The malodour of alcohol and weed was stronger downstairs than up and managed to permeate every corner of the lower floor. The sound of garrulous daytime television polluted Davie’s ears just as much as the smell polluted his nose (the additional noise of Frankie and Michelle now beginning to fuck loudly upstairs only added to the assault on his senses).
“Shouldn’t you be at school?” his mother asked as tried to sneak past the living room.
“Half-term,” he told her truthfully.
Davie’s mother stared at him, trying to work out if he was lying or not, oblivious to the fact that she should know his school schedule anyway. Davie stared right back at her and eventually she seemed satisfied.
“Okay, sweetheart,” she said. “Come sit with your old mum.”
Davie smiled uncomfortably and joined his mother on the grimy settee. She pretty much lived in this room, sprawled in front of the television like a rotting slug. Davie sometimes wondered whether her sweat-soaked flesh would someday fuse with the festering cloth of the cushions and keep her there forever.
His mum took a long swig of beer and followed it with a throaty belch. She looked at him. “So whaya bin up to, Davie?”
Davie shrugged and stared at the television. “Nothing really. Just hanging out with Frankie. I’m glad he’s back.”
She huffed and took another swig of beer. “Boy’s a bad un. Done nothing but embarrass me his whole life. All I ever did was try to raise him like a good mother. You need to stay out of his way, Davie. You study hard and make your old mum proud. That boy will only bring you down with him – drinking, drugs, sex. He’s no good.”
“He’s my brother. He just does what he needs to survive.”
Davie’s mum laughed; a wet cackle that eventually became a hacking cough. Phlegm and spittle flew from between her cracked lips and settled on the grungy carpet. When she finally managed to get control of her lungs again, she said: “He tell ya that, did he? Bloody swine.”
Davie didn’t answer. He hated it when his mother started on about Frankie – it never ended well. There was a real, palpable hatred between the two of them and Davie was the unfortunate victim in the middle. He loved them both, but when it came right down to it, only one of them was really looking out for Davie – and it wasn’t his mother.
The sounds of sex from above grew louder and more frenzied, approaching a crescendo. Michelle cried out in orgasm, lacking regard for anyone having to listen.
Davie’s mother looked up at the ceiling and sneered, upper lip curling. “Goddamn whore! Where does Frankie find em? Regret the day I gave birth to that monster, I really do.”
“Mum, don’t say that.” Davie knew where things were going: same place they always did. “Just watch your TV show. Okay?”
Suddenly her demeanour changed. Her eyes turned dark and her expression exuded a deep and hateful bitterness. “Don’t you tell me what to do, you ungrateful little shit. Who do you think you are?”
“Mum…”
She struck him across the face. Davie’s instincts almost made him strike her right back, but he managed to refrain from any retaliation. You never hit women, Frankie always used to tell him, those are the rules. So, instead, Davie stood up calmly to exit the room.
His mother shouted after him as he left. “That’s right. Get outta my sight. Devil-child, that’s what you are. You and your brother make my life a living hell.” She started to sob to herself. “What did I do to deserve this? I do my best…”
Davie ignored the rest of her comments, he’d heard them too often before to let them settle in his mind and flourish. He turned away and went back up the stairs, heading for his bedroom. Maybe he’d while away the day with a videogame or two. Keep his head down. But, before Davie got to his room, Frankie stepped out onto the landing.
“What that bitch say to you?” he demanded. “I heard shouting.”