Sam was gone.
Walking to his bike, he slipped the forms into a pocket. He couldn’t wait to get his mum to sign them.
No sooner had Ethan pushed through the front door of the flat than Jo stopped him in the hall.
‘Dad’s here,’ she told him.
‘So?’ said Ethan. ‘Where’s Mum? I’ve got some forms for her to sign.’ He could hear the TV blaring in the lounge. A loud burp rode over it, followed by a guttural laugh.
‘He’s drunk.’ Ethan could see the warning in Jo’s eyes.
‘You’re not telling me everything, are you?’ he said, forgetting about the forms in a second. ‘What’s he done?’
Jo hesitated, then said, ‘It’s Mum, but she’s OK. He just shook her up a bit. He didn’t hit her. She’s going out to work in a minute.’
Ethan turned and walked down the hall.
‘Ethan,’ Jo called after him. ‘Don’t—’
But he was already in the lounge, kicking over the half-empty lager can that was propping the door open.
He found his dad sprawled on the sofa like a beached whale. The reek of alcohol stung his nose; on the floor a half-eaten kebab rested on greasy paper next to a pile of empty lager cans.
For a few moments Ethan stood there, watching his dad’s fat, pale belly rising and falling, bursting through the buttons of his shirt.
Then his dad turned and looked up at him. ‘What do you want?’
‘What did you do to Mum?’ Ethan’s voice was cold, hard.
‘I just got her to shut up, that’s all. Don’t worry, son. I didn’t hurt the precious little thing.’
Ethan hated the way his dad called him ‘son’. He didn’t want to be reminded. He stood there clenching his fists. He could feel his nails biting into his skin. His dad went back to watching the TV, cracking open another lager.
Ethan walked over to the TV and turned it off.
‘What the hell are you doing?’ his dad shouted, dragging himself up out of the sofa. ‘I was watching that!’ He swayed slightly and took a deep pull from the lager can.
‘I want you out,’ said Ethan. ‘We all do. Take what you want and fuck off.’
His dad leaned closer and Ethan gagged at his breath. It smelled like a pub carpet. ‘You orderin’ me around?’ he demanded. ‘Who are you to order me, eh? I’m your dad, get it?’
He tried to shove Ethan out of the way, heading for the TV, but Ethan stood his ground.
‘You’ve gone too far,’ he said. ‘Hitting Mum, that’s too much. I want you out.’
‘I didn’t hit her. I just shook her a bit, that’s all.’
‘I don’t care,’ said Ethan. ‘I don’t want you laying a hand on her. Just go.’
‘My flat, my rules,’ said his dad. ‘Just who the hell do you think you are? Think you’re something special, is that it? You’re a nothing, Ethan, worse than nothing. Now get out of my way.’
As his dad reached to turn on the TV, Ethan grabbed the greasy collar of his shirt and threw him back onto the sofa.
He landed awkwardly, and roared, ‘Right, you little bastard! Now you’re gonna get it!’
Ethan didn’t move. He was ready for this, had been for years. He clenched his fists.
But then they both heard the scream from the doorway, and turned to see Mum and Jo.
‘Stop it! The pair of you! Just stop it!’ snapped Mum.
‘Mum,’ said Ethan. ‘He—’
‘I’m not interested,’ she said, tears welling up in her eyes. ‘Don’t be like him, Ethan. Don’t let him win.’
Ethan’s dad leaned closer, and laughed. ‘Yeah, Ethan, do what your mammy says, there’s a good little boy.’
Ethan lifted a hand to shove him backwards, but Jo rushed in between them.
‘It won’t help,’ she said. ‘Just leave him be.’
His dad laughed, moved past Jo to switch the TV on again, then slumped back onto the sofa.
Ethan shook his head and walked out of the room. As he passed his mother, she reached out for him, crying now, but he was too wound up to stay in the flat.
‘You’re going to have to throw him out one day, Mum,’ he told her, making for the front door. ‘Count on it.’
Then he was outside, the door shut behind him.
He took a moment to calm down, then walked on. As he did so, he felt something in his pocket and pulled out the forms Sam had given him – the ones he’d wanted his mum to sign so he could do a tandem jump. Too late now. He wasn’t about to go back to the flat