‘Here,’ Tom says, slapping down a piece of paper in front of me. It’s his drawing. I turn it over and begin to study it.
‘This must be Ed,’ I say, pointing to the tallest figure in themiddle. ‘You’ve even got his stubbly beard right. Well done. And this must be you– because I’d recognise that lunchbox and cool hairdo anywhere.’
Tom beams. He’s obviously put a lot of work into this.
I look at the last figure and start to laugh. ‘And this must be me,’ I say, trying to catch my breath. ‘Tom it’s so brilliant!’
‘That was us walking to school this morning,’ he tells me. ‘It was really fun.’
The figure on the end is all dressed in black, with scribbled red hair and bright yellow feet, like two large bananas. My trainers. Ed’s going to die when he sees this.
But then I notice something, and my laughter subsides. Only I’m holding hands with Tom in the drawing. Just me. I don’t know what it means to Tom, but to me it means everything, and my heart melts. I throw my arms around him.
‘I think this is the best drawing I’ve seen in my entire life,’ I tell him. ‘And I’ve seen theMona Lisain Paris.’
‘Adam Grant said theMona Lisaisn’t real.’
‘Adam Grant’s a moron,’ I reply. ‘But you, my darling brother, are quite the artist and I’m even going to buy a special frame for this. Ed’s going to love it, too.’
Tom hugs me back and giggles. ‘Love you, Kate.’
I swallow the lump in my throat and tell Tom that I love him, too.
Ed
When I pull up outside Mum and Dad’s house, their car isn’t there. A bright red Peugeot SUV with this year’s plates has taken their space and I just know that when they get back, Mum is going to throw a fit. She’s as protective of her parking space as she is of me.
I walk around to the back of the house where I hope that they haven’t moved the spare key from under the broken slab at the bottom of the garden. They’ve been hiding it here since we moved in. Thankfully, it’s there, right next to a giant spider which remains still while I have a small freak-out. God, I hate them. Kate is far braver when it comes to insects. She even gives tired bees sugar water in the autumn.
I open the front door and am as surprised to see Dad as he is me.
‘Ed! We didn’t know you were coming, son. Why didn’t you ring the bell?’
‘I thought you were out,’ I reply, closing the door behind me. ‘Your car isn’t there.’
‘We got a new one!’ Mum yells from the living room. ‘Did you see it? What a beauty she is.’
I take off my coat and follow behind Dad, a smell of fresh bread wafting from the kitchen. Mum’s on the couch, feet on thepouffe, dipping bread into a bowl.
‘That Peugeot is yours?’ I ask, peering into her bowl. ‘What was wrong with your Honda?’
‘Failed its MOT,’ Dad answers. ‘Would have cost more to fix than the car’s worth.’
‘Cracking car,’ I say. ‘I didn’t think you’d get anything so modern.’
‘Neither did I,’ he admits. ‘But we decided to spoil ourselves. Besides, it’s far easier to get in and out of with my back. And it has heated seats.’
‘It’s ever so comfortable,’ Mum adds. ‘The man at the dealership even showed me how to connect my phone so we can answer calls while we drive.’
‘Living the dream,’ I say, smiling. ‘Good for you.’
‘You want some tomato soup?’ Mum asks. ‘I can open another tin.’
‘Nah,’ I reply. ‘I just want a dunk of yours.’ I take some bread and dip it in the soup, being careful not to drip it on myself or the carpet. I sit down beside Mum.
‘Kate not with you?’ she asks. ‘Is her granny any better?’
‘Pneumonia,’ I tell her, going in for a second dunk. ‘She’ll be all right, though. Hopefully out of hospital soon. Kate’s hanging back to help out with Tom. She sends her love.’
