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I squat down and roll the ball along the floor to him. He stops it then rolls it back.
After some more passing backwards and forwards—and only losing it under the shoe rack once—we move on to gentle throws. Johnny’s idea of “catching” is to grab the ball and hug it to his chest like he’s trying to keep hold of a wriggly puppy. Still, he manages not to drop it most of the time.
“Look, Robbie!” Johnny tosses the ball up and catches it himself. “I did it all on my own!”
“Nice one, wee man!” I say, imitating the kind of voice I imagine Da would use if he ever bothered to play with us.
We get braver as we go, me throwing just a wee bit higher each turn because Johnny keeps squealing with laughter when he manages to hold on. It’s actually a pretty fun game.
Then Johnny decides he wants to show off and flings the ball way too hard. It sails past my hands and straight towards Maw’s prized photograph on the wall—the one of her and Da on their wedding day, back before she had us.
Time slows down just enough for me to think Oh no, then the photo frame hits the floor with a crash, glass shattering everywhere, the sound like thunder in our quiet house.
I freeze. Maw’s smiling face peeks up at me from under jagged shards. And then she appears in the doorway, only in real life she’s not smiling. Nope, her cheeks are red with anger.
She looks from the broken frame to me, barely even glancing at Johnny. “ROBBIE! What have you done now?”
“I didn’t—”
“It was me, Mummy,” Johnny pipes up, his voice small. “I throwed the ball too hard.”
Maw ignores him completely, her eyes fixed on me. “Why can’t you ever be responsible? I leave you alone for five minutes and you break something. Just look at this mess!”
“But Maw, Johnny was the one who—”
“Don’t you dare blame your brother!” Her voice drops to that scary quiet tone that’s even worse than shouting. “He’s just a wee boy. You’re supposed to know better!”
She kneels next to Johnny and brushes his hair from his forehead, her face softening. “It’s not your fault, sweetheart. Your brother should have known not to play ball in the house.”
Then she turns back to me, and her face hardens again. “Stay right there. Don’t touch anything.” She stomps off towards the kitchen, muttering under her breath.
Johnny’s bottom lip trembles. “I’m sorry, Robbie.”
“It’s okay. Don’t worry about it.”
I spot a large piece of glass near my foot and bend to pick it up, thinking I should at least try to help clean up. But the edge is sharper than it looks. I hiss as it slices into my finger.
“Robbie’s bleeding!” Johnny calls out, just as Maw returns with a dustpan and brush.
She gives my finger the briefest look before rolling her eyes. “For God’s sake, Robbie! I told you not to touch anything.” She grabs my wrist roughly. “You can’t stay still for a moment, can you? No, you never do as you’re told.”
She drags me to the kitchen, Johnny trailing behind us with worried eyes. Maw runs my finger under cold water, her movements quick and impatient.
“Always making more work for me,” she mutters, fetching a plaster and wrapping it around my finger with none of the gentleness she shows Johnny when he’s hurt. “Always causing problems. Why do you have to be so difficult?”
Back in the hallway, she points at the stairs. “Both of you, out of my sight. I’ll clean this up myself. You’ll only make it worse.”
Johnny looks like he might cry, so I take his hand. “Come on, let’s go to my room.”
We sit on my bed, listening to Maw banging around downstairs. Johnny leans against my shoulder, and I let him play with my toy cars, even the wee motorbike I usually keep on my shelf.
The front door opens around six o’clock, and Da’s heavy footsteps echo in the hallway. Johnny and I creep to the top of the stairs to listen.
“How was your day?” Da asks, his voice tired but kind.
“Terrible,” Maw replies. “Your eldest has been a nightmare. Smashed our wedding photo, after I specifically told him not to play ball in the house.”
Da sighs, and I can picture him rubbing his forehead the way he always does. “Robbie! Come down here, please.”
