Page 101 of The Man Upstairs

It felt like a game of chicken, both pairs of us getting closer. Trisha’s face was like thunder and Martha looked like she hated the sight of us, and it gave me trembles at the thought that one day this would be my mum facing up to us, not them.

Julian squeezed my hand again for support, holding tight, and I made sure my feet kept moving alongside him. Who was going to make way for each other? Us or them?

Closer… closer…

Trisha’s face was beetroot red, her eyes were full of hate, all for him. Martha looked at him like he was some kind of criminal to be wary of, and that was kind of worse, seeing her afraid of him for no reason at all.

Still, we moved closer.

Still, we all stayed on the same side.

And there was nothing for it, we’d reach each other, face on, up close, and I wasn’t sure I could face it. I wasn’t sure I could do it. I wasn’t sure I could be so brave and face them off this quickly… maybe I’d been stupid. Maybe I’d been totally naïve. Maybe taking inspiration from Lola was way too much, way too soon.

As it turns out, I didn’t have to. We won the game of chicken.

Trisha angled the pushchair across the road, getting ready to cross the street with Martha at her side. Wow. They’d be the ones to clear out of our way, not the other way around. But Julian’s strides were too fast and too strong. There was too much traffic for Trisha to cross the road in time.

It was him who spoke, not them. My saviour was the one to close the gap in communication, tipping his head at them with a gentlemanly smile.

“Good afternoon, ladies,” he said, and I gave ahilike a stupid little kid at the side of him.

That was too much for Trisha. We’d passed her by when I heard her trumpet voice shout out, but it was loud enough for the whole damn estate to hear.

“Fuck off! Rosie’s just a sweet little kid, you filthy cunt! You should be locked up and shot dead for this!”

Julian didn’t stop walking, and he didn’t look back. He kept my hand gripped tight, and his head held high, as though her words meant nothing.

Just a shame I knew it was an illusion. I saw just the slightest hint of pain in his eyes, and I knew the truth.

Under the surface, he believed every single word they said.

Chapter Twenty-Five

Julian

I was usedto keeping up a public façade when my shame bells were tolling inside me. I’d spent many, many Sunday afternoons placing down dinner plates in front of Grace’s friends alongside hers, and making conversation with them as though it was normal.How are you this week? How was college?The questions meant nothing. The look in their eyes said it all. They were thinking of how I’d been roping them, bound and used like sluts, posing for me like they were porn stars, but nobody else knew it.

Crenham Drive was no different. They had no sense of the shame bells under my public façade, either. My confidence was robust as I walked along with Rosie’s hand in mine, riding on the innocent rush of nervous pride she was feeling alongside me. The beautiful girl was still enamoured enough she wanted the world to know about me and her together. Giving her that pleasure would be an honour. My guts were strong enough to take the etheric punches.

Trisha and Martha looked like they wanted to skin me alive. I could only imagine Beverly’s hate would dwarf theirs thousandfold. I could virtually hear the whispers in our wake as we walked. Raised eyebrows and snide glances. It was a relief to know I didn’t actually care all that much about any of them. They could all burn in hell along with me for their condemnation of Rosie.

We were out of Crenham Drive before I knew it. Rosie’s hand tightened as she looked up at me.

“Where do you want to go now?”

I glanced behind us. “We could do another parade of the block for extra measure, or keep on walking. Which would you prefer? Fillet steak at home, or in town?”

We stopped at a pedestrian crossing, and I awaited her decision. She stepped out when the light turned green, and we were set. Town it was.

“I’m really not dressed for this,” she said. “I should have done my hair and stuff.”

No, she shouldn’t. I loved the bobbing cuteness of her hair in a pony, and the simplicity of her college outfit and sneakers. She flashed me a grin when we were on the other side.

“Can we get something like a burger this once, please? I can get dressed up another time for fillet steak, so I look more suited to it.”

“You don’t need to worry about that,” I said, but my words would be redundant. She wouldn’t believe me. “If you want a burger, we’ll have a burger. That wasn’t quite where I’d have expected to take you on our first ever date, so we’ll have to compensate for it on the next one.”

“The next one? You’re ok with this, then? Taking me out?”