Sadie. Jane Elliott
‘I just wanted a glass of water,’ she told him.
He acted as though he had not heard her and, instead of moving to allow her access to the sink, he looked meaningfully at the kitchen table.
Sadie followed his gaze. There, on the table, was her beloved satchel. It was lying on its side, the sturdy leather straps unbuckled and the contents spilling out. On top of her few school books, neatly arranged in a precise line from smallest to largest, were the sweets from yesterday.
‘Who said you could look in my satchel?’ Sadie whispered, horrified that anyone would do such a thing and moving swiftly to pack her things up. But again Allen seemed to ignore her.
When he finally did speak, it was slowly and smoothly. ‘That’s a lot of sweets for a little girl whose mam only gives her two pound a week,’ he observed. He sniffed, his nose wrinkling as he did so, and then took a sip of his tea. The blue eyes continued to look at her over the rim of the mug.
Sadie looked at him with what defiance she could muster, but she couldn’t help glancing guiltily back at the table. ‘Yeah, well, I’ve been saving up,’ she retorted.
Allen smiled humourlessly. ‘I don’t think so,’ he said. ‘Don’t worry, I won’t tell your mam.’ And then, almost as an afterthought, ‘I don’t think she’d be very happy, do you?’
He turned and poured the dregs of his tea into the sink. Sadie started to pack her things back into the bag, but stopped when Allen spoke again.
‘You didn’t clear your dinner things away last night.’
‘I’ll do it this morning.’
Allen breathed out heavily through his nose, a contemptuous sound. ‘It’s no good doing it this morning,’ he said in a suddenly irritated voice. ‘You made the mess last night. No one likes messy children.’
A thousand different retorts popped into Sadie’s head. ‘I don’t care what you like or don’t like.’ ‘This is my house, not yours.’ ‘What makes you think you can talk to me like that?’ But suddenly she was tongue-tied. She gazed at his back for a few moments before continuing to pack up her satchel. When she had finished, she looked back at him to see that he had turned and was moving towards her; but he stopped in his tracks as soon as she noticed him.
‘You should go and get dressed,’ he told her, his voice quiet again now. ‘Nice girls don’t walk around the house wearing next to nothing.’ He smiled, and the expression seemed out of place to Sadie. ‘Go and get dressed. Then come back down and we can have breakfast together.’
Sadie gathered her satchel in her arms and, feeling suddenly uncomfortable with the shortness of her nightdress, ran back up the stairs. She threw her stuff carelessly into her room, and then she shut herself in the bathroom and slid the lock closed. Half of her wanted to run into her mum’s room and slip into the bed next to her, but she knew she wouldn’t be able to face seeing the ruffled sheets on the side where Allen had been sleeping, or lying on the linen where his skin had been. She could hear him moving about in the kitchen, but she vowed that she would not leave the bathroom until she heard her mum getting up.
She didn’t have to wait long before Jackie walked down the stairs. Sadie knew what she would be doing – going to find her cigarettes. She listened to the creaking of the floorboards before unlocking the bathroom door and slipping back into her room. She removed her nightie and dressed in a tracksuit – quickly, though she wasn’t sure why. Then she took a deep breath and went back downstairs.
As soon as she walked into the kitchen she could tell that something was wrong. Allen sat at the head of the table, stony-faced, and Jackie seemed unwilling to look her daughter in the eye. A third place was set, with a side plate containing a slice of toast and jam. As Sadie walked in, Allen stood up, picked up the piece of toast, took it to the other side of the kitchen and dropped it in the bin.
‘Sadie, love,’ her mum said, breaking the tense silence. ‘Allen told you he was making you your breakfast, and you let it get cold.’
Sadie was silent, too stunned to speak.
‘What do you say?’ her mum insisted.
The little girl’s eyes flickered between the two of them. ‘I didn’t know,’ she murmured. ‘I’ll get my own toast.’
Jackie glanced at Allen, who almost imperceptibly shook his head. ‘No, Sadie, love. It’s too late now.’ Jackie’s voice was subdued. ‘Try and be quicker next time, all right?’
Sadie opened her mouth to object, but as she did so she caught Allen’s eye. There was something about the stern look he gave her that made her feel suddenly frightened of this man in their kitchen. Too angry and upset to say anything, she turned and left the flat, slamming the front door behind her.
As she made her way to the estate playground, she felt hot tears of indignation welling up in her eyes. Someone called her name in a friendly way, but she didn’t want to speak to anyone and picked up her pace; by the time she reached the playground she was running, and the tracks of her tears were horizontal along the side of her face. It was still quite early, so the playground was deserted as she took her usual seat at the swings.
Sadie just couldn’t understand why her mum was taking his side against her. She hadn’t been out of order, had she? She hadn’t done anything wrong. Then she thought guiltily about the chocolates. It was true that she shouldn’t have stolen them, but they hadn’t done anyone much harm, had they? Not that she thought her mum would see it that way. Sadie really didn’t want Allen to tell Jackie his suspicions, and she hated the fact that this man suddenly had a hold over her.
As the morning wore on, the playground began to fill up – mums mostly, with their kids, but also a few older teenagers, loitering and sharing cigarettes there because there was nowhere else to go. Sadie was used to these people – she recognized most of them and certainly never felt threatened by them – but she didn’t want company this morning; and as the nearby tower block started casting a shadow over the playground, she left with a vague shiver and wandered round the concrete jungle of the estate. By lunchtime, though, she knew she would have to go back: she was getting hungry, and had no money to buy food. And even though she knew she could knock on the door of a neighbour, somehow she didn’t feel like sharing what was bottling up inside her. She headed home.
Allen was still in the kitchen when Sadie walked in. She looked around to see if her mum was there but, as though reading her mind, Allen said, ‘She’s gone to the shops.’
Sadie kept her lips tightly closed.
Allen walked towards her, and suddenly his frowning face lightened up and he smiled down at Sadie. ‘I’ve been out and got you something,’ he told her. He smiled a little more broadly as he reached into his pocket and pulled out a small chocolate bar. He bent down and gave it to the reluctant Sadie. ‘If you want sweets,’ he told her in a conspiratorial whisper, ‘you only have to ask.’
Sadie winced slightly under his piercing stare, but Allen ignored it. He held her chin gently between his thumb and first finger and lifted her face slightly. Sadie couldn’t help but notice that his hand was shaking slightly. Once more she smelled his aftershave, and she suppressed a wave of nausea.
‘Just keep it a secret from your mum, eh? She doesn’t have to know everything, does she?’
Suddenly a key could be heard in the door. Allen quickly stood up, turned his back on Sadie and walked swiftly into the sitting room. By the time Jackie was in the house, Sadie was alone in the kitchen.
Last night Sadie had been shocked and upset that Mum and Allen had gone out; tonight she wished they would. But they stayed in, and on Sunday they didn’t leave the house at all. Sadie spent most of the time in her bedroom, only coming down for food which her mum – uncharacteristically – prepared for them. They would sit round the table in silence, eating ready meals and drinking water. Occasionally Jackie would try to goad them into conversation, but never with success. It was the longest weekend of Sadie’s