Page 9 of The Man Upstairs

“BULLSHIT! He had his hands around her fucking throat, Jay! If I hadn’t stepped in, he could have killed her!”

Passers-by looked at us, but didn’t say a word, pretending ignorance, as usual. I put a hand to my forehead, hating this place and everyone in it. Jay shrugged, hands in his pockets.

“Yeah, well, anyway. If you could speak to her, Dad would be grateful.”

“I don’t want him to be grateful! I want him to stay the fuck away. I’m not putting in a good word for him. Ever!”

“That’s pretty harsh,” Jayden said, but I didn’t care, just carried on walking.

Why did he think his dad was such a good guy under the surface? He was more deluded than my mother, which was saying something. Still,Iwas probably deluded about my mum, too. He was likely as optimistic as I was, hoping one day they’d turn a corner and be the parents we needed. At least my mum never raised her fists to me, and at least I was eighteen now, and able to provide support for us both, rather than depend on her to keep our electricity on.

College went by in a blur as I tried to concentrate. English, Maths, Science. My surface level friends chatted their usual pointless chatter, and the buzz of Friday was rippling through the other students, but I wasn’t feeling it. I had no plans for the weekend, other than longer shifts at the pizza place. I was done with any more fake illusion of friendship than necessary. I felt thirty years older than everyone around me anyway.

I hung on in the library for a decent few hours after college finished, because I really couldn’t be doing with another round of Jayden singing Scottie’s praises. Plus, Scottie might well be there himself. I left it long enough that I managed to get to our block without any distractions, and let myself in with a sigh. Mum was back from shopping. I saw it from the collection of bags lined up on the sofa.Zaza’s. Great. The price tags on those things would be expensive.

“Ta da!” she announced and appeared in the living room to give me a twirl. She was in a lovely purple dress, which really suited her. It showed off her curves like a dream.

I wished I shared some of them.

I gave her a smile. “You look great, Mum.”

She twirled again. “You think?”

“Iknow.”

“Thanks.” She looked so pleased. “I’m going out with Trisha tonight. Martha’s having Ramsay. I heard that Julian sometimes pops into the Brewery Tavern on his way back from work. Who knows, maybe we’ll run into him and I can ask him over for that dinner.”

Wow. She’d been doing her research. The whole estate probably knew she had her eye on him by now.

“Maybe,” I said, then checked out the time on my phone. “You’d have to leave soon if you want to catch him at the end of the office day. He’s usually home by six thirty.”

“Six thirty?! How do you know that?”

I got a tickle in my stomach, as though I’d done something wrong.

“We usually cross paths in the hallway. He arrives home when I’m heading out for work. Not close enough to speak to. I just… see him.”

Her eyebrows shot up in panic. “Fuck. It’s almost six thirty already.”

She grabbed her phone, no doubt typing out a frantic message to Trisha. Jeez, there was so much urgency after one single encounter with him. I wished she’d calm down.

As it turned out, she didn’t need to ping Trisha, since a knock came at the door. She was on time for once, usually at least twenty minutes late everywhere she went.

Mum tossed her phone on the sofa and ran to let her in.

“We’d better go soon…” she began and then went silent, her words stopping dead.

Fuck. I thought it was Scottie. I shot into the hallway to get him the hell away from her, but stopped in my tracks as I saw the guy actually standing there.

“I just wanted to drop by and check you were ok,” Julian said with his posh accent, and it gave me another lurch in my stomach.

Mum ran a hand through her hair. “Wow, yeah, thank you. Come on in!”

“I should be getting back–” he tried, but she beckoned him in like he was royalty stepping into the hall.

She reeked of happy desperation, and it made me sad.

I cleared the sofa of shopping bags in case he wanted to take a seat, but he didn’t. He stood around awkwardly, checking out the scene of the crime. The remains of the coffee table were gone. I’d thrown it into the trash heap downstairs late last night.