The Family Friend, C. MacDonald [ereader for android TXT] 📗

go read Bob a story, thanks,’ Raf says, coming round the sofa towards Erin. Amanda goes to get Bobby and carries him in the direction of his room. Raf takes Erin’s hands in his. She looks up at him, hat still low over his hair, and he gives her the same beatific look he gives Bobby just after he’s come out of a screaming fit. As if she’s a troubled soul who needs his succour. ‘Now –’ his voice is gentle, his fingers massage up her wrists – ‘I don’t know if you don’t remember doing it or, or if this, acting like this, is because –’ he lowers his voice – ‘Amanda’s still here.’ Erin glances over to Amanda who’s stopped at the end of the corridor that leads to the bedroom. She’s watching them with a worried look in her eyes. ‘Which is it?’ he says, snapping. Erin hadn’t even clocked that he’d asked a question. She blinks, thinking, almost twitching, wanting to scream. What is going on? Is Raf right? Is she suffering from some form of psychosis? Have all the hours staring at the phone made her delusional? Could she really forget having done something like that, something practical that would have involved her getting her ID together, filling in application forms?

‘I definitely didn’t do this, I couldn’t have done this. I wouldn’t just make it up.’

‘What about the jar? The jar with the doll? I’m not saying you’re doing it on purpose, Ez, but, you’re tired, you’ve got this thing about Amanda.’

‘I didn’t do this. Set up a bank account that I don’t remember!’

‘You really don’t remember? Are you sure? I get how much you want her to leave, and I want her to as well, but I’m not sure you’re thinking’s right on this, and I’m not sure you’re well enough.’

‘I’ve been saying I haven’t been paid yet for weeks. You think I’ve been concocting some elaborate lie for all that time to try and get rid of Amanda?’ She flips her hand over and bats his touch away. He gives her a warning look. That night, the night she threw the dish at him, floats between them. He lifts her handbag off the back of one of the chairs.

‘Can I look?’

‘I didn’t do this.’ She feels tears prick, the wave of emotion stuttering her words. Because as he gets her wallet out of her bag, as he flicks his long fingers through the card section, she knows what he’s going to find. And she knows that he might be right. That the troll might be right about her. She’s losing her mind.

‘Oh God.’ Raf turns away from her and walks to the door, carrying the wallet with him. Erin’s breath shallows, she feels herself standing on her tiptoes, almost trying to peak over Raf’s shoulder to see what he has. ‘947383 –’ he turns, reading from a bank card – ‘82. I’m sorry, Ez.’ She goes to him and grabs the card from his hand. It’s for a business account, her name, ‘Mrs E. Braune’, written below the long number.

‘This isn’t mine,’ she says without conviction. ‘I didn’t do this. I know I didn’t.’ Raf steers her towards an armchair and she sits, staring at the card in her hand. It has her name on it. Not Amanda’s, not Raf’s, not anyone else’s, hers. She throws her head into her hands and begins to weep silently. Raf puts a hand on her shoulder but she shrugs him off.

She rubs the tears down into her cheeks. Through her fingers she sees Amanda half out of Bobby’s room watching them. She’s staring at Raf. She bites her top lip, shakes her head almost imperceptibly. Erin sees an expression she’s never seen before. Rage.

59

‘I want you to stay here today,’ Raf says. It’s the morning after. He’s standing in the door frame. He slept in with Bobby last night, as he has virtually every night for the last few weeks. She’s stopped asking whether he had a bad night – according to Raf, he’s always had a bad night. ‘Erin?’ She nods.

Amanda took care of Bobby’s bedtime last night. Raf got Erin a bowl of cereal and suggested she go to bed. She lay there, eight o’clock in the evening, staring at the water mark in the eaves of her bedroom ceiling. She was trying to process the emails, the card, the jar, the honey, the troll, but none of the thoughts would click over in her mind, as if her brain’s starter motor had gone kaput. She feels hollow. Her body, her mind, feel as if there’s nothing inside them.

‘Will you promise me? Stay in bed today. Rest. Take a pill if you need to. I’m going to see if I can get someone to come and talk to you, a doctor, a nurse maybe. I was googling last night, I think you might be having a stress-related breakdown.’ He checks her reaction but there isn’t one. ‘You have been under a huge amount of stress. First Bobby, being so hard those first eight, nine months, feeding him, you weren’t sleeping, I wasn’t sleeping, we weren’t always as nice to each other as we should’ve been. And I’m sorry, for my part, I’m so sorry about that. Then all this extra work, you were out of your mind responding to everyone, even before the whole thing with Grace and her putting you out to work. And, and the troll.’ He looks down at the duvet, reaches his hand towards her but stops short. ‘I’m thinking I’ll try get a loan. Take time off. To care for you. Anyway, I better go, go get cracking. I think Amanda’s taking Bobby to a singing class at the old cinema?’

‘Tabby’s Rock and Rhyme,’ Erin says, flat.

‘Probably, yeh. There’s a sandwich on the side for you.’

‘Great.’

‘I love you.’ Erin flicks her eyes to him.

‘I know.’

She