Wesley pondered all the ways he would rather be spending his Saturday morning: working at the dealership, running a three-legged race with Jordan, and watching Frozen on loop with his eyes fixed open all came above paying a visit to the food bank.
‘Thanks for coming with me,’ said Mum, squeezing his arm as they neared the community centre.
Wesley nodded – as if he’d let her go by herself – but he knew he didn’t deserve any thanks. The Salvation Army food bank was open to anybody who was struggling, which meant they didn’t need a referral. It was hard enough for Mum to admit she needed help when she hadn’t been able to pick up enough hours, without needing to seek permission for it. They were lucky, really, that they had only needed it a couple of times so far this year. That didn’t make Wesley feel any less ashamed. Any less of a failure for not being able to look after his family.
The community centre was only around the corner, an old brown brick building next to a modern glass church of some kind. Nobody from school lived near here, that Wesley knew of, so they would only see him if they were in the same boat.
‘You can wait outside if you want,’ said Mum.
If he was ashamed, he wouldn’t show it. He marched inside ahead of her. The double-door entrance was plastered with notices for Slimming World, only a single lopsided sandwich board to announce the availability of the food bank. Together they walked along a musty corridor, feet echoing on scuffed tiles, and turned in to the hall.
Although it was only mid-morning, it was already busy. A ragged queue trailed from a row of tables. Other people sat on plastic chairs lined against the walls. Before she joined the queue, Mum carefully scanned the room, apparently deciding the coast was clear.
‘They’re taking Evie to the zoo today,’ said Mum as they waited their turn.
‘Who’s paying?’
She gave him a knowing look. ‘They said it was their treat.’
Every other Saturday, Evie spent the day with a friend she had made at nursery. Their family said they were glad to have her, and they usually just played at their house. Sometimes they took them out on more expensive trips, and it was always their treat. Evie would come home raving about it, a new toy clutched in her arms, before settling in for another long two weeks stuck at home. Wesley was glad she could have those experiences, but he wished it was he that could provide them.
‘You can’t tell Dave about this, okay?’ said Mum.
Wesley blinked, taken by surprise. It hadn’t even occurred to him. He wasn’t in the habit of telling anybody about the food bank. ‘He must know we’re not rolling in it.’
‘That doesn’t mean he needs to know we take handouts.’
The first time he had come here, Wesley had expected everybody to look homeless. To be queuing in dirty rags and loading their food into stolen shopping trolleys. Instead it was always mothers and fathers with prams, young people in their work uniforms, old men and women with walking sticks and hearing aids.
‘If he judges you for this then he’s no better than any of the others,’ said Wesley.
‘He won’t judge me. It’s just easier if . . .’ Mum trailed off. ‘He really does care about me. About us.’
We don’t need him to, he thought. ‘You said the same thing about the others.’
‘And I can admit I was wrong. But I’m not wrong this time. I’m happy with Dave, and I think . . . can you please just do what I ask?’
Behind the tables, the food and supplies were kept in colour-coded plastic boxes loaded into a rack of shelves, a few tins and larger packets stacked separately. Everything was offered in carrier bags, some already made up and others pieced together based on somebody’s needs. They usually took just enough to keep them going for a few days, to bolster the few things they already had. Thankfully Evie was the world’s number one fan of baked beans on toast.
When it was their turn, Wesley accepted a couple of pre-made bags. The cans clanked against each other as he lifted them. Then he moved across the room so Mum could ask for some personal items in peace. An older lady smiled at him from the next seat, and he returned it, before discouraging any further contact by taking out his phone.
It wasn’t long before he was due to meet Luke and Justin. They wouldn’t think much of this place, or of him for being there. It made him a failure – as a son and as a man. ‘Everything okay?’ said Mum, joining him with a third bag.
Wesley stood. ‘Yeah. Of course.’
‘Not just here. With Dave, and everything.’
‘I told you, it’s fine.’ He took the bag from her. ‘Let’s go.’
Outside, a beaten-up red Nissan Micra was waiting for them on the kerb. Jordan leaned against it, and when he spotted them he hurried over. Wesley gritted his teeth. There was no hiding where they had been. His brother tried to take the bags, but Wesley held tight.
‘I saw you going inside,’ Jordan said. ‘Thought I could give you a lift back?’
‘Thanks,’ Mum said uncertainly.
Wesley released the bags suddenly. Cans spilled onto the pavement. Both boys dropped for them, racing to collect the most.
‘I didn’t know things were this bad,’ said Jordan as he returned the food to the bag.
Under his mask of concern was an accusation. Two years had passed, and Wesley had failed to keep this from being necessary.
After the bags were loaded in the boot, Mum got into the passenger seat. Wesley lingered on the kerb.
‘You coming?’ said Jordan.
‘I’m going to meet some friends.’
The jokey smile that always meant an insult was coming hadn’t changed after two years away. ‘Since when did you have friends?’
Wesley smouldered with anger. Without another word he turned away from the car and began the walk towards Luke’s house.
Weekends had never really meant anything to Kat. The break between long blocks of duty and stress meant little when a Saturday morning began just as Friday had ended: alone in her room, a tenuous grip on existence. Days bled together.
So it felt strange to be outside, staking out Luke’s house across town. Alongside everything else, Wesley had left Google Maps open with its location. It was a big place, on a block where every house was big and had more than one vehicle parked on its lengthy gravel driveway. This whole thing would have been cooler if she’d required an inconspicuous car and binoculars rather than standing across the road in what should have been plain sight, but she’d take what she could get.
That morning’s selfie hadn’t seemed to show the fade growing any more severe. It was possible that the Lonely People’s information was wrong – but if nobody had ever been able to report back after experiencing the fade, that suggested they had never come back at all. Kat couldn’t be complacent about it. If nothing else, the fade gave her the ability to investigate where nobody else could.
Shortly before the prearranged time, Wesley came along the road and stopped at the end of the driveway. He hesitated, like an alarm might sound if he put so much as a toe on the grounds. He took out his phone instead of making the trek to the front door. A few minutes later Luke and Justin crunched down to meet him, and after some needlessly aggressive back-slapping they set off.
Kat could have walked beside them unnoticed, but decided to maintain what she assumed was a customary tailing distance ten paces behind. Somehow she knew that whatever they were saying now wouldn’t offer any detail on what they were planning. It was clear from Wesley’s emails that they enjoyed knowing more than he did, dangling the danger over his head as if it proved something about their ability to handle it. It reminded her of how when they were little Suzy used to listen at doors and pretend to have overheard something salacious from their parents. She would use it to make Kat trail her around for a whole day, begging to be let in on the secret.
Luke and Justin walked tightly at Wesley’s sides. Luke lit a cigarette and blew smoke luxuriously up into the air so that it gusted back into Kat’s face. Away from the block of big houses the area changed rapidly, independent coffee houses and expensive-looking salons giving way to chicken shops and local cafes, the front line against the area’s creeping gentrification. They had walked for around twenty minutes before they reached a row of flats, and cut into a wide track of sandy-coloured gravel to some garages tucked behind. They were old, a few garage doors buckled or missing completely. Weeds grew freely in the cracks between bricks.
As they approached a garage with its door still intact, Wesley glanced over his shoulder as if to check if anybody was following them. It could have been a reflex of nerves, or genuine expectation. Kat crept closer, knowing she might need to run to make it inside. The gravel under her feet sounded like a storm of hailstones, but none of them seemed to notice.
When Luke knocked, she half-expected a secret code and not just a simple thud on the metal. A moment later the door creaked and began to open. As the three boys ducked inside, Kat steadied herself with a breath and ran, slipping under the door just as it rattled down closed behind her.