Dad was still asleep when Eva slipped back into the house. She closed the front door behind her and leaned against the wood. It felt strong and solid; she let her shoulder blades press back on it. She could feel tears burning her eyes. How could Jamie say those things about Dad? Jamie knew nothing. She had the best dad in the world. He’d do anything for her. He might fuss a tiny bit, but it was only because he wanted what was best for her.
And she had gone out without telling him with the one person she’d been forbidden from seeing.
Eva’s face burned with shame.
She’d let Dad down, and for what? For a stupid boy who didn’t care about her.
She dashed the back of her hand against her face. She wouldn’t cry, she wouldn’t.
Eva went into the kitchen and filled a glass with water. It was icy cold and as she sipped it she felt the cold spread down her chest and into her stomach. Her breathing settled into a calmer rhythm.
When the glass was empty, she rinsed it and put it on the draining board. Then she flipped the switch on the kettle.
She’d make a cup of tea and take it up to Dad. She hadn’t done that for ages. Not since school had broken up. Cup, tea bag, water, milk. Then the careful walk upstairs, holding the mug steady with only a few tiny spills that no one would notice.
Eva stopped outside his room. ‘Dad?’ she whispered. She leaned on the door handle with her elbow. ‘Dad?’
Inside, Dad was a hillock of duvet. He groaned and rolled over. His hair was sticking up in a hedgehog head. She put the mug down gently on the bedside table.
‘I’ve brought you tea.’
‘Morning, Ladybug.’ His voice sounded croaky, full of sleep. ‘Is it time to get up? Feels early.’
‘It is early, but I was awake.’
Dad eased himself up on his elbows and dragged a palm across his face like a wet flannel. He had a rash of stubble on his chin that rasped against his hand. ‘You OK, Bug? You sound funny.’
Eva felt a lump rise in her throat. She swallowed to get rid of it. It didn’t work.
‘Come and sit down while I drink my tea.’
She perched on the side of his bed, then kicked off her sandals and swung her feet on to the duvet. She folded her legs up so her chin rested on her knees.
‘What’s up, Bug?’
There was a long pause. Dad took a sip from his cup.
‘I was just thinking . . . about Mum,’ Eva said.
‘Oh.’ Dad looked properly awake now. His frowning eyebrows pulled his whole face downwards. ‘I see,’ he said. He took another careful sip.
Eva pulled her knees tighter. She wasn’t sure how to say what she was feeling. Not without mentioning Jamie, anyway. And she definitely didn’t want to mention Jamie.
‘I wondered . . . I wondered, do you still miss her?’
Dad put the cup down on his bedside table. He slept in the middle of his double bed, so he had to turn away from her to reach it. He took a moment to turn back.
‘Where has this come from?’ he said finally.
‘I was just thinking about her this morning. I got . . . I got cross.’
‘With her?’ Dad looked concerned.
‘No. At least, I don’t think so.’ She’d been cross with Jamie, hadn’t she? It was him saying that Dad was weird that had made her lose her temper. And yet there was a part of her that was angry with Mum. The dark idea worming inside her.
‘Your gran says that anger is part of grieving,’ Dad said.
‘Is it?’
‘I don’t know. They say so. Counsellors and people like that.’
‘Are you angry?’ Eva whispered.
‘I haven’t got time to be angry. I’ve got you to worry about. Jaclyn thinks we should all give in to our emotions and let it all hang out. But she always was a free spirit and that just leads to trouble in the end.’
‘Gran?’ Eva was confused. Was Gran a free spirit? Maybe that’s why she wore so much purple.
Dad looked suddenly ashamed. ‘I didn’t mean anything by that. Your gran has helped me out a lot – I know that. We just disagree sometimes, that’s all.’
Eva wished she’d never said anything. Dad looked so worn and tired. She’d wanted to bring him tea. She should have left it at that. Her eyes felt hot again.
‘Oh, Bug. Look at you.’ Dad smiled a sad smile. ‘You’re a wet weekend. Come here.’ He reached out and pulled her into a hug. She smelled his warm, sleepy skin and fought against her tears.
‘I didn’t mean to make you cry,’ he said. ‘I’m a fool. But I’m your fool. You’ve got me. You know that, don’t you?’
Eva nodded. She had Dad and she didn’t care what Jamie thought. She didn’t care at all.