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Chapter 22

After school, Kirsty came home to find Mum in the front garden. She was wrapped up in Dad’s big winter coat, watching the birds.

‘Hi, Mum.’

‘Hello, love. Nice day?’ Mum sounded distracted, as though she wasn’t thinking about Kirsty at all.

‘I suppose. You?’

‘I suppose. The phone’s broken. I asked your dad to mend it, but . . .’ She pulled the edges of the coat tighter around herself. ‘At least Dad’s customers can’t get through. Honestly, some of them, it’s like kitchen cabinets are a matter of life or death.’

‘Mum,’ Kirsty said slowly. ‘Is everything OK?’

Kirsty looked at Mum square on, their eyes locking for a second. Kirsty wasn’t sure what she saw in Mum’s eyes. Sadness, worry, anger? It was like a mix of all of them. Then it was gone.

‘Of course it is, love. I think I’ll have to get an engineer for that dratted phone.’ Mum looked at the birds again. ‘They’ll be making their nests before long,’ she said. ‘Go on indoors. Your brother and sister will be here soon.’

‘Half—,’ Kirsty stopped. She was going to say half-sister, but she didn’t quite want to. She smiled a little at herself, then went inside.

Ben and Dawn arrived just before tea. There was no time to talk. Kirsty was desperate to tell them just what had been happening, but Mum was there all the time. Kirsty forced down her baked potato as fast as she could. When the meal was over she grabbed Ben’s arm and pulled him out of his chair. ‘We’ll wash up,’ Kirsty said. ‘And Dawn can dry. Why don’t you go and put your feet up, Mum?’

‘Washing up without being asked! Who are you and what have you done with my daughter?’

‘Very funny, Mum.’ Kirsty shoved some plates into Ben’s hands and steered him into the kitchen. Moments later Dawn arrived, carrying the salt and pepper.

‘From your crazy behaviour I guess we have a problem?’ Dawn asked.

Kirsty turned the taps on full. The pipes clanged and banged noisily. She looked back into the living room. Mum had switched on the telly.

‘Shh,’ Kirsty whispered. ‘Yes, we have a problem. Mum’s going to ring the council and tell them they made a mistake. I broke the phone, but she’ll get it fixed. I reckon on Monday the whole thing is going to blow.’

‘What do you mean “blow”?’ Ben asked, splashing plates into the water. Dawn banged an oven tray loudly.

‘I mean, KABOOM. Explosion, mushroom cloud. I mean the council and Mum will find out what we did and the whole thing will blow up. We’ll be grounded. For ever.’

Ben nodded slowly. ‘I see. You’re right. Kaboom. What are we going to do?’

‘Think,’ Kirsty said with determination. ‘We think all night if we have to.’

Kirsty thought all evening. But nothing came to her. Every time she tried to imagine a way out of this mess, she found herself thinking about Dad. Grandad was already gone, his allotment was going and it felt like Dad had left too. But he was just in his room! As she cleaned her teeth before bedtime, she thought about it some more. How could someone be there but at the same time it feel as though they were a million miles away?

It made her cross.

She spat the toothpaste into the sink and rinsed the brush.

It wasn’t fair of him to be like this.

She put the brush back in its holder.

He shouldn’t be like this. He was her dad.

Kirsty opened the bathroom door, but instead of turning left to go to her room, she turned right. Towards Dad’s room. She could hear the sound of the TV on downstairs; Mum and Dawn and Ben were watching something noisy. Mum wouldn’t hear her going into Dad’s room.

‘Dad?’ she said.

The room was dark and smelled funny, like the air had been breathed too often. Dad was just a shape in the gloom. He shouldn’t be in here like this – it was all wrong!

‘Dad?’ Kirsty walked closer to the bed.

The shape under the duvet shifted, turning over to face her. ‘Kirsty? Is that you?’ Dad’s voice was hardly more than a croak.

Suddenly her anger evaporated, as though it had never even been. She felt her eyes sting with tears. It was like visiting Grandad all over again. Kirsty wanted to rush over and crawl in next to him, to give him a tight hug, the kind he used to give her when she was upset.

But she couldn’t.

He still felt too far away, even though she was in the same room as him.

‘Kirsty, what do you want?’ Dad’s voice was flat and dull.

‘I wanted to say goodnight.’

‘Goodnight,’ he said.

‘Are you getting up tomorrow?’ Kirsty asked quietly.

Dad didn’t speak; the sound of the TV coming from downstairs seemed loud in Kirsty’s ears. Then Dad said, ‘Go to bed, Kirsty.’

Kirsty backed away. It was as though Dad was turning into a stranger.