Free In Loco Parentis by Nigel Bird Page A

“Everything. Fuck.”
    He’s trembling. His eyes look like they’ve sunk into his head and he keeps rubbing them with his thumbs like he’s trying to push them in further.
    I’ve been piecing it together from the bits that made sense. Maxine’s away over with her father in Ireland. Turns out there’s nothing wrong with her father after all. Just running away and taking Wolf’s son at the same time.
    There are lots of things I could say. I run them around my head like marbles to see if any of them seem to fit in the holes. Plenty more fish in the sea. She’ll be back, you’ll see. You’re better off without her – she’s always treated you like shit.
    None of them seem right and silence isn’t an option.
    â€œTake some deep breaths,” I say. “In and out.” Like there’s any other kind.
    He seems to be doing it. His shoulders and chest rise and fall then do it again.
    I feel his darkness seeping into me and surrounding me like a cloud. This isn’t going to be good. There’s no way I can cope.
    â€œMaybe I should give Mike a call,” I say.
    Wolf nods.
    I go into the bedroom and enjoy the momentarily relief.
    Falling onto the bed, I pick up the phone and dial.
    It’s cool over by the window.
    I hear Mike’s answer machine kick in. Same old message. “If I’m not in I must be far out.”
    There’s not much point leaving a message. He won’t pick it up till he’s back.
    Wolf’s out there moaning.
    My stomach rumbles.
    I dial again.
    Maybe he was in the toilet.
    He’s still far out.
    â€œYou need a place to stay?” I ask Wolf when I get back.
    He’s in the same position, hunched like an existential statue or one of those buskers covered in silver paint just waiting for a penny in their pot. I think he nods, but I already know the answer.
    â€œSo maybe we should think about setting you up a bed.” Doing something has to be better than this. “How’s the living room suit?”
    A moan comes from somewhere deep in his body. “It’s all black,” he says and my body freezes to the spot as if it knows it’s missed the chance to escape.

Thunder
    Monday morning, in earlier than usual.
    Don’t think I’ve ever been so pleased to be at work.
    It was the heaviest weekend I can remember.
    Wolf’s filled my home with a new darkness, like his shadow’s spread to every room. There’s a smell of sweat and old people that I can’t get rid of no matter how long the windows stay open.
    The best times were when he was asleep, knocked out on his cocktail of whisky, cough mixtures and spliffs the size of carrots.
    I’m not sure it’s good for him to be taking all that, but as long as it keeps him quiet I’m saying nothing.
    There’s plenty of time to prepare for the school day. Start with my usual ritual of loading up on nicotine and caffeine.
    Carrying my coffee carefully so as not to spill any, I get to the top of the stairs and hear an almighty crash in the smoking room.
    â€œDon’t you ever do that again, hear?” It’s Phil Carpenter. He’s shouting at the top of his voice, but the way it’s all posh means it sounds amusing. “Did you hear?” It’s even louder and it’s not like him to risk his singing voice.
    There’s a woman’s voice. High pitched like crying, but too quiet to make out.
    I think about whether to go down or not.
    Probably none of my business, but the woman sounds scared.
    I carry on down the stairs, a little more quickly now, not so bothered about the coffee.
    Maybe they hear my steps. Everything quietens.
    As I go in, they’re standing in fixed positions as if nothing’s happened.
    Mildred’s over in the corner pretending to look for something or other on the shelves.
    Phil stands against the wall underneath the windows with his hands folded across his