Free The Hiding Place by Trezza Azzopardi

is an utter fool.
    My house, says Joe. It’s my house.
    ~  ~  ~
    Arthur Jackson is ashamed of his vest. He stands in the doorway, forgetting his manners, and looks at my mother. She is lovely in the semi-dark of the street-lamp, her hair in
curls round her face and her brown eyes bright and worried. He remembers his manners.
    I’m sorry, Missus, do come in out of the rain. Sorry about that! Ah, Mrs Amil, he says, spotting Eva cuddling a sleeping Luca, You’d better come in too, I suppose.
    I’m not having that woman in here, says a voice from the living room.
    My mother turns her face to Mr Jackson, wonders what she’s done wrong. Eva steps in smartly.
    It’s alright, she means me, love, she says, with an angry laugh.
    Eva bends close to my mother, mimicking Alice Jackson’s voice – That woman! Lowering the tone of the neighbourhood! My mother stares at her in wonder: as if the
Jacksons’ aren’t low enough themselves, she thinks. Eva reads her look.
    I’ll tell you about it, Mary, she says, If you don’t hear it somewhere else first, and then dipping her chin at Luca,
    Shall I take the little ’un across to mine for a minute? Number 14, alright?
    My mother watches Eva as she crosses the street.
    Arthur Jackson shows his teeth to my mother; it’s supposed to be a welcoming smile, but he has a funny feeling now that she’s standing there and looking straight at him, and he
can’t quite bring it off.
    I’ve come for my kids, says Mary shortly, as if to remind him, And then we’ll get out of your way.
    He nods quickly, pulling the envelope out of his trouser pocket.
    They’ve gone here, see? Your daughter said to tell you. Mary reads the name he’s written.
    Celestia? Celesta? She turns her head sideways, steadies his hand with hers to stop the letters jumping.
    Aye, Mrs – Mary, that’s right. They’ve gone there. Mary curls her lip.
    Celesta is my daughter , she says. And suddenly panicking at the thought of the social worker, Who’s got them?
    No, Mary, that’s where they’ve gone! Mr Jackson stabs his finger at the name he’s written down. Mary snatches the envelope from him and presses it to her mouth. She’s
thinking. She runs through where they might be: Celesta might have taken them to The Moonlight. Possible. Or maybe out to play. Mary turns her head to the door. It’s black outside: too dark.
What else would Celesta do? Arthur sneaks a look at her again now, sees her staring into the night. He doesn’t know why, but he feels guilty.
    Is that door still open? Another shout from the living room,
    ’Cos there’s a hell of a draught in here! Mary places the envelope across her heart; she is trying to calm the juddering in her chest. Mr Jackson sees this gesture, sees her hand
drop from her lips to her breast, and it moves him. Alice Jackson appears in the hall. She’s wearing slippers, Mary notices, pale blue ones with a band of fluffy wool.
    They’ve gone to their aunty’s, says Alice, and seeing Mary’s puzzled face, turns to her husband.
    What did she call her, Arthur? He shrugs. He’s afraid to repeat what he thinks he remembers. Alice turns her head to one side, pinches her nose. Deep in thought.
    Carlotta, she says firmly, That’s what your girl said. Gone to their Aunty Carlotta’s for tea. Wouldn’t eat ours! She retreats back into the living room. Arthur Jackson watches
her go, leans in close to my mother.
    Is it far, Mary? Shall I come with you?
    No ta, says my mother, It’s just a bus ride.
    ~  ~  ~
    Celesta led Rose and Marina and Fran across The Square. She thought, If I don’t find Carlotta’s house straight off, we can go to The Hospital. I can ask someone the
way. Or we can go to The Moonlight; Salvatore’s bound to be there.
    So she isn’t too concerned at first, but when they pass down The Parade, she gets confused. They wait at the corner while Marina runs up the terrace looking for a street name.
    What’s it say? Celesta shouts.
    Dunno, Cel.