Free House of Sticks by Peggy Frew

okay?’
    â€˜Yeah. Why?’
    â€˜You just seem a bit quiet.’
    Bonnie dropped her eyes from the reflection. ‘I’m fine,’ she said, lifting one of Pete’s hands and kissing it. ‘Just quiet.’
    He went back around the table and sat down. He drank more wine, glancing around the room. ‘This place is great. Lucky Jim.’
    â€˜It is great. So peaceful.’
    Pete tapped his foot, shuffled a rhythm with both feet and one hand. ‘It’s good to get away,’ he said. Then he stopped his restless movement and sat straight in his chair. Picked up his glass and stared into it. ‘There’s something I haven’t told you. About Doug.’
    Her stomach went cold. ‘Oh.’ Her limbs were suddenly very heavy. She felt like she had when she got the phone call about her father, the accident — the suspended moments before the actual words were said; the not-yet-disclosed information looming, ready to crash down. That hopeless urge to stave it off, push it away.
    Pete looked at her, gave a twitch of a smile. ‘It’s not that serious, don’t worry,’ he said quickly, but his face was strained. His hands lay either side of his glass, palms flat to the tabletop. ‘It’s just something I …’ He swallowed, dropped his head again. ‘This thing happened, when we were young. Me and Doug. Pretty young — like eighteen, nineteen. Well, I was eighteen or nineteen, so I guess he was in his twenties.’ He glanced at Bonnie, who nodded. ‘We were living together, in this share house, with a whole gang of friends. Peter Wilson, and Simon Wright, and Deano — I think you’ve met him?’
    â€˜Once, yeah.’
    â€˜Anyway.’ Pete took his eyes off her again. ‘We went to this party. Some people we knew invited us — some girls. We didn’t know the people whose party it was.’
    Across the room one of the children stirred, moaned. They waited and the child settled.
    He continued. ‘Anyway, we went, and the guys whose party it was really didn’t want us there. And we were pretty messed up — stoned, and drunk.’ He breathed slowly out through his nose. His voice was quiet. ‘So we were out the back, and there was this laundry trough all filled with ice and beer. And I took a beer — you know, showing off, being a smart-arse in front of the girls. But as I did it I saw the guys, the hosts, walking up.’ Pete paused, shook his head, swallowed. ‘And I just gave the beer to Doug, shoved it in his hand.’
    Bonnie sat still.
    Pete’s voice was thick. ‘And then it all happened really fast, but, basically, the guys — and they were tough, you know, older than us; you wouldn’t want to mess with them — well, they saw Doug with the beer and they were like “You took our beer” and I just stood there like a …’ He screwed up his nose and gave a short, hard laugh. ‘Like a fucking coward and didn’t say anything, and then the next thing you know they’re … they’re just totally laying into Doug. Beating him up.’
    She heard herself make a sound, a faint little groan.
    â€˜Everyone started screaming and carrying on, and trying to break it up, get them off him. I mean he didn’t stand a chance — he wasn’t even fighting back. But’ — he breathed again, that long, controlled breath — ‘I just stood there.’
    â€˜Was he okay?’ The words came out in a croak. She cleared her throat. ‘Doug?’
    Pete kept his eyes on his feet. ‘It was pretty bad. He went to hospital. Broken ribs, and his face was pretty smashed up.’
    There was a silence.
    Pete picked up the wine bottle, tipped more in his glass. He looked up. ‘You know what I think about? Still?’
    She waited.
    He lifted the glass but didn’t drink. ‘There was this moment, when they first