Hater

hour.
    Christ, all the kids are out of bed now. Why do they have to get up so early? We have to drag them out of their beds when it's a school day. They've only been up for a couple of minutes and I can already hear Ed and Josh fighting over something. I close my eyes and wait for them to start on me. It's only a matter of time…
    'I want to watch Channel 22,' Ed says as he storms into the room. Does his entire life revolve around TV?
    'I'm watching this,' I answer quickly, annoyed that I've been disturbed.
    'With your eyes shut?' he sneers in an irritating tone which makes me want to slap him.
    'Yes, with my eyes shut,' I sneer back. 'I'm waiting to watch something.'
    'I really need to watch Channel 22, Dad,' he whines.
    'Watch it in your room,' I suggest sensibly. We bought Ed a TV last Christmas. He hardly uses the damn thing.
    'I can't get Channel 22 in there.'
    'Sorry, son, I'm watching this. You can turn over when it's finished.'
    'That's not fair,' he yells at me, 'I never get to watch any of my programmes.'
    Little shit. He seems to spend all of his time in front of the box. How often do I get a turn? It's my TV and I can watch what I like, when I like. I don't know why but I find myself trying to justify watching a five minute programme to my eight year old son.
    'You're always watching TV. It's all I ever see you do.'
    'No it isn't. It's not fair, you never let me watch what I want.'
    I can hear the sports bulletin theme music playing. I open my eyes. Ed's standing directly between me and the TV screen.
    'Look, this is only on for five minutes. Let me watch it then you can have your channel on.'
    'It's my turn to choose,' Ellis pipes up. I didn't even know she was in here. That's twice she's done that to me today.
    'No it isn't,' Ed shouts. 'I'm watching my channel next.'
    'But you've got your own telly. I haven't got one. That's not fair, is it Daddy?'
    'It's just tough. I asked first.'
    'I asked Mummy last night. She said I could watch what I wanted to this morning. She said that…'
    'Will you both just shut up!' I yell, loud enough for the people in the flat on the top floor to hear. I hold my head in my hands in despair. Through the gaps between my fingers I can see the TV screen. The sports reporter is in full flow but I can't hear a damn word she's saying.
    'Tell her, Dad,' Ed barks again, not about to let it drop. 'I'm watching my channel next.'
    'No you're not. Mummy said that I could…'
    'I don't care, Dad said that...'
    'Shut up!' I snap. 'For crying out loud, will you both just shut up.'
    'She started it,' Ed whines.
    'No, he started it,' Ellis whines back, and so it goes on...
    That's it. The brief sports bulletin is over. Waste of bloody time. Less than five minutes was all I wanted. Was that too much to ask? I get up and switch off the television and for a single blissful moment the flat is completely silent.
    'If I can't watch it, no-one can,' I tell them both.
    For another second they just stare at me in stunned silence. Then they turn.
    'That's not fair,' Ed screams, his face flushed red with anger. 'You can't do that.'
    'I just did, now shut up.'
    The room is suddenly filled with more noise than ever as they both protest at the same time. It's loud enough to bring Josh waddling in. He starts screaming just because the other two are. I ignore the lot of them. I push past them all and storm through the flat to the bathroom. I sit down on the toilet. The lock on the door is broken and I have to push my foot against it to keep it closed and to keep the kids out.
    'Dad, will you tell him,' Ed shouts from just outside the bathroom. Christ, is there no escape? What do I have to do to get some peace and quiet? 'Dad, Josh is messing with the remote control.'
    I can't bring myself to answer. I know he knows I'm in here but I just can't bring myself to speak to him. I push my foot a little harder against the door as Ed tries to push his way in from the other side.
    'Dad… Dad, I know you're in there…'
    I let my head loll back on my shoulders and I look up at the ceiling. Out of the corner of my eye I can see the window. It's pretty small but we're on the ground floor and I reckon I could squeeze through if I really tried.
    Jesus Christ, what am I thinking?
    Am I seriously considering trying to escape from my own house through the toilet window? Bloody hell, there has to be more to life than this.

iii

    Chris Spencer had been laying the drive in Beechwood Avenue for almost a day and a half and