14.3

In the intervening years, Wayne had grown up to be a happy, well-adjusted child.

Fiona had done a great job raising him. In spite of her appalling mistake with Simon, she’d turned out to be an amazing mother to Wayne.

She’d been on her own in the early years, but by the time Wayne was in primary school she’d met an incredibly sweet and caring man who’d doted on both her and Wayne.

Why couldn’t I have had Wayne and Simon with you? she thought.

She scolded herself for putting herself down, but still hadn’t learnt to forgive her past indiscretions.

She hadn’t explicitly told Wayne that Hank wasn’t his dad, but she figured he already knew.

Still, it was an awkward conversation she wasn’t looking forward to having.

Hank had offered to bring it up on her behalf, which she was eternally grateful for, but she declined.

It had to be her.

She’d of course told Hank about Simon, but had put it off for years, fearing he’d judge her and it would blow their relationship apart.

He’d held her while she cried, done his best to console her.

And he did much more for her too, but more on that later.

*

Wayne was gobsmacked when he first saw the new house that his mam and Hank had bought together.

It was huge compared to the house he’d grown up in.

The back garden even had a hot tub.

He couldn’t believe his eyes.

It was absolutely incredible.

‘What do you think, Wayne?’ Hank said, clapping a hand on the lad’s shoulder.

Wayne nodded emphatically. ‘Awesome,’ he said.

‘I think we’ll be very happy here,’ Fiona smiled, cuddling into the pair of them.

None of them saw the pale figure watching them from the bushes on the outskirts of the property.

*

Wayne was over the moon to be finding out that his mam and Hank were going away for the week for a lavish honeymoon.

The wedding had been a blur of boring relatives and stolen beer.

He enjoyed the odd beer before, but Hank had gotten him royally pissed and the feeling was something he enjoyed.

So he did what every self-respecting fifteen-year-old boy would do with an empty house; he threw a house party.

*

The flyers were up all around the school. He’d even been stupid enough to post on Facebook about it.

Most of the school was here.

Some of the older-looking lads had managed to buy crates.

The place was swimming with booze.

There was far too much for the fridges.

In the end they’d filled the baths up with ice and cold water and thrown all the beers loose in there.

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Anyone wanting a beer just went to the bath.

Simple.

Wayne was a bit taken aback by how many people showed up.

He was yet to learn the golden rule of house parties; keep it on the down low.

Still, he had half a dozen beers in him, so he was happy.

Besides, Michelle, the girl he fancied, was here, so the house could have been on fire and he wouldn’t have noticed.

*

The night took a turn for the bizarre when, Jill, one of the scantily-clad girls from his class, came up to him.

‘Hey, Jill,’ he said.

‘Don’t fucking Hey Jill me,’ she said, slapping him hard across the cheek.

‘What was that for?’ he said, gobsmacked.

‘For calling me a slut out in the garden.’

His brow furrowed.

‘But I didn—’ he began but trailed off when he realised she’d already gone, flipping him the middle finger over her shoulder.

He was genuinely confused, but figured she’d just had too much to drink.

‘Dude! You’re lucky I don’t rearrange your fucking face right now,’ his mate Will said from over his left shoulder.

He turned. Will was bright red, the veins on his forehead standing out.

‘What the fuck are you talking about?’

‘Chantelle. You. On the fucking patio. Tongues down each other’s throats. That’s what the fuck I’m talking about.’

Wayne looked at him like he had two heads. ‘Will, I don’t have a fucking clue what you’re talking about.’

Will shook his head, furious. ‘You know I’ve been into her for like forever. I just can’t believe you’d do this to me.’

He rushed off.

Wayne ran after him and grabbed his shoulder.

‘But I didn’t do it. I’ve been in here the whole time,’ he said.

‘Lying about it just makes it worse,’ Will said, shrugging his hand off him and racing off into the crowd.

‘But Will, I really don’t know what you’re talking about.’

He shook his head in bemusement.

‘Has someone slipped something in my drink?’ he muttered.

*

There were a few other bizarre instances but he tried to just chalk it up to everyone having too much to drink.

Midnight came and went and most of the party-goers began to filter out into the night.

Only the hardcore revellers remained.

Wayne was worse for wear, probably a crate or so deep in the party.

He felt the urge to piss like nothing he’d ever experienced.

He excused himself from the heated Xbox vs PlayStation discussion raging in the front room and went up to the toilet.

Someone was in when he barged the door open, so he hastily apologised and scuttled out again.

‘Come on,’ he hissed, not wanting to go to the downstairs toilet but also not wanting to wait a second longer.

Finally he heard the hiss of the flush and the door opened.

The girl who’d been inside shuffled past him, seemingly embarrassed by what he’d just seen, but he had no time to placate her; he was on the verge of pissing his pants.

He raced in, not bothering to shut the door – at this stage mere seconds were the difference between pissing himself and not – and blissfully began to pee.

He thought nothing of the sound of the door clicking shut and being locked behind him.

He shook the drops off, turned to wash his hands and what he saw made him go weak at the knees.