Cold Revenge (Willis/Carter #6)(10)

As he got near to the van he called out, ‘Mum?’ He saw her sitting on the chemical toilet at the back of the van. Her head was bowed and she was so still that he thought she’d fallen asleep. He took a few steps towards her and called again. ‘Mum?’

‘What?’ She lifted her head.

‘I’m back.’ He heard her muttering and felt the horrible leaden weight of sorrow that she was turning into someone who hated him.

Ash turned at the sound of laughter. From where he stood he could see the back of the bungalow and Nicola drinking beer and laughing; the smoke from the barbecue was blowing in her face and she was trying to get away. Ash had come to know a lot about what went on at the bungalow; he sat many nights and listened to the sounds of partying as they carried across the fields.

Ash lit a fire and settled his mum by it, tried to make her comfortable and wrapped her in her red fleece blanket. It was gone ten now, the BBQ was really getting going.

‘What can I get you, Mum? Are you hungry?’ he asked as she looked up from her thoughts and focused on him. ‘Shall we catch a bus into town and get some fish and chips?’

‘No, I need a bath, son, will you ask the people in the bungalow for me?’

‘It’s too busy over there, Mum; they have people there. Let me boil up some water for you, Mum, we’ll fill the overhead shower.’

‘I can’t do it out here any more, I’m too cold.’ She started crying. She looked a lot older than her forty-three years. She was so skinny and frail.

‘I know, Mum, I’m sorry, but it’s too busy at the bungalow.’

She got up. ‘I’ll ask them if you’re too embarrassed.’

‘No, Mum, don’t.’

She started shouting at him. ‘You’re useless, you’re absolutely useless!’

Ash wanted to cry so badly, he wanted to sit on the floor and sob, now his mother had turned on him. She was aggressive; she was becoming someone else. Sometimes she didn’t even know him. He managed to calm her down and she curled up in the van and went to sleep. Ash sat in the darkness by the fire.

He could see the glow from the fire pit at the back of the bungalow on the patio; he heard the laughter. He saw Nicola dancing to some old acid house music and he poked the fire with a stick and sent up showers of sparks. He heard his mum stirring.

‘Ash?’

‘Yes, Mum, I’m here.’ He loved it when he heard the voice of old return and he knew she had come back to him, if even for a little while. He knew she had dementia and that she had often talked about her own father having it. He had died when Ash was ten but he still remembered those times, the good and the bad days.

‘Good boy, I do love you, I’m so tired, so hungry, can you get me something to eat, son?’

‘Yes, Mum, wait here.’

Ash went across to the bungalow and Douglas watched him approach from his seat in the deckchair by the fire pit. Ash tried a smile; it was always hard to know how things were with Douglas since his mum had become a nuisance. Before then, Ash had gone around the country with him when he delivered his equine products. Ash had loved it; he’d had great times on the other farms, chatting to the farmers, talking to the workers there. Ash had been with him on most of his day trips for work, Douglas liked the company and Ash was happy to help him any way he could. Douglas had been kind to him and his mum. But Douglas’s work meant he stayed away most of the week now.

Nicola came out with some chicken drumsticks on a plate.

‘Ash, come and have a drink,’ Douglas called.

‘Thanks, is it all right if I take some over for my mum, I’ll buy some more chicken tomorrow.’

Douglas looked at him. ‘You take as much as you want, lad, take some over and then come back: I need to talk to you.’

Ash took the chicken over to the van and made sure his mum ate some before she went back to sleep. Then he went across to the bungalow and sat down beside Douglas. Gavin was there and Millie. Gavin was loud and coarse. His mother called him the Troll, but he had a presence about him that was rough and strong and he got girls easily. Millie was getting drunk. Douglas passed him a joint and Ash took it. He was grateful for anything to make him feel happy at the moment. He’d smoked weed ever since he could remember with his mum. It had never seemed to affect her then, now it made her scream and swear.

‘What you going to do about your mam?’ asked Douglas.

Ash sat cross-legged on the concrete patio, from where there was a sliding glass door into the sitting room.

‘I’ve written to my gran, I’m hoping she can come and get her.’

‘What do you think is the matter with her?’

‘Too much weed, I don’t know.’

More of the farm workers arrived amid the noisy clanking of carrier bags of booze. Nicola had decided to make cocktails. Two of the stable maids, Yvonne and Cathy, were helping her in the kitchen. Yvonne hardly spoke, Cathy never shut up. Yvonne had spent her life in children’s homes and had been sent to the area for a new start. The authorities thought the countryside was the place for her and she’d started helping out at the farm and loved it, so now she did it full time and lived in a shared place in the town with Cathy. Yvonne was trying to find her way forward and heal herself. Cathy was self-centred and egotistical with an over-confidence that was brittle and childlike.