Ash

Mum and Dad pull up outside the house. I get off the sofa and run upstairs. I don’t want to be downstairs when they get in and realise that I’ve been smoking and drinking and chucking up while they’ve been away. I look out of my bedroom window. From up here, I can see Mum and Dad having a go at each other in the car. I watch as Mum shakes her head, shouts something and then gets out. She slams the door shut behind her and marches up to the front door.

I keep watching the car as I hear Mum open the door and come into the house. Dad doesn’t go after Mum. He sits in the driver’s seat and looks at his mobile. He puts the phone to his ear and then has a conversation. I watch as he gesticulates, but I have no idea what he’s saying or who he’s talking to.

After a bit Dad puts his phone away, gets out of the car and opens the boot. He pulls his and Mum’s suitcases up to the door.

Almost as soon as he comes into the house, I hear him and Mum having a go at each other again. Their voices come up through the floor. I can just about make out what they’re saying.

‘I’m working all the bloody hours under the sun to stop my bloody business going tits up. And all you can bloody do is moan!’ Dad shouts.

I sigh. I hate it when they argue, which at the moment is pretty much all the time.

‘When you are here you’re always bloody drunk,’ Mum says.

‘Ha! The words pot, kettle and black spring to mind,’ Dad says. ‘You can bloody talk!’

I can’t be doing with this. I go and put some music on, bang it right up, drown Mum and Dad out. And then I go and sit behind my drum kit. To think that I was worried they were gonna come in and have a go at me because the place was a mess. They couldn’t care less about anything but themselves. I start playing along to the track, good and loud, so I can’t hear anything else.

About a minute later, my door swings open and Dad stands in the doorway. He says something, but I carry on playing. I look away from him. But out of the corner of my eye, I see him move into my room. He comes and stands in front of me. I stop playing, look at him and roll my eyes. ‘What?’

‘Can you keep the noise down?’ he says. But it doesn’t sound much like a question to me, more of a threat.

‘Why? Can’t you hear yourselves shouting?’

Just for a second, Dad looks like he’s gonna explode and shout at me. But he doesn’t. He just breathes deeply. ‘You making a noise isn’t going to help the situation,’ he says.

I kind of snort with laughter, though it isn’t funny.

‘Please,’ Dad says. He’s trying to stay calm with me.

I roll my eyes and get off the drum stool, go and sit on my bed. ‘Fine,’ I say. ‘I’ll be quiet so that you and Mum can enjoy your argument.’

Dad’s eyes narrow for a second. ‘Thank you,’ he says. But instead of leaving my room, he keeps on standing there. ‘How was your weekend?’ he asks.

I shrug. ‘OK.’

Dad rocks on his heels. ‘Good,’ he says. ‘Good.’

And then there’s a silence. I don’t even look at Dad. I can sense him standing there with his hands in his pockets. ‘Have you done your homework?’ he says eventually.

I shake my head. ‘We didn’t get any,’ I say. Which is a lie. ‘I’ve only got one week left.’

‘Well, you should be revising, then,’ Dad says. ‘The next month or so is gonna be one of the most important times of your life.’

I lie back on my bed. ‘I know,’ I say. I’m not really in the mood for the lecture right now. ‘I’ll start revising next week.’

Even without looking I know Dad’s hanging around in my room, not saying anything. He stays there for a while. And then, still without saying a word, I hear him walk out of my room and back downstairs to go and carry on his argument with Mum.