Free Dead Scared by Tommy Donbavand Page B

belched Gary as he finished his pint and reached for a nearby glass of whisky. He was right – none of his family had bothered to visit my mum while she was on the intensive care ward, but I wasn’t going to bring that up now. I just ignored him.
    â€œThen, this last week, after she… went. Just waiting for the funeral. That’s been the worst part. But now it’s over I feel better.”
    â€œShe was a good woman, your mum,” said Gary, wincing as the whisky hit his throat. “Even ifshe did choose the wrong man to marry!” He laughed raucously, elbowing his wife in the ribs and spilling her drink. “There was another bloke sniffing round her when she first started seeing your dad. She ever tell you that? Norman, his name was. Went into the hotel business – made a fortune. More than your dad ever made, anyway.”
    I glanced over at my dad, his eyes red-rimmed as he chatted earnestly with one of my mum’s Irish cousins. I felt the gnawing sensation begin to rise in my stomach again, but I forced it away.
    Taking a deep breath, I attempted to continue my conversation with Mel. She’s only a month younger than me so she was also approaching her exams, and I hoped the subject would provide a diversion from Uncle Gary’s behaviour. I almost laughed. Things must be bad if I was choosing to talk about school.
    â€œHow are you?” I asked. “Got a lot of revision to do?”
    â€œCourse she has!” Gary interrupted before Mel could reply. “She’s going to go on to college and university and do her family proud, aren’t you sweetheart?” He grabbed his daughter and hugged her tightly.
    Mel turned her face away from her dad’s booze breath and nodded. “Yes, Dad,” she mumbled. She offered me another piece of chewing gum, but I shook my head.
    â€œGoing to make something of herself, is our Melanie,” continued Gary. “Get herself a proper, important job. She’ll be the boss. Have a decent career. A future.”
    Mel did her best to remain cheerful. “I want to go into healthcare,” she said to me.
    â€œYes, but at the top!” exclaimed Gary. “Hospital management, at least, not some poor lackey nurse mopping up other people’s puke.”
    There it was again – that gnawing in my stomach.
    â€œMy mum was a nurse,” I said through gritted teeth.
    â€œYeah, and look where that got her,” said Gary, downing the rest of his whisky. “I tell you kid, nothing good comes from hanging around hospitals all day.”
    I’d swung the punch before I even knew it. There may not have been much of an aim to the strike, but there was plenty of force behind it. I hit the bottom of the whisky glass and rammed it hard into Gary’s face. I heard the glass break – along with a couple of surgically-whitened teeth – and then the blood began to flow.
    â€œYou monster!” I yelled. “All those years my mum spent visiting you, and you never once came to see her. She was a brilliant nurse! She looked after thousands of people who needed her help, and then she got in her car and drove fifty miles to see you lot because she didn’t want to lose touch with her family. The road goes in both directions, you know!”
    By now, the pub was silent – all eyes on me. Gary had a hand clamped to his mouth, blood still spurting from between his fingers and running down over his clothes.
    â€œMoron!” he glugged, spitting blood all over the table. “This shirt cost me more than your dead mother used to make in a week!”
    I felt my fist clench as I readied myself for another attack, but a hand grabbed my shoulder and pulled me away from the table. I looked up through tear-filled eyes, expecting to see Ben beside me ready to give me an earful for spoiling the gathering, but it wasn’t my brother who had pulled me away from Gary. It was the guy from the cemetery