18
The Thorntons refused even to drive Daniel back to Minnie’s. Tricia was sent to collect him at three o’clock on Sunday, even though a long weekend had been planned and Daniel was supposed to stay until the Monday evening.
Daniel watched from the car window as the bungalow belonging to his prospective adoptive parents grew smaller. Val and Jim went inside quickly, closing the door before the car pulled out of the drive.
‘You’re your own worst enemy, Danny,’ said Tricia. ‘This was your chance of a new home. Do you know how ’ard it is to place a twelve-year-old boy? Very ’ard, let me tell you, and that was a disgraceful thing to do.’
‘Didn’t like ’em. I wanted back to Minnie’s.’
‘Well, you were only there for the weekend. Couldn’t you have been good for that long?’
‘I just wanted back to the farm …’ Danny was silent for a few moments and then he said, ‘Have you seen me mam?’
Tricia cleared her throat as she turned on to the Carlisle Road. Daniel listened to the sound of the wheels on the wet road. He felt a strange calmness, as after great exertion. It was the shock, the thrill, the release of being really bad again. The act had left him narcotized. He laid his head back against the seat and felt the lazy, liquid serenity seep into him.
He had won. He had wanted back to her and now he was being taken back. He had expected to be hated and so he had been hateful.
‘Jim’s a nice man. I know he is. You just don’t give anyone a chance.’
‘I hate ’im.’
Tricia sighed. ‘You’re not good with men, are you, Danny? You’ve been getting on so well with Minnie, I thought you’d got over all that.’ Tricia talked as Danny stared out of his window at the fields and occasional trees. ‘I mean, you were even doing well at school … I told Minnie what happened and she’s so upset. I’m upset too, but I can’t say I’m surprised. You’re damn lucky they’re not pressing charges. You carry on like this and you’ll be in borstal before you’re a teenager and God help you then, lad. God help you then. Nothing I can do for you then.’
When they arrived, Minnie was standing outside her door with her cardigan pulled around her. The sight of her made Daniel’s spine curl with shame. He kept his eyes to the ground, afraid of her challenging blue. He walked straight past Minnie into the house and carried his bag upstairs. He took comfort from the pale blue walls he had chosen himself, the racing car bedcover which Minnie had bought for him and the window with the view of the yard. Daniel took off his mother’s necklace and placed it in the drawer beside his bed. He was home now and it would be safe. His knife had been taken off him at the Thorntons’ but Daniel did not worry. He would not need it here.
Blitz came to the bedroom door, head low and panting, tail waving pleasure to see him. As soon as Daniel reached for him, the dog dropped to the floor and presented his stomach. Scratching him, Daniel could hear Tricia and Minnie talking at the foot of the stairs. The smell of the dog and the hushed voices reminded him of his arrival at to Flynn Farm. He felt relieved to smell the place and hear the lilting sound of Minnie’s voice, yet he didn’t dare go downstairs. He was pleased to be back, but the last forty-eight hours had left him uneasy. He wanted to stay upstairs with the dog, but Blitz, sensing his desperation, tired of him and slipped downstairs. Daniel heard Tricia leave and then the sounds of Minnie making dinner. He knew she was waiting for him to go downstairs, but he resisted. He could sense her disappointment waiting for him at the bottom of the stairs. He slipped under the covers of his bed and lay there, reluctantly remembering.
The first day had gone without incident, although Daniel had felt ill at ease in the big house with its clean surfaces and cream carpets. He had to take his shoes off at the door and every glass had to be rested on a coaster. His bedroom had a double bed and a large television, but the room was too big and dark at night and he didn’t sleep for fear of its strangeness and the shadows it unleashed.
Used to waking up with the cockerel, feeding the animals and collecting the eggs, Daniel woke before the Thorntons and crept downstairs. The house was immaculate. Daniel was hungry and so went into the kitchen, where he found bread and buttered a slice. When he was putting the butter back in the fridge he saw strawberry jam and spread that on to his bread too. It was daylight, but the clock on the cooker said ten past six. The jam was not as good as Minnie’s, which he had helped her to make, marvelling that it could all happen so quickly: from plant, to pot, to mouth.
He sat in the kitchen for a short while and then carried his plate through to the living room, where he switched on the television and found some cartoons. He was laughing out loud at one of the cartoons when the bread fell from his hand and landed, jam down, on the carpet. He attempted to wipe it with warm water, but it only drove the stain into the fabric. Daniel rested his plate on top of the stain and continued watching.
It was Jim who came down first, about half an hour later, rubbing his eyes, but still with his stretchy smile. Daniel could see from the clock on the video recorder that it was six forty-seven. Jim made a cup of coffee in the kitchen and came through and sat on the couch. Daniel continued to sit with his back to Jim, but he was no longer watching the cartoons; instead he was watching Jim’s pale reflection on the television screen. Jim rubbed his face and yawned and raised his cup to his lip.
‘You’re an early riser, aren’t you?’
Daniel half smiled at him.
‘What time did you get up?’
Daniel shrugged.
‘You’re all dressed and everything. I see you made yourself at home.’
‘I was hungry.’
‘It’s all right. If you’re hungry, you should eat. It’s not a criticism.’
Daniel felt a sudden unease. He felt watched by Jim in a way that made the hairs on his neck stand on end. He turned back to the television, watching the man in his peripheral vision.
‘You finished with that plate, son?’ said Jim.
The man was standing over him, his hand out for the plate.
‘No,’ said Daniel.
‘Beg your pardon?’
‘Don’t call me that.’
‘Call you what?’
‘I’m not your son.’
‘Ah,’ said Jim. Daniel glanced up and the smile was stretching his face again. ‘Of course, all right. I get the message. Come on, let me take that.’
‘Leave it, all right?’ Daniel felt his heart beating suddenly.
‘We don’t usually allow food in the living room, food is for the kitchen – but you weren’t to know. Come on …’
‘Leave it, all right?’ Daniel’s mouth was very dry.
‘What is it?’ Jim laughed. ‘I’m just going to take your empty plate.’
Daniel jumped to his feet. He didn’t know when or where his body had learned to be so alert to male anger, but he was now adroit. Although Jim’s voice was even, Daniel could hear its strangled wrath.
He hung his head. The words coming out of the man’s mouth were assaulting him now. They were heavy clods of dirt hurled. He stopped hearing the words themselves, so that Jim’s mouth was a horrible, oscillating hole that leered and gaped.
Daniel couldn’t remember what came next; not in the right sequence. He lay under the duvet and took a deep breath, breathing in the smell of the dog and the farm. Daniel buried his face and felt the heat of his own breath on his skin. He was almost completely under the covers now.