Free Cuckoo by Julia Crouch

a rosary, she counted her blessings until she fell into a deep and generous sleep.
     

Eight
     
    At seven o’clock, Nico and Yannis ran down to the house. Rose, up again with Flossie, set about making them porridge with maple syrup. They both sat at the big table, tousle-haired, sleep still in their eyes, their voices croaky. Flossie lay on her lambskin on the floor, gurgling and kicking, her eyes fixed on the coathanger hung with shiny toys that Rose had suspended from the ceiling to dangle down low in front of her.
     
    ‘Mama’s still sleeping,’ Nico said.
     
    ‘She’s always asleep,’ Yannis added.
     
    ‘It’s been a difficult time for her – for you all,’ Rose said, placing the porridge in front of the boys. ‘Sometimes people get so exhausted by stuff like that, they just have to go to bed and sleep it off.’
     
    She showed them how to drizzle the maple syrup on the porridge to make a spiral shape.
     
    ‘She’s just drunk all the time,’ Nico said.
     
    ‘She is, Rose,’ said Yannis, looking up at her.
     
    ‘I’m sure she’s not drunk all the time,’ Rose said. ‘Things’ll work out. You just see. Now, eat up.’
     
    They looked at their bowls.
     
    ‘Go on,’ she said.
     
    ‘What is it?’ said Nico.
     
    ‘Looks like sick,’ Yannis giggled. ‘Or mushed-up brain.’
     
    ‘But it doesn’t taste like it. Go on, try a bit. Make sure you get a bit of the syrup on your spoon.’
     
    Yannis watched Nico as he put the edge of his spoon into his bowl and, shuddering, slowly lifted the porridge to his mouth.
     
    ‘Bleurgh!’ He spat it out, grabbed his throat and fell to the floor, writhing in agony.
     
    ‘Nico!’ Rose said.
     
    ‘It’s quite nice, actually,’ he said, getting up and shrugging. His timing was spot on.
     
    Yannis laughed, and the two boys tucked in. They were both so skinny, Rose wondered where they put it. Humming-bird metabolisms, she thought. Yannis ate messily, spreading it all about the table. A porridge battlefield.
     
    He stopped suddenly. ‘Where’s Gareth gone?’ he said, a slight panic in his voice.
     
    ‘He’s working. He likes to get going really early, before everyone else is up. He just disappears down there and gets on with it.’
     
    ‘Dad used to paint, too,’ Nico said.
     
    ‘I know,’ Rose said. ‘Do you know, I knew your father before your mum met him?’
     
    ‘Oh,’ Nico said, busy with his porridge.
     
    ‘Anyway, you’ll see Gareth at lunchtime. He comes out to be fed. Sometimes he comes out earlier, for more coffee.’
     
    ‘Aren’t we going to school today, though?’ Nico asked, trying to clear up his little brother’s mess with his spoon.
     
    ‘Leave it, Nico, I’ll do it,’ Rose said, fetching a cloth from the sink. ‘I don’t know. It depends on your mum.’
     
    ‘Please . . .’ Yannis pleaded.
     
    ‘Please, Rose. We’re going to be so bored stuck here all day,’ Nico said.
     
    ‘Thanks!’ Rose said.
     
    ‘I didn’t mean it like that,’ Nico said. ‘It’s just that Mama will sleep all day and we’ll have to tiptoe round like mice, as usual.’
     
    Yannis jumped up and stuck his teeth out. ‘Eeek eeek,’ he said. He started scurrying around the room on tiptoe.
     
    ‘And look,’ Nico added, pointing at his brother. ‘I’m fed up spending all my time with that spastic.’
     
    ‘Oy!’ Yannis said, jumping at his brother, pulling him back off the bench by the hair. ‘Oy!’
     
    ‘Spastic.’ Nico got up and turned to face Yannis, holding him at arm’s length, his hand on his head.
     
    Yannis punched at his brother but, being a lot smaller, he couldn’t reach. His face exploded with fury and frustration. ‘Wanker!’ he yelled.
     
    Nico laughed at his brother’s anger, but then Yannis dodged under his hold and caught him in the belly.
     
    ‘Right, shit face. You asked for it!’ Nico cried, wrestling Yannis to the floor.
     
    ‘Hey, you two!’ Rose said, stepping in.