Ghosts in the Morning - By Will Thurmann Page 0,53

face that he had shocked himself, he hadn’t meant to speak so harsh, but the damage was done.

‘Sod you, Graham, you can’t just say things like that, I am a real person you know, I’m not just some...some thing that you can just abuse, I do have feelings, you fucker. I have self-esteem, okay so I’m not perfect like that tart Nikki, am I, no, I suppose Nikki’s body is all tight and firm and pert isn’t it? But it won’t last you know, it won’t last, just wait until she’s a bit older, you’ll see, wait until she’s had a few kids, yeah, then we really will see, it’ll happen to her too, you bastard.’

I stood there, quivering with rage, and I could feel the blood rushing, quickening again.

Chapter 14

Boxing Day. It was quiet in the house. Graham had gone out to the cemetery to visit his Mum’s grave. He did it every year on this day, and always on his own. I had asked once, years ago, if he wanted me to come with him, but he had shaken his head with an adamant ‘no’. I didn’t care, I never really knew her that well. When she was alive, Graham had not visited her much, they hadn’t been that close - later he told me he regretted not seeing more of her, said he wished he hadn’t taken her for granted. ‘I should have made more of an effort, she was my mother, and she had a good heart deep down’ he said. I thought she was a bit of an old cow. She was far from being a stereotypical grandmother, she saw little of the kids when they were young, and she usually forgot their birthdays unless Graham gave her a reminder. He used to do that, I’d hear it on the phone a few days before the birthday, but he would pretend he hadn’t.

Anita had phoned to wish me a belated happy Christmas. She had asked me if I had any plans for New Year’s Eve, asked if I fancied going out for a meal and a boogie. ‘Come on, Andy, it’ll be fun, we should go out, we don’t want to stay in like old fogeys before our time, what do you say? I had said that I couldn’t, I lied and said that Graham had invited some friends round, we were having a dinner party. ‘Is there room for one more at that party?’ Anita had said, teasingly, enjoying making me squirm before admitting she was only winding me up, she didn’t want to spend her New Year’s Eve at some ‘crusty couply dinner party.’

I spun the bath taps, it would be nice to have a relaxing bath while the house was peaceful. The boys had gone out too, all of them. They had a Boxing Day lunch with some mutual friends. They wouldn’t be back until later in the evening, drunk and boisterous no doubt.

I sank deep into the foamy water and forced my shoulders to relax. I closed my eyes and tried to still my mind, tried to ignore the thoughts that were crowding in. The heat suffused my pores, and I sighed and reached a soapy hand out for the chilled glass of wine perched on the edge of the bath. Just then a harsh trilling sounded, and the glass tumbled from my grip. It missed the corner of the bath mat, and landed on the bathroom tiles with a smash. I cursed, as the trilling continued. I shook my head and sank back into the bath. It was no good, the moment was gone. I swore again and reached for my towel.

A sharp pain and I looked down. A large chunk of crystal glass had scored the side of my palm. I gritted my teeth. There was a lot of blood, but thankfully it was only on the fleshy part of my hand, I doubted it was anything serious. I stepped carefully from the bath, and gingerly picked up the pieces of the wine glass, and threw them into the corner bin. The bath mat had pools of red, like spilt wine. I cursed, as I realised that the trilling had stopped. Then I heard the telltale beep of a message. I wrapped my towel around my body and stepped into the bedroom.

Graham’s mobile phone was on top of the chest of drawers. It was blinking, signalling the receipt of the text message. I picked it up and typed in