Max the Miracle Dog

For almost a year, I barely saw the man I had grown to despise. It was something my mum and I never discussed. I would see her from time to time and we got along just fine. I imagine my stepfather was quite content with the fact that I had found a way to avoid him. Even so, it did little to dampen the tension between us on the rare occasions that we were in the house together. One lunchtime, I came home to find he had taken time off work. He looked up from his paper at the kitchen table and his expression just darkened on seeing me.

‘Don’t they have a canteen at work?’ he asked.

By now, we were barely speaking. We could be civil, especially when Mum was around, but just then we were alone except for the dog. Prince was in his basket, looking like he’d prefer to keep out of it.

‘I won’t be stopping long,’ I told him, and headed for the kettle.

‘Good to hear.’

‘Unbelievable,’ I muttered under my breath with my back turned to him.

‘What was that?’ The sound of my stepfather scraping his chair back to stand brought me round on my heels. I found him glowering at me. The dog whimpered and curled tighter in his basket.

‘Nothing,’ I said, raising my palms. I didn’t want a row – I’d come home for a bite to eat and a chance to unwind after a busy morning in the van. ‘Do you want a cup of tea?’

‘I want to know what you just said.’ My stepfather took a step forward, squaring up to me. ‘Speak up!’

Over the years, I had learned to back down quickly from a situation like this. He’d still catch me with the back of his hand, or put me into one of his wrestling holds, but if I was quick, I could get away without too much grief. I was younger than him and also bigger now. This time, trapped between the kitchen counter and my stepfather as he advanced on me, and feeling like I didn’t deserve this grief, I stood my ground.

‘Don’t do this,’ I warned as he raised his hand to me.

I caught him by the wrist, only for him to shove me hard. Instinctively, I grabbed his shirt to steady myself and that’s how the fight broke out. It was over quicker than I could process, but in that moment, we traded several punches before I put him on his back.

In shock at what had just happened to him, my stepfather stared up at me from the floor. I stood over him, panting hard.

‘Get out!’ he snarled, but I didn’t need to be persuaded.

Without another word, furious, frustrated and in despair, I turned for the door and slammed it shut behind me.

‘I’m gone,’ I said to myself, and like a balm the breeze blowing across from the Lakes cooled my face.