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‘Don’t you dare try to turn this on me,’ I shout back. ‘Just go back to bed, Gavin. I don’t want to be anywhere near you.’
Fighting back tears I return to the sitting room. ‘It’s dippy-egg time, Molly.’ I’m surprised to find an empty couch. ‘Molly,’ I call, walking towards the kitchen. ‘Molly!’
She’s not in the kitchen either. I’m about to check her bedroom when I hear gentle whimpering coming from the larder cupboard. I open the door to find her sitting between the sweeping brush and the ironing board. Her knees are tucked into her chest and her little hands are covering her eyes.
‘Oh, Molly.’
THIRTY-SEVEN
KAYLA
It’s hard to wake up. I blink a lot. I’m not sure if it’s morning or night. Napping during the day and then being awake for hours at night staring at the ceiling is messing with my sense of time. Finally, I manage to keep my eyes open and I realise it’s bright outside. There’s a tray of breakfast on the end of my bed. Someone has come and left cornflakes, orange juice and a bowl of shrivelled-looking fruit. I’m surprised I didn’t hear them come in. Usually the noise in this place around breakfast time would deafen you, but I’ve been sleeping right through the last few mornings. And I still wake up tired. I’m constantly tired the last few days.
‘Morning,’ Mam says.
‘Jesus.’ I jump, suddenly noticing her slouched in the chair next to my bed.
‘Sorry, sorry, didn’t mean to scare you.’
‘Were you here all night?’ I ask.
Mam nods. ‘Yup.’
‘Did you sleep?’ I add.
‘Of course.’
Mam is the worst liar. Her eyes go all squinty, as if she’s afraid you’ll look into them and call her bluff. To be fair, all of her looks squintytoday. As if her whole body is closing in on itself. It’s bloody creepy. She’s so skinny. Like, weirdly thin. I can’t remember the last time she wore make-up and her hair is in bits. The roots are shocking, and I don’t think I ever noticed she has such dark hair before. She’s been blonde all my life but there’s a big chunk of black-brown sitting on the top of her head now.
‘How are you feeling?’ Mam says, standing up and pouring some milk onto my cornflakes.
‘Okay,’ I say.
‘You gave us a bit of a fright last night.’
‘I did?’
‘Don’t you remember?’
I shake my head.
‘Your temperature was sky high and you were passing out and shaking and…’
‘Oh,’ I say, slowly remembering some madness last night, but it feels like a dream. I remember dad freaking out and calling the nurses. And then the nurses getting panicked and calling the doctors. They gave me some medicine and I thought I fell asleep after that. I don’t remember Mam getting here, or Dad leaving. What a weird night.
‘Orange juice?’ Mam says, dragging the trolley-table thing from the end of my bed closer to me.
I shake my head.
‘Okay, okay.’ Mam sounds weirdly disappointed that I don’t fancy juice two seconds after waking up.
I try to sit up but it’s so hard. My arms are insanely heavy; as if they belong to someone else and I can’t really control them. My breathing feels a bit funny too, like someone really big is sitting on me. Squashing me.
‘Okay, let’s take it easy,’ Mam says, sliding her hands under my arms. She puffs out as she hoists me up.
‘I’m sorry,’ I say.
‘What? What on earth are you sorry for, kiddo?’ Mam says, letting go of me to adjust the pillows behind me.
