Page 59 of All the Things We Never Knew

It was only when I saw the text message from Orla telling me that she was safe in a spare bed over at number five that my panic turned to rage.

Lulu hadn’t been with Aisha last night. She was lying – I knew it and she must know I knew. But I wasn’t blameless. My phone had died, and I hadn’t seen her calls. She was home now, and safe – but what if she’d been in trouble and needed me?

‘TikTok or no TikTok,’ I said firmly, ‘you can’t be getting cabs home at three in the morning. It’s not safe. You shouldn’t have left Aisha’s place at that hour – you know that. You can’t have an eleven-thirty curfew on weekends if you’re not going to be responsible about sticking to it.’

Lulu bit her lip. ‘I know, Mum. I’m sorry. I just didn’t think.’

I pressed my hand to my throbbing head. I was handling this all wrong, but I didn’t know what else to do. ‘Next time, you need to think. Set an alarm on your phone for when it’s time to come home, phone me and I’ll collect you.’

She nodded meekly, and I could see her hoping that that might be the end of it.

‘I’m going to have to ground you,’ I went on. ‘No going out during the week for two weeks, or on weekends for the rest of the month. And after that, you’ll be in by ten again. Once I’ve seen you sticking to it, we’ll have a rethink. Okay?’

‘Okay.’ Something flickered over her face – relief, I realised. Relief that I hadn’t challenged her on her lie, hadn’t threatened to ring Aisha’s parents and ask whether she’d actually been there at all? Or something else – relief that she’d be prevented from doing whatever it was she’d been doing?

‘And you’ll buy Orla a decent bunch of flowers out of your allowance,’ I told her.

‘I’d have done that anyway,’ she replied sharply.

That at least was true. Lulu had always been thoughtful. Her impulsive generosity reminded me of her father – her father, who she’d lost. Her grief must be terrible, but she wasn’t talking to me about it, perhaps because she wanted to protect me from the intensity of her feelings.

‘Sweetie.’ I reached across the sofa and put my arm round her. ‘This has been a horrible time for all of us. You know you can talk to me about stuff – if you’re worried about something, if there are things going on in your life you need help with.’

‘I know, Mum.’ She snuggled her head briefly into my shoulder.

‘Just because Dad died, it doesn’t mean there can’t be other things to deal with that are difficult as well.’

‘I know. Thanks, Mum.’ She wiped her nose on the sleeve of her jumper. Then she whispered, ‘I miss him.’

‘I miss him too.’ But it was also more complicated than that now. I missed the Gray I thought I’d known.

‘There aren’t even that many photos of him.’ Lulu glanced up at the television, where the DVD I’d played the night before was still paused on a frame of three-year-old Barney at the top of a slide, his sister waiting at the bottom to catch him. ‘Because he was always behind the camera, not in front of it.’

‘You know,’ I said, ‘there’s a box of Dad’s old stuff up in the loft. When we moved in here, I brought loads of crap with me – clothes and photos and books and letters. All sorts. But he just had the one box. When we were doing up the house I went through my old things and got rid of a lot of them, but Dad never wanted to do that. And it didn’t take up much room so I just left it. We could have a look through it, if you like. There might be photos of him from when he was a little boy. School reports, stuff like that.’

Please say you’ll do this with me.

Lulu’s face turned to me, hopeful and eager. ‘Yes. Let’s do it. But, Mum…’

‘What, darling?’

‘Before we go up there, I’d really, really like a shower and eggy crumpets. You know, like you used to make sometimes when we were poorly?’

‘Eggy crumpets.’ My alcohol-soured stomach let out a massive rumble. ‘You know, that’s exactly what I feel like too.’

‘I haven’t been up here since I was, like, six,’ Lulu murmured, looking round at the boarded-out loft. ‘It’s like Narnia.’

I knew what she meant, even though magical lands don’t usually feature cans of paint stacked along the walls, Christmas decorations packed away in their boxes and crates of children’s old clothes and toys.

‘Oh my God,’ Lulu breathed. ‘Is that Cobbles?’

‘It certainly is.’ I pulled back the sheet, revealing the battered dapple-grey painted coat of her old rocking horse. One of the cheek straps on his bridle was broken and his mane and tail were yellowing and tangled, but his eyes were still bright, the worn leather of his saddle still glossy.

Lulu knelt down in front of him. ‘Hello, you. Ah, Mum! I can’t believe he’s still here. I can’t believe I’d forgotten all about him.’

‘When we redid your bedroom, we talked about passing him down to your cousins for them to play with, but you weren’t having it,’ I said. ‘You thought he was too babyish to have in your new room, and Barney never really played with him, but you wouldn’t let us donate him to the charity shop. So we put him up here.’

Lulu’s eyes were bright with tears. ‘Poor Cobbles. Do you think he’s lonely up here? Do you think he thinks I don’t love him any more?’