‘I don’t see why I can’t go to Gran’s,’ Eva said to Dad.
He pressed his lips together tightly.
‘I always go to Gran’s,’ Eva said.
‘I know. But she put her foot down last night. She thinks this is what’s best for you.’ Dad pushed the leaflet across the kitchen table. ‘She wants you to go to this instead.’
The picture of a crooked old house looked scary among the breakfast things: cereal, toast and mortal terror.
Eva glanced at it, but it was always harder to read when she was feeling stressed. And she was feeling super-stressed.
Dad waited for her to try. But she wasn’t going to try. She felt her slug-sulk appear. He sighed then picked up the leaflet and began reading.
‘Elizabeth Park Lodge needs you! Every morning over the summer holidays, all local young people are invited to come and help spruce up the former park keeper’s lodge. It will become the Elizabeth Park Youth Centre – but only with your help.’ He laid the leaflet down again and stood up. He turned on the radio next to the sink.
‘Burn107FM here to start off your morning with sunshine and music.’
He turned the radio off again.
‘Look, Bug, the thing is, Gran’s determined you’ll try this. She’s said she’s only going to look after you in the afternoons from now on. So I need to find somewhere for you to go in the mornings. Starting this morning. It’s what’s called a fait accompli, which is French for dropping me right in it. If you do this today, I can try and find something else for tomorrow. But I can’t not go to work. Please, Ladybug. For me?’
He looked tired, Eva thought. What with the McIntyres in one ear and Gran in the other, he probably hadn’t had enough sleep.
She would try to be a superhero, she thought, for Dad.
She’d just wear her invisibility shield and everyone would ignore her. It would be OK. She nodded slowly.
Dad breathed a big sigh. ‘Thank you,’ he said. ‘Now, you’re not walking there on your own. Me or Gran will take you and bring you back. And take a cardie. It’s warm now, but it might rain later.’
He stepped closer and pulled a hairband from his back pocket. Eva felt him tug her hair into a ponytail. ‘This is Gran’s idea. But she’s not the boss of us. If you hate it, then you don’t have to go back. I’ll think of something.’
‘I don’t know anything about building stuff.’ Eva winced as he tightened the band.
‘I don’t think you’ll be building. That’s all been done. They’ve just asked for volunteers to help sort out the look of the place – painting and sweeping and stuff like that. They want the people who’ll actually use the youth centre to have a say.’
Eva wanted to say she wouldn’t be using the centre. The words were dancing on the tip of her tongue. But it wasn’t fair on Dad. He was doing his best. He’d always done his best. This was just something she’d have to put up with, one of those things that were meant to be good for her – like muesli and bread with bits in.
She would be brave.
And if she couldn’t manage brave then invisible was an excellent Plan B.
Dad led the way to the park. It wasn’t far: out of the cul-de-sac, then left past the tower block that Dad didn’t like her walking near on her own, straight along for a bit and through the west gate. The old lodge was near the main gate, so they turned right and walked past the play park.
With each step, Eva felt her heart sink a little lower. She hated strange places and strange people. The sun shone on her face, but didn’t reach her insides.
The play park was already a bedlam of toddlers. One bounced back and forth on a sprung chicken. He swayed so wildly that it looked as though the chicken were trying to throw him off. The paths were full of people stomping to work. They had their heads down, earphones in, shoulders bent; grey commas on a green background. They looked like they needed an exclamation mark to pep up their day. She probably looked the same, she realised.
‘You don’t have to come with me to the lodge. I know the way,’ she said to Dad. ‘You can carry on to work, if you like.’
Dad held out the crook of his elbow, inviting her to take it. ‘I fancy a walk. I spend too much time cooped up indoors. Did you know that human beings do their very best thinking when they’re outdoors? True fact, as you might say. It’s something to do with not having a ceiling above them smothering their thoughts.’
‘Is it?’ Eva looked up at the hot-air-balloon sky above them. She knew perfectly well that Dad was trying to distract her. The annoying thing was it worked. Was it really easier to think outdoors than indoors?
‘Why are there schools then? Indoors, I mean?’
Dad laughed. ‘I’d hate to look after hundreds of children with no walls to keep them in. I’d lose them all in half an hour.’
They were by the main gate now. There were no proper gates any more, though there must have been once. Instead, there was a stumpy pole in the middle of the path to stop cars driving in. The stone gateposts were still there, like two giant thumbs saying ‘OK’.
But she wasn’t OK.
‘You’ll be fine,’ Dad said.
‘If I really hate it, can I stay with Gran tomorrow?’ Eva asked. She could hear the panic in her own voice.
Dad didn’t answer, but he gave her arm a little squeeze with his own and set off up the lane to the lodge.
Eva kept her eyes down and followed behind him. The tarmac beneath her feet was old and cracked. Tufts of green grass burst from the cracks, like green-haired imps buried feet first. If she dug down just a little bit, she’d see their faces covered in soil.
She reached into her pocket. To most people, her pocket would have seemed empty. But not to Eva. She took out her invisible invisibility shield. She shook out its invisible creases and then swirled it round her shoulders. It landed, lighter than an invisible feather, across her back.
She smiled. That should stop people from bothering her. It was a shield she used a lot at school and people had long ago stopped noticing her. As long as she kept her head down and her voice quiet, then people’s eyes just slid right over her as though she really were invisible.
She let her hand drop from Dad’s arm.
‘Right, Ladybug,’ he said. ‘Let’s get you signed up for a bit of manual labour.’
The old lodge was a big red-brick building. It must have been nice once, but now chipped paint flaked from its windowsills like snowflakes and grass grew in its gutters. There were people outside, a few adults, but mostly groups of children. Eva scanned the faces nervously. She knew one or two from school, but there was no one here from her class. Good. She shrugged her shield higher, to cover her face.
Dad walked towards a young woman who held a clipboard. She had blonde hair tucked under a pink and purple scarf. She smiled at Dad as he approached. Eva followed reluctantly.
‘One more for the cause,’ Dad said.
‘Great. Will you be staying too?’
Dad shook his head. ‘Not today. Work. But maybe another time.’
‘OK. I’ll just need your daughter to fill out some details. Emergency contact, allergies, that sort of thing.’ She held out her clipboard to Eva.
Dad stepped between them. ‘Oh, I can take care of that. Why don’t you get her working on something? No time like the present.’
Eva flashed a grateful look at Dad while he filled out the form. Her palms had gone sweaty so she wiped them on the back of her jeans.
‘Of course,’ the young woman said. ‘I’m Sally. I’ll get you started. Come and meet some of the others.’
‘Do you want me to stay a bit?’ Dad asked as he scribbled something on the bottom of the form.
Eva shook her head. ‘No, it’s OK. I’ll be OK.’
‘Good girl.’
Dad dropped a quick library-stamp kiss on the top of her head, handed the clipboard to Sally and then walked back the way they’d come.
She was on her own. Though she had Sally to follow. She trotted after her and stopped by her side when they reached the nearest group of children. Sally checked her list.
‘Eva, this is, er . . . Shanika, Dilan and Heidi. They’re about your age. Maybe you can work with them today?’
Eva nodded a hello. Sally smiled warmly, then moved on to the next group.
The tallest of the children, a girl with long dark hair and a green cotton dress spoke. ‘People call me Shan, short for Shanika. My brother gets called Dil. I’m going to ask if our group can do painting. I like painting. Is that OK with you? Heidi doesn’t mind – she’s already said. It’s painting or tidying the garden, and I don’t like worms.’
Eva felt a little as though she wanted to run straight after Dad and beg him to let her go to Gran’s. But she made herself stand still, because of the fait accompli.
‘So, we should probably get overalls,’ Shan continued, ‘or at least aprons, so we don’t get paint on our clothes. My mum would go spare if me or Dil came home covered in paint. Though we’re wearing work clothes, of course.’
Shan didn’t seem to notice that she was the only one talking.
Heidi, who had a round face and huge brown hair, might have winked at Eva. It was so quick that Eva wasn’t sure she’d really seen it. And maybe Heidi had a twitch, maybe it wasn’t a wink at all.
‘Oh, no,’ Shan said, looking over Eva’s shoulder. ‘Mum would not like this.’