The Family Firm

Chapter 67

He felt a tender hand grasp one of his shoulders while another gently rested upon his shoulder blade, and he shuddered against his will. There was that familiar scent of perfume, fag smoke, and hair spray that crept into his skin like a bad dream, striking up the painful memories that immobilised him.

He was tense as Beth wrapped her arms around him the best she could, as she was a fair amount shorter than him, and scrunched his shoulders as her hot breath tickled the hairs on his neck. 'Don't tire yourself out, love,' she cooed out softly, gently urging him to face her. Mindlessly, he obeyed, and while he met her gaze, his eyes were distant.

'Come here,' she purred, gently stroking his cheek with her knuckles, feeling the prickles of his facial hair, which was just beginning to surface. 'I don't know what's going on, but let me take care of you, yeah? Get you a cuppa, maybe lie down for a bit? How's that sound, eh?'

She kissed him then, glancing up at him afterwards, and when she couldn't read his stony expression, she gave him another peck, and then a third, deepening it almost immediately. Soon her kisses were frantic, and she raked her nails across his shoulders and back, as if she were trying to hold onto him for dear life.

'I missed you,' she said between kisses, which she planted on his lips and along his jaw, when he failed to return them. 'You never come by no more. You left me here alone with him. You don't know what it's like, Freddie. I'm so lonely here. I need you.'

His step-mum's words were slowly becoming white noise, echoing somewhere in the back of his mind, but never truly resonating with him. Every time she touched him, kissed him, caressed him, he felt like a nine year-old boy again, and she seemed so big, her grip impossibly strong. His mind fell blank as it had back then; his body reacted to things he couldn't handle by pulling away from the world. It was as if his soul had simply left his body, a body that felt used and nauseated by Beth's invasive touch.

'I cannot fucking believe you.'

And then, just like that, he was rushed back into the present so quickly he felt dizzy, and with the drugs and his own anxieties he suddenly became acutely aware of everything in that moment—Beth's hands on his chest, the fading warmth where her kisses had been, and the fact that her eyes were trained on a shadowy figure standing near the back door amongst a dusky backdrop.

Frankie.

There she stood, her jaw set, arms folded across her ample bosom, eyes narrowed into slits. Her gaze was so strongly trained on her mother, Fred could almost feel the heat radiating from it.

His heart stopped and his body suddenly felt cold. Frankie had seen everything. She had seen him and Beth, who had since pulled away from him, laughing coldly. This only irritated Frankie further, which was evident in the way her expression tightened.

'Well,' began Beth, aggressive mirth still remnant on her lips. 'Believe it, love.'

Frankie's icy disbelief turned into a seething rage, and the charged forward, clenching her fists. 'You nasty bitch.'

'Oh, I'm nasty, am I?' Her mum responded, raising her brows in feigned offence. 'Well, at least I don't fuck me own bruvver.'

Frankie's rampage ended abruptly before she could even wind back a fist, and she felt as if the breath was suddenly squeezed out of her. Beth, seeing the look on her daughter's face, only smiled. 'Well, as long as we're laying it all out on the table.'

Franks blinked a few times, her mouth having fallen agape. 'Wh . . . What are you talking about?'

'What are you talking about?' Beth openly mocked, becoming more confident and brazen by the second. 'Don't play the fool, love, it looks ugly on ya. You know exactly what I'm talking about. You two, creeping into the other one's bed in the middle of the night, thinking you were so clever . . . '