Bright Burning Things(15)

These words raise the winged creatures from their slumber, and there’s only one thing for it, only one way to settle them: drown them.

‘I’m here now, Sonya. I’m here now. Cup of tea?’

‘Not a tea drinker, Dad,’ I say, trying on the word, which sits in my mouth like a lump of raw liver.

‘You could develop a taste, if you practised hard enough.’

I shrug that one off and go to the fridge and brazenly pour a glass of vino blanco, its whispers loud in my ear, blocking out any noise in my head or anything my father might say.

‘Sonya?’

I swallow a mouthful.

‘Please, not in front of the lad.’

A laugh erupts out of me and I put my hand to my mouth to try to stem more. Bubbles of laughter are forcing their way from my stomach up to my throat, which is sore from the effort of pushing them down. The wine is helping. Swallow, breathe, swallow, breathe. Water, surrounding me, holding me. My father moves to the kettle, switches it on, and waits. It boils while Herbie, Tommy and I stand to attention in a line, eyes flicking from one to another, to the strange man in our kitchen, where our bowls of soggy cornflakes still sit on the table. He carefully opens cupboard doors, as if scared of what might jump out at him. He locates the tea bags and puts them in two mugs that he sterilises first with the boiling water. I’m surprised he’s not sniffing the air.

‘Come on, young man, let’s put you to bed. Your mummy and I need to talk, adult chat, ok?’

Tommy looks at me and I wink surreptitiously. ‘Anything that needs to be said can be said in front of Tommy.’

‘Oh, for God’s sake, Sonya, he’s only a child.’

I don’t move, or speak, just swallow more wine. Tommy continues looking at me.

My father whispers, ‘I don’t want to upset him, Sonya. Please, put the boy into his bed and come back out and talk to me, adult to adult.’

I have to clamp one hand over the other not to throw my glass in his face.

‘The guards have been alerted, Sonya.’

A cramping in my stomach so intense that I almost double over.

‘Who by? The auld snitch who lives opposite?’

‘Sonya, please…’ He gestures at Tommy.

I can’t bear the look on my boy’s face. ‘Ok, ok, Munchkin, let’s get you into beddy-byes and I’ll have an adult chat for a few minutes, ok? Then I’ll come join you and we’ll all go to the Land of Nod together, ok?’

Tommy tucks his hand under Herbie’s collar. ‘Come on, Hewbie!’

My father looks at me in disbelief as I take Tommy by the hand, the dog following, and close the door behind us.

‘Who that man, Yaya?’

I decide now is not the time for explanations of abandoning fathers.

‘It’s ok, sweetie, he won’t be here long, I promise. Now, let’s get you into your PJs and you climb on into bed with Herbie there. We’ll brush your teeth when the man’s gone, ok?’

‘Ok.’ He climbs out of his clothes, puts his hands in the air as I slip his pyjama top on. He steps into his bottoms himself.

‘What a big boy you are, Tommy!’ I kiss his forehead.

‘Yaya?’

‘Yes, darling?’

‘Don’t let the bad fairy fly inside tonight, please, Yaya.’

‘I won’t, darling, I promise.’

‘No more bottle.’

I smile at him, reassuringly, but with the night that’s in it that is an impossible promise and I won’t lie to my boy. I’ll be careful, I’ll be moderate, I know when to stop.

‘Now, I better go out and talk to the man, and I’ll be straight back in, ok?’

‘Stwaight back, Yaya?’

‘Yes, baby, straight back. Love you more than the whole world.’

‘Love you bigger than all the planets,’ he says as he stretches his arms to their widest span. I blow him a kiss; he catches it and makes a big show of eating it.

‘Yum, yum, yum.’

‘Yumptious, scrumptious, yum, bum,’ I say, which makes him giggle. ‘I want you to think of the best bedtime story ever, ok? Tell Herbie all about the adventures you’re going to have in Nod tonight… Herbie, mind Tommy till I’m back, ok?’

‘Let’s go to the land of the sleeping giants, Hewbie, and wake them ‘cause they want to help the scared little peoples.’

‘Great one, Tommy! See you two in a flash!’ I twirl my hand like it’s holding a wand.

He zaps me back. I walk to the door, close it gently behind me.

My father is still standing with his back to the sink, tensed.

‘Sonya, will you please join me in some tea?’

I ignore him as I pour more wine into my glass. Need to knock the edges, though not the lights, off. Just the right dose: I’ll be careful, I’ll count.

Tommy shouts, ‘Yaya, will you come kiss me goodnight?’ I’m not capable of going back in there right now, not while my father’s here, knowing that any display of emotion would be taken as proof of my intemperance, my instability. ‘In a minute, ok?’ I sing-shout into the bedroom. I can feel my father’s eyes on me.

‘What? What are you looking at? Two years of no contact, not even your grandson’s birthday.’