Wounded Beast (Gypsy Heroes)

‘Hi, Lily.’

‘Is Ella coming round, Dom?’ Lily asks crisply.

Bloody hell. She’s sharp. ‘Yeah,’ I admit.

‘Oh! Good … er … when?’

‘Fifteen minutes tops.’

‘That’s fine, then. We’ll be back in an hour’s time. Is that OK?’

‘Yeah, that’s just fantastic.’

‘See you later. Oh, and, Dom … Don’t give my daughter any more ice cream,’ she says, and I can fucking hear the laughter in her voice.

‘Not a drop,’ I say, and kill the call.

‘Is my Mummy mad at you?’ Liliana asks innocently.

Un-fucking-believable. ‘What do you think, you little troublemaker, you?’ I ask as my phone goes again. I glance down. It’s Layla. I groan. Now what?

‘Hey, Layla.’

‘Dom, where’s my son right now?’

I turn around to where I saw him last, and to my horror he is nowhere to be seen. I feel a flash of panic. The flat is eerily silent.

‘Oh fuck,’ I curse.

Layla’s voice is deliberately calm. ‘He’ll be in the kitchen, Dom.’ I start running toward the kitchen. Layla is right. He is. He’s sitting by the bowl of cat food. And … Oh! Damn! He’s fucking scooping up handfuls and eating it.

‘I found him,’ I say, lifting him up with my other hand.

‘What’s he doing?’ Layla asks.

‘Nothing,’ I say, as I stuff him into the highchair.

‘What did you call for, Layla?’ I ask, while I try to hook pieces of cat biscuit out of Tommy’s mouth.

‘Just to tell you to put the cat bowl up where Tommy can’t reach it.’

‘Yeah. I’ll definitely do that.’

‘Call me if you’re unclear about anything, OK?’

‘Right, will do.’

‘Bye.’

I press the disconnect button and throw my phone on the table. Jesus, kids and their crap. How do people put up with this shit? I clean his mouth out while he tries his best to swallow the brown mush down. I wipe his hands.

‘Uncle Shane doesn’t allow Tommy in the kitchen because he likes eating the cat’s food,’ Little Miss Perfect says.

‘Yeah?’ I have a new respect for Shane. I had no idea kids were such a handful.

‘You have to watch him or he’ll drink out of the toilet, too,’ Liliana chirps, nodding her head sagely.

I turn to look at her. She’s enjoying this. Well, she’s not going to win. A fighter can’t be afraid of anything.