Blink {Featured}

Chapter Five

(17y) JANUARY 2005, 17.32

The tears were all dried up. The reflection in the mirror had red puffy eyes and hair like he'd been camping for a week. John flattened it then moved over to his bed and sat down. How the fuck did that soldier see him? He shook his head. How did Tom see him? He thought the German soldier running at Tom saw him too.

John needed something real, something he could put his hands on, something to distract him from Tom and the blood and the smell of death. He grabbed the photo album off his bookshelf and opened it. At one of the last pictures ever taken of Dad he paused, feeling its edge with the tip of his finger. This picture was taken seven years ago on the morning of the day his father died, knocked over by a drunk driver. Out of its cover he took it, holding the photo like he was holding the words of a god. A shaky breath escaped his parted lips.

'What cha dooooin?' John's little sister piped up from behind the door.

The photo slipped from John's hand as he jerked up, and floated back to the album. His heart raced and he swore he could hear the bomb ringing in his ears, feel the mud splattering on his face. 'Charlie, what have I told you about sneaking around?'

A little face with an impish grin peered around the door. John smiled, the skin on his face felt stretched and dry from crying. Charlotte was the last gift Dad left them, and he loved her with all his heart. 'Just looking at some photos Charlie. Is Mam downstairs?'

Charlotte nodded then wrinkled her nose. 'Mammie's in a baad mood.'

'Come here you,' John said, and Charlie ran, jumping into his arms. Her blonde pigtails smelled like marshmallows and sugar, and swung in his face. Soft. John carried her out to the landing, spotting bags of shopping in the hallway. Bangs and scrapes came from the kitchen. John pictured Mam slamming cupboard doors as she put shopping away. Damn, she was mad this time for sure.

'John Finnie! John get your bloody arse down here. Get your arse down here now!'

John looked in the landing mirror as he walked past it, and Charlie scrambled from his arms, taking the stairs in full stride. God, he looked like shit. 'Be casual,' he thought as he walked down the stairs. A creaky step alerted Mam of his presence before he could muster a proper casual strut, and she appeared at the bottom of the steps, hands on her hips and a face like thunder.

'What the bloody hell ha...' Mam trailed off when she saw his face. Did he look that bad?

'Have you been crying John?'

'Maa-am,' John groaned and looked down, ashamed at letting Mam see him like this. He was supposed to be the man of the house now.

'Come on,' she said, 'let's have a cup of tea and talk this nonsense through.'

Tea. Jack had brought Tom tea. And Jack was dead. His lifeless body lay in the mud on that desolate field...and Tom. Tom died in John's bloody arms. The sudden want to run back to his bedroom almost overwhelmed him, but instead of bolting up the steps like a frightened cat, he took a deep breath and followed Mam to the kitchen. Charlie came storming out of the living room, giggling and laughing as she ran around him and disappeared into the living room again.

The sweet innocence of his younger sister did little to lift John's soured mood. Death was on his mind as he pulled out a chair. Mam pottered around the kitchen, fussing over the teapot and making the tea just right. John smiled.

'You fuss too much woman,' Dad's words floated into his mind. 'It's just a cup of tea.'

Mam looked up and smiled. She passed the cup over to him and pushed the biscuit barrel towards him. 'Want a biscuit?'