Free The Story of Before by Susan Stairs Page A

bird. This was a place apart, a place that didn’t feel connected to anything; not to the
house, not to the estate, not even to the rest of the world.
    Things could happen here. Hidden things. It was in the air; I could smell it.
    The ceiling was painted midnight blue and it sloped on either side like a tent. The window set into it was open, and I stepped up on the tea-chest underneath to have a look outside. Staring out
over the place where we lived, I wondered if this was how God felt when he looked down at the world from Heaven. I could see the whole of Hillcourt Rise. To the right was the green, where I spied a
few of the Farrells in the care of Aidan, running around with their arms outstretched, bumping into each other on purpose. Their mother was standing at the end of their drive, arms folded, chatting
to Nora Vaughan. I saw Bridie on her way back from Mealy’s Mini Market, squeezed into a sheepskin coat and hauling a string bag full of groceries. I saw people in their back gardens, children
on swings, dads raking leaves, mams hanging washing on lines. And to the left, way beyond the open fields behind the estate, the Dublin Mountains rose and fell in waves of brown and purple.
    David and Shayne stood out on the tiny landing, laughing loudly in between low whispers. I jumped down from the chair and looked at the narrow bed with its thin brown blanket, grubby,
daisy-patterned sheets and white pillowcase mottled with ancient, yellow-brown dribble stains. The headboard was made of chipboard covered with a layer of varnished wood, lumps of which had been
hacked away with something sharp. Against it, a single photograph dangled from a curling strip of Sellotape. It showed a much younger, chubbier Shayne beside a smiling, beefy man in a black leather
jacket. ‘Uncle Joe’ it said, in scribbly biro on the white border.
    Looking at it made me feel bad that I had the snake. I reached into my skirt pocket and closed my hand around the clammy rubber. I didn’t like the feel of it against my fingers any more. I
straightened myself up and turned to leave, but before I did, I swung around and thrust the snake underneath his filthy pillow.
    That night, Mam and Dad came downstairs in a waft of perfume and aftershave while we were watching The Generation Game . Mam spent ages going on about Kev: how often we
should check on him, what to do if he woke up, when to give him his bottle. I tried to listen but was distracted by Mel; he was all jumpy and fidgety and kept darting his eyes over to the sideboard
where Mam and Dad had said there was a box of Maltesers for us to share. As soon as they left for The Ramblers, he grabbed the sweets out of the drawer and ripped off the cellophane. Naturally,
Sandra had a fight with him over them, but she settled down once Starsky and Hutch came on. It was one of her favourites. She’d stuck posters of both cops on our wall, though I
couldn’t understand how she found either of them even remotely attractive.
    We had about half an hour of peace and then Kev woke up. Sandra brought him downstairs and tried to give him his bottle but he didn’t seem to want it. Then I took him in my arms and walked
around the room, gently rocking him from side to side. Mel sighed loudly every time I passed in front of the telly so I went out into the hall. As I paced up and down, I laid my cheek against his
soft, warm head and hummed a tune. He seemed to like that and after about ten minutes he was fast asleep.
    I had my foot on the bottom step of the stairs when the doorbell rang, loud and long. Kev’s arms few out from his sides and his eyes opened wide. He stared at me for a second then began to
scream. Mel came rushing out to open the door, and I wasn’t a bit surprised when I saw Shayne standing on the step.
    ‘Thanks for waking him up,’ I said.
    ‘Who? Me? What did I do?’ he asked, coming into the house.
    ‘You know Mam said not to allow anyone in,’ I said to Mel.
    ‘So what?