Taken Away Read Online Free PDF Page B

egg yolk and stuck a blob of brown sauce on top. ‘She had bad dreams all night. Couldn’t get to sleep.’
    Something tickled the back of my mind, and I saw Dom frown thoughtfully. Bad dreams? I seemed to recall something about Dom having a dream . . . or had it been me? I couldn’t quite . . .
    â€˜What kind of bad dream?’ Dom was looking very intently at Dad; he was obviously thinking the same as me.
    â€˜Not sure. You know what Dee’s like – it’s hard to understand her when she’s upset. Said something like, there was a bad man or something. He wanted to take her away, or,’ – he gestured at Dom – ‘take you away. I don’t know. Anyway, they’re both knackered, so don’t be galloping up and down the stairs.’
    â€˜A bad man?’ The tone in Dom’s voice had us both looking sharply at him.
    Dad paused in the middle of cutting a sausage. ‘You alright, bud? You’ve gone very pale.’
    Dom hadn’t just gone pale; he’d gone white. He was gripping the edge of the table so hard that I had visions of his fingernails popping off in bloody flakes. ‘He’s not taking me away!’ he cried, his voice high and shrill – like Dee throwing a tantrum.
    Dad was putting his knife and fork down. He was starting to stand up. ‘Dom.’
    Dom’s colour scared me. I suddenly remembered something. ‘Dom had an asthma attack last night, Dad!’
    â€˜Hey!’ snapped Dom. ‘No, I didn’t!’ He was perfectly normal again – normal colour, normal voice, no death-grip on the table, just righteous indignation and denial that he’d been ill the night before.
    â€˜Jesus! Why didn’t you call me?’ Dad was on his feet, his hand on Dom’s forehead, Dom already pulling away in irritation. ‘Where’s your inhaler?’
    â€˜I don’t need it . There was no bloody asthma!’ He pointed at me. ‘Yer man there had a bad dream. That’s all!’
    Dad pulled back Dom’s eyelids and felt his neck like some doctor from the telly. Dom submitted to this ridiculousness with tight-lipped anger, and I knew I was in for it later. ‘You . . . you look just fine,’ said Dad, puzzled.
    â€˜I am fine,’ gritted Dom.
    And he did look fine. There were none of the lingering telltale signs of an attack, no dark rings under his eyes, no pallor – nothing to indicate that the bloody awful menace was back to haunt us.
    â€˜Alright.’ Dad stepped back uncertainly, giving Dom another anxious head-to-toe examination with his eyes. ‘Alright,’ he said again. ‘Go on upstairs and get dressed, the two of you. And don’t wake the girls.’
    He watched us go up the stairs, and I knew he wasn’t going to let it go that easy. Dom was in for a good three days of anxious hovering – and I was in for a right bollocking as soon as we got out of earshot.

    WE HAD A HISSING , almost sub-audio argument as we pulled on our clothes.
    â€˜You prawn !’
    â€˜I’m sorry!’
    Dom sat on the floor and glared up at me as he dragged on his jeans. ‘He’ll tell Ma and she’ll freak out and the two of them will spend the next week treating me like feckin’ Helen bleedin’ Keller .’
    â€˜Oh, shut up. It’s not that bad.’ But I knew he was right. They were going to make a huge deal of this in their own quiet way. Why had I opened my big mouth?
    â€˜What the hell you were thinking ?’
    â€˜It’s your own fault anyway. What was that all about in the kitchen?’
    He looked at me blankly. ‘Eh?’
    I paused in the middle of putting on my shoe and did a vicious impersonation: little girlie voice, clawed hands, eyes rolled into the back of my head. ‘Don’t let the bad man take meee. Wruuhhh!’
    I laughed at myself, but Dom just squinted up at me, puzzled. ‘Pat,’ he said,