‘I’m sorry.’ He didn’t even bother to look back. ‘I can’t. I can’t do this again.’
Then: Aged 14
Fin
‘So, is Dad going to be gracing us with his presence tonight, or will this be night three of him working late?’ Fin asked sarcastically as he sat down for dinner.
‘Don’t be like that, Finley. You know his job is high-pressure, especially at the moment,’ his mother replied, anxiously chewing her lip.
‘Nice to see you’re both still sticking to the same pathetic cover story.’ He sighed, reaching over and helping himself to a slice of pizza. His mum said nothing, but simply sat and stared at the clock whilst pushing her salad around her plate.
‘Yeah, my day was great, thanks for asking,’ Fin continued through a mouthful of cheese. ‘School was fine. Got top marks for my art assignment, not that you give a shit.’
‘Don’t swear, please.’
‘Why? Dad does. He practically swears every other word,’ he remarked bitterly. Fin knew he was being especially difficult tonight, but he found he couldn’t help himself.
‘Yes, but your father is an adult. And like I said, he’s under a lot of pressure at the moment.’
‘Oh yes, poor him. I forgot how difficult life must be forhim,’ Fin snarled. Just as his mother was about to speak, the front door opened.
‘Brian!’ his mother called, practically leaping from her seat in excitement. ‘Brian, have you eaten? I’ve just served up dinner!’
‘Jesus, Eileen, it’s nearly nine o’clock. I told you not to wait for me,’ the gruff voice of his father barked out from the hallway.
‘I know, but Fin wasn’t hungry earlier so we waited a little later to eat tonight,’ she stuttered pathetically.
The sound of his mother’s lies made the blood boil furiously under Fin’s skin. He didn’t like how she was when his dad was away, but he absolutelyhatedwhat she became when he was around.
‘Bloody kids. If you let him think he can do what he wants, Eileen, he’ll take the piss.’
‘It’s fine. Come on, come and eat.’ His mother re-entered the kitchen, a feverish smile on her face.
Fin shoved the last piece of pizza into his mouth and stood up. There was no way he was going to be able to spend even a minute sitting at the same table as his father. Not tonight. The anger was already threatening to overwhelm him.
‘Where do you think you’re going, kid?’ his dad boomed, his large frame swaggering through the doorway.
‘To my room,’ Fin stated flatly, making his way over to the dishwasher.
‘And who gave you permission to leave the table?’
‘I did.’ Fin turned and stared at his dad. All six foot four of him, with his large muscular frame and thatch of bright ginger hair. There was a ruddiness to his cheeks, which Finknew meant he’d been drinking. There was also a wry smile on his face, which Fin also knew meant trouble.
‘And I suppose you think you’re the big man of the house these days, do you?’
Don’t rise to it.
Don’t let him get to you.
‘Do you?’ his dad pressed.
‘Well, if there’s a vacancy then I suppose someone has to fill it.’ Fin shrugged, shoving his dirty plate into the dishwasher and slamming it shut.
‘What do you mean by that?’
Fin made to leave but his dad side-stepped to block his way.
‘I’m talking to you, Finley. Answer me.’
