Tango One by Stephen Leather Page A

back. She turned to look at him, a look of horror on her face.
    “Robbie?” she gasped.
    Time seemed to stop for Robbie. He could see the beads of sweat on her back, a stray wisp of blonde hair across her face, a smear of lipstick on the side of her mouth.
    The man on the bed was lying on his back, trying to sit up.
    “Oh shit,” he said. He put a hand up to his forehead.
    “Shit a fucking brick.”
    Robbie recognised the man. It was Uncle Stewart, but he wasn't really an uncle, he was a friend of his father's. Stewart Sharkey. His father always looked serious when Uncle Stewart came around to the house, and they'd lock themselves in the study while they talked. The only time Dad wasn't serious with him was when it was Christmas and Uncle Stewart came around with presents for Robbie and his parents. He always brought really good presents. Expensive ones.
    “That's my mum!” Robbie shouted.
    “That's my fucking mum!”
    “Robbie .. .” said his mother, pleadingly.
    “Shit, shit, shit!” said Sharkey, holding his hands over his eyes and banging the back of his head against the pillow.
    Robbie's mother wrapped the duvet around herself and twisted around to face him.
    “Robbie, this isn't ' ”It is!" he screamed.
    “I know what it is! I can see what you're doing! I'm not stupid.”
    Robbie's mother stood up, and the man grabbed a pillow and held it over his groin.
    “What are we going to do?” he asked.
    Robbie's mother ignored him. She took a step towards Robbie, but he moved backwards, holding his hands up as if trying to ward her off.
    “Don't come near me!” he yelled.
    “Robbie. I'm sorry.”
    “Dad's going to kill you. He's going to kill both of you!”
    “Robbie, it was an accident.”
    Robbie pointed at her.
    “I'm not stupid, Mum. I know what you're doing. I'm going to tell Dad.”
    “Vicky, for God's sake, do something!” hissed Sharkey.
    Vicky turned to him.
    “Stay out of this, Stewart.”
    “Just handle it, will you?”
    Robbie backed out of the bedroom and rushed down the hallway. His mother hurried after him.
    “Robbie! Robbie, come back here!”
    Robbie stumbled at the top of the stairs and his hands flailed out for balance. His sports bag swung between his legs and he fell forward, his mouth working soundlessly, panic overwhelming him.
    Vicky ran into the hallway just in time to see her son pitch headlong down the stairs. She screamed and let the duvet slip from her fingers.
    Robbie banged down the stairs in a series of sickening thumps.
    “Robbie, no!” yelled Vicky, as she rushed towards the top of the stairs. Behind her, Sharkey called out, wanting to know what was wrong.
    The hallway seemed as if it were telescoping away from Vicky as she ran. She couldn't see Robbie, but she could hear the thuds as he tumbled down. Thump. Thump. Thump. What horrified Vicky was Robbie's silence as he fell. No groans, or shouts or curses. Just the gut-wrenching thumps. Then silence. The silence was a million times worse than the sound of the fall.
    Vicky reached the top of the stairs. Robbie was lying at the bottom, face down, his head turned to the side. There was blood on his mouth. Vicky felt as if she'd been punched in the stomach and she put a hand against the wall to steady herself.
    “Please, God, don't let this be happening,” she whispered.
    She hurried down the stairs two at a time and crouched next to him. She put a hand on his shoulder and squeezed gently.
    “Robbie, love? Robbie?” His chest moved as he took a breath, and Vicky said a silent prayer of thanks.
    Robbie's eyes flickered open.
    “Robbie, love, are you all right?” Vicky asked.
    His face screwed up into a snarl.
    “Don't touch me!”
    “Robbie, love ”Get off me," he said.
    “I saw you. I saw what you were doing.”
    “Robbie .. .”
    He pushed her away and got to his feet. He wiped his mouth and stared at the blood on his hand.
    “You look ridiculous,” he said.
    Vicky realised that she was naked and she moved