Watching You by Helen Fields

Author:Helen Fields
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: HarperCollins Publishers
Published: 2025-07-24T11:20:00+00:00

Chapter 29

The Watcher

10 June

Karl sat on the edge of his father’s bed and tried to spoon-feed him some soup. His father was getting weaker, no point pretending otherwise. The man had hated soup before his stroke, now it was almost all he could eat. Karl stirred the beef broth and wondered if everyone’s life played such ironic tricks on them or if it was just the unlucky few. He spooned another few drops into his father’s mouth and wiped the drips from his chin, aware that his mother was coming down the stairs again, the swish of her nightie bringing a cloud of a freshly smoked cigarette with it. He turned back to concentrate on his father. He couldn’t pretend she wasn’t there any more, but he could ignore her if he tried really, really hard, except now she was humming, and that had always set his teeth on edge. Today it was the fucking ‘Birdie Song’, of all things, not because she liked it but because she knew he’d always hated it, and that tune – no coincidence – was the one she’d been humming when she’d suddenly clutched her chest, cried out then fallen to her knees.

They’d all been at home together that day. His parents had produced a baby rather later in life than the norm, so both had been retired for a few years, but Karl had a job back then in the investment department of a pension fund. It wasn’t electrifying work but he was a fast learner and understanding how to grow money was an underrated skill.

Karl thought it was a Sunday, but perhaps it was a Saturday, not that it mattered. His father had been watching TV, Karl had been playing a game on his mobile, and his mother had been watching the new neighbours from the corner of the sitting room window. They’d arrived a month earlier carrying a toddler his mother hated on sight, having instantly decided that it would be screaming at all hours of the day and night, that they’d all have to pretend it was gorgeous, and God help those parents if they thought they’d moved into the sort of road where people were going to babysit their wee brat while they went out on the piss.

Neither Karl nor his father had said a word during his mother’s continuous spew of undeserved hatred. They both knew better. There was no point interjecting. If they agreed with her, she’d ignore them, and if they disagreed then life wouldn’t be worth living for the next few days. His father had developed the skill of nodding occasionally in all the right places while simply carrying on with whatever he was doing. Karl didn’t have it perfected quite, but he was getting better at it.

‘And look at that crappy plastic swing-set and slide they’ve put up on their front grass,’ his mother was saying. ‘Fucking red and yellow, like we need any more tat in this road. Shouldn’t be allowed.’

Karl’s father made

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