Page 107 of The Man Upstairs

There were none of the idiot guys from block seven outside the garage on my way home today, and I wouldn’t have cared if there were. Julian had put paid to any nerves I’d have had on that score, just from shooting them a hostile glance. My fears were disappearing. I ignored all of the not so sly glances as I walked, really not giving a shit, still bouncing high on my chat with Lola when the top of my apartment block came into view, but so did the figures on the street in front of me, laughing as they turned the corner in my direction. Fucking hell. I should have expected it.

Mum had obviously called in sick at work again, and she must have figured I’d been straight home from college and not hanging out with a friend at the gates, because she took a step back when she saw me, as though she’d been hit in the gut. Trisha was by her side, and took her arm to support her like she was the best friend in the world, and I stood on the spot, not sure quite what to do. It would have probably been easier to decide if Trisha hadn’t been there guiding the scene. Me and Mum on our own would have been easier.

Fuck, I missed my mum. It hurt really bad.

“Come on, Bev,” Trish said, and tugged her to the side, ready to cross the street away from me.

I picked up my pace instinctively, wanting try to build bridges, just on sight of Mum, but Trisha’s grip tightened on Mum’s elbow, like she really was on a mission to defend her. That’s when it occurred to me – seeing the fire in Trisha’s eyes. On some fucked up level, Trisha was probably delusional about her own part in this universe, as warped and incestuous and socially twisted as it was. She likely thought she really was the friend Mum needed her to be. And that was the thing about the place. Suddenly it felt claustrophobic, and boxed in, everyone knowing everything about everyone else and casting judgement.

Before Julian infiltrated that as an outsider, I’d had no true idea or sense of it. It was just a smog of stifled energy I accepted as normal, because it was all I’d ever known. But now it felt like the veils were coming down. My vision clearing. The edges crisping in front of me.

“Mum–” I tried, before she had the chance to cross the street, but she wouldn’t look at me.

“Leave her alone,” Trisha snapped, but I ignored her, just kept on scurrying towards my mother. “She’s too upset to speak to you!” Trisha tried again, and that was likely true, but it didn’t stop me. It couldn’t.

I grabbed Mum’s other arm before they stepped out into the road, my own tears springing up as hers did.

“Talk to me,” I said. “Please, Mum. At least give it a chance.”

“Givehima chance, you mean,” she said. “No fucking way, Rosie. No chance. He’s disgusting. One day you’ll open your eyes and see the truth for yourself. Until then, you can both fuck right off!”

I broke my grip on her arm, taken aback by just how much she meant that. Any wavering she’d shown when I’d revealed the truth had shrivelled away, replaced by pure, nasty certainty. It took my breath when she walked away with Trisha, because it truly hit me then. I didn’t give a shit what anyone else in this estate thought, or at college, or on the street, but I cared about what Mum thought. I cared so much it hurt.

It was obvious that she wasn’t going to be messaging or trying to talk to me anytime soon. She wasn’t hovering with the message window open every evening on her phone, contemplating reaching out, like I’d been.

I watched her and Trisha walk down the road towards the Brewery Tavern until they disappeared out of view, my eyes filled with tears. I could imagine Trisha being proud of Mum for turning her back, but if only she knew the man Julian really was. I just wished she’d taken the chance to see for herself.

I tried to hide the tears when I reached our block, not wanting to put a dampener on Julian, or add to his shame, or take away from what a great time I’d had with Lola, but he saw right through it. He put his hands on my shoulders as soon as he saw my face.

“What happened?”

“I saw Mum.”

“I see.”

I tried to laugh it off, just a little. “She isn’t going to be knocking at the door any time soon.”

“Not unless it’s to punch me in the face.” His eyes were so caring. “Do you want to leave this place? Move away from this block and away from this drama, I mean? I know it must hurt, maybe too much to bear. You can still get to college. We’ll make sure of it. There are buses.”

I had a strange aversion to that idea, even though on some level it sounded like heaven. Getting out of Crenham Drive would have seemed like a dream a few months ago, but there was a deep sense of terror at that thought now. It felt like that would be the end of it – any chance I had of making up with Mum. If I left her behind. If I left this place behind. If I left my home behind…

She wouldn’t be coming after me.

“I can’t leave her,” I told him.

“I understand that, Rosie,” he said. “Believe me. I know how hard it is to walk away.”

For the first time, I got a true glimpse of the extreme pain he must have been in to leave his family behind in Oxford, with them telling him to fuck off and never come back. It was hard enough thinking of moving away from the same apartment block as Mum, let alone disappear from her life completely, without her even caring where I was going.

I pushed the thoughts aside as well as I could, taking a deep breath. No point darkening the day completely.

“I saw Lola again,” I told him. “We got on great.”

“We’ll be seeing them both, then?”

“Yeah, for sure. She was happy to come over. I told her you’re a great chef.”

“Let’s hope I live up to your praises.”