Page 8 of The Man Upstairs

“So, about Julian. Do you think I should thank him by inviting him over for dinner?”

It was a rhetorical question, because she didn’t care what I would think about it. She never cared what I thought about Scottie, the guy who raised his fists to her. I looked her in the eyes as I dried our plates, and I knew what she was really asking me. She needed a hit of confidence.

“Yeah, I think he would like you. Sure.”

“That’s not what I asked,” Mum said.

“No, but it’s what you meant. And yeah, I think he’d like you.”

“You do?”

I smiled a genuine smile, because Mum looked so happy standing there. Such a contrast with the wreck she was last night.

“Yeah, I do.”

“I guess I’ll have to ask him then, when I see him next.”

So much fornever, ever speak to the man upstairs.It gave me a weird lurch in my stomach. Part of me was mega happy at the thought of Julian taking Scottie’s place – a hero in a storm, when Mum needed one. But another part of me wasn’t quite so sure I wanted him as my mother’s partner. I had some very deep tingles of my own…

But I couldn’t let myself go there. Julian must be late forties, almost fifty, so it would be a huge age gap for Mum at thirty-five, let alone me. Plus, Mum liked him. She was already smitten, and it was showing. I shoved my own thoughts aside and went to my bedroom, grabbing my college bag and tying my damp hair into a ponytail.

“I’ll see you later,” I told Mum. “Thanks for breakfast. It was great.”

“No problem.” She laughed a little. “I hope Julian enjoys my dinner just as much. I’ve almost forgotten how to cook one.”

She wasn’t lying. I’d barely known her cook in years. It was mainly me, making our pasta dishes and frying up budget chicken stir fry, or bringing back slices of pizza from work.

I left her there, still flying high and tapping out a message on her phone. I wondered if she’d already given Trisha the lowdown on what a knight in shining armour the man upstairs had been.

What a shame I’d learnt to be the eldest out of the two of us. The laundry and housekeeping around Mum’s issues had taken more of my time than kid’s shows, or colouring pens, or the billions of stories I’d wanted to be reading. Thank God for audiobooks. Small mercies, plus at least they kept Scottie’s voice out of earshot. Usually.

Shame I didn’t have my book on loud enough this morning. I was almost at the college gates when I heard an ‘Oi, Rosie’over the narrator. I could have cursed when I spun around and saw Jayden, Scottie’s son, right up behind me.

Fucking hell. I wished he’d been off my radar for today. I tugged out my earbuds so I could hear him.

“Dad said your mum kicked off at him last night. He said she was really winding him up.”

“Not exactly how I’d put it…”

“He said you got the crazy guy upstairs to throw him out, like an asshole. Dad’s got a massive splinter in his leg.”

“Yeah, and my mum’s got a swollen jaw and a split lip!”

Jayden looked embarrassed at that. He scuffed the kerb with his shoe.

“Did he hit her again?”

“Yes.”

“It’s been a while though, right? Dad’s been trying.”

“Not fucking hard enough.”

I couldn’t hold back the rage. My eyes were burning fierce as I went on my way, because rage was easier than crying. But Jayden wouldn’t let it lie, following on behind me.

“Do you think you could talk to her? Dad was really upset last night. Said it got out of hand, and if you’d have just left it, it would’ve been fine.”

That was more than I could take.