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“Drink up, Dee. I am determined to get you onstage tonight for a little sing-along.” Felix swipes his glass from the counter and downs the rest of the liquid. He rises from his seat and stares at me before I drink my cocktail. “Same again?”

“Yeah, go on,” I agree, and he saunters off to the bar as I finish my drink.

I sit in at my seat and wait for him to return with more drinks, trying not to let my mind wander to Joseph, wondering what he’s thinking right now, if he’ll follow through and come back to the shop or if he’ll leave me behind. Again.

By the time Felix is back at the table with four cocktails on a tray and an unrepentant shrug at his excessive order, I have a fake smile on my face and a determination that I won’t think about Joseph for the rest of the night, choosing to focus on my friend who loves me, not the man who shattered everything in me.

The only thing that’s clear to me is that it may have been twelve years, but Joseph Wakefield still has the power to break me, even if I once thought he was going to be my saviour—from my shitty situation, my complicated life, and from myself.

Chapter two

Delilah

Then—School

Mum: Duncan is coming over tonight.

The text on my phone screen looks simple enough, but I know the hidden message, and the words my mother hasn’t typed.

Duncan is coming over tonight, so don’t bother coming home. We’re going to fuck and fight, and you’ll be in the way.

That’s what she meant to say. If Duncan were the one sending the message, it would be slightly different:

I’m staying at your house tonight. Your mother and I will fuck and fight, and maybe in the middle of the night, I’ll pop in to say hello. Help you with your biology homework. Give you a not-so-fatherly hug.

No thank you.

Duncan is one of a long line of no-good boyfriends my mother has had on rotation since my dad left. The last time I felt safe was when I was nine. Since then, it’s been boyfriend after boyfriend, crisis after crisis. I learnt quickly to duck and dive, to avoid the men with the fists and the men with the hands that are more likely to roam but cause as much damage.

A few years ago, it became easier. I’d ask Felix if I could stay at his house, and he would happily oblige and ask his mother, who—luckily for me—never said no. It got to the point that I kept some spare clothes at his place. I’m sure some guys would find it unusual to have a bunch of bras, knickers, socks, and emergency clothes in their drawers, but Felix never minded. Mostly because he knew what I was avoiding when I crashed on his bedroom floor. I think he’d prefer my spare knickers than my tears or rage, depending on the man my mother was entertaining.

Except this school year is different because Felix isn’t around. Our birthdays cross the divide for the academic year, putting me into the school year behind him. I’m in my final year at the sixth form at school, and Felix is currently on a gap year, backpacking around Asia and trying to cram in as much life as he can before he settles into his university course.

Before he left, he promised me that his front door was always open and insisted all I needed to do was text his mother on any night I needed to get away from home. I’ve never taken him up on the offer, though, because there’s something sad about admitting how much I would need to get away.

I fire a text back to my mother to tell her I’ll be staying at a friend’s house tonight. I don’t elaborate as to which friend I’m talking about, and she won’t ask. All she’ll care about is that I won’t be home tonight and messing with her vibe. I’m sure I’ve been messing with her vibe from the moment she found out she was pregnant with me.

I have no idea where I’m going to stay, but I’m a resourceful girl. I’ll find a way. All I know is that I won’t be at home.

I shove my mobile back into my jeans pocket and walk towards the cafeteria. I skipped breakfast, and I’m feeling it now given I also missed dinner last night. I duck and weave through the younger, slower-moving students, trying to ignore the little growl in my stomach.

“Delilah,” Ms Doyle calls out to me as I reach the cafeteria doors. I step over to her, and she gives me an apologetic smile. “I’ve been calling home to try to catch your mother. Your account is in arrears.”

I force myself to smile back. I know what this means. I’m not getting lunch at school today. Students can update their accounts but only via cash, and right now, I don’t have any. I have probably four pounds left in my bank account, and I don’t get my wages from my part-time job until next week.

“I’ll sort it out next week. My mother has been busy,” I say, giving Ms Doyle a big, bright smile.

“Too busy” is my default excuse whenever the topic of my parents comes up at school. Too busy to attend parents evening. Too busy for a quick call home. Too busy to remember to fund the account to help keep me fed. It’s mostly my mother I say is too busy. Dad’s not busy, just disinterested. He has a new life with his new wife, no regular thoughts for the daughter he left behind.

“Are you—” she starts, but I wave her off.

“I was just going to fill up my water bottle and then head to the common room.”

She gives me a sympathetic look, but there isn’t anything else she can do. The school rules when it comes to meals are rigid. If my account is already overdrawn, they won’t do a damn thing until I clear the balance and top up. Something I have to fund myself. Despite everything, my mother somehow manages to hold a job that earns her enough money that I don’t qualify for free school meals. Just not enough to decide there’s any excess for her to send to my school account on a regular basis. Dad sends me money for some things, but not for food. That’s supposed to be Mum’s department.

I step away from the queue to the cafeteria, letting the hordes of kids who do have parents who care enough to make sure they’re fed file past me. Bitterness burns within me, but I remind myself that from the outside, I probably also look like I have caring, providing parents.

I walk down the hall towards the water fountain. I pull out my mobile—the one my dad pays the contract for; otherwise, I’d never be able to afford it—and check my bank balance on the online app. As I thought, there isn’t enough money in my account for me to do much with it, though it’s a little more than I thought. Seven pounds. Not a huge amount, but enough for me and my plans tonight. Enough for me to probably secure a place to stay, and maybe some food to tide me over until I get paid.