The New Girl by S.L. Grey

Author:S.L. Grey [Grey, S.L.]
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 9780857895912
Publisher: Atlantic Books

Chapter 14

TARA

The house is quiet. Too quiet. She’s not used to it being so peaceful at the weekend. Martin usually spends most of Saturday and Sunday attached to his Xbox, killing zombies or aliens or whatever with one of his vile friends. But since he arrived home after Encounters last night, he hasn’t ventured out of his room. In any other child, such a sudden change in behaviour would be a sign of abuse, but she’s learnt her lesson on that score, as Duvenhage has not so subtly pointed out. Stephen is off playing golf with his gang of lawyer buddies – ‘networking’ – but she’s relieved that he’s not here. Lately she’s finding his company increasingly odious. If it wasn’t for Baby Tommy she doesn’t know how she would have got through yesterday evening. She’d felt intensely uneasy after her meeting with Duvenhage; unwelcome memories from those last few weeks at Raymond Scheider had come flooding back.

‘Martin,’ she calls up the stairs. ‘Do you want something to eat?’

No answer. She’ll take him some ice cream. That’ll do.

The kitchen smells rank, the counter tops littered with grease-spotted pizza boxes and take-out Thai food containers sitting in sticky puddles of leaked soy sauce. A line of black ants marches around the edge of the sink and down towards the overflowing bin. No one’s emptied the dishwasher and the week’s breakfast bowls and coffee mugs are piled up in the sink. Tara knows she should really clean it up, especially as Olivia will be here later. She can just imagine the sneer on Olivia’s face when she sees the smear of dried ketchup on the fridge door, the blackened pot that’s still sitting on top of the dishwasher.

She digs in the freezer, unearths a tub of soft serve. It’s crystallised, but what the hell. She hacks it into a bowl, chucks the tub on top of the crusty bowls in the sink and heads up to his room.

She knocks on the door, nudges it open. It’s gloomy inside; he’s pulled the curtains. ‘Hey,’ she says. ‘Brought you some ice cream.’

He shifts under his duvet. ‘Thanks.’

She places the bowl on his side table, sits down on the edge of his bed. ‘Your father’s really worried about you, Martin.’

‘I know.’

‘I’m really worried about you.’

He shrugs.

‘If there’s anything you want to tell me, you know I can keep a secret.’

He shakes his head. ‘I’m cool.’

‘Are you?’ She reaches out to stroke his brow, is surprised when he doesn’t flinch away from her touch. His skin feels clammy, but she doesn’t think he has a temperature.

‘Are you sure all you saw at the house was a snake?’

He shakes his head. ‘No. I saw... something else.’

‘You did? Why didn’t you want to tell your father?’

He sighs, sounding way older than his years. ‘He wouldn’t understand.’

‘Can you tell me what it was?’

He shakes his head.

‘Could you draw it?’

He blinks at her in surprise. ‘I... I guess.’

Tara scrabbles in his desk, finds a piece of paper and a pencil, places it on the side table next to the ice cream.

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