Disappearing Home by Deborah Morgan

you’re getting through with that. Got your hands full there all right; you need to get yourself done.’
    When we walk away Mum tells me she used to go to school with Margy, and Eileen. ‘But all the lads were after Margy. Me and Eileen used to be dead jealous.’ She looks back, shakes her head. ‘Margy’s fucking destroyed now.’
    Margy doesn’t look destroyed to me. She just looks worn out.
    I don’t want to go home. I love it here, especially the being outside bit; people eating from trays in the street. I suppose it would be different in bad weather. I can’t wait to tell Nan about Greaty Market. Before we go I get to choose burger or chips. I order chips with fruity curry sauce on top. Mum gets the same. We finish them off in another taxi home.
    At home, Dad sits in his chair. HATE fingers fast-tapping on the wooden arm. On my skin I feel something’s going to happen, like Nan feels the rain coming in her bad leg.
    He stands. ‘Where the fuck have you two been?’
    Mum laughs. ‘Only to Greaty for a few bits. You were still asleep.’
    He looks at the bags. ‘Spent up, have you?’
    â€˜Like I said, I got a few bits, that’s all. What’s it to you?’
    â€˜Been fed?’
    â€˜Yes, we had chips.’
    â€˜I’ve had fuck all.’
    â€˜You should’ve got off your arse then and made something.’
    He’s at her throat, got her pinned up against the wall. LOVE HATE fingers close together like hot and cold taps.
    The bags fall to the floor.
    â€˜Don’t speak to me like I’m some snot-nosed kid.’
    Her legs kick out at him.
    He squeezes her neck tighter.
    I scream at him to stop.
    Somebody next door bangs on the wall.
    Mum can’t speak. Her face gets redder and redder.
    I run at him with both hands flat, push them into his back. He lets go. Mum falls to the floor, gasping for breath. He turns to me. Grabs my hair and twists it round his fingers. I cry out with the pain; he throws me towards the door.
    â€˜Get to your room,’ Mum whispers.
    I don’t shut my door. I can hear his raised voice shouting he’s the boss around here and she’d better get used to it. And Mum, who always has something to say, says nothing.
    The next morning, Mum stands in front of a slanty mirror to watch herself smoke. Over the sink, she lets the ash grow into a long grey finger and says, ‘Look at that,’ like she’s grown something new. When it falls, she whooshes it away with a blast from the tap. Mum usually opens the kitchen window, but somebody walking past slid a hand in and nicked our bleach off the sill. Mum ranafter them but they disappeared inside one of the flats. Dad has nailed the front window shut so nobody can get in or out.
    â€˜Here, I bought you two balls,’ she says, tightening the red scarf around her neck. Not wanting to show the marks on her skin that I have already seen. ‘He only gets a cob on when he’s skint. He’s all right, really,’ she says. ‘I wish you could see him in the pub, Robyn. He’s a real joker, gets me up to dance, we have a laugh. There’s a different side to him you haven’t seen. He’s been here for us since you were little. I remember he used to take you to the park and everywhere with him. He got angry because he wanted to try and make the catalogue money last, that’s all. You know what I’m like with money.’
    I don’t remember him taking me to the park, and I don’t care about the stinking catalogue money, so I say nothing.
    And then she smiles, but it is not a real smile, it’s a drawn-on one. When I don’t answer or smile back she says, ‘Play out for a bit, if you like.’
    I play two balls on the wall opposite Carol’s house. After a while I hear her calling me in a whisper from her landing. ‘Robyn, this is for you.’ She throws something down and I walk over to