‘Back to your bed now, Paul,’ he said. ‘It’s late.’
‘But I always come into Terrie’s …’ I began.
‘Not now, off you go, back to yours …’ he insisted. ‘C’mon, Terrie doesn’t want to hang around with a little kid all night.’
I frowned. Terrie never seemed to have minded before now. I tried to catch her eye as I normally would, but she didn’t look up at me, or say anything, so I went back to mine, new toys under my arm.
Monday morning arrived and as normal I had to force myself from the warmth of my bed and go downstairs for breakfast. Terrie and Mum were already tucking into some toast and were mid-way through a conversation.
‘Grab yourself some toast, Paul,’ Mum said, pushing a plate towards me. I started to tuck in and Terrie carried on her conversation.
‘Is Peter your boyfriend?’
‘No!’ cried Mum. ‘He’s just a friend.’
‘Then why did I see him leaving in his car at 6 a.m.?’ Terrie asked, to Mum’s obvious irritation.
Mum paused, then muttered. ‘Oh, he probably just had a driving lesson in the area.’
‘Bit early for one,’ persisted Terrie.
It didn’t bother me if Peter was Mum’s boyfriend or not, as long as he kept coming around to see us. It was nice to have someone like Peter around who showed a bit of interest and was like an adult version of a friend; of course, the toys and extra food helped too! I liked having the guy around. Mum clearly did too. She’d stopped asking us to fill up her decanter with sherry every evening and rarely fell asleep on the sofa now; instead she sat watching Peter’s pirated videos, holding his hand, laughing and generally being nice to everyone. She still had to work all hours, but thanks to Peter life was on the up again and I began to feel more like I felt a happy kid should.
The weekend arrived, bringing with it Peter and the promise of activities and fun; a refreshing change from the normal routine of playing out and fending for ourselves.
‘Why don’t we go for a “hot picnic”?’ Peter suggested. ‘It will be an adventure.’ It was a bit nippy outside and a picnic wasn’t at the top of my list of fun things to do, but he made it sound like it would be fun and I was outvoted anyway.
Mum made some jacket potatoes, a hot flask of soup and tea and we set off in his car. It was a real treat sitting in a car; for me this was an adventure in itself.
The day passed as a blur and before I knew it we were back at home watching a pirated copy of a video Peter brought around. I say watched, but I seem to recall seeing more of the pillow I held to my face to hide some of the more gory parts of An American Werewolf in London.
No one had to tell me to get ready for bed that night; I was chomping at the bit to hide under the duvet, somehow thinking it would protect me from stray werewolves. I decided to pop in to see Terrie first, though, as I had done every night for as long as I can remember, for a quick chat and to tell her how much the film had scared me (I knew I wouldn’t be able to look at Sam, our dog, in the same way again).
I nipped out of my room and ran across the landing to Terrie’s. But just as I got there Peter appeared at the door and blocked it.
‘Out of here now, Paul, back to your own bed,’ he said.
‘Aw, but I wanted to see Terrie …’ I began.
‘No. It’s bedtime now, not playtime. You need a good sleep. Back to your bed.’
I stuck my bottom lip out. ‘But it’s not fair! Me and Terrie always have a game before bed.’
‘Life’s not fair!’ Peter said, his cheeks becoming flushed.
I started to feel a bit upset, as clearly Peter wasn’t happy. I didn’t want to upset him; I just wanted to sit on my sister’s bed like normal.
My eyebrows knotted together as my lip quivered. Peter crouched down to my level and pointed to my bedroom door.
‘I’m not telling you again,’ he said. ‘Hop it.’ Then he seemed to take a deep breath as he started smiling again.
‘Paul, I’ll come and tuck you in. Come on,’ he said, more kindly this time.
I followed him and slipped under the duvet. It felt cold and boring in my room compared to Terrie’s. Peter sat and chatted about homework and cars and stuff, and then left.
‘Night,’ he said, flicking off my light. ‘Make sure you stay in here now, Paul.’
I did as I was told, but only to please Peter. Inside I thought it was really unfair.
Always being short of money, Mum jumped at any chance given to earn that little bit extra. The carpet shop where she worked had moved premises and was now much bigger, in a better position, and they wanted to bring in more customers. They offered Mum to work an extra day a week – Saturdays – which to her was a godsend. The problem, as always, was me and Terrie. Nan and Pap were not available to look after us and we didn’t want to be left home alone yet another day a week.
‘Don’t worry, Cynthia,’ reassured Peter. ‘I’ll have them on the days their grandparents can’t. They’re no trouble at all. Are you, kids?’
He winked as he said it, making me smile inside.
True to his word, the following Saturday he arrived in time to wave Mum off and look after us.
‘Right!’ he said, rubbing his hands as Mum clicked the door shut. ‘What do you two fancy doing today?’
‘Riding my bike!’ I cried.
‘Going to the park!’ yelled Terrie.
‘How about we do both?’ said Peter.
Hours later, after all the fresh air, we slumped in front of the TV and Peter came in to join us. He stood near me and gently poked me with his foot. Laughing, I grabbed him by the knees, pulling him until he toppled.
‘Hey, Paul, how strong are you?’ he cried, a big smile on his face. ‘Go on, do the hardest tickle you can!’ he said, pretending to play dead.
I leaped on him.
‘Oh ha ha!’ he cried. ‘You’re doing it too hard.’ Then suddenly he pinned me down.
‘Ha ha! Oh no! Ha ha!’ I screamed as he tickled.
Terrie spotted us and bundled on top.
‘Right, now you’re for it,’ said Peter, grabbing Terrie this time. ‘Let’s get her, Paul …’
After a few minutes we were all lying on our backs, flushed, hot and panting. I couldn’t believe how much fun Peter was, for an adult.
With Mum working, the next few Saturdays followed the same pattern: a day out with Peter, followed by a sit down in front of the TV. This was then followed by Peter starting another tickle game which turn into a play fight.
‘C’mon, Paul, let’s get your sister!’ Peter yelled.
We grabbed an arm each of Terrie’s and pulled her to the floor. I giggled, as I glanced at Peter, glad to have an accomplice. Terrie always seemed so much bigger than me.
‘Let’s tie Terrie up!’ Peter cried.
I nodded eagerly, as Peter grabbed a reel of masking tape from his coat pocket. Rolling and rolling it around her legs; he only stopped at her knees. Terrie tried to squirm but was held fast.
‘Oh, c’mon Terrie, don’t be a girl,’ Peter laughed as he tickled her sides. I could see she was really struggling – she’d turned the colour of a pillar box – but it was all too much fun to stop.
‘Peter, stop it!’ she