Текст книги "Forbidden"
Автор книги: Табита Сузума
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Текущая страница: 11 (всего у книги 22 страниц)
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
Lochan
I stare at the back of Nico DiMarco’s head. I fix on his dark, blunt-fingered hand resting on the edge of his desk, and the thought of those fingers touching Maya makes me feel physically sick. I can’t stand by and watch anyone go out with my sister, any more than I myself can go out with Francie or any other girl and pretend she can replace her. I need to find Maya and hope to God it’s not too late. I need to tell her the deal is off. Perhaps, with time, she will find someone she can be with. And I will be happy, if only for her. But for me there can never be anyone else. The absolute certainty of this fact suffocates me.
Above the board, the hands of the clock are moving. Second period is almost over. She wouldn’t have told Francie yet, surely? She must be planning to wait until morning break. I feel spectacularly ill. Just because I can’t go ahead with this doesn’t mean she will feel the same way. It may have been my idea, but she proposed the exchange. Maybe she has made up her mind to give DiMarco a second chance. Maybe the agony of the past few weeks has made her realize what a relief a normal relationship would be.
The bell goes and I shoot out of my seat, grabbing my bag and blazer as I go, ignoring the teacher’s shouts about homework. There is a massive jam on staircase five. I head for the stairs at the other end. Throngs of people have accumulated here too. Except they are motionless. They have stopped in their tracks, an amoeba-like cluster, turning to one another to talk in urgent, excited tones. I push past them. Thick red tape strung across the top of the staircase brings me to a halt. As I duck underneath, I’m pulled back by a hand on my shoulder.
‘You can’t go down that way,’ a voice says. ‘There’s been an accident.’
I take an involuntary step back. Oh, this is just great.
‘Some girl fell. They’ve only just moved her to the medical room. She was unconscious,’ someone else adds in a reverential tone.
I look at the tape, tempted just to duck underneath again.
‘Who fell?’ I hear another voice behind me ask.
‘It was a girl from my class. Maya Whitely. I saw it happen – she didn’t fall, she jumped.’
‘Hey!’
I dive under the tape and race down the two flights of stairs, the soles of my shoes screeching on the lino. The ground floor is crawling with pupils heading out to break, everyone moving in slow motion. I shove my way through the crowds, shoulders bruising shoulders, people jostling me from all angles, angry shouts following me as I force my way past.
‘Hey, hey, hey—’ Someone has me by the arm. I spin round, ready to shove them back, and find myself staring into the face of Miss Azley. ‘Lochan, you need to wait out here – the nurse is busy—’
I wrench my arm out of her grasp and she moves to block the entrance.
‘What’s the matter?’ she asks. ‘Are you feeling unwell? Sit here and let me see if I can help you.’
I take an involuntary step backwards. ‘Let me past,’ I gasp. ‘For God’s sake, I need to—’
‘You need to wait here. Someone’s just had an accident and Mrs Shah is dealing with that at the moment.’
‘It’s Maya—’
‘What?’
‘My sister!’
Her face changes. ‘Oh God. Lochan, listen, she’s going to be fine. She just fainted. She didn’t fall very far—’
‘Please let me see her!’
‘Sit down for a second and I’ll ask the nurse.’
Miss Azley disappears through the door. I sit on one of the plastic chairs and press my fist against my mouth, my lungs crying out for air.
Minutes later, Miss Azley comes out to tell me that Maya is fine, just a little shocked and bruised. She asks me for our mother’s phone number – I tell her that she is away and that I will take Maya home. She looks concerned and informs me that Maya needs to be taken to A&E to be checked for concussion. I insist I can deal with that too.
Finally they let me see her. She is in the small white anteroom, sitting on a bed, sagging back against a cushion, a lime-green blanket pulled halfway across her lap. Her tie has been removed and her right sleeve rolled up, revealing a thin white arm with vivid pink bruising. A large plaster covers her elbow. Her shoes have been taken off too and her bare legs hang off the side of the bed, a white crepe bandage enveloping one knee. Her copper hair, freed from its ponytail, hangs loose over her shoulders. Her face is drained of all colour. Cracked, dried blood surrounds a small cut on her cheekbone, the crimson stain contrasting painfully with the rest of her face. Violet shadows underline pink-rimmed, empty eyes. She doesn’t smile when she sees me: the light is gone from her face, a dull look of shocked resignation in its place.
As I take a step into the small space between the door and the bed, she seems to shrink away. Quickly I move back again, pressing my sweaty palms against the cold wall behind me.
‘What – what happened?’
She blinks a couple of times and studies me wearily for a moment. ‘It’s all right. I’m all right—’
‘Just t-tell me what happened, Maya!’ There is an edge to my voice that I can’t conceal.
‘I fainted while I was going down the stairs. I skipped breakfast and I was dehydrated, that’s all.’
‘What did the nurse say?’
‘That I’m fine. That I shouldn’t miss meals. She wants me to go to the hospital to be checked out for concussion but there’s no need. My head doesn’t hurt.’
‘They think you fainted because you missed breakfast?’ My voice begins to rise. ‘But that’s absurd! You’ve never fainted before and you hardly ever eat breakfast.’
She closes her eyes as if my words are hurting her. ‘Lochie, I’m fine. Really. Could you please just persuade the nurse to let me out of here?’ She opens her eyes again and looks troubled for a moment. ‘Or – or have you got classes you can’t miss?’
I gape at her. ‘Don’t be ridiculous. I’m taking you home with me right now.’
She gives me a little smile and I feel as if I’m falling. ‘Thank you.’
Mrs Shah calls a cab to take us to the local hospital, but as soon as we’re outside the gates, Maya sends the driver away. She moves away from me along the pavement, her hand trailing the wall for balance. ‘Come on. I’m going home.’
‘The nurse said you might have concussion! We’ve got to go to the hospital!’
‘Don’t be silly. I didn’t even bump my head.’ She continues her unsteady path down the road, then half turns, holding out her hand. At first I just stare at it, uncomprehending.
‘Can I lean on you a bit?’ Her eyes are apologetic. ‘My legs feel kind of wobbly.’
I rush to her and grab her hand, wrapping her arm round my waist, putting my arm around her. ‘Like this? Is – is this OK?’
‘That’s great, but you don’t have to squeeze me so tight . . .’
I loosen my grip fractionally. ‘Better?’
‘Much better.’ We move off down the road, her body, leaning against mine, as light and frail as a bird’s.
‘Hey, look at this,’ she says, a hint of amusement in her voice. ‘I got us both a whole day off school and it’s not even’ – she lifts my hand from her waist to get a look at my watch – ‘eleven o’clock.’ With a smile, she raises her face so that her eyes meet mine and the late morning sun washes across her colourless face.
I force an uneven breath into my lungs. ‘Crafty,’ I manage, swallowing hard.
We walk on for a few minutes in silence. Maya is holding onto me tightly. Now and again she slows to a halt and I ask her if she wants to sit down but she shakes her head.
‘I’m sorry,’ she says softly.
God. No. The air starts to shudder in my chest.
‘It was my idea too,’ she adds.
I take a deep breath and hold it, turning my head away. If I bite my lip hard enough and force myself to meet the stares of curious passers-by, I can keep myself together for a bit longer, just a bit longer. But she can tell. I feel her concern permeate my skin like a gentle warmth.
‘Lochie?’
Stop. Don’t speak. I can’t bear it, Maya. I can’t. Please understand.
She turns her face towards me. ‘Don’t beat yourself up about it, Lochie. It wasn’t your fault,’ she whispers against my shoulder.
Maya goes into the kitchen while I hang back, pretending to sort through the post, trying to pull myself together. And then, suddenly, I’m aware of her silhouette in the doorway. She looks battered, with her tangled hair and crumpled clothes and bandaged knee. A burgundy stain is spreading beneath the skin of her cheekbone: in a couple of days it will have bloomed into a large bruise right across her cheek. Maya, I’m so sorry, I want to say. I never ever meant to hurt you.
‘Would you mind making me a cup of coffee?’ she asks with a tentative smile.
‘Course . . .’ I glance down unseeingly at the envelopes in my hand. ‘Of c-course . . .’
She smiles at me properly this time. ‘I think I might curl up on the couch in front of some crappy daytime TV.’
There is a silence. I flick through some junk mail and take a moment to reply as a pain, like a sliver of glass, slowly pierces the back of my throat.
‘Come and keep me company?’ She is hesitating now, still waiting for my reply.
An invisible noose tightens round my neck. I cannot answer.
‘Lochie?’
I don’t move. If I do, I lose. ‘Hey . . .’ She takes a sudden step towards me and I immediately back up, banging my elbow against the front door.
‘Lochie, I’m all right.’ Slowly she holds up her hands. ‘Look at me, I’m fine. You can see that, can’t you? I just slipped, that’s all. I was tired. Everything’s all right.’
But it’s not, it’s not, because I’m slowly being torn in two. You stand there, covered in cuts and bruises that I might as well have inflicted on you with my own hands. And I love you, so much that it’s killing me, yet all I can do is push you away and hurt you until eventually your love will turn to hate.
The pain wells up in my chest, my breathing starts to fragment and scalding tears force their way into my eyes. Abruptly I crumple up the glossy ads in my hands and lean heavily against the wall, pressing the shiny paper against my face.
There is a moment of shocked silence before I feel Maya by my side, gently pulling at my hands. ‘Don’t, Lochie, it’s all right. Look at me. I’m fine!’
I take an uneven breath. ‘I’m sorry – I’m just so sorry!’
‘Sorry about what, Lochie? I don’t understand!’
‘The idea – last night – it was so awful, it was so stupid—’
‘It doesn’t matter about that now. It’s finished, OK? We know we can’t do it so we’re never going to think about doing anything like that again.’ Her voice is firm, reassuring.
I throw down the paper and bang my head back against the wall, rubbing my arm savagely across my eyes. ‘I didn’t know what else to do! I was desperate – I’m still desperate! I can’t stop feeling like this!’ I am shouting now, frantic. I feel like I’m losing my mind.
‘Listen . . .’ She takes my hands and rubs them in an effort to calm me. ‘I never wanted Nico or anyone else. Just you.’
I look at her, the sound of my breath rough and uneven in the sudden silence. ‘You can have me,’ I whisper shakily. ‘I’m here. I’ll always be here.’
Her face floods with relief as her hands reach for my face. ‘We were stupid – we thought they could stop us.’ She strokes my hair, kisses my forehead, my cheeks, the edge of my lip. ‘They’ll never stop us. Not as long as this is what we both want. But you’ve got to stop thinking it’s wrong, Lochie. That’s just what other people think; it’s their problem, their stupid rules, their prejudices. They’re the ones who are wrong, narrow-minded, cruel . . .’ She kisses my ear, my neck, my mouth.
‘They’re the ones who are wrong,’ she repeats. ‘Because they don’t understand. I don’t care if you happen biologically to be my brother. You’ve never just felt like a brother to me. You’ve always been my best friend, my soul mate, and now I’ve fallen in love with you too. Why is that such a crime? I want to be able to hold you and kiss you and – and do all the things that people in love are allowed to do.’ She takes a deep breath. ‘I want to spend the rest of my life with you.’
I close my eyes and press my hot face against her cheek. ‘We will. We’ll find a way. Maya, we have to . . .’
When I push open her bedroom door with my elbow, a glass of juice in one hand, a sandwich in the other, I find her fast asleep, sprawled out face down on the bed, the duvet kicked back, arms circling her head on the pillow. She looks so vulnerable, so fragile. The bright midday light illuminates the side of her sleeping face, a strip of her crumpled, oversized school shirt, the edge of her white knickers, the top of her thigh. Navigating the discarded skirt, socks and shoes strewn across the carpet, I place the plate and glass beside a stack of papers on her desk and straighten up slowly. I watch her for a long time. After a while my legs begin to ache and I slide down into a sitting position against the wall, arms resting on my knees. I’m afraid that if I leave, even for a moment, something might happen to her again; I’m afraid that if I leave, the black wall of fear will return. But here beside her, the sight of her sleeping face reminds me that nothing else matters, that in this I’m not alone. This is what Maya wants, this is what I want – fighting it is no use, can only hurt us both. The human body needs a constant flow of nourishment, air and love to survive. Without Maya I lose all three; apart we will slowly die.
I must have drifted off, for the sound of her voice sends a jolt through my body and I straighten up, rubbing my neck. She blinks at me sleepily, her cheek resting on the edge of the mattress, russet hair brushing the floor. I don’t know what she said to wake me, but now her arm is outstretched, her palm turned towards me. I take her hand and she smiles.
‘I made you a sandwich,’ I tell her, glancing up at the desk. ‘How are you feeling?’
She doesn’t reply, her eyes drawing me in. The warmth of her hand seeps into mine and her fingers tighten as she pulls me gently towards her. ‘Come here,’ she says in a voice still scratchy with sleep.
I stare back at her, feeling my pulse quicken. She releases my hand and moves back to the far side of the bed, leaving a space for me. I pull off my shoes and socks and stand up unsteadily as she holds out her arms.
As I lower my body onto the mattress beside her, I inhale her smell and feel her legs entwine with mine. She kisses me gently – soft, whispery kisses that make my face tingle and send tremors running through my body, creating instant arousal. I am acutely aware of her bare legs caught between mine – afraid she will feel, afraid she will know. I close my eyes and inhale deeply in an effort to keep calm, but she kisses my eyelids and her hair tickles my neck and face and I hear my breathing become shallow and rapid.
‘It’s all right,’ she says with a smile in her voice. ‘I love you.’
I open my eyes and lift my head off the pillow and start kissing her back, gently at first, but then she puts her arm round my neck and pulls me closer, and our kisses begin to quicken, growing deeper and more urgent until it’s difficult to find time to breathe. I cradle her head with one arm, clasping her hand with the other. Every kiss is becoming fiercer than the one before until I’m frightened I’m hurting her. I don’t know where to go from here, I don’t know what to do. I press my face into the hot curve of her neck with a strange sound and find myself stroking her breasts, the cotton shirt rough beneath my fingers. I feel her fingertips running up and down my back, beneath my shirt, then travelling round beneath my arms to reach my chest, touching my nipples. Small electric shocks ricochet though my body. My mouth reaches for hers again and I’m gasping for air and she’s making sounds that make my heart pound harder and harder. I feel swept up in some kind of burning whirl of madness, barraged by a million sensations at once – the heat of her lips, the pressure of her tongue, the taste of her mouth, the smell of her hair, the feel of her breasts – the buttons of her shirt scratching my palm as I slide my hand down them, the peaks of her ribs abruptly giving way to the soft inward curve of her stomach, the shock of reaching under her shirt and feeling taut, warm skin. Maya has one hand in my hair and the other on my stomach. My muscles convulse in response to her touch, pulling away yet desperate for her hand to follow, and I’m acutely aware of her fingers sliding under the top of my trousers, pressing against my stomach, hesitating at the waistband of my boxers; I have to break away from the kiss and press my face into the pillow to stop myself from begging her to keep going. I can’t think of anything any more except for this blind madness; I want to stop myself but I’m unable to hold still. I want to pretend that it’s an accident, that I don’t know what I’m doing, but I do. My hands claw at the sheet, twisting it into knots as I push myself towards her, rubbing myself against her, imperceptibly at first, in the hope she won’t notice – but soon that too is out of my control as the pace and the pressure increase of their own accord, my crotch against her pelvic bone, the thin, soft material of our clothing all that is left between us. I wish I could feel her bare skin, yet even the feel of her body under her uniform is enough to send me into a whirl of longing and desire. I can hear the sound of my rasping breath, the friction between our two bodies. I know I should stop, I know I must stop now, because if I keep going, if I keep going, I know what will happen . . . I have to stop, I must, I must . . . Then her mouth finds mine, she kisses me deeply, and a crackling, spitting electric current shoots through my body, sending out red sparks of exquisite elation. And suddenly I’m shuddering hard against her, ecstasy exploding throughout my body like the sun . . .
Maya rolls onto her side to face me and strokes the hair away from my face, looking startled, a touch of amusement on her lips. As her laughing eyes meet mine, I take a sharp breath and feel a strong wave of embarrassment wash over me.
‘I got – I got a bit carried away.’ I pull a face to try and disguise my acute discomfort. Does she actually know what happened? Is she disgusted?
She raises her eyebrows and bites back a smile. ‘No kidding!’
She does. Fucking hell.
‘Well, that’s what happens when you – when you do stuff like that.’ My voice comes out louder than I intended: defensive, shaky, uneven.
‘I know.’ She says quietly. ‘Wow.’
‘I couldn’t – I couldn’t stop.’ My heart is pounding. I feel frantic with embarrassment.
She kisses my cheek. ‘Lochie, it’s OK – I didn’t want you to stop!’
Relief floods through me and I pull her closer so that her hair is in my face. ‘Really?’
‘Really!’
I close my eyes with relief. ‘I love you.’
‘I love you too.’
A long moment passes, then hot spasmodic breaths blow against my cheek: silent laughter. ‘You’ve gone all sleepy!’
I force my eyes open and give an embarrassed laugh. It’s true. I’m wiped out. My eyelids are dragged down by invisible weights and every ounce of energy has evaporated from my body. I have just experienced the most intense few minutes of my life and my whole body feels weak. I shift uncomfortably against the bed and pull an embarrassed face. ‘I think I need a shower . . .’
I can’t stop thinking about it – at night, but during the daytime too. What have we done? What have we done? Even though we never took our clothes off, even though what we did isn’t technically against the law, I know we have started on a dangerous slippery slope. Where it could eventually land us is both too terrifying and too fantastic to even think about. I try telling myself that it was nothing, that I was just trying to comfort her – but even I’m not self-deluded enough to believe my own ridiculous excuse. And now it’s like a drug, and I cannot believe I have managed to live so long, in the daily presence of Maya, without this new level of closeness . . .
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
Maya
At the end of the day, it’s all about how much you can bear, how much you can endure. Being together, we harm nobody; being apart, we extinguish ourselves. I wanted to be strong – wanted to show Lochan that if he could walk away after that first night, then so could I; that if he could distract himself by going out with a girl, then I could do the same with a guy. My mind was set on the idea but the rest of me wouldn’t obey. Rather than go through with our deal, my body chose to take a dangerous tumble down a flight of stairs.
Lochan is still Lochan, except he’s not. When I look at him, he seems different to me now. My mind keeps flashing back to that afternoon on the bed: the taste of his hot mouth, the brush of his fingertips against my skin. I want to be with him all the time. I follow him from room to room, finding any excuse to be near him, to look at him, to touch him. I want to hold him, stroke him, kiss him, but of course, with the others always around, I can’t. Loving him like this has become a deep physical ache. I am overcome by a kaleidoscope of conflicting emotions: on the one hand fizzing with so much adrenaline and excitement I find it difficult to eat, on the other, consumed with terror that Lochan is suddenly going to say we cannot do this because it’s wrong. Or that someone may find out and force us apart. I will not listen to the ticking time bomb inside my head, will not think of the future, that gaping dark hole in which neither of us can exist, together or apart . . . I refuse to allow my fears for the future to ruin the present. All that matters right now is that Lochan is here with me, and that we love each other. I have never felt so happy in my life.
Lochan too seems more alive. The strained look of exhaustion and false cheer is erased from his face. He cracks up at Tiffin’s jokes, tickles Willa and swings her round and round until I beg him to stop. He humours Kit and lets the usual inflammatory remarks go; he has even stopped chewing his lip. And every time his eyes meet mine, his face ignites with a smile.
On Friday morning, two whole weeks after we last held each other on the bed, I come up behind him as he stands alone at the sink with his back to the door, sipping his morning coffee and staring out of the window. His raven hair is still tousled from the night, his white shirtsleeves rolled up to the elbows as usual. The skin on his arms looks so smooth, I long to stroke them. Unable to hold back, I slip my hand into his loose one. He turns to me with a smile of surprise but I recognize a hint of alarm in his eyes, accompanied by another emotion: a longing ache, a painful desperation.
‘The others will be down in a minute,’ Lochan warns me softly.
I glance at the closed kitchen door, wishing it had a lock. Turning back, I stroke the inside of his palm with my fingertips. ‘I miss you,’ I whisper.
He smiles slightly but his eyes are sad. ‘We just have to – to wait for the right moment, Maya.’
‘There never is a right moment,’ I reply. ‘Between the kids and school and Kit up half the night, we’re never alone.’
He starts on his lip again, turning to stare out of the window. I rest my head against the top of his arm.
‘Don’t!’ he says hoarsely.
‘But I was just—’
‘Don’t you get it? It makes it even harder. It makes it even worse.’ He takes an unsteady breath. ‘I can’t – I can’t bear it when you . . .’
‘When I what?’
He doesn’t reply.
‘Why are you tuning me out?’
‘You don’t understand.’ He turns to me almost angrily, his voice beginning to shake. ‘Seeing you, being with you every day but not being able to do anything – it’s like cancer, it’s like this cancer growing inside my body, inside my mind!’
‘OK. I know. I’m sorry.’ I try to disengage my hand but his fingers tighten round mine.
‘Don’t—’
I lean towards him and hold him tight as he wraps his arms around me. The warmth of his body flows into mine like an electric current. His hot cheek brushes against my face, his lips touch mine then pull away again; his breath is moist and urgent against my neck. I want him to kiss me so much, it hurts.
The door crashes open like the sound of a gunshot. We reel apart. Tiffin stands there, trailing his tie, his shirt untucked. His eyes are wide, flicking from my face to Lochan’s.
‘Wow, first one to be ready!’ My voice comes out shrill with false cheer. ‘Come here and I’ll do your tie. What d’you fancy for breakfast?’
He still doesn’t move. ‘What happened?’ he asks at length, his face worried.
‘Nothing!’ Lochan turns from making the coffee and gives him a reassuring smile. ‘Everything’s fine. Now, muesli, toast or both?’
Tiffin ignores Lochan’s attempts at distraction. ‘Why were you cuddling Maya?’ he asks instead.
‘Because – because – Maya was feeling a bit upset about this test she’s got today,’ Lochan replies raggedly. ‘She’s feeling very nervous.’
I nod in agreement, quickly erasing my false smile.
Unconvinced, Tiffin walks slowly over to his chair, forgetting his usual complaints as Lochan fills his bowl with muesli.
My heart is hammering. We only heard the door after it had swung open all the way and hit the corner of the sideboard. Did Tiffin see Lochan kiss my neck – notice my lips brush against his? Tiffin starts eating his muesli without further comment and I know he doesn’t believe our story. I know he senses something isn’t right. It’s almost a relief when Kit and Willa arrive, loud and complaining, one protesting about the breakfast menu, the other about the loss of her sticker album. I glance nervously at Tiffin but he stays unusually silent.
Lochan is clearly shaken too. The colour is high in his cheeks and he is gnawing at his lip. He knocks over Willa’s juice and spills cereal on the table. He downs coffee after coffee and tries to rush everyone through breakfast, even though it is not yet eight, and his eyes keep returning to Tiffin’s face.
After dropping the kids off at school, I turn to him and say, ‘Tiffin couldn’t have seen anything. There wasn’t time.’
‘He just saw you give me a hug and now he’s worried that you’re upset about something more serious than a test. I should never have come up with that pathetic excuse. But by this evening he’ll have forgotten all about it, or if he hasn’t, he’ll realize you’re OK. Everything’s fine.’
I can still feel the knot of fear in my stomach. But I just nod and smile reassuringly.
In maths, Francie chews gum and props her feet up on the empty chair in front, passing me notes about the way Salim Kumar is looking at me and speculating about what he would like to do with me. But all I can think is that something has got to change. Lochan and I have to find a way of being together without fear of interruption for at least a little while every day. I know that after what happened this morning, he isn’t going to touch me again while the others are in the house, which is basically whenever we are. And I still don’t understand why I can’t even stand close to him, hold his hand, rest my head against his arm while we are in an empty room. He says it makes it worse, but how could anything be worse than not touching him at all?
It’s my turn to pick up Tiffin and Willa today because Lochan has a late class. On the way home, they charge ahead as usual, giving me a heart attack at every road-crossing. When we get in, I sort out snacks and rummage through their book bags for teachers’ notes and homework while they fight over the remote in the front room. I put on a wash, clear away the breakfast things and go upstairs to tidy their room. When I return to the front room they have tired of TV, the Gameboy isn’t working properly and Tiffin’s neighbourhood friends are all out at football club. They start to bicker, so I suggest a game of Cluedo. Exhausted from the long week, they agree, and so we set up the game on the carpet in the front room: Tiffin lying on his front with his head propped up on his hand, his blond mane hanging in his eyes; Willa cross-legged at the foot of the couch, an enormous new hole in her red school tights revealing part of an even larger sticking plaster.
‘What happened to you?’ I ask, pointing.
‘I fell!’ she announces, her eyes lighting up in anticipatory relish as she begins her account of the drama. ‘It was very, very serious. My knee gashed open and there was blood all down my leg and the nurse said we was gonna have to go to hospital to get stitches!’ She glances at Tiffin to make sure she has a captive audience. ‘I hardly cried much at all. Only till the end of break time. The nurse said I was really brave.’
‘You had stitches!’ I stare at her, appalled.
‘No, ’cos after a while the blood stopped gushing out, so the nurse said she thought it would be OK. She kept trying to call Mum but I told her and told her it was the wrong number.’
‘What d’you mean, the wrong number?’
‘I kept telling her that she had to call you or Lochie instead, but she didn’t listen, even when I told her I knew the numbers off by heart. She just left a lot of messages on Mum’s mobile. And she asked me if I had a granny or a grandpa who could come and pick me up instead.’
‘Oh God, let me see. Does it still hurt?’
‘Only a bit. No—Ow – don’t take the plaster off, Maya! The nurse said I have to leave it on!’
‘OK, OK,’ I say quickly. ‘But next time, you tell the nurse she has to call me or Lochie. You say she has to, Willa, OK? She has to!’ I suddenly find myself almost shouting.
Willa nods distractedly, intent on setting out the pieces of the game now the account of her drama is over. But Tiffin is looking at me solemnly, his blue eyes narrowing.
‘Why does school always have to call you or Lochan?’ he asks quietly. ‘Are you secretly our real parents?’
Shock runs like icy water through my veins. I am unable to draw breath for a moment. ‘No, of course not, Tiffin. We’re just a lot older than you, that’s all. What – what on earth made you think that?’
Tiffin continues to fix me with his penetrating stare and I find myself literally holding my breath, waiting for him to comment on what he witnessed this morning.
‘’Cos Mum’s never here no more. Even hardly at weekends. She’s got a new family now at Dave’s house. She lives there and she’s even got new kids.’
