Chapter 14
FOURTEEN
LIAM
Saliva coats my tongue as my foster mum, Sandra, dishes out roast beef so tender it falls apart at the touch of the plate. There’s no doubt about it; she’s a damned good Sunday roast provider. The potatoes have a crunch to die for, while staying soft and fluffy inside. Perfection.
And the gravy? Hell, she could make millions bottling the stuff. Her Sunday roasts were one of the things that softened me to their family at the beginning. I kept telling myself I’d run away next Monday. Then one more roast dinner. And one more.
Turns out, my scared, rebellious youth was tamed but a good feed.
And a heavy dose of low-pressure understanding.
Kat moans beside me as she takes a mouthful of drippy beef. She’s become a fellow Sandra-dinner addict. We don’t always make it here every week, especially lately, but it warms me that Sandra opened her arms up and ushered Kat in like it was nothing.
Even Reggie adores it here. I glance under the table and see him feasting on a bit of meat, likely snuck down there by Colin, Sandra’s long-term boyfriend, who can’t resist his kitty eyes.
You’d think Reggie was a dog with the way he begs at the dinner table. Who can blame him when everyone else gets a whole plate to themselves. He’s probably under there plotting how to kill me and steal my beef. The narrowed look he gives me does nothing to convince me otherwise.
It’s a good thing he’s cute.
‘Another yorkshire, love?’ Sandra asks Kat, holding out the basket of crispy puddings.
‘No thank you,’ she says.
I, however, have no such qualms. Sandra smiles indulgently when I take two extra and add them to my already loaded plate.
‘You two look like you’re in need of a good feed,’ Sandra says, taking her seat and tucking her napkin into the collar of her blouse. ‘You’ve not been living off ramen again, have you?’
‘I only did that once,’ I say, tipping more gravy onto my plate.
‘For six months,’ Ellie adds through a mouthful of broccoli.
‘Ramen’s a perfectly viable food source.’ I point out.
‘Mhmm, but people usually add protein and veggies,’ Sandra says.
‘I survived.’ Sandra tries to cover the wince when I say that. They are just teasing, but I’ve survived longer on a lot less food than I did with my big ass box of ramen. Not long after that, Sandra started dropping off casseroles and didn’t really stop until I moved in with Kat.
It wouldn’t surprise me if she turns up with a fridge full by Tuesday after seeing us not taking care of ourselves.
We were doing okay until the last few weeks. Since graduation, things have begun to slide. Turns out killing people and concealing their murders puts more strain on you than you’d imagine.
Ellie is excitedly chatting about her trip, getting so close to raising enough to go for a full year. Albeit she’s currently intending to stay at bargain-basement, everything-kind-of places. A worry when she’s on her own.
‘God, I can’t wait. After… well, you know… I just need to get away from all the sad stares and questions.’ Ellie sighs, and Sandra reaches out to pat her hand.
‘It’s been quite the year for you, but you’re going to have the most amazing time,’ Sandra says with a smile. ‘What about you two? What’s your next step now that school’s done?’
She’s never known what I did for a living. The bruises and cuts weren’t hideable, but she’s never seriously probed me for answers, knowing when to back off in her questioning.
‘We’re trying to buy my parents’ house, actually,’ Kat says.
There’s a hush around the table as everyone stares at her.
‘The big fancy house?’ Sandra asks.
‘Well, yes. It’s not perfect, but they want to sell up, and I’d really rather keep the place in the family.’
‘How are you going to get a mortgage?’ Ellie asks. ‘The place is fucking huge.’
‘Ellie,’ Sandra admonishes, more for the cussing than the nosiness.
Kat’s leg jumps against mine beneath the table. I slip my hand over her thigh and squeeze, hoping it feels reassuring.
‘It won’t be easy. I have some money saved up, and I’m going to sell some jewellery. We’re both on the…’ Kat looks at me. ‘…hunt for work.’
‘Well, no wonder you’re both looking green around the gills. How long do you have to make the decision?’ Sandra asks.
‘A few weeks,’ I say, wishing we hadn’t ended up down this alley.
‘It still might be a good idea to start small.’ Colin’s still sneaking beef to the cat as he speaks.
‘We want to keep it in the family. For our family. A place where Kat and I can raise our children. We can put up Ellie when she comes back from her year away, covered in misjudged tattoos and married to some guy called Montgomery who only wears sandals.’
Ellie tosses a roast potato at my head, making me laugh.
‘And so we can look after you guys if you need it later in life. Or just have space for you to come love on your future grandkids.’ My words choke a little near the end. I’ve never really told them how much I want that. Or need it. To know they’ll stay as part of my future.
Sandra and Colin look at each other, rather glossy-eyed. One of those looks between long-term couples that says everything and nothing in the same fleeting glance. With a short nod from Colin, Sandra turns back to us.
‘We have a bit of money put by for both you and Ellie. It’s not house-buying money, but it should help.’
Ellie squeals and drops her fork, squealing again when Reggie attacks it with torpedo speed for the smidge of gravy it contains. ‘You mean it?’
Colin smiles. ‘We mean it. Might mean you get hostels two steps up from the bargain-basements you’ve been showing us.’
‘Thank you,’ Ellie says, her voice filled with glee. ‘I’ll be able to bring you home some trinkets now!’
Sandra laughs. ‘That’s not necessary, sweetie. Plus, the extra baggage costs might put you right back into the lowest-budget hostels.’
I haven’t fully processed their words. They want to give me their money? They’ve always been generous with gifts, food, and love, but this feels too big. I’ve never expected anything like an inheritance from them. I’m not really their son. Just a clinger on.
‘Sandra, Colin, I can’t take your money.’ Kat threads her fingers into mine, where they still lay on her lap. ‘The offer means so much, but it wouldn’t feel right. You’re supposed to be heading into retirement, enjoying your life together without us troublesome kids around.’
Sandra sips her wine before answering, her response kind but measured. ‘We are supposed to spend our money however we like, love. Because we love you, and Kat, too. And we want you to be happy, and safe and loved.’
God damn. I swallow as my eyes sting. I’m not in a stable enough place for this.
Thankfully, Sandra seems to sense the stress rolling off me. ‘The offer will stand as long as you need it. Now come help me fetch the desserts.’
There’s no point arguing. After giving Kat’s hand a squeeze and a longing glance at the beef still on my plate, I follow her through to the kitchen.
‘I’m not going to push you,’ she says, opening the fridge and handing me a very full trifle. ‘But we can offer you fifty thousand if you need it. No strings. Just our gratitude for welcoming us into your life.’
Putting the cold trifle onto the counter, I take her small hands in mine. ‘I’m the one who needs to be grateful. It’s not that I don’t appreciate it, but we need much more, and I won’t take your money knowing we might not be able to raise the rest.’
Fifty thousand is an insane amount for them to offer. They live a fairly simple life, powered but giving and loving. But I can’t be the one taking advantage of them. It’s different for Ellie; she’s theirs. Through blood.
‘Are you sure you guys are okay?’ she asks, reaching up and cradling my scarred cheek.
‘We’re fine.’
The look she gives me tells me she’s not going to believe that.
Sighing, I smile. ‘Things are just a lot right now. The house. No work. But what goes down has to come up.’
It’s a lie we tell ourselves to feel better, because life can absolutely go down and down and down until you find yourself in prison or hell. And I don’t think I can have Kat in either place, so it’s not an option.
Sandra picks up the cheesecake that’s at the base of the fridge before bumping it shut with her hip. ‘Come on.’
‘One minute,’ I say.
There’s only one option to fix the corpses-in-the-well stress.
My phone feels like a hot coal in my hand as I scroll to the one contact I shouldn’t. Phil.
Kat will be furious if I fight. And she’ll pluck me from the grave just to kill my ass again if I lose.
Closing my eyes, I struggle with the choice. Going through with it means lying to Kat. Possibly death, but that’s not nearly as scary as betraying my girl.
Acrid taste hits the back of my throat as I type.
ME: What would it take to win ￡300k?
The reply comes before I can pocket my phone.
PHIL: It’s been a while. I thought you might have been working elsewhere and got yourself killed.
ME: Is that illegal?
PHIL: It’s all fucking illegal, smart arse. But I’d be pissed if I didn’t make a dime from it.
ME: As if you’d bet on me to lose.
PHIL: Everyone loses eventually, kid.
Just one more fight. It’s all I need.
PHIL: You’d need to participate in a bowl. Next one’s in two weeks. Twenty guys. The last one standing takes the lot.
Twenty? Fuck. The bowl is terrifying enough at eight guys.
But twenty of us thrown into the curved dip in the floor, which gradually gets filled with the blood of felled competitors until there are only two guys left.
Facing each other like mud wrestlers, but in the scarlet death of the men who have gone before.
Gladiatorial.
I’m going to break Kat’s heart either way, but at least I can get her house for her. If I win. And if I die, I guess I’ll know no different. Maybe the purpose of my life’s been to do this for her. To get six months of bliss before I tainted us too much with this vengeance scheme to protect her.
Freddie’s sniffing around. There were no more mirrors to smash when I found out he’d been at the pub. I’d swallowed down the pain, but doing so is rotting me from the inside.
I’ll do it for her.
And if I live, I’ll spend forever grovelling for her forgiveness.
A glimmer of hope comes when I realise I can provide her with a failsafe. I can take out life insurance on me, and if I’m found dead, she can use the money to buy the house.
I don’t need to kill twenty men. I need to stay out of the way and let them kill each other. Feint and work on one guy while they exhaust each other. The only one I have to kill, theoretically, is the last man other than me.
My thumbs graze the screen as I type.
ME: I’m in.