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‘No way, Jez!’ Smudgy eyes wide at me. ‘I’m getting a good job and a flat of my own, right? No dossing on settees for me.’
Aisha types into her revision website, silver nails flashing. ‘Did Mum tell you, Dad’s back this weekend? He’s finished his contract or whatever?’
‘Is he?’ Not right interested just now.
‘Sonya’s creating about how he uses Mum. Says he should like take her on holiday.’
‘Maybe he should. How whacked out does she look?’
‘She wouldn’t go anyway. Not with me doing exams, and Joey and all.’
‘Well, she always cheers up when he comes. I think it’s best to leave them to it,’ I say.
‘Same,’ Aisha says simply, back on her revision.
Close my eyes, count to two.
Cherry shuffles in carrying a Thomas plate loaded with toast and Marmite. Mum follows close behind with a tray.
‘That’s right, nice and careful. Now you and Poppy sit and share this toast.’ She puts the tray down and gives them both a sucker cup. Hands Joey his Action Man plate.
‘Has it got marmalade?’ Hey, the boy-dog speaks.
‘Best marmalade for best Joey.’ Mum passes me my coffee and lowers herself into the armchair by the gas fire.
‘I need a fag,’ I say, starting to shift.
‘Have one in the kitchen, if you want. We can grab a chat.’
The doorbell rings. ‘What now?’ Mum frowns. ‘Get that, will you, Aisha?’
‘Mum, I’m revising.’ But Aisha shuffles off in her ridiculous Dalmatian slippers.
‘It’s only me.’ Sonya bustles in. All flowery maxi dress and strappy sandals. Just the thing for DIY.
‘Mummy!’ Poppy lifts her Marmitey hands. Sonya dabs a little kiss on each of the girls.
‘I just came to drop some clean clothes round.’
‘But I thought you were taking them this morning.’
‘The estate agent’s coming on Friday. We need to get it finished, Mum.’
‘I’ve got Joey to get to school tomorrow. And I wanted Jez to have the bed tonight.’
Sonya looks over at me. ‘What are you doing here?’
‘Nice to see you too, Sis.’
‘Jez’s been through a tough time; she’s been …?’
‘Mum, no.’ I nearly spill my coffee.
‘Jez? Hard time? Run out of settees to doss on?’
‘She was working at that hotel in Skegness. Hardly her fault the owner went bust.’
‘It’s OK,’ I say. ‘Sonya thinks I’m a dosser who doesn’t give a shit. And she’s right, I don’t give a shit what she thinks.’
