone home. Nick Senior would not let her live in, said if she did it would be too easy to leave the boys, and he had been proved right.
Nicholas Junior knew that as much as his mother loved him and his brother, she would go out at the drop of a hat. Tammy would go to the opening of an envelope as his father always pointed out when they rowed.
Now, though, it wasn’t such a problem. At twelve he felt he was adult enough to take care of his little brother. So his mother left the house without a backward glance these days. Years before, though, when she would leave them with their granny, Dad would go mad and tear out of the house in search of her, his own mother admonishing him as he wheel-spinned off the drive, ranting and raving about his lazy mare of a wife.
Nicholas Junior sighed.
He wished his parents could be happy, reach a compromise of some sort. But he knew that the way they carried on was more from habit these days, and it saddened him sometimes.
He knew they loved one another dearly, but they talked to each other as if they were mortal enemies. It was awful to watch and to listen to; they scored points off each other constantly. You could almost feel the despair coming from his mother sometimes, and the complete and utter bafflement of his father. He gave his wife everything except his time.
His granny had explained to Nicholas Junior her thoughts on the subject, confided in him even. She said she worried that, when married couples started to ridicule one another, they would eventually lose respect for one another. Once gone it was hard to get that respect back apparently. Granny Leary thought his mother and father had spent so long taking the piss out of each other in a good-natured way that they didn’t take each other seriously any more. It made sense to Nicholas Junior. He had watched them, observed them really, deliberately spied on them in fact. There was love there, he knew that, but not the kind of love that married people should feel. They were more like brother and sister.
His granny said that happened in lots of marriages, it was the day to day that killed romance, but one day something would happen to make them realise that all you had in life was your family. Your children, and the years you had shared.
He hoped she was right.
He hoped this tragedy would make them see the error of their ways, appreciate what they had in each other. Because the worst of it all was, they actually thought they were set like a jelly, that they were happy.
It was almost painful to watch them being happy sometimes.
His brother James was asleep and Nicholas automatically covered him up with a blanket even though the night was warm.
He thought of the boy who had died and pushed it from his mind instantly. They had enough to contend with as it was.
‘So basically, what you are saying is, an Englishman’s home is his castle?’
Nick nodded sadly.
‘I suppose so. The fact that the boy was black had nothing to do with it. I didn’t know anything about him until after the event. When the paramedics removed his balaclava . . .’
He was paranoid about anything in his story appearing suspect. The girl nodded sympathetically, but he was on to the press by then. What you said and what was actually printed were often completely different things.
‘How do you feel about the boy now?’
It was how she said ‘boy’ that really rankled. It made Sonny Hatcher sound like a ten year old.
Nick
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