Witness - страница 8

‘Yes, well, he’s hidden the phone again,’ she hissed, pulling at the drawers, rifling through, just in case. Another of Kieran’s obsessions: taking and hiding phones.

‘And your mobile?’

‘Recharging. Look!’ She turned, furious, her face contorted, holding up the transparent plastic box. ‘That’s it!’ A single straw.

Mike’s mouth began to twitch, a bubble of hysteria fluttered in his chest. His diaphragm and belly convulsed. Don’t say it, he thought. Don’t.

‘It’s not funny, Mike.’ She looked askance. ‘It’s the last straw!’

Laughter burst from him. Snatching his breath and sight and sense. And then his face was wet and his shoulders shook and he lifted his hands to his face.

‘Jesus Christ,’ Vicky said quietly. ‘What on earth is it?’

Cheryl

It was hot for once and Milo was fretting after his midday nap so Cheryl texted Vinia. Asked if she’d like to hang out. Take Milo down the play park together. Vinia was cool with it. Said half an hour and pitched up in twenty which was some sort of a record. She was always late was Vinia, be late for her own funeral, that girl, Nana said. Many a time.

Nana had gone to church after giving out about how it would do the child good to visit the Lord, like she always did. How back home in Jamaica no one would dare miss church. And Cheryl nodded and shrugged and then objected that Milo had gone down and she wasn’t going to wake him.

‘Where did I go wrong?’ Nana muttered to the mirror, adjusting the veil on her hat. ‘Well?’ She turned to Cheryl, one arm out, palm up, the other on her waist. Asking now for Cheryl’s opinion about her outfit.

‘Fine.’ Cheryl nodded at the navy skirt suit. Gold buckles on the shoes, anchors on the suit buttons. Nautical Nana. ‘More than fine.’ Cheryl grinned.

‘Splendid?’ Nana demanded.

‘Splendid.’

Nana clapped her hands but the gloves muffled the sound. She went to the door. ‘I might go back with Rose.’

‘Okay,’ said Cheryl.

‘There’s some casserole left if you peckish.’

‘Ta, Nana.’

Since then Milo had woken, grumpy at first, then refreshed, and she’d fed him a banana sandwich and some juice and changed his nappy.

He had some words now; it cracked her up to hear him. ‘Woof’ had been his first word and they still couldn’t pass a dog, a picture of a dog, or hear a dog bark without Milo on the case.

Milo squealed when he saw Vinia and she picked him up and pretended to eat his cheeks, making him writhe and giggle.

When she put him down, Cheryl told him to get in his buggy and he toddled over to it and climbed in. Gave a little one-two kick of his legs in anticipation.

‘I need some cigs,’ Vinia said.

‘Call at Sid’s,’ said Cheryl. Shorthand for Siddique’s – the corner shop.

Cheryl manoeuvred the buggy out of the door and Vinia followed. Cheryl liked the heat. She’d been itching to wear her new shorts and the halter top and today was the day. Her figure was just as good as before she had Milo. Mile high legs, the agency had said, potential runway material. She’d done a few shoots, adverts, mainly print for magazines and promotions, just one for TV, but all that was impossible now, couldn’t pitch up for castings with Milo under her arm.

The sun was fierce and made the colours stronger, the red of the brick walls, the green of the plants in the hanging baskets that some people had up. The sky too looked bluer, a great bowl of blue, not a cloud anywhere. Nana had a tub by the door, no garden at the front ’cos the houses opened right on to the street, and in the tub there was a rose climbing up the wall, big, creamy flowers with that smell of lemon and spice. The smell was stronger, as well.

At the corner, Vinia went into Sid’s and Cheryl waited outside with Milo, watching people coming and going. Plenty of people out, making the most of the good weather. A guy walked by on the other side of the street, skinny, grimy, bare-chested and his skin milk-white, with a backpack on. A dog at his heels. Cheryl didn’t know him.

‘Woof!’ chirruped Milo.

‘Yes, woof,’ Cheryl agreed.

‘Woof!’ Milo was alive with glee. Like he’d never seen a dog before and this was the best dog in the universe. ‘Woof!’ He kept it up, one dimpled finger pointing to the dog, until they disappeared round the turning. Even with the dog gone, Milo muttered ‘Woof’ a couple more times. Savouring the memory.