Sweet Damage by Rebecca James Page A

And when you’re a kid there’s nothing worse than not being wanted. We assumed that Grandma would eventually abandon us too, so we became very insecure.’ He spoke mechanically, in disjointed sentences, and it seemed to Anna that he was forcing each word out. He clearly saw the whole conversation as excruciating, but necessary, and she had to resist the urge to tell him not to worry, to leave it all unsaid.
    â€˜We were always anxious,’ he continued. ‘We worried that we might come home from school one day and find that Grandma had moved out. Or that she might have changed the locks so we couldn’t get in. And she played on our fears, she enjoyed making us feel bad. Every second thing she said was some kind of complaint about money, what a burden we were, how much we cost her, how wicked and selfish we were.’ He laughed bitterly. ‘Other kids at school complained about not getting enough toys for Christmas. We spent the whole Christmas break trying to lie low so Grandma wouldn’t notice us, because if she did, we’d get an earful about how hard the year had been, how much we’d sucked out of her, how ungrateful we were, stuff like that. We learned never to expect anything, or ask for anything. We learned to keep quiet and keep ourselves to ourselves.’
    Anna knew how much it was costing Marcus to tell her this. He was a proud and private man, and she was flattered that he trusted her enough to be so frank. But she knew that if she appeared too horrified by his story, or overly sorry for him, he would shut down and tell her nothing – he hated drama and he would hate even more to be pitied. She tried hard to look interested and sympathetic, but not too curious or shocked.
    â€˜Fiona used to have these dreams that Mum would come and get us, that secretly she wanted us and was saving money, building a house so she could fit us in. I had to remind her that it was Mum who’d left us there. Being reminded of the truth used to make Fiona so angry and upset, she’d almost throw up. And then she’d get furious with Grandma and make up stories about poisoning her.’ He smiled, shook his head. ‘We did have some fun with those stories, imagining her dead and us living in the house alone. Never going to school, eating chocolate biscuits for dinner every night. It’s sad, but the best fun we ever had involved nasty fantasies about Grandma. And in our defence, she really was an old witch.’
    â€˜She sounds terrible.’ Anna suppressed a shudder.
    â€˜Anyway, the truth is that when I think about it now I can almost understand why she was so mean all the time. Being lumped with two kids when you’re already sixty-three wouldn’t exactly be the biggest joy in the world. I’ve been able to get over my bitterness in a way. Move on a bit. I don’t even think about Grandma much anymore.’
    â€˜And Fiona?’ Anna asked. ‘Does she feel the same?’
    â€˜Not quite. She’s still very bitter – as you saw on Saturday night. The whole thing upsets her so much. She can’t really talk about it. She just won’t. It’s understandable, though. You see, it was much easier for me than it was for Fiona. It didn’t matter to me that I didn’t have nice clothes or nice things. The boys didn’t really care that I wore my school shorts on the weekend, or if my shoes had holes in them. The girls cared, though, and they were much crueller. And I had something else that Fiona didn’t have. I had her. An older sibling. She looked after me, made me feel safe. Fiona had nobody to do that for her. Home was miserable, school was a social disaster. She never learned to trust anyone.’
    â€˜That’s so sad,’ Anna said.
    â€˜Yes,’ Marcus agreed. ‘Anyway, I wanted to explain things to you. So that you understood what was going on the other night. Fiona’s embarrassed about her