‘Dad knows how to fix me. He’s a dentist.’
She bent over in pain again. ‘Is he? … I never knew … I should have …’
She put her fingers in the gaps where her teeth should have been. She obviously did not brush her teeth.
‘You have to make my dinner. I’m hungry!’
Her face was wet with sweat. She straightened up and lifted a frying pan and fried some rashers. The smell was delicious. She mashed the potatoes with a fork and opened the tin of peas and poured them into another battered pot to heat. She slopped it all on to a plate and pushed it across the floor to me, moaning and groaning.
‘Stop making those noises.’
‘I wouldn’t be making noise if you hadn’t hurt me. I thought you were sorry.’
‘Not any more. You’re a thief and you stole my food and the bacon isn’t even crispy the way I like it.’
She stopped, breathed aloud a little and steadied herself against the sink. ‘Oh my God, you’re just like him. He’ll turn you into a monster too if you don’t escape.’
She fell back against the wall and slid down it. She fell asleep again, right there.
I ate my dinner and then the crisps.
At some stage, she crawled across the floor to her mattress and pulled the blanket over herself and cried.
I cried then too. What a terrible mother I had. This was all like a bad dream.
We didn’t speak for the rest of the evening, not even when I passed her to wash and brush my teeth and do my wees.
In the middle of the night, she woke me, crying out, ‘Help me! Please God, help me!’ but I didn’t want to help her and I didn’t know how.
‘Shush!’ I said.
In the morning, she went to the toilet. I could hear her weeing and then filling the basin with water. There was the sound of splashing and moaning.
I got dressed and ate my cornflakes while she was in there.
She came out of the toilet soaking wet from head to toe. She had no clothes on. She was still shaking. I stared at her naked body, the roundness of her belly, and the two breasts, drooping bags of flesh above it. I hadn’t wondered what naked ladies looked like. Her bottom was kind of normal, but wide, and she had hair between her legs and under her arms. I couldn’t help staring. She saw me looking. ‘I’m burning up. I can’t put my clothes on, it’s too hot.’
‘Cover yourself up, you stupid woman.’
‘Aahhhhhhhhhhh!’ She screamed and clutched her belly and, before she half fell on to the mattress, I could see blood pouring down her legs.
I was terrified. I didn’t know how to help her, but I wanted it to stop.
‘Stop it,’ I ordered her, but she was wailing now. Dad had said he’d be home by eleven this morning. It was nine thirty.
‘I think the baby is dying. I might die too.’ She was gasping and taking deep breaths. ‘Is that what you want? You have to tell somebody that I’m here … My name is Denise Norton. Please remember that … I used to think that people would come looking for me, but I think they have given up now. You’re the only person who knows I’m here. Please, as soon as you get out today you must tell somebody that I’m here. Denise Norton. Denise Norton. You’re my son.’
‘Who would I tell?’
She sobbed then. ‘You could run outside to the road and tell the first person you met.’
‘I’m not allowed outside the garden.’
‘Don’t you see? If only you were old enough to understand … we are both prisoners.’ Her breathing was becoming shallower. She fell asleep again. I could see blood spreading across the blanket. What if she died? Would Dad be angry with me? I went to the fridge and filled a glass with milk. I went to her and held it to her face.
‘Milk is good for you,’ I said and I tried to lift her head. She roused slightly and tried to drink the milk but most of it spilled on to the mattress. ‘Do you want my cheese?’ I tore the packet open, and she gnawed at it.
‘Denise Norton,’ she said over and over again. ‘You must tell someone. If I die here, they won’t know who I was.’
