Nature of Ash, The Read Online Free PDF

back.’ I shouldn’t shout but, honestly, somehow he has to understand.
    His cheeks flush pink and he rushes me, hitting me full-force right in the chest. I’m thrown back against the sofa, bashing my head on the hard rail at the top. ‘You’re bad, Ashy. You tell lies.’ I swear to god the little thug is bunching up his fists to take another crack.
    I scramble up and flip myself over so that the sofa stands between us. ‘I saw him, damn it. Saw him dead.’ All I want to do is howl.
    ‘Show me!’ Mikey demands. ‘I want to see Dad too.’
    Oh shit . ‘No, Mikey.’ I shake my head to emphasise my words. ‘He looks a mess.’
    ‘I want to see my dad!’ He says it again, over and over, stamping his foot as his fists press to his hips. ‘I want to see my dad!’
    I don’t know what to do. He’s spazzing out now, building to a full-on tantrum, and I know there’s no point trying to reason with him. If I touch him he’ll lash out, and he’s so damn strong and dense he’ll munt me if those fists of his connect.
    I back off further, leaning against the wall while Mikey throws himself on to the floor and starts to pound it with his hands and feet.
    ‘I … want … to … see … my … dad …’ Tears and snot smear down his face. On and on he sobs those same six words — so simple yet impossible to make come true.
    After five excruciating minutes his tantrum slows. He lies spread-eagled on the floor, his snotty face mashed into the carpet. ‘I … want … to … see … my … dad …’
    I know I can approach him now, so I squat down next to him to rub his sweaty back. Maybe I’ve got this wrong, trying to protect him? Maybe he needs to see Dad dead to understand? Hell, I don’t know. I sure never want to go through that identification process again.
    But then I think of Mum and how bereft I felt when she just disappeared. It sucked. Made it impossible to accept she was dead. God damn .
    I wrap my arms around Mikey’s sobbing frame and put my mouth against his ear. ‘Okay,’ I say, not even sure how I can wangle this. ‘I’ll take you to see Dad.’

CHAPTER THREE
    I PHONE THE NUMBER Jeannie left with me, half hoping she’ll tell me it’s a shit idea. But, damn it, she says she thinks it’s wise. She’ll tell the hospital we’re coming back, and if I need other support I should let her know.
    ‘I need to warn you, though,’ she says. ‘Now he’s been identified his death has been reported to the press.’ She doesn’t need to spell it out: they’re circling for any hint of blood.
    We take the bus through town and as we near Dad’s building I figure — in Jeannie’s spirit of openness — it might help Mikey to see the mess caused by the bomb. Besides, what is the rush? Dad isn’t going anywhere, and I need every stalling tactic in the book.
    We jump off just shy of the police cordon, and push through the crowd of onlookers until we’re right up at the barricade. They’ve brought in cranes, diggers andheavy trucks, and the site is swarming with rescue teams. Mikey’s rapt, oblivious to the fact that this was where Dad died. I’m trying to explain this when someone taps me on the shoulder. I glance around, straight into a TV camera lens.
    Some skinny chick in heavy make-up presses a microphone right into my face. ‘You’re Shaun McCarthy’s son, aren’t you?’
    How does she know? I grab Mikey’s arm and start to bustle him away. But this bitch is persistent, I’ll give her that. She chases after us, her camera-monkey close behind. Her face is coming back to me now: she did a profile on Dad sometime last year. She probably wouldn’t have recognised me on my own but you can bet she’d not forget Mikey.
    ‘Ashley, wait! How do you feel?’
    How do I feel? My father’s just been blown to bits … how does she think I feel? I shoulder past her roughly, while bloody Mikey grins into the camera and gives her an excited wave.
    ‘Thank you, thank you very much,’ he drawls. Not