Page 67 of Goodnight
‘Hello, Emma,’ Anya said, dragging her eyes from next door to smile up at Emma. Anya was wearing killer high-heeled leather boots over skinny jeans and Emma was in flats, but at five foot eleven Emma was still a couple of inches taller. ‘I’m sorry to arrive unannounced but I was in London with Nick and I wanted to meet your family.’
‘Oh, right.’ Emma managed to recover from her shock and paste a fake smile on her face. ‘Mikey’s not here though … I haven’t … um …’ Emma hadn’t told Mikhail she was coming home today. She’d been making excuses for weeks to stop him coming to see her family again.
It wasn’t just that the crappy area they lived in embarrassed her, because before the squatters next door had moved in she’d been happy for him to visit. It was that she knew if he found out what was happening he would want to fix it somehow, and she just couldn’t bear his pity. Her parents’ pride would have been hurt and she couldn’t bear that either. ‘Right, please, come in. Mum and Dad are just in the kitchen. They’ll be really um … they’ll be really pleased to meet you.’ Emma’s hands fluttered nervously before she got it together and moved back from the door to let Anya through.
‘Guys, this is Anya Chambers, Mikey’s mum,’ Emma said as she walked into the cramped kitchen. Emma’s dad froze with his cup of tea halfway to his lips; her mum slowly retracted her hand from the chicken’s arse she was stuffing, and her brother choked on his 7-Up.
‘Oh … goodness me,’ her mum muttered as she withdrew her hands from the chicken. ‘Well, it’s lovely to meet you, Mrs –’
‘Call me Anya, please.’ Anya smiled and the full force of her beauty and glamour was like a physical presence in the kitchen.
‘Crikey,’ muttered Aaron, his mouth falling open in shock.
‘I’m Judy,’ Emma’s mum said, moving to the sink to wash off her hands, then skirting the table to shake Anya’s. During all this, Emma’s brother and dad remained open-mouthed, her dad’s tea still suspended in midair.
‘Malcolm, Aaron,’ her mum said through gritted teeth, her foot kicking back to smack her husband in the shin. ‘Say hello to Mikey’s mum.’
‘Hello,’ Malcolm managed to say, his cup staying where it was. Aaron for his part just stared. Emma’s mum rolled her eyes.
‘You have to forgive my son, he’s … well … he’s a teenager. My husband I have no excuses for.’
Anya laughed and placed a hand on Emma’s mum’s arm reassuringly.
‘Please, I’m the one who should apologize. Barging in here on a Sunday. You must think me incredibly pushy. I know I also need to say sorry for taking your daughter away from you on Christmas day. I’m afraid I can be selfish when it comes to the holidays. But I hope next year you might consider all coming to stay with us.’
‘Sweet.’ Emma rolled her eyes at Aaron’s awed whisper. Since she’d told him who Mikhail’s parents were he’d been bugging her constantly to meet them.
It took about an hour for her family to relax in Anya’s company. Emma had liked her when she’d stayed with the Chambers family over Christmas. She had a dry sense of humour, and when you spoke to her she listened so intently it seemed as if she was hanging on every word, absorbing every gesture. It was weird but also strangely endearing, and it certainly helped her family to warm to her quickly. But just as Emma’s mum was about to start serving lunch, it started again. The walls between the two houses weren’t exactly thin, but with the volume those pricks next door put their heavy metal noise up to, you’d think the band was performing live in their kitchen. After ten minutes of strained attempts at conversation over the noise, Emma’s dad swore under his breath and banged on the connecting wall. A few minutes after that, a loud crash sounded from the living room.
‘Jesus Christ,’ Emma’s dad muttered, pushing up from his chair and stalking out of the kitchen, the others following at a slower pace. A brick was lying in the middle of the carpet surrounded by glass.
‘Oh,’ Emma’s mum said in a broken little whisper, her hand going to her mouth and her tears pooling in her eyes as they all followed her dad into the room. ‘When are they going to stop? And with company here and …’
‘It’s not actually that bad an area, Anya,’ Emma’s dad tried to explain, turning towards Anya after having taken his wife into his arms. ‘These bloody hooligans moved in a few months ago and since then …’ He trailed off, his eyes now suspiciously wet. Seeing her strong father near tears actually caused Emma physical pain.
‘The police just seem to give out ASBOs. They can’t put a stop to it,’ Emma added, putting her arm around her brother who for once allowed a show of affection. ‘Squatters’ rights are difficult to get around.’
‘Stupid ASBOs,’ Aaron spat. ‘Those wankers wear that shit like a badge of honour.’
Anya was staring at the brick with her head cocked to the side. After a moment she turned to the family and gave them all a cool smile.
‘If you’ll excuse me,’ she said quietly, her voice somehow colder and her face expressionless. ‘I do believe I left something in the car. I won’t be a moment.’
They all watched, speechless, as she swept out of the house. Emma turned to her mum and shrugged. ‘Guess she got spooked.’ Judy’s mouth tightened but she held in anything she might have said about Emma’s future mother-in law.
‘Stuck-up bitch,’ Aaron muttered, not being quite as diplomatic.
‘Right, come on, love,’ her dad said, steering her and her mum away from the mess. ‘I’ll call the police and the window blokes, and we’ll start lunch.
Just after they entered the kitchen, the music shut off and they heard muffled raised voices through the wall instead. Relieved to have some brief respite from the heavy metal, they started eating, but after a minute or two there was a loud crash against the interconnecting wall.
‘What the bloody hell?’ Emma’s dad muttered as they all lowered their utensils and turned towards the noise. Next came the screaming: piercing, fear-filled and blood-curdling. Then silence.
‘Malcolm, I think you’d better make those phone calls now,’ Judy said in high-pitched voice, and Malcolm nodded, leaving the remains of his lunch to speak to the police. Five minutes later there was a knock on the door and they all froze.
‘Probably the police,’ Emma muttered.
‘Stay here,’ Malcolm said, a rare tone of authority in his voice as he addressed his family. He stalked to the door, but when he returned he didn’t have the beleaguered policemen they so often had to call to the house with him, it was Anya.
