Page 42 of Pyg

I swung my legs out of bed, stretched and yawned.

As if her strings were being pulled by an invisible puppeteer, Pyg sat up straighter, as I poked my head around the doorframe. All the doors along the hallway were shut, so I tiptoed along the landing with ninja-Pyg silent in my wake — we’d taught her well.To the right, right, left, right again, and every third floorboard until the clock. Thenfour, six, twoandbreathe.

We made it to the top of the stairs without a creak. I looked down at Pyg and double-blinked for ‘well done’. She double-blinked back; smarter than half the kids in my class at school, but that wasn’t hard.

I pointed to my temple.Focus.I gestured for Pyg to take the stairs first. At least that way she wouldn’t be blamed if I miscounted and made a sound, like the last time.

I clicked the kitchen door to a close behind us. Pyg ran to the French doors, so I let her outside. Still no trace of Bernard.He must be in the studio with Mum.

Stretching up, I reached for a glass from the shelf. Only a month ago, I’d had to stand on a chair. I winced as I turned the tap and the old pipes rattled into life. The cold water spluttered out, as it always did, and I drank, relishing the coolness on my dry throat. I wiped the glass with the front of my vest and placed it back on the shelf.

No trace means no trouble.Mum’s words underscored our mouse-like existence inside this house.

Following Pyg into the garden, I hunched and rubbed my goose-fleshed arms; my vest and briefs were not the most practical attire to face the autumnal morning. I should’ve thought to grab a sweater, but I couldn’t think of everything. The long dewy grass glittered in the pale sunlight and whipped my bare ankles as I quick-stepped down the path towards the studio.

As I neared, I stopped in my tracks because unusually, the wooden door was ajar, and an odd scuffling sounded from inside. I waited, angling my ear to the gap until the scuffling morphed into the timid sniffs of Bernard crying. I pushed through the door, and Bernard lay on the rug with Pyg now curled around him.

“Hey, what’s up, Bernie?” I dropped to my knees and stroked Bernard’s hair back from his forehead.

“She’s… she’s—” A sob choked Bernard’s words, and he covered his eyes with his forearm, as if it might dam his tears. I rubbed his back.

“Hey, c’mon. What’s this all about, lad?”

Pyg whimpered.

“Look, you’re upsetting Pyg. It’s alright, girl. He’s alright.”

“No, I’m not,” Bernard roared, and he thrust a balled-up sheet of writing paper at me.

Frowning, I smoothed out the scrunched paper on the rug. Between the creases and splodges, presumably tears, I struggled to decipher the intricate swoops and loops of our mother’s handwriting until an impatient Bernard found his voice again.

“She’s left us, George. She’s fucking left us.”

With greater urgency, my eyes dropped back to the crumpled missive on the floor, scanning the scrawl. I picked out snippets from the jumble of words.

I can’t live like this any more… it feels like poison ivy, choking the life out of me… A wonderful opportunity has finally presented itself… the chance to escape all this… We’ll be able to start a new life… I promise, promise,promiseI’ll send for you as soon as I can… It’ll be a fresh start, for all of us… money is tight, so it may take a while… Boys, please don’t be angry with me x

Then my gaze snagged on a word; a name in the ink that suddenly made sense of everything.

8

PIGS AND DOGS

George’s eyes twitched underneath his thick eyelids when Alice walked into the room.

“Hello, George. It’s me again, your pal, Alice. Ash is here at the hospital too. I guess you know her as Doctor Khurana. We came to see how you’re getting on.”

Alice glanced around the small rectangular room and moved toward the plastic upholstered chair in the corner. The functional space was furnished with typical items; a copy-and-paste of pretty much every hospital room anywhere, but outside the large window stood a pretty tree, its vivid green foliage striking against the slate-grey sky.

“Nice room they’ve given you.”

The window was in line with the tree’s tallest branches and blossom bloomed amongst its leaves. Alice hadn’t really appreciated spring before, but since meeting Ash, she seemed to be noticing it everywhere.

She turned back into the room, eyes adjusting from the dull daylight to the overhead lighting, and perched on the chair. George’s wild hair and beard seemed to get tamer by the day now that someone was taking regular care of brushing them. His hospital gown had been replaced with some paisley pyjamas.

Alice reached out and touched his hand. “It’ll be nice to meet you properly when you’re awake. Ash, Doctor K., has popped off to see if there’s any more information about your brother. Bernard, I think?”

At the mention of Bernard, George’s eyes moved rapidly under his eyelids. Alice gently squeezed the man’s large, rough hand under her own.

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