Aaron missed a step and slipped down. His arms flew out to the bannister and his view tipped slightly before he safely managed to stabilize himself. It was only just starting to get light and outside the birds were noisily competing over one another, but they sounded distant and far off. He couldn't remember a great deal of the previous day. He did know that it included a lot of vodka and now, at four thirty in the morning, he was still considerably drunk. His thoughts were sloshing around and the gentle waves kept breaking against his skull. It made everything quite interesting. Aaron took another step and his vision bent out in front of him. Everything seemed smudged to him. Not cloudy or faded, or even blurry, just very smudged, like all the edges of everything were bleeding into one another. He took another step and this time slipped again and landed at the bottom. He was near there anyway and he only looked as dramatic as he did because of how intoxicated he still was. Aaron mentally congratulated himself for landing safely and laughed as he clung to the bannister. Aaron hadn't laughed so much in a long time. He realised that he was finding so many more things amusing than ever before and he didn't realise what a fantastic sense of humour he had. He'd come down because it was clearly morning now. He hadn't needed to get dressed because he was still wearing the same clothes from last night. Aaron grabbed the remote and turned on the TV. He hadn't watch British telly since returning and was quite interested to see what was on these days. There was nothing on channel one and he gradually ascended up the numbers, each time reading that the first program was due to start at six a.m. Eventually he stopped on one of the shopping channels. There was a man showing a pocket knife. He was transfixed as the demonstrator, wearing a plaid shirt and heavy duty boots, fanned out all the accessories. There were nine altogether, including a knife, scissor, file, screwdriver and even a bottle opener. Aaron quickly realised how handy all these would be and whilst having all of these things already, he knew he didn't have any of them attached to one thing. He envisaged everything he could achieve with that pocket knife. He could camp in the Dubai desert and live off the land, surviving by hunting the wildlife. At work they always seemed to misplace things, but with this, Aaron's workmates would marvel at how prepared he was. Aaron scratched his head for a second, he couldn't remember if he'd actually ever needed a penknife at work. He reached immediately for the phone and dialled the number flashing on the screen. Aaron's plans were quickly scuppered when he realised that his credit card was up in his room. He looked towards the stairs, they suddenly appeared sinister. The stain painted on the wooden bannister appeared dark and slippery, as if it were coated in a thick blood. It looked like it might hinder any substantial grip. The steps had a fragility hidden beneath the threadbare looking carpet. Everyone knows that a dangerous journey like this shouldn't be undertaken without all the proper preparations. That a person should anticipate for every eventuality. This was why he needed the pocket knife. Surely one of those attachments would help whilst trekking up the stairs. His problem, though, was that he couldn't get the pocket knife until he went upstairs and got his wallet. But then he couldn't get upstairs without the pocket knife. Aaron sucked on the inside of his cheek; he was stuck in a catch-22 scenario.

Aaron felt hungry. He dropped the receiver onto the table and it clanged loudly before bouncing off and hanging down by its cord. The music playing on the line could still be heard as he walked towards the kitchen. He hummed along to the tune whilst opening and closing the drawers until he found a box of cereal. He continued looking until he found a bowl and a spoon and the milk. "Aaron?" He frowned at his mother calling down to him and heard a creaking on the stairs.

He'd poured his cereal but had halted before adding the milk. "Aaron?" Chastity's body came to view as a dressing gown was being wrapped around it. The last thing to appear was her head. For a moment Aaron thought there wasn't going to be a head. She had her eyes scrunched up in tired disbelief. Her hair was wildly sticking up at the back and she folded her arms tightly. "Aaron, what on earth are you doing?"

"Getting breakfast." This was the most obvious thing in the world and Aaron was annoyed by the confused expression on her face. He watched her walk down the stairs, reach for the remote and turn down the volume on the TV. Aaron hadn't realised it was so loud. A muffled voice could still be heard and Chastity looked around bizarrely before her eyes landed on the phone lying on the floor. She eyed Aaron and then placed the receiver against her ear, "Aaron, why are you calling the shopping channel?" He looked towards the screen expecting to see the pocket knife, only the item had changed to a pair of pearl earrings and the presenter was now a middle-aged women. "It wasn't to buy pearls, I promise you."

"What the hell, Aaron? It's five in the morning!"

"Yeah, it's the morning."

"Five in the morning, why aren't you sleeping?"

"I've slept.''

Chastity shook her head, she'd not bothered to remove her makeup last night and had smudged circles around her eyes, she looked like a disapproving panda. "You're still drunk, aren't you?"

"No."

"You need to go back to bed, sleep it off. Do you remember the state you were in last night?" Chastity's disbelief had left her face slightly and Aaron noted how amused she looked. It was because of the alcohol. One thing a Dingle could understand was getting drunk. All roads lead to drink. All questions were answered with drink. Someone's birthday, celebrate with a drink. Someone dies, remember them with a drink. When there's a birth in the family, welcome them with a drink. Aaron acting strangely, it's got to be the drink he had last night, it can't be anything more serious because that would mean she'd failed him.

"I don't remember last night." Aaron had the milk bottle in his hand, ready to pour. He wasn't sure if he should place the bottle back on the counter. "Let me remind you then. You were trying to get a taxi to the airport. You wanted to catch a flight to Dubai." Aaron remembered hearing about the butterfly effect. The theory was that the flutter of a butterfly's wings in one part of the world could cause a hurricane in another. It made him wonder if placing the milk bottle down in England might cause an earthquake in Australia. He didn't want that on his conscience so he kept it raised, his arm was aching as a consequence. "Aaron!" His eyes snapped towards his mother, realising that she was talking to him. "Yes?"

"I asked you about going to the airport." Aaron shrugged, still holding up the milk bottle. Chastity's eyes glanced towards it. "I don't know. I live there. My boyfriend is there, it's not that much of a mystery, is it?" This seemed to satisfy his Mum, she gave him a small smile. "So why were you drinking last night?" Aaron's thoughts flashed to Jackson. He'd wanted to be numb but, unfortunately, he had been too drunk to remember if it worked. He had a vague memory of curling up in the cricket pavilion, throwing up and crying whilst trying to remove Jackson's image from his mind. This was another reason why that pocket knife would have come in handy. There was a tin opener attachment and Aaron could have used it to pry open the top of his skull and pour out all thoughts of Jackson. "Well," Aaron begun. The answer to his mother's question formed instantaneously and was equally brilliant and devious. It was sure to make her leave him alone. "This medication makes me so sick anyway, I figured what the hell if I drink." The desired effect was achieved immediately. He watched Chas shift uncomfortably and avert his gaze. "Yeah, I guess so. Still, if you had changed it, then you'd be stuck here without Dean for ages." Guilt dripped from her syllables. "And last night proves that you don't want to be away from him, doesn't it?" Aaron's arm was really aching now. Chastity was looking between him and the milk and smiling uneasily. Aaron was smiling back. Her smile widened, she seemed suddenly comfortable that the correct conclusion had been drawn.

Aaron wanted to award himself a trophy for his skills of manipulation.

"Are you going to use that milk?" There was something strange about her expression. Aaron looked at the milk and noted that his mother was also looking at it. "Why?"

"You've poured some cereal but you've not added the milk." She had a flicker in her eye that suggested that the innocent sounding enquiry had a sinister depth. Her hands were clinging to the countertop where she stood opposite to him, she seemed apprehensive. Aaron wondered if she'd poisoned the milk.

"Have you done something to the milk?"

"What? Like?"

"I don't know. That's why I'm asking."

"Of course I haven't." In her frame, he read tension. Either she was telling the truth or once he swallowed, he would be a dead man. Casually, Aaron began to pour the milk into the bowl. He kept one eye on her. He couldn't decide. His Mum loved him, she always had, except that, maybe, the first eighteen years of his life could be debated. Maybe she remembered that she hated him. Perhaps his return had reminded her of how much she wanted him dead. Except that it didn't make any sense, did it? Aaron felt nervous as he looked down over the tiny wheat rings floating around. He casually tapped on the side of the bowl and they jerked. He looked back up at his Mum; she wore a puzzled expression on her face. Puzzled? That wasn't the expected look of a murderer as she watched her victim meet his demise. It filled Aaron with confidence and he dropped the milk bottle down. He smiled at her one last time and scooped up a spoonful. He faltered once the content sat firmly in his mouth. Chastity was smiling back at him. He kept it in his mouth, sloshing it around and preventing himself from swallowing, his cheeks may have been puffed out. Chastity's smile was once again uneasy and she'd raised an eyebrow. This confirmed it; she'd definitely been trying to poison him. He bent over the bowl and allowed the milk to dribble down his chin. The cereal would be fine though, he swallowed that noisily. Chastity was staring at him in shock; it was probably because he'd foiled her plans.

"Your right, Mum, it's five in the morning, I'm still drunk, I should be in bed." He then walked straight past her, up to his room.

Hope you all had a lovely christmas. xx