Adam Houghton was a dedicated lad. Every day he would be up bright and early to make breakfast for his girlfriend, Sarah, and their two kids, Gina and James. At six years old, Gina was the eldest and was a happy, lively little girl, who always demanded her dad’s attention. Every time Adam’s mum popped round, she would make comments on how much of a daddy’s girl she was, and Gina would giggle and jump onto her dad’s lap, throwing her arms around his neck. She would then proceed to squeeze, a great big smile that shown off her milky white teeth, beaming off her face.
James had just turned four and was altogether different from his sister. Whereas Gina was articulate and inquisitive, James was very quiet and would often sit and zone out into space. He only enjoyed playing by himself and rarely responded to his name being called. Sarah, along with both her mum and Adam’s, were keen to have him checked for Autism but Adam, referring to his son as a “slow starter”, wanted to give the boy more time to “come out of his shell.” That isn’t to say that he wasn’t concerned - sensitive to his son’s needs, he always took extra care in preparing his meals and in engaging him in play. Each night, when reading to the kids at bedtime, he would notice James’ attention was always on the projector lights. Adam would often stop reading and watch his smiling son looking about the room, his brown eyes following the crescent moons and stars along the ceiling and the walls. Gina would sit up in bed.
“Keep readin’, daddy!” she’d say.
He’d start again and soon enough, without fail every time, Gina would fall asleep first. There were many nights when Adam, with Gina snoozing away quietly, had to lay next to James, stroking his hair until he, too, fell asleep. Once asleep, he would kiss the boy on the forehead and say a silent prayer for his wellbeing.
“Dear, God,” he whispered, “please help James. Please don’t let anythin’ be wrong with him.”
After breakfast Sarah would put on Cbeebies for James and Adam would run Gina round to school in the work van. He would then head back home for a morning spliff and cup of tea with Sarah, waiting for his dad to call with details of the work they had on that day. His dad had been a plumber all his life and had taken his son on after he’d left school. It was now a decent little father and son business, though, like most young couples, Adam and Sarah relied on their benefits to get by; child and housing benefit and working tax credits.
His dad, Jason, was very proud of Adam, and would boast about his son’s abilities to prospective customers, mates in the pub and, well, just about everybody.
“I’m tellin’ yer,” he’d say, “I’m tellin’ yer now, that kids got brains. He’ll make a right go of this business. Just you watch ‘im.”
Every evening, Adam would try and get back for tea, even if it meant going back out again afterwards to finish off a job, or to pick Jason up from the job they’d been on and drop him off at home.
“Why can’t Sarah do the bleedin’ teas?” Jason would ask, almost every other day.
“She’s not well, dad. How many times do I have to tell yer? You know she’s not well.”
“Loads of people aren’t well,” Jason would say, “doesn’t mean they can’t make tea for their bleedin’ kids.”
“She doesn’t make it right. James only likes his food in a certain way.”
“Well show her how to do it then.”
“Stop goin’ on about it, will yer.”
Jason would sigh. “I don’t know,” he’d say. “Seems daft to me.”
The words were now beginning to play on Adam’s mind. It was a Friday, and they had finished the small job they had on. Adam sat in the rush hour traffic. He had Capital FM on the radio. It was a cold, misty evening in January. He was eager to get home, to eat, to settle down in front of the TV and get warm. The traffic moved along sluggishly. He rang Sarah to update her.
“Where are you?” she asked.
“Stuck in traffic. I’m hopin’ to be back in twenty minutes.”
“Hurry up, will yer. The kids are mitherin’ me to fuck.”
He could hear Gina in the background shouting “Mummy! Mummy!”
“What do yer want me to do, Sarah!” he shouted. “I can’t make the traffic disappear, can I!”
“Forget it. I’ll just start on the tea, myself.”
“Put the oven on and pick out what they want. I should be back before it’s cooked.”
He hung up and banged his hands down on the steering wheel.
“Fuckin’ come on!” he shouted.
It was like the whole of Manchester had finished work at the same time. He fumed at himself for being caught up in it, but he was eager to get back. The city ran like clockwork, though. Certain things at certain times were easily predicted. Rush hour being one of them. He lit a cigarette and wound the window down. He smoked half the cigarette and decided it wasn’t worth the cold. He flicked it out onto the road, illuminated by car headlights. Minutes went by. He got past a set off lights and tore off down Every Street and onto Ancoats Grove. He parked up outside the house and rushed in through the front door. Gina ran over and jumped up at him.
“Daddy!” she cried.
“Hello, darlin’. Ok, ok. Give me a minute. Let me get my jacket off.”
The warmth hit him. The heating would have been on for hours to produce such clammy warmth. He picked Gina up and gave her a kiss and bobbed his head over the sofa where James was sat watching Cbeebies. He ruffled his hair and then headed into the kitchen where Sarah was rooting through the freezer.
“Have you not found anythin’?” he asked.
She shot up and threw her head back at him.
“I’ve asked them! They won’t fuckin’ tell me what they want.”
“I want chicken nuggets!” Gina cried.
“We don’t have chicken nuggets!” Sarah shouted.
Gina wriggled in Adam’s arms. He let her down and she screamed with clenched fists and ran off, up the stairs and slammed her bedroom door shut.
“What the fuck!” Gina said. “She’s like a fuckin’ teenager.”
“Have we not got any other chicken stuff.”
“I don’t know,” Sarah said. “You have a look. My stomach is fuckin’ killin’ me and I’ve got a migraine comin’ on. These fuckin’ kids,” she said.
“Ok, just fuckin’ calm down, will yer. James isn’t even doin’ anythin’. How long’s he been sat in front of that TV for?”
“Don’t start with that. I’m fuckin’ not well.”
“You’re always fuckin’ not well, but you don’t do anythin’ about it, do yer? It’s a fuckin’ joke.”
“Oh, yeah. Thanks. Thanks a lot. Very sympathetic.”
“Are you serious? How much more sympathy do yer want. You don’t even do anythin’.”
“Oh, and you think I like not doin’ anythin’! You fuckin’ idiot. It’s alright for you, you get to go out, I’m stuck in ‘ere all day.”
“Fuckin’…whatever,” Adam said. “Just calm down and, I’ll sort the tea out. Here,” he handed over the pack of cigarettes. Sarah took one out and went to the back door. Adam rooted through the freezer. He pulled out a bag of chips. There was also pizzas and turkey dinosaurs. He could make James the dinosaurs with chips and beans. He stood up and turned the oven on. He opened the bread tin and looked at the bread.
“Fuck sake,” he said.
“What?” Sarah said, popping her round the back door.
“This bread’s two days out of date. Have you not noticed.”
“It’s not mouldy, is it?”
“I’m not givin’ ‘em out of date bread. I’ll have to go shop. Fuck sake.”
“We need rizla as well,” Sarah said. “We might need more weed, too.”
“Oh, fuck off.”
Adam opened a drawer where he kept his weed and grinder in a small Tupperware. He inspected the bag.
“There’s barely enough for two spliffs in here! Where’s the rest gone?”
“I had another spliff this mornin’ after takin’ James to reception. Then Stacey came round for a brew at four, so we had one then.”
“So you’ve been getting’ stoned all day. No wonder he doesn’t fuckin’ talk, when all you do is get monged out and sit ‘im in front of that shit.”
“Fuck you,” she said. “He doesn’t talk cos there’s somethin’ wrong with ‘im, which you won’t help sort out.”
Adam put the weed back and slammed the drawer shut.
“So I need to sort out some weed tonight as well.”
“Just ring Declan.”
“Yeah, but I’ll need a lay on, won’t I.”
“Has yer dad not paid yer?”
“Of course he’s not. He’s not been paid himself yet.”
He got out his phone from his pocket and rang Declan, popping his head out to check on James as he listened to the dialling tone. There was no answer. He ran upstairs to the kids’ bedroom. Gina was playing with a doll on the floor.
“I’m goin’ shop,” Adam said. “Do you still want chicken nuggets?”
“Yes, please,” she said, softly.
“Ok. Are you comin’ back downstairs?”
She smiled and nodded.
“Come on then.”
She got up and ran to the door. He picked her up and carried her down.
“We’ll have a game of Mario Kart after tea,” he said. She nodded enthusiastically. He sat her down on the sofa in the living room.
“Are you havin’ turkey dinosuars, James?” he said. The boy kept his glare on the TV. Gina jumped up and ran to him.
“James,” she said, thrusting her face in front of his. He pushed it away with his hands. Gina giggled. She put her face before his eyes again. “Jamesy,” she said, speaking musically and putting on a funny voice. “Jamesy, Jamesy. Would you like some turkey, turkey dinosauruses?” She giggled some more, and a smile appeared on James’ face.
“James,” Adam said. The boy looked up. “Do you want some dinosaurs with chips and beans?”
The boy nodded, before looking back to the TV.
Adam put on his coat, called to let Sarah know he’d be back in five minutes, told Gina to be good and rushed out the front door, into the cold air. He marched up the street, thoughts swirling around his mind. He tried Declan again. No answer. He crossed Every Street and hurried into the shop.
“Alright, bro,” he called out to the shopkeeper.
He got the loaf of bread, and some chicken nuggets from the freezer. From the fridge he got a couple of Fruit Shoots for the kids, a bottle of coke and a pack of Strongbow’s for Sarah and himself. At the counter he asked for Rizla and picked out some chocolate, exchanging some small talk with the shopkeeper before heading out. Two of his mates, Liam and Marcus were heading over to the shop.
“Yes, Adam,” Liam said. They fist bumped.
“What you sayin’, bro?” Marcus asked.
“Same old, init,” Adam said. “What about yous?”
“Chillin’, bro,” said Liam. “What you on tonight?”
Adam shrugged.
“The usual, man. Gonna go home and get the tea on and then just probably chill. Pop round later if yous want?”
“Yeah, we might do,” said Liam, “we’ll see what time it is. Obviously, it won’t be too late, don’t wanna get you in shit, init.”
“Yous off out?”
“Nah, just goin’ Callum’s, init. Gonna get a few drinks and get blazed round there, play some GTA or some shit. Same old, init. You should come round, yo. Everyone keeps askin’ about yer.”
“Maybe some other night, init,” Adam said.
“You always say this, bro,” Marcus said.
“I’m just busy, aren’t I,” said Adam.
“Family life, and that,” Liam said.
“That’s it,” said Adam.
“Won’t she let you out for one night, bro?” Marcus asked.
“It’s not that,” said Adam.
“Well, what is it?” Asked Liam.
“It’s the kids, init. They play up.”
“Well she needs to learn, bro,” said Liam. “You can’t be cooped up in yer gaff every night cos she can’t handle her own kids. What the fuck, bro?”
Adam shook his head. “I don’t know,” he said. “What can I do?”
“Fuckin’ ‘ell, man,” said Marcus. “Just come out, man. It’ll do you some good.”
“Not tonight, man,” said Adam. “Honestly, she’s on one, stressin’ at me. I’m just gonna deal with the kids and that.”
“Ok, bro,” said Liam. “Well, enjoy your night, I suppose.”
They fist bumped again.
“Oh, shit,” said Adam. “Have yous seen Declan? I need to get a bud off ‘im.”
“I think he’s at his bird’s house, yer know,” said Marcus. “Is he not answerin’ his phone?”
“Nah.”
“He should be out later. He’s always out on a Friday. Just keep tryin’ ‘im.”
“No worries. Safe boys.”
“Safe, G.”
He headed back over Every Street and down to his house. Liam and Marcus watched him cross the road.
“I couldn’t do that me, yer know,” Marcus said.
“Same,” said Liam. “It’s good, though. At least he’s lookin’ after his kids.”
“Yeah, but his oldest might not even be his,” Marcus said.
“You what?” said Liam.
“It’s not 100 per cent, bro.”
“Fuck off. Nah, no way would he accept that.”
“Oh, it’s 100 per cent to him. He’s certain. But don’t ever ask him about. He’ll go fuckin’ sick, mate. Seriously, it’s a touchy subject.”
“Nah, man. Who’s the other guy?”
“Some guy called Danny Cavanagh.”
“Danny Cavanagh?”
“You know ‘im?”
“Naaaah! Danny fuckin’ Cavanagh. That ugly cunt?”
“Yeah, man. Rumour has it, and credible sources, bro, that she was havin’ it off with ‘im behind Adam’s back. Even Adam admitted that they were arguing and shit at the time. But a few weeks later, she’s up the duff with this kid.”
“Shit. So what did Adam say? I mean, he must have kicked off about the rumours and that.
“Yeah! Before she got pregnant he went into the pub that Danny used to go in and went sick. Offerin’ ‘im out and everythin’.”
“Yeah?”
“Mate, he would’ve fuckin’ murdered ‘im. That Danny shit ‘imself, apparently. Denied the whole thing. Said they were just mates, and that.”
“Well, there you go then?”
Marcus shrugged. “You would do, though. Yer not just gonna admit it to it. Especially that little muppet. Imagine ‘im getting’ someone pregnant. His head would fall off. He can’t even keep himself clean, let alone a kid. The fuckin’ scrote.”
“I know! Nah, I don’t believe it.”
“What? That Sarah Jones wouldn’t sleep around?”
“Nah, not that. Just…no way can it be true. Adam would have got a DNA test and everythin’. He must know?”
“I asked him once and…like I say, bro…he went sick at me. ‘Obviously, she’s mine’, he said. But, bro, I go round there. That girl does not look like ‘im.”
“That means fuck all. She’ll take after her mum, init. Does she look like Danny Cavanagh, though?”
Marcus shrugged.
On Ancoats Grove steam rose from the flues of the houses, rising swiftly up into the faint mist that already layered what was now a dark, winter night. Each window was dimly lit behind closed curtains. At the bottom of the grove and by the foot of the Medlock lay the abandoned ruins of The River Inn with a car, an old Ford Escort, parked up outside. The streetlights lit up the mist and the steam in an orange glow and together with the silence, the cold and the battered Ford Escort outside the decaying pub Adam perceived it to be an eerie scene. He rushed back through the front door, the tone of his mates’ voices, the attitudes they had towards him, pouring fuel onto the fire that had ignited within him.
“There you go, darlin’,” he said to Gina, pulling her Fruit Shoot out of the plastic bag.
“Thank you, Daddy,” she said.
He then went straight into the kitchen, slamming the freezer door, and put the chips, nuggets, and dinosaurs into the oven. He picked up James and put him on his lap and turned the channel over to Channel Four for The Simpsons. Sarah lay across the other sofa on her phone. Gina sat back on the carpet with her toys. He zoned out with his son and stared at the TV. He felt his son’s heart beating against his arm and listened to his breathing. His son began to giggle intermittently at The Simpson’s episode. He giggled hysterically at Homer’s “Doh!” Adam laughed.
“Doh!” he cried and thrust up his knees to bounce James. James laughed and looked up at him. Sarah put down her phone and watched.
“Doh!” Adam cried, bouncing James up with the word. He laughed uncontrollably, eyes watering. Adam had never seen him so happy. He almost cried. Gina jumped and ran over, giggling.
“Do it again,” she said.
Adam repeated, and then Gina joined in.
“Doh!” they both cried. “Doh!”
They repeated at least ten times before Adam just laughed and decided to allow his son time to get his breath back. And then James spoke.
“Again!” he said. “Again!”
Sarah flung herself off the sofa and knelt beside them.
“Jamesy spoke!” Gina said.
“I know darlin’,” said Sarah. “Who’s a good boy!” she said, stroking James’ face.
“Again?” asked Adam.
“Again!” said the boy.
“Doh!”
Adam’s phone rang. He rooted his hand through to his pocket, his face beaming, and seen Declan’s name on the screen. He silenced the call and carried on with his family. The oven beeped. He got up and headed to the kitchen. Georgina and Sarah remained round James, talking to him, tickling him, and crying out, “Doh!”
With the food plated up and served, alongside some buttered bread, Adam returned Declan’s call.
“Yes, bro,” he said. “What you sayin’? Listen, can you do us a twenty on tic, mate? Yeah? Nice one, mate. It’ll only be for a couple of days, init. Cheers, bro. Where you at? Are you ok to fly by with it on the way past? Cheers, man. Yer a diamond.”
He ended the call and returned to the living room. His mood was good now. His son’s giggles and the word he spoke, just that one word alone, had vindicated him. There was nothing wrong with the kid. Nothing at all.
“Declan’s poppin’ round,” he said.
Gina lifted her head, sauce from the beans across her mouth.
“Can we play still play Mario Kart?” she asked.
“Course we can,” said Adam, grabbing a tissue from the tissue box on the fireplace. “One of Daddy’s friends is just popping round first, then we’ll play,” he said. He bowed down and wiped the sauce from her face.
“What are we ‘avin’ for tea?” he asked Sarah.
“Anythin’,” she said. “I’m starvin’”
“I’ll put the pizza’s on,” he said.
Back in the kitchen he threw the tissue in the bin and switched the still warm oven back on. He heard the knock on the front door.
“It’s open,” Sarah cried.
He heard Declan step in. He went to greet him.
“Alright, mate,” he said. They fist bumped.
“Alright, kids!” Declan said.
“Are you sayin’ hello to yer Uncle Declan?” Sarah asked.
Gina spun her head round and waved.
“Hello!” she cried.
“Hello!” Declan said.
He turned to Adam and clarified his order. Adam shown him back into the kitchen. Sarah got up and followed them.
“Are you stayin’ for one?” she asked, filling the kettle up with water.
Declan looked at his phone. He shuffled on his feet.
“Erm, I haven’t got long, yer know. Gotta few more errands to run, and that.”
“Go on,” Sarah said. “You can have a brew.”
“Ok,” Declan said, looking to Adam. “Go on then. Two sugars, init.”
Adam put the pizzas in the oven. He picked up the bag Declan had laid down on the table for him.
“Cheers mate,” he said.
“Make a spliff before tea, Ad,” Sarah said.
Adam nodded. He popped his head round into the living room.
“Ten minutes, Gina,” he said.
She spun her head round, chewing the last of her food.
“Ok, daddy.”
He noticed Hollyoaks starting so grabbed the remote and flicked over to CBBC.
“Watch James with his food,” he said, and closed the door again, re-entered the kitchen - Sarah asking Declan what he had been up to - slipped out a Rizla paper, a sense of something nagging at him.