Two.    Nick
 
Nick gave his usual cocky grin and waved at Sam and Baz as they parted company at the top of his street. Knowing they would be watching him, he swaggered a little as he walked towards the gates of his house. The gates were huge, and together with the walls that surrounded the house, they made Nick feel they were there to keep him in, rather than other people out.
 
As Nick walked up the gravelled drive he was relieved that his dad’s car wasn’t there; Councillor King was still at work. Nick quickened his pace; hopefully he could reach the safety of his bedroom before his father got home.
 
Entering the house Nick crossed the large hallway, intending to run upstairs, but a voice from the living room halted his progress.
 “Nick! Nick, is that you darling? Come and sit with mummy for a bit, I’ve been on my own all afternoon.”

 Reluctantly Nick went into the living room, his mother was lying on one of the settees; her makeup was starting to smudge around her eyes and her Dior dress was crumpled and had a stain down the front. Mrs King was clutching a crystal glass to her chest; some of the contents were slopping over her as she struggled to sit upright.
 
“Nick, darling, I thought it was you, oops, silly mummy; look at the mess I’m making. I need you to look after me…”
 Nick gently took the glass from his mother and placed it on the coffee table.
 “Mum, I think you need a lie down, Dad’ll be home soon…”
 As Nick spoke he heard the sound of a key in the front door; “Mum, please, don’t let him see you like this again.” Begged Nick, trying to pull his mum up from the settee.
 
Mrs King giggled and fell back, knocking the glass with her arm as she did so, the glass fell onto the wooden floor with an almighty crash and splintered into thousands of sparkling shards. Nick and his mother stared at them in horror as a figure appeared in the doorway.
 
“Having fun?” Asked Mr King sarcastically, “What would people say if they could see how my wonderful wife conducts herself in private, eh? And as for you, when are you going to start acting like a man instead of some mummy’s nancy boy?”
 “Dad, don’t…” Began Nick.
 “Don’t what?” Shouted Mr King, seizing Nick’s arm and pushing him towards his mother, “What do you see boy? What do you see? Your mother’s a drunk and you try and cover up for her, do you take me for a fool? Well, do you?”
 
Nick shook his head, he knew better than to answer back when his father was in one of his moods. Mr King let go of Nick, and with a look of disgust on his face, he stormed out of the room, shouting back over his shoulder, “Get that mess in there cleaned up before Mrs Jenkins arrives, gossip in the town is the last thing I need right now, and our dear cleaning lady is the source of most of it.”
 
Nick looked over at his mother, she was asleep on the settee, Nick picked up a throw from another chair and placed it over his mother. She always looked so young when she was sleeping, so vulnerable. Nick knew his father hadn’t finished with her yet, it was a scene he had witnessed too many times before. His mother wouldn’t be able to attend any luncheons for quite a few days after his father had punished her for today’s behaviour.

 Nick punched one of the cushions in frustration, “you wait,” he whispered, “one day I will act like a man, and it’ll be your turn, let’s see how you like it then.”
                                                     *
 
Up in his room, Nick switched on his television, the local news was on. A group of people were waving placards and shouting, Nick was about to turn it off when a familiar face appeared on the screen.
 
“Olive’s mum!” Said Nick in surprise. As he watched the rest of the report Nick felt more and more frustrated. Olive’s mum might be a bit batty, but she wouldn’t let herself be treated like a punch-bag; and then drown herself in gin in an attempt to escape. 
 
He knew Mr Clifford of course, he often visited his father; the two of them would spend hours talking together in his father’s study, drinking whisky and smoking fat cigars. Once Nick had made the mistake of walking in on them; it wasn’t a mistake he would repeat again, he’d had to miss three days of school after his father had ‘punished’ him. 
           
Nick turned off the television and sat down on his bed; he held his head in his hands, it was thumping so much it felt like it was going to explode. “Why is my life so rubbish?” He muttered “It’s not fair.”