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I gasp. Mrs Kelly thinks her kids are so perfect. I wonder what she’d say if she found out what Roisin gets up to behind her back.
‘Anyway, just tell your mam you don’t drink,’ Aiden continues. ‘She’ll believe you, won’t she?’
‘She knows I don’t drink,’ Kayla replies, sounding mildly offended, and my heart swells with pride. ‘Anyway, I don’t think that’s even it. She’s totally stressed. I think this thing with my wonky knee is really freaking her out.’
‘Did you tell her we have a big game next week. Youhaveto play. We won’t win without you,’ Aiden says.
Kayla sighs. ‘Yeah. I don’t think she’ll let me play. She’s been obsessed with me taking it easy all week. She’s acting all weird since we came back from the hospital. The tests weren’t even all that bad. Scans and X-rays. Well, except I had to get blood taken. That was a bit gross, to be honest.’
‘I still don’t get why you needed to have so many tests for a sprain,’ Aiden says.
‘Yeah. Me neither.’ Kayla sighs. ‘It’s so boring and there’s lots of waiting around.’
Aiden snorts. ‘Yeah but it’s worth it to get off school. Mr Gibbons gave us three pages of maths homework last night. He’s such a dick.’
‘Yeah, s’pose,’ Kayla says. ‘Mam and I get McDonald’s or hot chocolate after hospital stuff, so that’s cool. I think I’m done with tests now anyway. I’ll probably be back in school tomorrow or the next day.’
‘What did the tests say?’ Aiden asks.
‘Dunno,’ Kayla says. ‘Think it takes ages for results to come back or something. But my knee is grand now, so it was all a big waste of time, really.’
The springs in Kayla’s bed begin to squeak and I’ve no doubt she’s jumping on her bed, testing out hergrand nowknee. I’m about to walk in and tell her to stop before she falls. Or cracks the ceiling in the kitchen below her room. The landlord will go ballistic if there’s any more damage. He’s still bitching about the hair-dye stain on the carpet in my room even though I’ve told him a million times it was there before we moved in. I bought a rug to cover it. Just so I wouldn’t have to think about him every time I saw it.
Aiden’s voice suddenly becomes very serious, and I listen, concerned. ‘Tell your mam your knee is fine and come to the funfair. Unless you’re too chicken to go on the Wall Of Death again and this is just your excuse. Bawk, bawk, bawk,’ he teases.
‘Seriously,’ Kayla snaps. ‘Stop that. I told you I can’t go.’
‘Do something nice to get on her good side,’ Aiden says. ‘Empty the dishwasher. Or make her breakfast in bed. Mams love breakfast in bed.’
‘Aiden come on…’ Kayla says.
‘What?’ Aiden says. ‘You just have to know how to butter her up.’
‘All these tests are expensive and my mam’s had to miss lots of work. She’s in a pretty bad mood. So, can we just drop it, okay?’
‘Okay. Sorry. I was only joking, Kayla,’ Aiden says, sincerely. ‘I didn’t mean to upset you. Mams are always acting weird. It’s no big deal.’
‘My mam isn’t,’ Kayla says, and the tears I’ve been struggling to hold back begin to fall. ‘She’s cool.’
‘Just not cool enough to let you come out this weekend,’ Aiden says.
Silence hangs in the air and for a moment I wonder if Kayla has realised I’m listening. I don’t even know what I’m doing. I never eavesdrop on my daughter. I don’t need to. We gossip together like a couple of best friends and she fills me in on all her news. I guess I’m just stalling. I know when I knock on Kayla’s door that everything will change.
‘Look,’ Aiden says, ‘tell your mam I’ll be there. Tell her I’ll keep you safe. Cause I will, you know.’
‘Don’t be creepy, you weirdo,’ Kayla laughs loudly. ‘Anyway, there’s no point even talking about this anymore.’
My heart aches as I hear the disappointment in Kayla’s voice. But, she’s right. I won’t allow her to go to the local funfair with her friends this weekend, despite going the previous two years. But Kayla doesn’t know why, and I’ve no idea how I’m possibly going to bring myself to tell her.
‘I gotta go,’ Aiden says, suddenly. ‘My dinner is ready. Call you later, yeah?’
‘Yeah. Sure,’ Kayla says. ‘Bye.’
There’s a sudden silence before Ed Sheeran’s latest single blares loud enough to rattle Kayla’s bedroom door. I jump back from it somewhat deafened and turn around to face the stairs. Thank God the banister is next to me. I grab it as my knees buckle. I sit down heavily on the top step and drop my head into my hands.
I hate myself for earwigging on Kayla like some sort of creepy spy, checking up on my teenage daughter as if she’s done something wrong – especially, when she’s such a good kid. I hate myself for being distracted the last few days and seeming distant ornot myself. I thought I was doing a good job of hiding my worries in front of Kayla – obviously not. Mostly, I hate myself for answering my mobile ten minutes ago and taking a call from a doctor at the hospital. He asked me to come in tomorrow to discuss Kayla’s test results.
‘What is it?’ I asked.
