‘Duty calls, son.’ Despite still concentrating on the laundry, I can see she’s beginning to enjoy my discomfort a bit too much.
‘But—’
‘I need help!’ This time, Louis’s tone is pitiful.
Loosening my tie, I turn on my heel, stomping down the hall to face the music. Or the smell. I push the bathroom door open to find him sitting on the toilet, entirely naked but for a pair of Pokémon socks.
Pikachu, I need you.
‘How you doin’, big man?’ I keep my voice soft as he looks at me with round, frightened eyes. I don’t know what it is, but the wee boy is not comfortable around me in the best of circumstances. Naked and on the toilet? Even less so. I leave the door ajar.
‘Where’s Granny?’ he asks in a small voice.
‘Busy.’ I lower my arse to the edge of the bathtub, feeling unsure.
‘I tried to wipe my bum.’
‘And how’d it go?’ Legs stretched out, I lean forward and pick up a dark grey towel from the floor.
‘Not so well.’ His voice is so small as he answers, and I can’t help but notice him eyeing the towel in my hand.Fuck.
I drop it to the floor again and try not to freak out or shudder at the germs I’m potentially covered in.
‘We all need help sometimes, buddy.’ His brows furrow despite my reassuring tone, and his little shoulders slump until, elbows on his thighs, he props his chin in his hands.I must remember to wash his face. ‘Even grown-ups make a shit job of things.’
‘You said a bad word.’
‘I did? Well, see? Grown-ups make loads of mistakes.’
‘Mama said bad words, too. Sometimes,’ he adds, looking up at me to gauge my reaction.
‘Well, I expect she had reason to sometimes.’ The poor wee bugger nods, trying hard to stifle his tears. ‘It’s okay to cry.’
‘Mama said big boys don’t cwy.’
Christ on a bike. How can I contradict someone who’ll be canonised in his mind?
‘Well, pal, I’m sure she’d cry if the tables were turned. You miss her.’ What a dumb fuck thing to say, but he nods anyway. ‘If you ever want to talk about it... or anything, you can, you know?’
‘I m-miss Charles,’ he says, wiping his eyes with the backs of his hand.Sharlesis how he pronounces this, his mother’s accent no doubt inherited a wee bit.
‘Is Charles your friend from school?’ Because not only has he lost his mother and his home, his wee kindergarten is too far away to get to from my place.
‘Non.’ Nowthatwas definitely French. ‘He’s my pet. H-he’s s-still at home. Bonny is looking after h-him.’ His tears flow freely now, his chest hiccupping in little sobs.
‘And he’s yours? Not Bonny’s?’ Bonny is his mother’s roommate. His too, I suppose. We’d spoken by phone, but that’s about it.
‘I gots him from my last birfday!’ he yells suddenly, holding up his wee hand, pinkie finger and thumb curled in. ‘When I was free!’
‘Okay, okay,’ I placate. ‘Maybe we can call Bonny, see if you can visit your... hamster?’ I add hopefully.
‘Dog! And I d-don’t want to visit him! I can’t sleep wivout him. I m-miss him.’
‘All right, all right.’ I hold up both hands in placation. ‘I’ll talk to her. See what I can do.’
‘Are you still in here?’ My mothertsks,appearing in the doorway.Thank the Lord.
‘That wee mite will get haemorrhoids sat on the pot for hours on end!’ Da’s voice then yells from somewhere inside the flat. ‘I’ve heard the toilet referred to as a reading room but never a meeting room,’ he grumbles, his voice drawing nearer before his head appears behind Mum. ‘Are ye’ finished, laddies?’ Louis nods earnestly in response. ‘Then let your dad wipe your arse. Come away, Stella,’ he says, pulling on my mother’s arm. ‘They’ve got to get on wi’ it at some point.’ With nothing more than a reassuring glance in my direction, she allows Da to pull her away.
