Ghosts in the Morning - By Will Thurmann Page 0,10

think they can be frozen,’ I said, then set about preparing dinner. I slipped the cardboard sleeves off two boxes and grabbed a fork, clutching it like a dagger. I pierced the film – I liked to stab the film hard and fast with the fork – then I jabbed at the buttons on the microwave. Minutes later and ping! I didn’t ask Graham if he wanted anything else with his dinner, I couldn’t be bothered, and the egg fried rice had a few peas mixed in anyway. Maybe not enough to count as one of his five-a-day but what did I care?

‘Will you pour me one of those?’ Graham asked, as I filled a glass with white wine. ‘Make it a large one.’

He sounded tired. ‘Bad day?’ I still cared, a little, and it annoyed me.

‘Yes, yes, it was. Well, bad week, really,’ Graham sighed. ‘There has been some new Auditing Standards issued earlier this year and they’re a complete pain in the arse. I mean, I know we’re auditors and it’s meant to be our job and all that, but there must be a point when enough is enough...’ He bit into a piece of chicken, and the juice squirted on his chin. He wiped his chin with the palm of his hand, and then wiped his hand on the tablecloth.

I ground my teeth together. The tablecloth was white and the sweet and sour sauce looked like it stained.

‘And, well, those new Standards mean even more controls over us, as auditors, I mean it’s probably going to take us longer to satisfy the requirements for the audit file itself than it is to do the actual fieldwork of the audit.’

I poured another large glass of wine and Graham raised his eyebrows at me. ‘You going to leave some for me?’ he said.

I topped his glass up to halfway, then the bottle ran dry. There was another bottle in the fridge but I wasn’t going to tell him that.

‘So, anyway,’ he continued, ‘here I am, spending most of my time trying to justify the increase in next year’s audit fees due to these new Standards. I’m getting loads of flak from our clients, I’ve got Finance Directors queuing up to kick my arse.’

Graham sucked and smacked his lips together, the greasy coating dribbling again on his chin, reminding me again of Uncle Peter, how he used to drool like an overexcited boxer dog, before sucking the saliva back into that mouth with its broken yellow teeth and its sour alcoholic breath and...

‘Anyway, I guess that’s enough of my boring work talk, I guess you don’t want to hear about all of that audit stuff. So, how was your day, did you do anything exciting?’

Well, I killed a man – in fact, it was the second person I’ve killed in less than a week – was that classed as exciting? I mean, I would call it unusual, certainly, but exciting? I don’t know, Graham, what do you think?

‘No,’ I replied.

Chapter 5

Uncle Peter wasn’t related to me, he wasn’t my real uncle. But I was expected to call him “‘Uncle”’ though, I was told to call all of my Mum’s boyfriends ‘Uncle’. I should always respect grown-ups, my Mum said.

I was ten years old when he first raped me. He told me not to tell my mother or he would kill her. And me, too. I was sure he would, too, he was a large, ugly, strong man, and quick to anger. There was a permanent aura of violence around him, like an evil smog. Sometimes at night, I would hear Uncle Peter and my Mum arguing, then there would be the sounds of blows, fists on flesh. Then the arguing would stop.

The first time he raped me was the worst. He hadn’t been living with us for long then, a few weeks I think, but it seemed like longer. Mum had had quite a few boyfriends since Dad left, but none had been serious, none had come close to moving in. A lot of them didn’t even stay the night.

Mum was asleep the first time he raped me. They had been out, had left me alone in front of the black and white television, while they went to the pub. Mum had wagged her finger at me as she went out – ‘now, don’t be staying up too late, Andrea, watching that box all night, and remember don’t open the door to any strangers. And don’t answer the phone. I