Andrew applied the parking brake and switched off the ignition. “Okay, get out.”
Davie nodded in silence. He pushed open the door on his side and stepped out into the street. The air felt icy after leaving the stifling compartment of the car. It was a good sensation, though, and woke up his senses, easing the low-level headache that had been with him since the hospital.
“Come on, inside,” said Andrew, walking up a path to one of the houses. There was a light on in the living room, mingling with the pulsing flash of a television.
Davie followed obediently, wishing he was somewhere else – anywhere else – than the property of a man who most likely meant him harm.
Andrew opened the front door with a key and stepped inside. Dave stepped inside too, stopping inside the porch.
Andrew locked the door behind them. “Living room’s on the left, pal. Go on through.”
Davie entered the hallway and turned to the door on the left. It felt as though turning the handle would be the beginning of something he didn’t want to get into. He wanted to refuse to go in, to turn around and demand to be let out. But it was too late for that.
I’m already inside.
Davie turned the handle and pushed open the door, then entered the living room. Inside, there was a mixture of smells that didn’t usually go together. It smelt like vinegar and…bleach? A moment later Davie saw the source of each odour. Two women – one young and one older – crawled on their hands and knees, scrubbing at the carpet with bleach-soaked cloths. The whole room seemed to be littered with mashed up potatoes and bits of fish.
“My family,” said Andrew behind him.
The women looked up and both seemed to receive a fright at Davie’s presence. Both of them stood up quickly.
Andrew stepped through into the centre of the living room and stood in front of the women. “This is just one of the things Frankie has done to us for no reason, Davie. My wife and daughter have been scrubbing at these carpets all day and the smell still hasn’t gone completely. You know all about the damage to my car as well.”
Davie shook his head and wondered what to say. What words would make this situation end?
The older woman’s eyes had gone wide and she looked at him, bewildered. “You know Frankie?”
Davie said nothing. He didn’t want to admit to anything that could get him hurt.
“This is Frankie’s brother,” said Andrew, “and he’s a good lad.”
Davie raised an eyebrow at him. “What?”
Andrew shrugged. “Maybe I’m wrong, but I don’t think you enjoy hurting people like your brother does.”
Davie still chose to say nothing. His thoughts were a muddle, perhaps from the concussion – perhaps not.
“Sit down,” said the woman. “I’ll get us all some tea.”
Davie hesitated. He still wanted out of there, but somehow felt his uneasiness going away at the thought of staying. A cup of tea could be exactly what he needed.
The younger girl stepped towards Davie and held out a hand. She was about his age and beautiful – like a younger version of her mother but with a lightness to her features that made her seem angelic. Davie could tell just by looking at her that she was a kind person. She continued to offer out her hand and Davie finally took it, albeit reluctantly.
“There you go. My name’s Rebecca,” she said, leading him towards the sofa. “Take a seat and we’ll talk things through. You look like you’ve been in the wars.”
Davie sat down and nodded. “I got run over.”
Rebecca sat beside him and looked shocked. “No way!”
“Yes,” said Andrew, seating himself on a nearby armchair. “It was me that hit him.”
The girl now seemed even more shocked.
“Was an accident, Bex,” Andrew added. “Davie’s going to be just fine, though, so don’t worry.”
“Thank god. This week’s been horrible enough without anything else happening.”
“I’m sorry,” said Davie without realising the word had even escaped his lips.