(1989) Dreamer Read Free Page B

bats.’
    ‘BAT, Tiger, British American Tobacco.’
    The floor, shelves and windowsill were strewn with toys, mostly cars and lorries. He was nuts about cars. A monkey holding a pair of cymbals was lying across the forecourt of a Lego garage, and a robot looked as if it was about to leap off the windowsill. Her husband tapped some more figures out on the keyboard, and Nicky watched intently.
    Nicky.
    Nicky sensed that something had gone bad between his Mummy and his Daddy, and with a child’s intuition knew his Daddy was in some way responsible. It had seemed to make him even closer to Richard. If that was possible.
    His father’s son. He’d nearly killed her when he was born, but he’d never really be her son. Always his father’s. They were close, so close. Cars. Planes. Lego. Games. Boating. Fishing. Guns. And now the computer they’d given him for Christmas. It was always Richard who taught him, Richard who understood his toys, Richard who knew how to play with them. Richard was his mate.
    ‘American Express down two and a half.’
    ‘Does that mean we’ve lost money?’
    ‘Afraid so.’
    ‘Aww.’
    ‘Bathtime, Nicky.’
    ‘Aww – just a few minutes more.’
    ‘No, come on, you’re late already. Start running it. Mummy’s going to change.’ Sam went out of the room and saw Nicky’s nanny coming out of the kitchen. ‘Hello Helen.’
    ‘Good evening, Mrs Curtis,’ Helen smiled nervously, unsure of herself as always.
    ‘Everything OK?’
    ‘Fine, thank you. He’s had a nice day. He did well at school. They’re very pleased with his arithmetic.’
    ‘Good. Must have got that from his father – I’m hopeless at it.’
    Sam went into their bedroom and felt the same coldness she had felt in the office; it seemed to be following her around. She stared at the bright, warm colours of the painting of the reclining nude on the wall, with her massive breasts and earthy clump of pubes and sly grinthat she woke up and stared at every morning. Richard liked her. Insisted on having her there. She sat down on the four-postered bed, tugged off her shoes and leaned back for a moment. Her face stared back down from the mirrored panel on the top of the bed, her hair plastered down by the rain, her face white, much too white. Mirrors. Richard had a thing about mirrors.
    She stared back at the painting of the nude. Was that what the tart in the office looked like? She wondered. The tart Richard had disappeared with off to a hotel in Torquay? Did she have big tits and a sly grin?
    Bitch, she thought, anger and sadness mixing around inside her. It had all been all right. Fine. Great. A neat, ordered world. Happy times. Everything going well. Everything had been just fine.
    Until she found out about that. It felt as if a plug had been pulled out from inside her and everything had drained away.
    She sat on the edge of Nicky’s tiny bed and flicked over the pages of Fungus the Bogeyman on his bedside table. ‘Shall I read?’
    ‘No.’ He looked quite hurt. ‘Tell me a story. You tell the best stories.’
    She glanced around the room. ‘You promised me you were going to tidy up. All those new things you got for Christmas are going to get broken.’ She stood up and walked over to a cupboard door which was ajar and opened it further. A plastic airliner fell out, and the tail section snapped off and cartwheeled along the carpet. Nicky looked as if he was about to cry.
    ‘That was silly. Who put that in there like that?’ She knelt down.
    Nicky said nothing.
    ‘Was it you?’
    Slowly, he pursed his lips.
    ‘Maybe Daddy’ll be able to fix it for you tomorrow.’ She lifted the pieces off the floor and put them on a chair, then sat back beside him.
    ‘It’s my birthday on Sunday, isn’t it, Mummy?’
    ‘Yes, Tiger.’
    ‘Am I going to get more presents?’
    ‘Not if you don’t tidy these up.’
    ‘I will. I promise.’
    ‘Anyway, you had lots of presents for Christmas.’
    ‘Christmas was ages