Blue Skin: Book Two

Chapter 1

1

There’s a strong smell of bacon as I enter the kitchen. Its sweet, mouth-watering aroma brushes past my nostrils, impossible to resist. To hell with my high cholesterol.

Joseph is sitting at the dining table, dressed in his school uniform, a spoonful of cornflakes in one hand, and his phone in the other. He spots me in the doorway and stuffs the phone between his thighs.

“Morning, hun,” Marie says from the kitchen, busy cutting off the fat from the bacon.

“Morning, family,” I reply with a smile, even though I hardly slept a wink last night. “Where’s Esther?” With an aching knee, I limp over to Marie, kiss her on the cheek, and then sit at the table. “She’s not still sleeping, is she? She’s got college in an hour.”

Marie puts a bacon sandwich in front of me, and then fills my mug with steaming-hot coffee. “She’s just finishing her homework. She won’t be long.”

I lift the white slice of bread to see what sauce she’s used on the bacon.

“Brown sauce,” she answers before I can check.

“Thanks, love.” I sip my coffee. “She’s got to start doing her homework on Friday or Saturday, or at the very latest, Sunday. Not Monday b****y morning.” I take a bite of my sandwich and struggle to chew; the scar across my cheek and upper lip still tight and uncomfortable.

“I know. I’ve told her, but she hardly says two words to me these days.” She collects Joseph’s empty glass and takes it over to the sink. “Teenage girls are hard work. And I’ve got to deal with her on my own.”

A wave of guilt washes over me, realising that I’ve worked every evening for the last two weeks straight. “It won’t be forever, Marie.” I almost say ‘I promise’, but she’s heard that too many times.

“When will we be going home, Dad?” Joseph asks with a mouthful of food.

If someone asks me that one more time, I swear to God I’ll scream. But it’s hard to get angry with them for wanting to go back to London. I’d kill to go. I haven’t seen Mum or my brother in months. Hell, I even miss the guys from the squash club. “We’ll go home when the job is done, Joe.”

“You said that last month,” Esther points out as she enters the kitchen. “And the month before that.” She grabs a slice of toast from the centre of the table, but she doesn’t sit.

“Glad you could join us, Esther,” I say, sarcastically, only now noticing how revealing her white top is. I consider saying something, forcing her to run back up stairs to change it, but I don’t have the energy. “Finished your homework, yet?”

She nods, patting her purple bag, which is draped over her shoulder.

I want to tell her off, threaten to ground her, but I’ve got more important issues to deal with this morning. “Once I’ve trained enough people, we can go home. But Ammanford is ground zero. I can’t exactly let everyone else handle it. We just need to be patient.” I look around the kitchen. “Can we all do that? As a family?”

Marie nods immediately, followed by Joseph.

But not Esther.

“How about you, Esther?” I say, locking eyes with her. “Can you be patient?”

She nods, but it looks painful, like I’ve just asked her to give up her phone.

“Good. Now you two better get off or you’ll miss your buses.”

Joseph gets up and kisses me on the cheek. “See you later, Dad.”

“Have a good day, buddy.”

Esther drops a half-eaten slice of toast on the table, and wipes her mouth with her sleeve. “Bye.” She waves, scooping up her jacket from the back of the chair.

They both exit the kitchen through the back door, leaving the room in silence, apart from the gentle sound of Marie swilling dishes in the sink.

Perhaps two minutes pass and she still has her back to me. “You okay, love?” I ask.

“Yes. Of course,” she replies without looking at me. “Just washing up.”

I stare at her back like a stalker watching its prey. Her brown hair resting over her white blouse. The thick suds drenching her delicate hands. She means the world to me. Words could never describe how much I love this woman. How important she is to this family.

I wish I didn’t have to do this to her.

“Marie,” I take a breath, “can you come here, please?”

She finally turns, but doesn’t make eye contact. “What’s up?”

“I thought we didn’t keep secrets in this family.” The words almost catch in my throat.

“We don’t.”

Reaching into my pocket, I pull out the pregnancy test and place it on the table.

The colour from Marie’s cheeks drains when she spots the white stick.

“Is it yours?” I ask.

A tear rolls down her cheek.

“Is it yours?” I repeat, this time firmer.

She nods; a slight shudder in her body. She probably thinks she’s hiding it—but there’s no hiding fear from me.

“You know what we have to do, right?” I walk over to her, but she turns away from me, and goes back to the sink.

“I was going to go to the clinic this week. Honestly.” She starts to scrub one of the plates with the brush. “But I’ve been so busy with the house, with the kids, it just slipped my mind.”

“That’s okay, love. I know you’ve been busy. We can go right now. I’ll take you myself.”

Sniffing, she grabs another plate and runs it under the tap. “There’s no need, hun. I’ll book it later and go down myself. It’s no big deal. God knows how this happened. Must have missed a couple of pills. And the way my body works, it’s probably a false alarm, anyway.”

She’s rambling, squirming. To see her so nervous around me, so tense, it breaks my heart. I pull her in for a hug. “We have to go now. Do you understand, Marie?”

She doesn’t respond.

“Marie?”

“I can do it myself,” she replies, her words muffled by my shoulder. “I’ll call them after nine. I doubt they’d be open until then, anyway.”

I break away from her and shake my head. “I love you, Marie, but I can’t let you wait.”

Slipping past me, she picks up a tea towel from the worktop. “I think you’re making too much of a fuss about this.”

Stomach in knots, I walk over to the chair and grab her coat. “Put this on.”

She shakes her head as a tear rolls down her cheek.

“Put this on, now!” I snap.

“I don’t want to go,” she says, her words shaky.

Grasping her wrist, I force her arm into the sleeve of the coat. She tries to resist, so I tighten my grip. “You’ve got to.” I do the same for the other sleeve and then button the coat up. “We’re going to The Facility, Marie—and that’s that.”

Still holding her arm, I steer her out of the kitchen and into the hallway.

“Don’t do this, hun,” she sobs, tugging and writhing, trying to break free from my clutch. “Please. I beg you.”

I feel nauseous, so I ignore her pitiful words, and open the front door. As I step out into the cold morning air, she grabs the doorframe, so I pull harder, prising her thin fingers from the wood.

Huw, one of our neighbours is outside, taking out a bag of rubbish. He says something, but I can’t hear the words. It’s either Good Morning, or What the hell are you doing?

Neither is important right now.

By the time we reach the car, I’ve blocked out Marie’s pleas, her helpless cries to let her go. I don’t care how loud she yells, how many people see us—because I don’t have a choice. None of us do. We have to keep society afloat. Keep this town, this world safe.

I love you, Marie.

With all my heart.

I hope you know that.

But the law is the law.

Part II

FREYA LAWSON