Eva was in bed, her duvet pulled up to her chin. Her eyes were wide open, though she was meant to be asleep. Her room had blue striped walls and blue striped curtains. Dad said it looked like a giant deckchair. Tonight, with the light off, the stripes were jail grey.
Gran and Dad were downstairs. They had sent her to bed earlier than usual so that they could talk.
If she really were a superhero, she’d be able to hear through walls, or send out a monitoring bug to relay the conversation back.
But she was a normal girl, with normal ears, and she couldn’t hear a thing.
At least, not from here.
Eva pushed back the duvet gently and stepped softly towards the door. Dad always left it open a bit to let in light from the landing. She pulled it open, ever so slowly, and then stepped out.
She could hear the murmur of voices now, but was still too far away to make out the words. As she walked, Eva made sure to push her feet right up to the edge of each stair, to stop them from creaking. She crept closer.
About halfway down, the noise from the kitchen became clearer, like a radio dial hitting the right frequency.
‘. . . with bad apples in the street, she can’t be left alone.’ Dad’s voice was firm.
Bad apples? Eva wondered what he was talking about. No one had any fruit trees as far as she knew.
‘No, I know,’ Gran replied. ‘But it can’t go on like this. Enough is enough.’
‘Jaclyn, it isn’t your business!’ The shout was sudden. It made her jump. The moths in her chest whirled. Were Dad and Gran arguing? They never argued. They were always super-polite to each other all the time.
Gran’s answer was quieter. Eva couldn’t make it out. She took another careful step. They would both be furious if they knew she was out of bed and listening.
‘I think I know what’s best for my daughter,’ she heard Dad say.
Her. They were talking about her. Eva’s mind spun. What had she done? What was the matter? For the last two years she’d been on her best behaviour. They all had, treating each other like delicate china that could crack in an instant. Eva held her breath and finally reached the last step. She sat down on it and leaned in the direction of the open kitchen door.
‘She spends her whole time with us. She has no friends her own age. I understand why you worry, but it really isn’t healthy.’
‘She likes to be with us.’ Dad sounded hurt.
‘I didn’t say she didn’t. She’s a good girl and I love having her around. You know that. But she needs friends, Martin. People her own age to run around with, getting muddy and bruising her knees and riding bikes.’
‘I take her on bike rides. We went last month.’
‘I know,’ Gran spoke gently. ‘You’re not listening to me.’
There was a pause. Eva wondered if they had finished talking. She wondered if she should go back upstairs before one of them spotted her.
Then Gran spoke. ‘Listen, Martin. I love you both. You know that. I’d do anything for you. But sometimes people don’t need to have everything done for them. This would be good for Eva. You have to let her spread her wings a bit. You have to let her take some risks.’
‘What, like you did?’
Eva gasped.
Gran must have too, because the next minute Dad was saying sorry, saying he hadn’t meant it, that he took it back.
The next time Gran spoke, her voice was thick with tears. ‘Just look at it, OK? Think about it. We both want what’s best for Eva. And I think this is best.’
Eva wanted to run into the kitchen, to hug Gran and say sorry. She didn’t know for what, but she was sorry.
Instead, she stood up and walked gingerly back up to her room.
As she pulled the duvet back over herself, she wondered why they were fighting. And what did it have to do with her?