Tideline by Penny Hancock Page B

I’m going to lock you up in here and leave you,’ Seb said, grabbing me, then pushing me up against the wall. I could feel his now familiar hardness press
against my thigh.
    ‘Not scared of you! Of the weirdo who’s watching us. What if he’s in here?’ I whispered.
    Seb held my neck in his hand, squeezed so hard I coughed. But I could tell he was afraid now too.
    ‘What’ll you do for me if I let you go?’
    ‘Nothing,’ I choked. ‘Get off, Seb.’
    His hand increased its grip. I could see the blue vein stand up on his forearm, the muscles tense.
    ‘What’ll you do?’
    ‘Anything.’ I gasped, giving in to the pressure. ‘The thing you like?’
    ‘Now?’
    ‘Outside. Only if we can go outside.’
    ‘In the park?’
    ‘Yes. Here. But in the air. I don’t like it in the dark.’
    He let go and we began to make our way quickly through the dark towards the stairwell, where light filtered down from above. I felt my heart pummel against my ribcage as we went.
    Outside he told me to lie on the grass.
    ‘It’s raining.’
    ‘So?’
    As usual, in the end I did as I was told, and I clung to him. But he didn’t do what I expected. Instead he clutched me to him and we rolled down the hill. We hurtled over the bumps and
tussocks, his weight crushing me, the sky tilting and vanishing and reappearing as we tumbled so the breath was snatched from us as we went. When at last we came to a stop at the bottom of the
hill, Seb dragged me up to higher ground. This time there were ledges that he wanted us to roll off, so that we were suspended for seconds in midair. I tried to resist but he lay on top of me,
pinned my arms behind my back and we were off.
    There were so many occasions when Seb might have hurt me or himself. Yet Seb thought we were invincible and I believed him.
    Outside my mother’s flat I ring the bell and wait impatiently for her to answer. It’s a pity it’s this Tuesday and not last or next as every other one my
mother goes to meet her local University of the Third Age group to discuss what they are going to talk about next. I don’t like to leave Jez alone in the house for too long.
    The door opens and my mother regards the bags I’m carrying with suspicion.
    ‘I’ve brought you some cheese from the market.’
    ‘From the
market
?’
    I walk down the hallway, drop her bag of pads off in the bathroom and go through to the kitchen where I place the packages of pecorino and taleggio in the fridge.
    ‘June will only shop at the market. You’d think she was penniless the way she carries on.’
    She stands in the lobby by the door, talking to my back. She’s forgotten that she enjoyed these cheeses the last time she had lunch with me, that I told her I’d got them from Alexi
at the market.
    ‘Oh, I don’t think people shop at the market for economy’s sake,’ I say. ‘It’s for the novelty value. You can find things there you don’t get anywhere
else.’
    ‘If you’re trying to tell me you can’t buy taleggio at Waitrose you must think I’m daft,’ she snaps. ‘I’m not completely gaga yet. The computer’s
playing up but that doesn’t mean I’m not perfectly capable of buying my own cheese once I get through to them. The Ocado man knows exactly what I like and the cheese is all pasteurized.
You know where you are with Waitrose.’
    ‘Anyway, I’ve put it in the fridge. I’ll do your next order for you now if you like?’
    I sit at her computer and try not to let her comments niggle at me while she makes my coffee. Circumstance means I’m left to keep an eye on my mother. There’s no choice. There are no
other siblings who might have had better luck at pleasing her. At the worst moments, when her searing comments hit a particularly sensitive spot, I remind myself that it is small penance for living
in the River House, for being where I need to be.
    ‘I’ve been going through that case. I decided that now you’re selling up, I should coil in my ropes,’ my