Free Porky by Deborah Moggach

crying, through the wall. I heard him now. Mum will see to him, I thought . . . Then I sat up suddenly, awake.
    In the lounge, the light was still on. The room was empty; Dad must have gone to bed. I stood outside their bedroom door. Teddy was still crying in there, but I couldn’t hear any noise from my Dad. Beside the handle, I hesitated. Teddy’s crying grew more purposeful. What happened if Dad woke up, like a wild man, and started shaking him?
    The door creaked as I opened it. No wonder he was crying; it was pitch dark in there. Mum always left on the bedside lamp. The light from the lounge fell across the bed. Dad’s head lay on the pillow; he was still asleep.
    Teddy had kicked off his bedclothes. I unclipped the bars of the cot; they rattled down. Behind me, Dad grunted.
    â€˜What’s that?’ he mumbled.
    â€˜Only me,’ I whispered.
    I leaned over and picked up Teddy. He was sopping wet – him and his nightie and the cot sheet. He hadn’t been changed for hours. I sat down heavily on the bed. He twisted around in my lap, hiccuping, trying to catch his breath for another wail. I shivered in the cold. By now I was crying too, noisily, missing my Mum. I couldn’t move, so I had to wipe my nose on my nightie sleeve. It seemed impossible to ever stand up. Teddy was so wet; I felt the drops slide down my leg, inside my nightie.
    â€˜Don’t cry, Heth.’ The bed creaked under me. Dad moved; he was sitting up, behind me. His hands gripped my shoulders. ‘Stop it!’
    â€˜How could she leave him? Dad, how could she?’
    â€˜Don’t take on, lovey.’ The hands tightened. ‘You’ll start me off in a minute . . . cats’ chorus.’
    â€˜How could she leave you?’ I blurted out. Meaning: and me too.
    â€˜Oh, there’s plenty of reasons for that one. For leaving yours truly.’
    â€˜She couldn’t do it.
Why
?’
    The hands squeezed my shoulders. ‘Glad I’ve got one fan. You still love me, after what you heard?’
    â€˜Of course I do,’ I sobbed. ‘Why shouldn’t I?’
    â€˜For ever and ever?’
    â€˜Ever and ever.’
    He moved and sat close behind me. I had my arms round Teddy and Dad had his arms around me, all squeezing each other in a row.
    I bent over Teddy’s hot head. My mouth spoke into his hair; it was fine, and damp. ‘What if Mum doesn’t come back?’
    â€˜She’ll be home, you bet.’ His voice rumbled against my backbone. ‘She’s been away before, remember? Couple of days.’
    I nodded. But this time it was worse. ‘What if she doesn’t want us any more?’ I took a breath. ‘She doesn’t seem to want us, sometimes.’
    â€˜Don’t take no notice of her.’ He pressed his nose into the back of my head.
    I took another breath and said slowly, ‘What happens if she’s gone off to sell our home?’
    I felt his body jerk with laughter. ‘Heatherbell, she can’t do that.’ He turned my head. Gently, he pushed the hair from my face. ‘Honest.’
    I couldn’t say: I don’t quite trust you any more, when you say
honest.
So I said, ‘What if she tries to sell it?’
    â€˜Over my dead body.’
    â€˜Don’t die, Dad! You won’t, will you?’
    â€˜Hey!’ He pressed my head against his chest. My neck was twisted but I wanted him to keep me there, without moving.
    â€˜Let’s you and me make a pact,’ he whispered. Why did he whisper? There was nobody who could hear.
    He smiled. ‘Let’s you and me see she doesn’t. Right? Signed and sealed in blood.’
    I should have felt better but I felt just as frightened. It was wrong that we should have to make a pact, against Mum. It was wrong that she wanted to leave us. It was all far too wrong for jokes.
    â€˜I must change Teddy. He’s soaking.’ I tried to get up. Dad was