The Unmaking of Ellie Rook Episode 56

Warmth blossoms deep inside me, and something unfamiliar. Hope. A fragile, beating butterfly wing. With a rush, I realise I want to confide in him. Share the awful burden that my mother is alive and well and living in bedroomsville, and I don’t know what to do.

I want him to see that I’m out of my depth and throw me a lifeline. But I don’t. Even though we’ve seen each other naked, trust is too intimate.

Julie is at the Portacabin window, sorting through pink invoices. I don’t realise I’m staring at her until she glances up, the way people sometimes do when they can feel your gaze upon them.

I imagine her weighing things up, speculating about why I’m having an intimate conversation with Piotr. Do we look intimate? I step away from him. “Thanks, Piotr. I really appreciate it.” “Um, Ellie – I had to stay. I have... an appointment. I cannot leave town just yet.” “Oh.”

The butterfly wing stops beating. I try to read his face. There’s a little nerve twitching near his mouth, and it puts a hitch in my breathing. Doctor’s appointment? Is he ill?

Or have the council caught up with him for trying to make a home out of a condemned building?

Elaborate

I wait for him to elaborate, but he closes up. I’m so familiar with that feeling.

“I will do my morning shift first.” He glances at the yard without enthusiasm. “Buti want to reach out to him, but Julie is still watching with greedy interest. “I’m glad I have seen you.”

“I don’t want you to think bad of me.” “You mean about the tracking and stuff ? That was coercion.”

He wrinkles his brow. “Coer-shun?” “It’s a word for what my father does. Forget it.”

“I will not forget. I will not forget you.” This time, I do touch him. I run my fingers over his forearm, and the blond hairs bristle beneath my touch. It’s not enough, but enough for now.

I’m not sure what he’s getting at, and

Offshore Dave is watching us, slouching against the Portacabin with an unpleasant grin on his dirty face.

What is this? First Julie and now Dave. Pity none of the staff ever noticed what was going on under their noses before it got to the point of no return.

After Piotr leaves, I sit out in the front garden for as long as I can. The patchwork cushion is still mouldering away on the bench where my mother left it, the day before she disappeared.

It seems an apt metaphor for how things have turned out. Something is rotten in this little kingdom.

I listen to the sharp mew of the gulls, the faraway shush of the sea, all the while straining to hear the distant sound of a car engine that will herald the return of the men.

I’m still trying to come to terms with my mother loving someone who isn’t my father. In some ways, the fact that it’s Shelby makes it worse.

I’m already mourning the easy, comfortable relationship I used to enjoy with him.

Now he feels like a stranger, and I’m being forced to think about my mother’s personal life – her sex life.

Jealousy

Where did they do it behind my father’s back? In the caravan? In the woods? I don’t want to contemplate it, but I can understand my father’s jealousy.

It’s enough to drive anyone insane. A horrible image floats into my head, of me pinning the teenage Katie Coutts to the changing-room floor because she dared to make a move on my boyfriend.

I can hardly bear to think about it, and now my mother is suggesting something far more evil. Plan B – the cold-blooded, premeditated murder of my own father.

It’s a world away from simply lashing out in anger. My mother is turning into a liability.

Will I be able to steer her away from her scheming or, like everything else, is it going to be taken out of my hands?

I’m afraid of losing control of the situation. I’m being blown off course by an unrelenting wind and I’m afraid of what I might do.

Self-pitying tears smudge my cheeks. What if ? What if ?

I am my father’s daughter. I’m backed into a corner, if the white mist rises and I’m pushed... who knows what I’d be capable of ?

A thin plume of smoke is rising from the Duthies’ chimney.

I imagine them going about their ordinary little lives – Sharon reading Woman’s Weekly with the radio on; Liam looking for jobs on Gumtree.

At least he was able to boomerang back to a messy, chaotic, normal mother, whereas I’ve been plunged into a nightmare.

Hot shame fills me. My mother is a victim. We’re all victims and it’s making us crazy.

A subtle smoker’s cough from across the road grabs my attention.

I walk to the garden gate and there’s Liam, having a fly puff in his front garden. He raises his hand and wanders over.

Family affairs

I’m afraid of losing control. I’m being blown off course by an unrelenting wind and I’m afraid of what I might do

“Hey. How are things?”

Oddly, I do not feel the need to blurt things out to Liam.

My family affairs slink away under a rock and wait. “Och, you know. Getting by.”

He takes a drag of his cigarette. “Saw your dad going out earlier. And River.” “They were going to look at a car.” “Oh.” He nods, and we lapse into silence. “Saw Rocky too, a while back. On his bike. Pedalling like mad!”

He laughs at his own wit. “Maybe he had an appointment.”

His choice of word makes my skin prickle.

“Why would you say that?”

He raises his shoulders and lets them drop.

“Just something I heard.”

More tomorrow.

Copyright Sandra Ireland 2019, extracted from The Unmaking of Ellie Rook, published by Polygon, an imprint of Birlinn Ltd, at £8.99.