Hater

here. I wouldn't want to spend too long out here on my own either. I unlock the flat, go inside and shut, lock and bolt the door behind me. Home. Thank God for that. I take off my coat and shoes and, for almost half a second, I relax.
    'Where've you been?' Lizzie scowls. She appears from Edward and Josh's room and crosses the hallway diagonally to the kitchen. Her arms are piled high with dirty washing.
    'Work,' I reply. The answer's so obvious I wonder whether it's a trick question. 'Why?'
    'You should have been back ages ago.'
    'Sorry, I got delayed. Got stuck with some woman having a go at me. I missed my train.'
    'You could have called.'
    'I've run out of credit on my mobile and I didn't have any cash on me to top it up. Sorry, Liz, I didn't think I'd be this late.'
    No response. I can't even see her now. The fact she's gone quiet on me is ominous. Something's wrong and I know that whatever it is, any problems that I might have had today will now have to take second place. All my worries will pale into insignificance alongside whatever it is that's bothering her. This seems to happen almost every day and it's really beginning to piss me off. I know Lizzie works hard and the kids play her up, but she wants to think herself lucky. She wants to try dealing with some of the shit that I have to put up with each day. I take a deep breath and follow her into the kitchen.
    'Your dinner's in the oven,' she grunts.
    'Thanks,' I mumble as I open the oven door and recoil from the sudden blast of red-hot air which comes from it. I pick up a tea towel and use it to grip the edge of a dried-out and overcooked plate of pie, chips and peas. 'Are you okay?'
    'Not really,' she replies, her voice barely audible. She's on her knees shoving washing into the machine.
    'What's the matter?'
    'Nothing.'
    I crunch into a burnt chip and then quickly smother the rest of my food in sauce to take away some of the charcoal taste. Don't want to risk Lizzie thinking I don't like it. I hate playing these games. It's obvious something's wrong, so why won't she just tell me what it is? Why do we have to go through this stupid routine every time she has something on her mind? I decide to try again.
    'I can tell something's wrong.'
    'Very perceptive of you,' she mumbles. 'It doesn't matter.'
    'Obviously it does.'
    'Look,' she sighs, switching on the washing machine and standing up and stretching her back, 'if you really want to know what's wrong why don't you ask the kids? Maybe they'll tell you why I…'
    Right on cue two of the children push their way into the kitchen, jostling with each other for position. Edward digs his elbow into his little sister's ribs. Ellis shoves him back out of the way and then slams against the table, spilling Liz's coffee.
    'Dad, will you tell her?' Ed spits, pointing accusingly.
    'Tell her what?' I ask, distracted by the pile of bills I've just found on the table.
    'Tell her to stop following me around,' he yells. 'She's winding me up.'
    'Why don't you both just leave each other alone? Go and play in your own rooms.'
    'I want to watch telly,' Ed protests.
    'I was watching it first,' Ellis complains.
    'She'll be going to bed soon,' I sigh, trying to reason with Edward. 'Just let her watch it for a while then you can change the channel when she's gone to bed.'
    'But my programme's on now,' he whines, not having any of it. 'It's not fair, you always take her side. Why do you always take her side?'
    I've had enough.
    'Let's just leave the television off then,' I tell them. Both of them start screaming at me but even their god-awful noise is drowned out by Lizzie who shrieks at the pair of them to get out of her sight at a deafening volume. Ed pushes his sister as he barges out of the room. Ellis slaps him on the back as he passes.
    'Well handled,' Liz mumbles sarcastically.
    'Little sods,' I mumble back.
    'That's why I've had enough,' she snaps. 'I've had to put up with their rubbish constantly since we came out of school and I can't stand it anymore. Okay?'
    She storms out of the room. I don't bother following, there's no point. There's nothing I can do or say to make things any easier so I take the easy option and do and say nothing.

FRIDAY
ii

    'He was looking at me.'
    'Get lost! He was looking at me. He's not interested in you!'
    Josie Stone and her best friend Shona Robertson walked down Sparrow Hill and across the park together arm in arm, laughing as they discussed Darren Francis, a boy two years ahead of them at