Mum exhaled, years of heartache and trouble lacing her sigh. “Please don’t antagonise him. Or anyone else, for that matter. We’ve worked too hard to escape your father’s messes to get dragged into his squabbles with Dicky McGee.”
“Why am I traipsing down the Legion to pick him up then?”
“You know why, Joe.”
Because whatever he’s done, he’s family.
Right. And I had a smile as sweet as Harry’s.
Sal hung up, and I set off in the opposite direction to the tack shop. The Legion was on the other side of town, away from the tourist traps, and was rundown enough to constitute a proper shithole. Across the road was the cafe Sal’s mate Elaine owned. She met me at the van.
“Sorry, luv. I just can’t have my customers watching over a vagrant while they eat their butties. Business is bad enough as it is.”
I understood. If the horses that came through the farm brought rent payments with them, we’d be laughing, but life didn’t work like that. We were full to bursting, with less resources to go round than ever.
With a heavy sigh, I refused Elaine’s offer of breakfast and crossed the road to the heap of stained wool and corduroy that constituted my father. He was snoring, a pile of empty Tennant’s cans next to him and an unlit roll-up dangling from his cracked lips.
I plucked it from his mouth and lit it, savouring the sticky loose tobacco that Grandpa had smoked too. Smoking was a filthy habit, but god, I loved it, even if stealing Jonah’s leftovers made me feel dirty inside.
Loser.
I stuck the fag in my mouth and kicked out, my boot connecting with Jonah’s shin. “Wakey, wakey.”
He grunted and scratched his nose.
I kicked him again. “Oi. Wakeup.”
Slowly, Jonah opened his eyes, revealing clouding irises that had once been a startling shade of blue. “Joe? Son?”
I hated it when he called me son. I hatedhim. “Just get up, will you? Elaine’s doing her nut.”
My father rose from the ground like an animated bag of shit. He glanced around and then up at the sky, gauging the time by the sun. “It’s early.”
“Yep. Did you go home last night?”
“Home?”
“Yeah. To the flat. Whatever. Please tell me you didn’t sleep out here all night?”
Jonah shrugged. An admission, perhaps? Or maybe he simply didn’t know. Either way, my patience with him was running thin. “Get in the van. I’ll run you up the road.”
I stomped back across the road without checking to see if he was following me. Chances were, he’d stay behind. Prop himself up on a bench until the Legion opened at lunchtime.
But the passenger door opened a minute after I’d got in the driver’s side, and Jonah heaved himself into the van. “How’s your mother?”
“Like you care.”
“Come on now, son. There’s no need to be like that.”
I gritted my teeth and gunned the engine, tearing away like I’d wanted to when I’d left the farm with nothing but a flea in my ear. But I meant it this time. I’d had a dream once where I’d driven myself and my father off a cliff, to save everyone else from the both of us. Some days, that dream came back to me, especially first thing in the morning when I’d drive past the derelict shell of the old stud stables.
The drive to the bedsit where my father now lived was utterly silent... on my part, at least. He jabbered on like we were off down the beach to catch the waves, and I hated him a little bit more.
“How are you getting on with Shadow?”
I pulled up outside the bedsit. “Why are you asking me that?”
Jonah shrugged. “That horse needs a lot of work.”
