‘You’ve got no gin left.’
Her mouth trembled. ‘Will you go get me some?’
‘No.’ I never would and I’d forbidden Cole from getting alcohol for her as well. ‘I have to get ready for work anyway.’ I braced myself.
Her lip immediately curled up in disgust, her bloodshot green eyes narrowing hatefully. Her accent thickened with her venom. ‘Cannae even get yer mam a f**kin drink! Yer a lazy wee slut! Don’t think I dinnae know what yer up to oot there! Whorin around. Spreadin those f**kin legs fur any man that’ll have you! I raised a whore! A goddamn whore!’
Used to my mum’s ‘split personality’, I shuffled out of the room, feeling Cole’s fuming anger as I passed the door to the sitting room and wandered into the kitchen for a sweeping brush. Her voice rose, her insults coming quick and fast, and I glanced at Cole as I passed, saw his fist crumpling around a piece of paper. I shook my head at him to let him know I was okay, and continued on into our mum’s room.
‘What are you doin’?’ she stopped her tirade long enough to ask me as I bent to clean up the broken bottle.
I ignored her.
‘You leave that there!’
‘You’ll cut yourself if I leave it, Mum.’
I heard her whimper again and felt the change. I’d been dealing with her long enough to know which side of her I was about to be subjected to. There were only two choices: the pitiful sweetheart or the acerbic bitch. The pitiful sweetheart was about to make an appearance. ‘I’m sorry.’ Her breath hitched and she started to cry quietly. ‘I didn’t mean it. I love ye.’
‘I know.’ I stood up. ‘But I can’t get your drink for you, Mum.’
She sat up, her eyebrows drawn together, her fingers trembling as she reached for her purse on the bedside table. ‘Cole will get it. I’ve got money.’
‘Mum, Cole’s too young. They won’t serve him.’ I’d rather she believe that it didn’t have anything to do with him being unwilling to help. I didn’t want him having to deal with her bile while I was out at work.
Her arm dropped. ‘Will you help me up?’
This meant she was going out herself. I bit my tongue to stop myself from arguing with her. I needed to keep her sweet if I was going to be gone. ‘Let me get rid of the glass and I’ll be back to help you.’
When I stepped out of her room, Cole was already waiting by the door. He held out his hands. ‘Give me that.’ He nodded at the glass. ‘You help her.’
An ache gripped my chest. He was a good kid. ‘When you’re done, take your comic book into your room. Stay out of her way tonight.’
He nodded, but I saw the tension in his body as he turned away from me. He was getting older and more frustrated with our situation and his inability to do anything about it. I just needed him to get through the next four years. Then he’d be eighteen and legally I could get him out of here and away from her.
When Joss discovered the truth about my situation, she’d asked me why I didn’t just take Cole and leave. Well, I hadn’t done that because Mum had already threatened to call the police if I ever did – it was her guarantee that she’d have us around to keep her fed, to keep her company. I couldn’t even petition the courts for custody because there was the risk I wouldn’t get him, and once the social services found out about our mother, they’d probably put him into care. Moreover, they’d have to contact my dad and I really didn’t want him back in our lives.
I spent half an hour getting Mum into a decent enough state to leave the house. I didn’t have to worry about her wandering in and out of the pubs or restaurants on our busy street, because she seemed to be just as ashamed of her condition as we were. The need for drink was the only thing that compelled her to go out, and even then she’d taken to buying it online so she didn’t have to go out for it too often.
By the time I was washed and dressed for work, Mum was back in the flat with her bottles of gin. She’d sat herself in front of the television, so I was glad I’d told Cole to head into his room. I popped my head around the door of his room and told him, like I always did, to call me at work if he needed me.
I didn’t say goodbye to Mum when I left. There would be no point.
Instead, I stepped out of the building and braced myself for the night, compartmentalizing my worry and anger so I could focus on my work. In the mood to walk, I’d left the flat early. I marched briskly down London Road, turning the fifteen-minute stroll into ten, but as soon as I got to the more familiar Leith Walk, I slowed. The wonderful smells coming from the Indian restaurant beneath our old flat along with the crisp, cold night air woke me up a little. I strode up the street, the busy, wide street with its restaurants and shops, passing the Edinburgh Playhouse and the Omni Centre, and wished I was dressed up for a night out at the theatre or the movies. I crossed the street near the top of the Walk, turning on to Picardy Place and as I headed towards George Street, I prayed I could put the scene I’d left back at the flat behind me.
Our manager, Su, worked odd hours. She rarely worked the weekends during opening hours, trusting her long-standing staff members and the security guys to take care of the place. Sometimes she worked Monday through Wednesday at night, foregoing Thursday through Saturday, which happened to be the busiest nights. I didn’t mind. It was actually nice not to have a manager breathing down my neck, especially since my boss at my day job was such an irritant.
It didn’t occur to me not to give Su Cam’s number. He’d been an ass**le to me, but I couldn’t help but feel for him being out of a job. I guess fate felt the same way, because for the first time in a long time, I caught Su just before she left. We met on George Street, at the top of the steps to the bar, and I literally had to stand in her path to stop her escaping, she was so clearly desperate to be away from the club.