Deep Water by Mark Ayre (best big ereader TXT) 📕

could stop them, the tears came. Raising her hand, she wiped them away as they rolled down her cheeks.

"Abbie," said Alice. "It doesn't have to—“

"Stop it. I've had enough."

And she had. Being polite went out the window. Abbie rose from the table, almost tripped over a chair and through tear-stained eyes, barely noticed the door from the kitchen open in time to stop herself running into the entrants.

"What's going on?" said Tony. Angry eyes went to his mother. Ollie didn't speak, but puppy dog eyes met Abbie's.

"It's nothing," said Abbie as Alice rose. "I was just leaving."

Tony turned from his mother and met Abbie's eyes as she dried them. As she forced herself to take a breath and be strong. He didn't know what to say.

"You can't."

This was Ollie. When Abbie turned to the teenager, his cheeks flushed, and he looked at his feet. Having risen, Alice had approached Abbie and her descendants.

"I was hoping you'd stay," mumbled Ollie. "We can't play games in threes. Need four as a minimum."

There was a hush. Ollie was embarrassed to have spoken up. Alice thought she might already have pushed things too far and didn't want to go any further. Tony was confused. Didn't know what was going on.

Abbie ignored the older two and focused on Ollie. Having seen the boy yesterday, she had thought he was nothing but a ball of hatred and anger. How wrong she'd been. He was a messed up kid with a mother who'd killed his father and driven a wedge between him and his grandma, then refused to offer any of the affection these two might have provided. Isolated him, essentially. It was no wonder he'd lashed out in the shopping centre when Abbie threatened Angel. As crap a mother as Angel was, she'd made Ollie utterly dependent on her.

Abbie's heart pounded. Could she really do this?

"Monopoly doesn't need four, does it?" she said to Ollie. "You might argue it's better with four than three, and I wouldn't take the other side because you'd be right. But you can't say it needs four, can you?"

"S'pose not," said Ollie, nailing the sullen teenager voice.

"You weren't going to stop at Monopoly, though, were you?" Abbie said, and Ollie's head tilted up. "Probably got some team games, and one on two wouldn't be fair, would it?"

"No," said Ollie.

"Would one or two be fair, Tony?" Abbie said.

"It would not," said Tony.

Abbie itched her cheek and let out a sigh.

"Annoying. I had things to do, but I suppose I'd better stick around. Sounds as though your day'll be a bit crap if I don't."

Abbie knew she was talking to Ollie as if he were a child. Most teenagers would bite her head off for patronising them. But Ollie had never been treated as a child. He didn't see the voice as patronising but affectionate, which was precisely what Abbie felt.

Though Ollie didn't respond, he beamed.

"You two had breakfast?" Abbie asked.

"Not yet," said Tony.

"You should, and I hope you're hungry because your mum/grandma cooked enough to feed every kid in the country. So, hop to it."

Still beaming, Ollie nodded and left the room. Tony hovered. Gave Abbie a curious, questioning look.

"You alright?" he said.

Abbie nodded. "Go on. Go eat. Then we'll play these bloody games."

Tony hovered a moment longer, then nodded, turned, and went to join Ollie. Abbie watched them go and, at first, did not turn back to Alice, who was right behind her.

Alice was building up to saying something.

"Nothing you said changed anything," said Abbie before Alice could speak. "My life is what it is. The people who support me; I need them, so they call the shots."

Whatever Alice had wanted to say, it was gone. She had nothing.

"I know you think you can talk Angel around, but I have to say I'm not convinced," Abbie continued. "And I need you to know, if I think she's putting innocent lives in danger, I will stop her. If she tries to kill me, as far from innocent as I might be, I will stop her. Do you get that?"

"I get it," said Alice.

"Whatever happens, life's about to get hard for that kid through there because as hopeful as you are, I don't believe tonight will go smoothly."

Abbie looked at Alice.

"I think there's a good kid in Ollie, lost inside all that anger and pain. So I'm giving him the next few hours, and I intend to ensure he enjoys them; that he has a good day.”

She looked at Ollie, now preparing his breakfast.

"Because after tonight, I don’t think he’ll have another one for a long, long time."

Twenty-Six

The sun was beginning to fall. Before long, darkness would reign.

Abbie left the living room, mumbling something about having had a great day and getting ready.

Trying not to lose control, not to race upstairs, she rushed onto the landing, into the guest bedroom. Ditching her clothes in an untidy pile, she grabbed a towel, turned on the shower.

Grabbing the temperature dial, she turned it up, up, up.

Hopping in, she let the water scald her skin, pressed her head against the cool tiles, covered her mouth with her hands and screamed into her palms.

Then, she began to cry.

Fifteen minutes later, Abbie emerged, turned off the water, wrapped herself in a towel, and stepped into the bedroom, where she found Tony waiting on the bed.

"Don't you have a room of your own?"

His face flushed. Clearing his throat, he stood. Abbie noticed one of her phones was by his feet and dragged her eyes from it. She didn’t know which handset it was. Maybe Bobby had texted again; maybe Ben. She wouldn't pick it up.

"I wanted to make sure you were okay," said Tony. "I did knock."

"And I said come in?"

He cast his eyes to the carpet, shuffled his feet. "I was worried about you. Still am."

"Why?"

Crossing the room, Abbie grabbed her clothes. They weren't precisely party-appropriate, but they were all she had—no chance she was wearing another of Alex's outfits.

"You seemed upset downstairs, and you rushed out so fast.