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“Rebecca doesn’t often bring her girlfriends home.”
“Mum, Elda doesn’t need any backstories.”
If Elda had spoken to her mum like that she’d have got a mouthful back. Visits home were rare, and they always ended in some sort of row.
Philip hovered close by. His face was quite repulsive; his eyes sat too close together and his chin disappeared into his neck. His lips turned up into a half-smile half-sneer, as if he could see something no one else could or like he was about to tell a dirty joke.
“Go on into the lounge, and I’ll bring you some treats.” Sue ushered them out with the soft whip of a cat-patterned tea towel.
Sinking into an oversized armchair, Elda cursed herself for agreeing to another awkward social engagement with someone she wasn’t that into. It was the story of her life, saying yes to things she’d rather not do. She scanned the chintzy living room and settled her gaze on Rebecca, whose face was similar to her repulsive father’s. She’d never noticed the downturn of her mouth before. Elda glanced up at a wooden grandmother clock ticking on the wall, wishing the time away.
At eight o’clock, Philip poured himself a fifth glass of wine, almost to the brim. He smiled and revealed dark red stains on his teeth. Sue stacked plates and ferried them into the kitchen. Rebecca yawned as she rose to help her mother.
“Nice meal inside you. Bet you two starve on your own.” Philip turned the dimmer switch, and the bulbs crackled.
Elda adjusted her eyes to the fuzzy light. He screeched his chair closer and poured more wine into her glass.
“I’m fine. Thank you,” she said, trying to keep her voice light. She’d had enough alcohol to get through the awkwardness of dinner but didn’t need any more.
“It’s nice to spend time with you, Elda.”
His gaze moved across her jumper, and she looked down to see if she’d spilled her dinner. When it was clear her jumper was perfectly clean, she pushed her chair away from him and looked to the doorway for signs of Rebecca or her mum. She struggled against the urge to run.
Philip reached behind her neck. It took a split second to realise what was happening, then her body took over. She jerked away, toppling the glass of wine. “I’m sorry.” She jumped back, red wine leeching into the fabric in slow motion.
Rebecca stood still in the doorway.
“You’ve got paint on you. That’s all!” Philip sat back in his chair and laughed, thrusting out his stomach.
Elda caught Rebecca’s eye and without uttering a single word, she begged her to understand what was happening.
“What are you two up to?” Rebecca moved the remaining dishes. “She’s always covered in paint, Dad.”
Sue reappeared, fussing her away, to take over the cleaning duties.
The grandmother clock ticked, every second pounding in her ears. Doubt crept through her body. Had she imagined it? Had she misread Philip’s creepy moves? “I’m going to head up for tonight.” She didn’t wait for a round of well wishes and rushed up the stairs.
It was dark when the bedroom door opened.
“What the fuck, Elda?” Rebecca’s silhouette appeared in the landing light.
“I don’t think I should stay tonight.” She was being impulsive, but there was something about the dynamic in the house that didn’t feel right. If there was one thing Elda could spot a mile off, it was a dysfunctional family.
The ceiling light illuminated the room. Elda stayed on the bed and brought her knees to her chest.
“What does that mean? You don’t like my parents? It’s an overnight visit and one dinner. Maybe small talk over poached eggs. You can’t just throw wine around and storm upstairs. My dad is just drunk.”
She blinked in the light. Rebecca knew what had happened. Maybe it had happened before, and Philip was actually a bit of a pervert. “I feel uncomfortable.” Elda scanned Rebecca’s face for a sign that she understood. “I know you see it.”
“I see you acting weird. And I see him trying to make you welcome,” Rebecca said. “Look, you’re embarrassed. That’s okay. We can just go downstairs and enjoy the rest of the evening. My parents will be fine with it.”
Her pulse thundered in her ears, and her palms were clammy. She stood and began to fold her clothes into her overnight bag. “No.” For once, she wasn’t going to back down just to please the people around her. “This isn’t really working. You’re nice, but this isn’t for me.” She walked to the door.
“Please.” Rebecca gripped the handle and a look of panic moved across her face. “Don’t go. We’re here now. Just get back into bed.”
“Rebecca,” Elda’s chest tightened, “this isn’t working. I would like to leave, please.”
Rebecca stepped aside, and Elda took the stairs two at a time to reach the front door. Air rushed at her hot cheeks as she cracked the door open. She turned at the end of the drive and continued along the main road, barely able to make out what was in front of her through the tears in her eyes.
