Truth Or Date Read online

  ‘Kind of like that?’ he asks.

  ‘Millsy, what the fuck?’ I shriek. ‘What did you do that for?’

  ‘Erm, because you were about five seconds off coming,’ he tells me, very matter-of-factly.

  I feel my cheeks flush with embarrassment.

  Millsy thinks for a moment before his eureka moment.

  ‘I’ve figured it out! You’re so horny because you haven’t had sex in so long, and you’re dreaming about the man you spend the most time with – who isn’t like a brother to you,’ he adds quickly. ‘Otherwise I’d be offended you weren’t dreaming about me.’

  ‘I mean, obviously,’ I reply sarcastically as we arrive at our destination. ‘Well, see you on the flipside,’ I tell Millsy, bumping the fist he offers me before we go our separate ways.

  As I stand outside the redbrick house where I grew up, I take a moment to admire the garden that my dad works tirelessly to keep looking good – no, not good, great, perfect even. His lawn is always perfectly short and neat, the flowerbeds always look beautiful no matter what the season, and there isn’t so much as a weed in sight. My parents are pretty much perfect generally, actually. The house is as flawless on the inside as it is on the outside, their marriage is perfect – well, about as perfect as one can be in the 21st century. They also have the perfect offspring in the form of my brother. And then there’s me, the only black mark on the Wood family’s perfect suburban life. That’s why I dread these visits, because my parents want nothing more than to help make me perfect too. They think that if they follow the cliché child cookbook, that they can whip me up into something edible, or shape me like one of the bushes in the garden, just hacking away at the rough, undesirable bits that give it character and make it stand out from all the other bushes on the street. They don’t want a stand-out shrub, they want a bland, basic bush that they can brag about.

  I know that as soon as I walk through the front door, they will pounce on me. They’ll grill me about my life – have I found a proper job? Do I have a boyfriend? Have I thought about getting on the property ladder? The truth is that I’m happy with my ‘not proper’ job, I could get a boyfriend if I just wanted a boyfriend but I’d rather wait for one I can actually stand to be around, and the only sort of ladder I feel overly concerned with are the ones I’m constantly putting in my tights.

  Still, I know that my parents care about me, and that’s why they’re so concerned. All of this is because they love me, and to be honest I could do with a little family TLC right now.

  I stroll up the driveway and open the front door. Both of my parents’ cars are parked in the drive, so I mentally prepare myself for a double dose of affection, as always presented in their non-traditional format.

  The house is quiet – too quiet. My mum should be in the kitchen cooking something – anything – and my dad should be in the living room, watching a quiz show, shouting the answers back at the screen. There’s no sign of life anywhere downstairs, but it’s weird that their cars are outside – and the door was unlocked, so they must be in. I glance out of the kitchen window into the back garden but there’s no sign of them there either.

  The floorboard above my head creaks slowly and quietly, as though someone is moving around up there. Should I go up? I suppose I could get Millsy first, but what if my parents are in trouble? Am I overreacting here, or is this weird? Maybe I’ve seen a few too many horror films.

  I’d hate to overreact, but there’s only one thing for it. I take a large knife from the kitchen drawer and slowly tiptoe upstairs with it. The room above the kitchen is my parents’ bedroom, so I creep across the landing towards their closed bedroom door. I hover for a second, unsure how to play this. Do I creep in slowly and quietly, or do I burst through the door like a knife-wielding maniac? Slowly and calmly seems like my best course of action, after all, I don’t know what I’m going to walk in on.

  I push the door open gently, conscious of that familiar creaking noise it makes that reminds me of my childhood. When I used to have nightmares I would be too scared to go into my parents’ room in the night in case the creaking of the door alerted the ghosts and monsters of the house to the fact I was walking around in the dark at night. I remember how loud it seemed then, but it seems even louder now.

  I poke my head around the door. It’s very dark because the curtains are shut, but I can see that the room looks perfectly tidy, with a made bed and nothing out of place. Most importantly, the room is empty, so what was that noise I heard? And where the hell are my parents?

  I am just about to head back downstairs when I hear a noise. I tilt my head, putting my ear to the air to listen closely. A chill washes over me and I get that ghostly feeling like someone has just poured ice-cold water down my back. I’ve never been one to believe in ghosts, but that creepy, breathy sound I can hear in this room is like nothing I’ve heard before…or is it? Wait, is that giggling I hear? I take a deep breath and hold it, fear paralysing me. What do I do? Who do I call? Does Derek Acorah have a FAQ section on his website? How do you even spell Acorah? I’m not even sure auto-correct can save me with this one.

  Before I can do anything, I notice the curtain move slightly – there’s someone behind it. Thankfully, before I start blindly stabbing whoever or whatever is behind there, I realise that the person is kneeling down, looking out of the window, and lucky for them I’d recognise those battered Batman Converse anywhere.

  I whip open the curtains to see my brother. He looks startled for a second before he jumps to his feet and rugby tackles me onto my parents’ bed.

  ‘What the fuck are you doing?’ I ask him.

  My brother quickly rolls off me – because despite this being an assault, I imagine it’s way too much like a hug for his liking.

  ‘Hey sis, nice to see you too,’ he says sarcastically.

  ‘Woody, seriously, what are you doing? I nearly stabbed you! Where are mum and dad?’

  ‘Well, it wouldn’t be the first time,’ he laughs. ‘And didn’t they tell you? They went on a cruise with Millsy’s parents. They’ll be gone for a month.’

  ‘Erm, no, they neglected to mention this to me,’ I tell him, unable to hide my offence. ‘And you’re here because?’

  ‘I’m housesitting,’ he announces proudly, lying back with his head on his hands.

  I can’t help but pull a face.

  ‘They know I hate where I live and would jump at the chance to move out for a month – why would they ask you and not me?’

  ‘Erm, because you’d throw a house party,’ he tells me, which is in fact the only reason I wish they’d given me the job. Well, that’s what you’re supposed to do when you parents are away, isn’t it? No matter how old you are. ‘Also we’re having an extension built on the house, so mum and dad said we could stay here. It was too noisy for the baby, and Dani found it difficult too, being at home all day with all the noise going on.’

  ‘How is the little monster?’ I ask.

  ‘Robbie? He’s great. He’s grown load since you saw him last.’

  ‘I wasn’t talking about my adorable little nephew,’ I reply. ‘But I can’t wait to see him.’

  ‘Oi,’ Woody snaps. ‘Don’t talk about my wife that way.’

  ‘Why not? You do.’

  Woody and Dani have been together since they were thirteen years old, when they wound up sat next to one another in physics. They quickly became boyfriend and girlfriend, and here we are, seventeen years later and they’re married with a baby.

  My brother was always the coolest kid in his year and as such he could’ve had any girl he wanted, but getting with Dani so young meant that he never made the most of his popularity and so he’s only ever known what it’s like to be with Dani. My brother is tall – 6ft 3 – and Dani is a tiny, near two-dimensional 5ft 2 (when she was pregnant with Robbie, there was a running joke that he was bigger than she was) but despite her tiny frame, she is definitely the one who wears the trousers in their relationship. She’s always seemed way to
o keen on flying through the motions of their relationship and, now that my brother is thirty, I think he’s starting to wish he’d dedicated more time to having fun.

  ‘Yeah, well, she’s my wife, I’m allowed,’ he laughs. ‘She should be here any minute, she’s popped back to the house for some things. She and Robbie are going to Scotland for a couple of weeks to stay with her grandparents. Which means I have this place to myself.’

  ‘Woo, party!’ I chirp.

  ‘Erm, no. Mum and dad left me in charge because I am the responsible one. Anyway, you don’t even have any fit female friends to bring, only big, muscular dudes. Hardly seems worth it.’

  ‘Yeah, but my big, muscular dude friends have tons of fit female friends – think about it.’

  My brother does think about it for a moment.

  ‘So, go on, what were you looking at out of the window?’ I ask. ‘I thought something scary was in here, did you see something outside?’

  ‘Nothing,’ he says sheepishly, sitting upright on the bed. ‘Let’s go downstairs, Dani and Robbie will be back soon.’

  Now I know something dodgy is going on. I jump to my feet and look out of the side window my brother was peeping out of. I only need to glance for a second before I realise that our next-door neighbour is doing aerobics in her underwear. Her name is Carol and she’s lived next door to us for as long as I can remember. She must be well into her fifties now and she’s had a couple of kids but she’s got a cracking body. If I looked like that, I’d be exercising in my underwear next to the window with the blinds open too. She’s always been a bit of a cougar, has Carol. Preying on the young men of the street, finding excuses to get them to go over and help unclog her toilet or hammer a nail or some other problem that I always imagined she’d cause herself whenever she felt lonely. Millsy and Woody have had crushes on her since they were teenagers, referring to her as ‘Barbie’ so our parents never knew who they were talking about. In fact, if Millsy knew Woody was doing this, I imagine he’d show up with popcorn.

  ‘Oh, you dirty bastard,’ I tell my brother. ‘I was scared shitless when I walked in here. I thought I was going to find a burglar or a ghost standing over the dead bodies of my parents, not my brother having a wank out of the widow.’

  Woody laughs.

  ‘You actors are so dramatic.’

  ‘Hello,’ I hear a voice call upstairs. It’s Millsy.

  ‘We’re up here,’ I call back.

  Millsy pops his head around the door. Woody salutes him from the comfort of our parents’ bed.

  ‘All right, mate,’ Millsy starts. ‘Dani and Robbie are downstairs. She asked me to hold him while she uses the loo. Can one of you two do it? Babies.’

  Millsy shudders.

  ‘Be right down,’ Woody says with a sigh.

  ‘So we’re abandoned for the month, huh?’ Millsy says to me. ‘Parents left me a note on the fridge. Can you believe that?’

  ‘It’s more than I got,’ I tell him.

  ‘I’m better than a note,’ Woody says as he reluctantly pulls himself up.

  ‘You’re a peeping Tom,’ I tease him.

  ‘Barbie next door?’ Millsy asks him.

  ‘Yep,’ Woody replies.

  ‘God, she’s like the perfect woman,’ Millsy says with a sigh. ‘Let’s see.’

  ‘Ergh, you boys are gross,’ I tell them – in case they didn’t already know.

  ‘Come on, she works out next to a big open window, she’d close the blinds if she didn’t want an audience.’

  ‘Gross,’ I repeat myself. ‘Come on, downstairs.’

  The side curtains are open now so I go to open the curtains on the back window too.

  Millsy and woody are shuffling out of the room. I turn to follow them but then I do a double-take, glancing out of the window and into the house behind us.

  ‘Shit,’ I exclaim as I duck down. What did I just see? I pop my head back up just enough to peep over.

  ‘Well, I know there’s no eye candy out that window,’ Woody laughs. ‘Just Weird Ian. What’s he up to? Trying to catch squirrels in his back garden with nothing but a cauliflower and a kid’s fishing net again?’

  Millsy laughs, but I don’t. I’m too creeped-out. I sit on the floor, trying to process what I just saw.

  ‘Like I’m going to fall for that,’ Woody laughs, shuffling Millsy out of the doorway so they can head downstairs.

  ‘No,’ I snap in a whisper. ‘Quick, come here.’

  Millsy and my brother, realising I’m serious, do as they’re told and crouch down on the floor next to me.

  ‘Right, what?’ Woody asks.

  ‘You know Weird Ian?’

  ‘Yeah, Weird Ian our back neighbour, the one who probably strangles women,’ he laughs. ‘What about him?’

  ‘I think I just saw him strangling a woman,’ I reply.

  The house behind my parents’ belongs to Weird Ian, a forty-something-year-old supposed artist who still lives with his mum. I vaguely recall his mum from when we were younger, but as the years went by she stopped going out, and we’ll only occasionally see a glimpse of her through an upstairs window every now and then. That, combined with the taxidermy animals he has in glass boxes showcased in all of his windows, is how the joke started amongst the kids on the street that Weird Ian was a Norman Bates type, whose mother probably passed away years ago, but because she’s all he has in the world he’s hung onto her body for company. Kids are horrible, that’s just what they do, right? Come up with stories about their neighbours to make them seem more interesting.

  The difference today is that, rather than just picking up on creepy vibes, I swear to God I just saw Ian wrapping something around the neck of a woman. Weirder still, the woman was in her underwear. I tell this to my brother and my best friend.

  ‘Come off it,’ Millsy replies, standing up to look out of the window.

  ‘No, don’t,’ I reply quickly, but it’s too late. Millsy whips open the curtains and both he and Woody stare across.

  ‘There’s no one there,’ Millsy tells me. ‘Are you still drunk?’

  I get up and look out, checking all of the windows of Weird Ian’s house, but there’s nothing to see.

  I frown, confused. I definitely saw something.

  ‘Come on, I’ll put the kettle on,’ my brother says, lifting me up and carrying me downstairs over his shoulder. ‘You’re making the drinks though.’

  As soon as we’re in the living room my brother dumps my body down on the sofa and heads towards the kitchen to put the kettle on, as promised.

  Dani, my sister-in-law, is standing there, holding the baby, an angry look plastered across her face.

  ‘When he needs to go, he can just go, when I need to go, you have to hold the baby,’ she says impatiently. Dani is every inch the nagging wife you see in the movies, and my brother is every inch the downbeat husband who wishes he’d made different choices. When we were younger we all used to hang out together, along with all the other kids from the street, so my brother and Millsy have always got on well, but these days, despite Millsy being younger, I think my brother looks up to him, like he’s his hero. I think Woody not-so-secretly wishes he had Millsy’s life instead of his own – heck, even I wish I were Millsy sometimes. He’s young, free and single, and having the time of his life – everything my brother wishes he still had going for him.

  ‘Ruby told me I have to put the kettle on,’ he lies to his wife. ‘But she’ll hold the baby.’

  ‘No, I –’

  Dani hands me Robbie and dashes off to the bathroom.

  Millsy laughs at me.

  ‘You look like an office cleaner from the police station who’s been asked to diffuse a bomb, on her first day – blindfolded,’ he adds dramatically.

  ‘Dude, I’ve seen this one explode before, don’t joke,’ I reply.

  I am a little uncomfortable handling children, but only because I’m never sure if I’m doing it right, and also because that maternal instinct is yet to kick
in for me. I couldn’t think of anything worse than having a child right now, but I’m only young, right? It’s perfectly normal for me to reject people on dating apps who say they have kids, because I’m terrified of guys if I know their sperms works…

  Still, I absolutely adore my nephew, and even though he’s only young, I’m doing my best to make sure he turns out cool like his auntie and not a dull nerd like his parents.

  ‘Hey dude, how’s it hanging?’ I ask him.

  ‘Who taught you how to talk to babies?’ Millsy laughs.

  ‘Oh, because you’re the expert are you?’ I reply. ‘Your only experience with babies is that panic you go through between a girl telling you she’s late and then the follow-up call that you’re in the clear.’

  ‘Come on, that’s only happened three times,’ he says, pulling himself to his feet. ‘And I knew I was in the clear each time because all three of those birds were angry as fuck – a tell-tale sign their period was coming.’

  ‘Yes, that’s why they were angry,’ I start. ‘And not because you were giving them numbers of clinics and adoption agencies.’

  Millsy, who is standing next to me now, laughs. He knows I’m just teasing.

  ‘Go on then,’ I demand. ‘How would you speak to him?’

  Millsy takes both of his hands and places them over his mouth, his fingers pointing towards his ears. He blows hard, making a loud farting noise, which makes my adorable little nephew giggle like crazy. So it turns out all men are the same, they all love toilet humour.

  Millsy does this a few more times, until Dani comes back.

  ‘Really? I leave the two of you alone with him for two minutes and you’re already being bad influences. I hope that you two never have a kid.’

  ‘Erm, just friends,’ I remind her, sounding almost repulsed. It might seem like an extreme reaction, but Millsy is like a brother to me and we get this a lot – people assuming we’re a couple.

  ‘I know that, don’t be so defensive,’ she replies. ‘I thought you might have one of those pity deals for when you’re older and still alone.’