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Authors: Hilary Norman
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hundreds of yards, and the steering
wheel seemed to be juddering in her hands, and she only just avoided a van looming out of a narrow road to the left, and she was conscious of flashing lights and furious hooting from somewhere
behind her, but finally, mercifully, the little car came to a halt on the edge of the grass verge.
‘Jesus,’ Kate said again, blood roaring in her ears.
And then another bang, almost an
explosion
of sounds, reverberated through her as two – no, three – cars behind her skidded and collided with each other.
Time passed as Kate sat, shaking.
Too afraid to turn around and see the havoc she had caused.
Praying silently for no one to be hurt.
Please.
The Game
‘G ame on.’
The word had gone out within minutes.
Jack’s wife was used to being dumped with their kids at a moment’s notice.
Pig was ready to call in sick.
Neither Simon nor Roger had anyone to answer to.
‘Take care,’ Ralph had told them all.
She had never felt more bereft than now at being left behind.
Laurie
T he day before she visited Sam always brought a mix of happiness and fear to Laurie because she so longed to see him but was desperately afraid that
something might happen to prevent her from going. And heaven knew there’d been no shortage of times when her parents had done their best to achieve that, though not even Shelly’s flu
last summer and Pete’s broken wrist the previous winter had prevented Laurie from arriving at Rudolf Mann House on the dot of 8 a.m. on Saturday morning.
Not that her anxieties ended there.
Would Sam be happy to see her? Would he look fit and well? Would he enjoy their time together? How would he be when they had to part?
Laurie knew how she would be.
She remembered one visit that had begun badly because Sam had been taken ill at breakfast time, but Laurie had spent the day sitting with him, and in a way, it had turned into one of her
happiest memories because Sam had really needed a mother that day and she had actually
been
there for him, aware that there were others at the home who could have helped him just as well,
probably better, than she could, amateur that she was.
But they were not his mother.
The bitch had been there that day, had almost managed to sour it for her.
‘Enjoyed that, didn’t you?’ she said to Laurie as she was leaving.
‘I certainly didn’t enjoy my son being ill,’ Laurie had said, managing to find the right words, ‘but yes, I’m glad I’ve been able to be here with
him.’
And the bitch had just smiled, given a shrug, and turned away.
Only thirteen hours and fifty minutes to go till she saw him.
Dinner time soon in the Moon house.
The atmosphere between them the evening before visiting days was always strained. No questions were asked about Laurie’s plans for the weekend. More than eight years since Sam’s
birth and they were still the same.
At some levels, Laurie still loved her parents, but on these particular Friday evenings, she hated them as much as the bitch. More so, if she was honest about it.
Thirteen and three-quarter hours to go.
The Game
R alph sat in her winter garden, decaying leaves whirling around her, circling and enclosing her, whipped up by a sudden squall. Seen from a distance,
she might have been at the core of a vortex, the base of a small tornado, but she was utterly still.
Thinking about them.
About the new game.
About that other, early game that had kept her from being with them –
fully
– ever again.
Some of the leaves landed on her head, stalks catching in her hair. The wind dropped and they remained there, like a twisty golden crown.
The Chief.
It had happened during their third year together, when the children had been about thirteen and she had been thirty-three.
The games had long since ceased to be childlike, their edges too razor sharp for that. They still took turns to nominate a Beast and punish him or her, but whenever possible, they no longer
role-played the Beast, but
wheel seemed to be juddering in her hands, and she only just avoided a van looming out of a narrow road to the left, and she was conscious of flashing lights and furious hooting from somewhere
behind her, but finally, mercifully, the little car came to a halt on the edge of the grass verge.
‘Jesus,’ Kate said again, blood roaring in her ears.
And then another bang, almost an
explosion
of sounds, reverberated through her as two – no, three – cars behind her skidded and collided with each other.
Time passed as Kate sat, shaking.
Too afraid to turn around and see the havoc she had caused.
Praying silently for no one to be hurt.
Please.
The Game
‘G ame on.’
The word had gone out within minutes.
Jack’s wife was used to being dumped with their kids at a moment’s notice.
Pig was ready to call in sick.
Neither Simon nor Roger had anyone to answer to.
‘Take care,’ Ralph had told them all.
She had never felt more bereft than now at being left behind.
Laurie
T he day before she visited Sam always brought a mix of happiness and fear to Laurie because she so longed to see him but was desperately afraid that
something might happen to prevent her from going. And heaven knew there’d been no shortage of times when her parents had done their best to achieve that, though not even Shelly’s flu
last summer and Pete’s broken wrist the previous winter had prevented Laurie from arriving at Rudolf Mann House on the dot of 8 a.m. on Saturday morning.
Not that her anxieties ended there.
Would Sam be happy to see her? Would he look fit and well? Would he enjoy their time together? How would he be when they had to part?
Laurie knew how she would be.
She remembered one visit that had begun badly because Sam had been taken ill at breakfast time, but Laurie had spent the day sitting with him, and in a way, it had turned into one of her
happiest memories because Sam had really needed a mother that day and she had actually
been
there for him, aware that there were others at the home who could have helped him just as well,
probably better, than she could, amateur that she was.
But they were not his mother.
The bitch had been there that day, had almost managed to sour it for her.
‘Enjoyed that, didn’t you?’ she said to Laurie as she was leaving.
‘I certainly didn’t enjoy my son being ill,’ Laurie had said, managing to find the right words, ‘but yes, I’m glad I’ve been able to be here with
him.’
And the bitch had just smiled, given a shrug, and turned away.
Only thirteen hours and fifty minutes to go till she saw him.
Dinner time soon in the Moon house.
The atmosphere between them the evening before visiting days was always strained. No questions were asked about Laurie’s plans for the weekend. More than eight years since Sam’s
birth and they were still the same.
At some levels, Laurie still loved her parents, but on these particular Friday evenings, she hated them as much as the bitch. More so, if she was honest about it.
Thirteen and three-quarter hours to go.
The Game
R alph sat in her winter garden, decaying leaves whirling around her, circling and enclosing her, whipped up by a sudden squall. Seen from a distance,
she might have been at the core of a vortex, the base of a small tornado, but she was utterly still.
Thinking about them.
About the new game.
About that other, early game that had kept her from being with them –
fully
– ever again.
Some of the leaves landed on her head, stalks catching in her hair. The wind dropped and they remained there, like a twisty golden crown.
The Chief.
It had happened during their third year together, when the children had been about thirteen and she had been thirty-three.
The games had long since ceased to be childlike, their edges too razor sharp for that. They still took turns to nominate a Beast and punish him or her, but whenever possible, they no longer
role-played the Beast, but
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