Hater

SUNDAY

iv

Susan Myers woke up next to Charlie, her husband of thirty-three years. She lay in silence in the semi-darkness, taking care not to move. She didn't want him to know that she was awake. She didn't want to have to speak to him. Through half-open eyes she watched the curtain as it gusted back and forth in the wind from the vented window, revealing snatched glimpses of the bright world outside. Was there any point in getting up? During the week she managed to fill her time with friends, shopping and social appointments but her weekends, Sundays in particular, were long, bleak and empty. Since Charlie had retired eleven months ago their lives had become increasingly dull and monotonous. Most of her friends had their children and extended families to keep them busy but all she had was him and he bored her. He seemed happy doing nothing but she couldn't stand it. He wanted to potter around the house and garden, she wanted to be out. She wanted to scream and shout at him and make him understand how she felt but she knew it would be pointless. He didn't even know she was unhappy.

Here we go, she thought as he shuffled and turned over in bed beside her. Maybe - just maybe - he'd roll over to face her this morning and put his arm around her tell her that he loved her and start kissing her and touching her like he used to. It had been so long since they'd made love that she'd almost forgotten what it felt like. And on the very rare occasions she'd managed to get him in the mood (she was always the one who had to make the first move these days) he'd get himself so fired-up and over-excited that their passion, if it could be called that, was generally over and done with in a matter of a few desperately short and empty minutes. If it had been months since they'd made love, it had been years since she'd been satisfied.

Maybe she should have an affair? She'd thought about it before but never had the nerve to do it. Charlie probably wouldn't notice if she did. There was a man at one of the mid-week dancing classes she went to who she'd caught looking in her direction too many times for it to have just been coincidence. The idea of seeing someone else tempted her, but she knew she'd be putting a lot at risk if she ever actually did it. She was worried that she might end up losing everything she'd worked for with Charlie just for a little short-term excitement and adventure. She loved her grand house and her expensive clothes and all the associated trimmings. She loved the elevated social status it gave her and she didn't want to let any of it go. But what if the man at the dance class could give her all that and sex too...?

'Cup of tea?'

That was how Charlie started every day. No 'good morning' or 'how are you today?' or 'I love you' or anything like that anymore. Just a short, unemotional, truncated question. Should she answer or should she stay silent and pretend to still be asleep?

'Yes please,' she grunted, still with her back to her husband. She felt him throw back the covers and then slide out of bed before neatly tucking the bedding back into place again as he always did. Everything he did was predictable and safe. She could anticipate every move he was going to make. She knew he'd go to the bathroom next where he'd use the toilet, break wind, apologise to himself and then wash and shave humming the same damn tune he hummed under his breath every bloody morning. Then he'd put on his dressing gown, come back to the bedroom to fetch his slippers from under the foot of the bed where he'd put them last night, and go down to the kitchen. She knew he'd stop on the fifth step down to open the curtains and blow the dust off the top of the employee of the year trophy his employers had awarded him almost fifteen years ago…

She screwed her eyes tightly shut, buried her face in the duvet and thought of the man from the dance class again. She felt empty and depressed, trapped and angry. Sometimes she wanted to kill her husband. That, she decided, would be the answer to all her problems.

'Lovely day today,' Charlie said brightly as he returned to the bedroom with two cups of tea.

'It's always a bloody lovely day,' Susan silently screamed to herself. 'Even when it's raining and there's a force ten gale outside he says it's a bloody lovely day.'

'Here's your tea, dear.'

She cringed under the bedclothes and readied herself to face him. Saddest thing of all, she thought, was that he didn't have the faintest idea how unhappy she was. In his rose-tinted little world everything was just fine and dandy. He didn't know how old and worthless he made her feel and he probably never would. She took a deep breath and rolled over onto her back before shuffling up the bed and taking her tea from him.

'I had a lousy night's sleep,' she complained, looking up at him. 'I was freezing cold all night. I kept waking up because you kept pulling the covers off me.'

'Sorry about that, my love. I didn't realise.'

'And if it wasn't the cold keeping me awake it was your snoring.'

'I can't help that. If there was something I could do to…'

He stopped talking. In silence he stared down at his wife who scowled back at him.

'What's the matter with you?' she demanded as she sipped her tea.

Charlie continued to stare.

'For crying out loud, find something else to look at will you?' she cursed before taking another sip.

With a single sudden swipe Charlie slapped the cup out of his wife's hands. It smashed against the wall opposite sending countless dribbles of tea dripping down the pale pink anaglypta wallpaper. Bemused, Susan watched the drips of hot brown liquid trickling down the wall. What the hell's got into him, she wondered? In a bizarre way she was actually excited by this sudden display of unexpected forcefulness and spontaneity.

Behind her Charlie quickly yanked the waist belt free from his towelling dressing gown. Shoving her forward and gripping her shoulder tight with one hand he looped the belt twice round her neck in a single spiralling movement and then pulled it tight. Panicking, and with her eyes bulging and throat burning, Susan struggled to breathe. She kicked and squirmed under the bedclothes and scraped at her neck, desperately trying to force her fingers under the belt. Her strength was no match for his.

Charlie pulled the belt tighter and tighter until the last breath had been squeezed from his wife's body.

8

Another bloody wasted day.

Today started slowly. I got out of bed late (which really annoyed Lizzie - she had to get up and see to the kids for once) and I made a conscious effort to do as little as possible. I'm back at work tomorrow and I need to relax. I tried hard to do nothing but it's impossible in this house. There's always something to do or someone who needs you. Liz has been nagging at me for weeks to fix the bolt on the bathroom door and, today, I finally did it. It was the last thing I wanted to do but I reached the point where I couldn't stand her complaining about it every single time she used the damn toilet. Christ, the rest of us managed without any problems. Why was it such a big deal for her?

I worked on the door as Lizzie cooked dinner. What should have been a ten minute job ended up taking over an hour and a half. I had the kids running round my feet the whole time asking questions and getting in the way, then I didn't have the right size bolt, then I bought one that was too big… I lost my temper and almost kicked the door in but I finally fixed it. Hope Lizzie's satisfied. She'll have to find something else to complain about now.

And now here we are approaching Harry's house and the weekend's almost over. I genuinely don't mind Harry but he seems to have a huge problem with me. He doesn't think I'm good enough for his little girl and although he never says it as blatantly as that it's implied in just about everything he says to me. I can usually just shrug it off but when the day has been as frustrating as today and Monday morning is looming on the horizon it's something I could well do without.

We pull up outside his narrow terraced house and the kids start to get wound up and excited. They enjoy their time with Grandpa. Truth is they tolerate their time with Harry. They put up with it because they know they'll get sweets or some other treat out of him before they go home.

'I don't want any arguing today,' Liz says as we wait for him to answer the front door. I think she's talking to the kids but I realise she's looking at me.

'I never argue with your dad,' I tell her. 'He argues with me. There's a difference you know.'

'I'm not interested,' she says as the latch clicks open. 'Just be nice.'

The door opens inwards. Harry opens his arms to the kids and they run towards him, giving him a dutiful squeeze before disappearing deeper inside to trash his house.

'Hello, love,' he says to Lizzie as she hugs him.

'You okay, Dad?'

'Fine,' he smiles. 'Better now. I've been looking forward to seeing you lot all day.'

Lizzie follows the children into the house. I go inside, wipe my feet and shut the door behind me.

'Harry,' I say, acknowledging him. I don't mean to sound abrupt but I unintentionally do.

'Daniel,' he replies, equally abruptly. He turns and walks towards the kitchen. 'I'll put the kettle on.'

I step over the children (who are already sprawled out across the living room floor) and head for my usual spot - the armchair in the corner of the room near the back window. I grab the Sunday newspapers off the coffee table as I pass. Burying my head in Harry's papers always helps me get through these long and monotonous visits.

A couple of minutes go by before Harry reappears with a tray of drinks. Vile, milky tea for Liz and me and equally weak, over-diluted fruit juice for the children. I take my tea from him.

'Thanks,' I say quietly. He doesn't acknowledge me. He hardly even looks at me.

I sit down in the corner of the room and start to read. I'm not interested in the politics or the finance or the travel or the style and fashion sections. I head straight for the cartoons. That's about the level I can cope with today.

We've been here for almost an hour and I've hardly said a word. Lizzie's been dozing on the sofa on the other side of the room and Harry has been sitting on the floor with the kids. There's no disputing the fact that they get on well together. He's laughing and joking with them and they're loving it. Makes me feel like a bad parent if I'm honest. I don't enjoy being with the children like he does. Maybe it's because he can walk away from them and we can't. They drain me, and I know Lizzie feels the same too. Everything's an effort when you have kids.

'Grandpa just made a coin disappear!' Ellis squeals, tugging at my trouser leg. Harry fancies himself as something of an amateur magician. He's always making things disappear and reappear. She squeals again as he 'magically' finds the coin tucked behind her ear. It doesn't take much to impress a four year old…

'Your Uncle Keith's gone into hospital again,' Harry says, turning around to speak to Lizzie who stirs and sits up.

'How's Annie coping?' she asks, covering her hand with her mouth as she yawns. I don't bother listening to Harry's answer. I've never met Liz's Uncle Keith or Auntie Annie and I don't suppose I ever will. I feel like I know them though, the number of times I've had to sit here and listen to endless trivial stories about their empty lives on the other side of the country. This happens most Sunday afternoons. Liz and Harry start talking about families and reminiscing and I just switch off. They'll talk constantly now until we go home about people I've never heard of and places I've never been.

'Mind if I put the football on?' I ask, noticing the time and stumbling on a way of keeping myself awake. Both Harry and Lizzie look up, surprised that I've spoken.

'Carry on,' grumbles Harry. He makes it sound as if watching the match will stop him talking or prevent him from doing something more important. Truth is he likes football as much as I do. I switch on the TV and the room is suddenly filled with noise. I swear he's going deaf. The volume's almost at maximum. I turn it down and I'm about to change channels when I stop.

'Bloody hell,' I say under my breath.

'What's the matter?' asks Liz.

'Have you seen this?'

I point at the screen. It's the same news channel I was watching last night. It's the same story too. The violence I'd seen reported appears to have continued to spread. It looks like a wave of trouble has washed right across our town. Although it looks quieter now the screen shows pictures of damaged buildings and rubbish-filled streets.

'I saw this earlier,' Harry says. 'It's a bloody disgrace if you ask me.'

'What's happened?' asks Liz.

'Haven't you seen any news yet today?'

'You know what it's like in our house, Dad,' she replies as she shuffles around to get a better view of the screen. 'We're last on the list when it comes to choosing what we watch on TV.'

'You want to start putting your foot down,' he moans, looking directly at me, trying to get me to bite. 'Show them you're in charge. You should never let children rule the roost like that.'

I ignore him and answer Liz.

'There was some trouble last night,' I explain. 'I saw it before I went to bed. There were a few incidents around town which got out of control.'

'What do you mean, got out of control?'

'You know what it's like in town on a Saturday. If there's a night when things will kick off it will always be Saturday. The streets are filled with idiots who are pissed-up and off their faces on drugs. The police can't cope with them as it is. Apparently it all started with a fight in a bar that got out of hand. More and more people got involved and it turned into a riot.'

'Grandpa, we saw a fight yesterday,' Ellis says innocently, looking up from her colouring book. Harry looks at Liz who nods her head.

'It was horrible, Dad,' she explains. 'We took Ed to a party at the Kings Head. It was full of football fans. We were having a meal and two of them started fighting.' She stops speaking and checks that the children aren't listening. 'One of them had a knife,' she says, her voice a little lower.

Harry shakes his head.

'It's a sad state of affairs, it really is,' he sighs. 'It's almost as if people go out looking for trouble these days.

The room falls quiet momentarily.

'Hang on,' Lizzie says suddenly, 'did you say this trouble happened here?'

'Yes,' I answer, nodding my head, 'why?'

'Because this is talking about somewhere else,' she says, nodding towards the TV. She's right. This report is coming from another place further north, and now they've cut to a third reporter on the east coast.

'It's mob violence,' Harry chunters. 'It spreads. People see something on TV and it makes them want to go out and do the same.'

He might be right but I doubt it very much. This doesn't make sense. I can't imagine that these people are all fighting just for the sake of it. There must be a reason.

'There must be more to it than that,' I say. 'For Christ's sake, Harry, do you really believe these people were just sat watching the trouble on TV one minute and then were out on the streets fighting the next? These riots are hundreds of miles apart. There must be more to it.'

For once he doesn't answer.

Another twenty minutes and the children have reached and exceeded their boredom threshold. They've started playing up and it's time to leave. I try to hide my relief as I bundle them into the back of the car. They bicker and fight constantly and I wonder if they're as wound up about Monday morning as I am. I hate Sunday evenings. All that's left now is the rush to get everything ready for school and work tomorrow.

This is the worst part of the weekend. Nothing to look forward to now except Monday.

9

We're still half a mile from home and I don't know what the hell is going on. The traffic has suddenly slowed. It's backed-up as far as I can see both ahead of us and behind and we're hardly moving. It's Sunday evening, for Christ's sake. The roads should be empty. It's already getting dark. I don't want to spend the whole night sat here.

I can hear sirens. I look into the rear view mirror and I can see a mass of flashing blue lights coming up on us at speed. A convoy of police cars and fire engines are approaching from behind and there are more flashing lights coming the other way too. The drivers of the cars around us shuffle to the side and mount the pavement to get out of the way. I do the same.

'Wonder what's happened,' Liz mumbles as we bump up onto the grass verge.

'Don't know,' I answer. There's a noise from the back seat and I look around to see Ed and Ellis fighting with each other across Josh who's trapped in his baby seat. 'Cut it out,' I snap angrily. They stop when I tell them but I know they'll start again the second I look away.

The emergency vehicles rumble past us and I crane my neck to watch where they go. They take a left-hand turn a couple of hundred yards ahead. In the semi-darkness I can see the blinking blue lights through the gaps between buildings and the branches of trees. They've stopped not far from here.

'Looks serious, doesn't it?' Lizzie says, keeping her voice quiet so the children don't hear.

The traffic is at a complete standstill now and it looks like people have turned off their engines. Some are starting to get out of their cars. I can't stand sitting behind the wheel if I'm not going anywhere. I decide to go and have a look too. I'll try and see how long we're likely to be stuck here.

'Back in a second,' I say as I switch off the engine and undo my seatbelt.

'What are you doing?'

'Just going to see what's happening,' I answer quickly.

'Can I come?' Ed asks. I turn to face him as I climb out of the car.

'No, you wait here. I'll only be a minute.'

He slouches back in his seat and scowls.

Lizzie's not happy being left with the kids but I go anyway. I follow a group of three people from the car in front of us around the corner. There's a large crowd gathering in the next street. As I get closer I can see that a dark blue estate car has lost control and mounted the pavement. It's hit a street lamp which has fallen onto the front drive of a house and destroyed a caravan which was parked there. The police are trying to cordon off the scene. They're pushing people back but I manage to keep moving forward until I'm right at the front of the crowd. The car's a total write-off. Its bonnet is smashed and crumpled and the driver is slumped against the steering wheel. He's not moving. The fire brigade are setting up their cutting equipment to get him out but no-one's rushing. Looks like they're already too late.

There are two paramedics and a police officer crouching down at the front of the car. Has someone else been injured too? One of the green-suited medical officers gets up to fetch something. Bloody hell, there's a body under the car. I can't see much, just a twisted, broken leg sticking out from under what's left of the bonnet at an awkward angle. Poor sod. Whoever it was they didn't stand a chance.

I stand and stare at the crash scene until the police decide to widen their cordon again and I'm pushed further back. I realise I've left Lizzie on her own for too long and I quickly turn and start to walk back towards the car. I stumble into a man walking his dog when he stops suddenly as the dog veers off to the left towards the hedge.

'Sorry, mate,' I mumble quickly.

'You're all right,' he replies as he tries to yank the dog back out of my way. The dog isn't responding. 'Come on, boy,' he snaps.

'Nasty accident, that,' I say.

He shakes his head.

'That wasn't an accident.'

'What?'

He looks into my face and shakes his head again.

'I saw the whole thing happen,' he tells me. 'Bloody idiot.'

'Who?'

'The bloke driving the car. Absolute bloody idiot.'

'Why?'

'First thing I know is when some lad runs past me,' he explains. 'Came out of nowhere, he did, nearly knocked me flying. Then the car comes past and drives onto the pavement just up from where I'm walking. The lad's running as fast as he can but there's nothing he can do. The driver puts his foot down and just accelerates and runs him over and drives straight into the wall. Stupid bastard. Looks like he's killed himself too.'

The man finally moves his dog out of the way and I start to walk forward again, trying to make sense of what I've just heard. This weekend has been full of bizarre and horrific events. First the concert, then the attack in the pub yesterday and now this. And there was the man in the street on Thursday morning too. I think back to the news report we were watching at Harry's house. What the hell is going on?