Forbidden

‘Lochie!’ Mum’s voice quivers like a little girl’s. ‘I had food poisoning. I couldn’t stop throwing up. I didn’t want to disturb you and Maya at school. What else was I supposed to do?’

‘Food poisoning, my arse!’ Lochan leaps up so violently he sends his chair crashing back against the tiles. ‘When are you going to face reality and accept you’ve got an alcohol problem?’

‘Oh, I’ve got a problem!’ Mum’s eyes flash suddenly, the little-girl act tossed aside. ‘I’m not a conventional mother – so sue me. I’ve had a hard life! I’ve finally met someone great and I want to go out and have some fun! Fun – something you might want to try experiencing, Lochan, instead of living your life with your head in a book like your father. Where are your friends, hey? When do you ever go out – or bring someone home for that matter?’

Kit has rocked back in his chair, watching the scene with relish.

‘Mum, please don’t—’ I reach out for her but she swats me away. I smell fresh alcohol on her breath – in this state she is capable of saying anything, doing anything. Especially as Lochan has mentioned the unmentionable.

Lochan has turned to stone, one hand gripping the sideboard for support. Tiffin has his hands clamped over his ears and Willa is looking from one face to the other, her eyes wide and staring.

‘Come on.’ I get up and pull them after me into the corridor. ‘Go up to your room and entertain yourselves for a while. I’ll bring you some sandwiches in a minute.’

Willa scampers fearfully up the stairs; Tiffin scowls, trailing in her wake. ‘We should of stayed at Callum’s,’ I hear him mutter and his words make my throat ache.

With no choice but to return to the kitchen in an attempt at damage-control, I find Mum still shouting, her eyes narrowed under the weight of her lids. ‘Don’t look at me like that – you know exactly what I’m talking about. You’ve never had a proper girlfriend, never even managed to make a single friend, for chrissakes! What does being top of the class matter when the school keeps telling me you need to see a psychologist because you’re so shy you can’t even speak to anyone! The only person who’s got a problem is you!’

Lochan hasn’t moved: he’s staring at her with a look of sick horror. His lack of response only serves to spur Mum on as she starts trying to justify her outburst by fuelling her own rage. ‘You take after him in every way – thinking you’re better than everyone else with your long words and your top grades. You have absolutely no respect for your own mother!’ she shrieks, her face mottled with fury. ‘How dare you speak to me like that in front of my children!’

I position myself in front of her and start manoeuvring her out of the kitchen. ‘Just go out with Dave,’ I beg her. ‘Go and meet him early or something. Surprise him! Go, Mum, just go.’

‘You always take his side!’

‘I’m not taking anyone’s side, Mum. I just think you’re getting yourself into a state, which isn’t a very good idea considering you haven’t been feeling very well.’ I manage to get her into the hallway. She grabs her handbag, but not without one last barb thrown over her shoulder. ‘Lochan, you can accuse me of not being a normal mother the day you start acting like a normal teenager!’

I propel her out of the door, and it is an effort not to slam it hard behind her. Instead I lean against it, afraid she might unlock it and come storming back in. I close my eyes for a moment. When I open them again, I notice a figure sitting at the top of the stairs.

‘Tiffin, haven’t you got homework to do?’

‘She said she was go

‘I know,’ I say quickly, straightening up. ‘And she meant it. But I said I would do it instead because she was ru

‘I don’t want you to do it, I want Mum!’ Tiffin shouts, and jumping up, he runs into his room, slamming the door behind him.

Back in the kitchen, Kit has his feet on the table, shaking with silent laughter. ‘God, what a fucked-up family this is!’

‘Just go upstairs. You’re not helping,’ I tell him quietly.

He opens his mouth to protest, then launches himself angrily to his feet, his chair screeching against the tiles. Grabbing Tiffin and Willa’s di

‘Where are you going?’ I shout after him.

‘Out to get some fucking food!’

Lochan is pacing the kitchen floor. He seems somehow dismantled, confused. His face is variegated with lines of crimson, giving his skin a curious raw look.

‘I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have started it—’ He sounds like he is being shaken. I try to touch his arm but he jumps away from me as if stung. His pain is almost tangible: the hurt, the resentment, the fury, all filling the small room.

‘Lochie, you had every right to lose your temper. What Mum did today was inexcusable. But listen to me . . .’ I position myself in front of him and try to touch him again. ‘Lochie, listen. That stuff she said was just her way of lashing out. You mentioned her drinking and she just can’t deal with the truth. So she tried to find the most hurtful thing she could to throw back at you—’

‘She meant it, she meant every word.’ He tugs at his hair, rubs his cheeks. ‘And she’s right. I’m not – I’m not normal. There’s something wrong with me and—’

‘Lochie, don’t worry about that right now, OK? It’s something you can work on – it’s something that’s going to get better with time!’

Pulling away from me, he continues to pace, as if the continuous movement will stop him falling apart. ‘But she’s like Kit. She’s – she’s—’ He can’t bring himself to say the word. ‘Ashamed,’ he whispers finally.

‘Lochie, stop for a minute. Look at me.’

I grab him by the arms and hold him still. I can feel him trembling beneath my touch.

‘It’s all right. The kids are all right and that’s all that matters. Don’t listen to her. Never, ever listen to her. She’s just a bitter old cow who never grew up. But she’s not ashamed of you. No one’s ashamed of you, Lochie. God, how could anyone be? We all know that without you this family would fall apart.’

He drops his head in defeat. I can feel the clenched muscles in his shoulders beneath my fingers.

‘It is falling apart.’

I give him a small, desperate shake. ‘Lochan, it’s not. Willa and Tiffin are fine. I’m fine! Kit is your standard screwed-up teenager. We’re all together – all those years since Dad left – since Mum’s problem started. We haven’t been taken into care, and that’s entirely thanks to you.’

There is a long silence. All I can see is the top of Lochan’s head. He leans towards me slightly. I reach up and put my arms around him and hold him tight. I lower my voice to a whisper. ‘You’re not just my brother, you’re my best friend.’

CHAPTER FIVE

Lochan

I replay that sentence over and over during the next few days. It is a way of blotting out everything else – the awful incident with Tiffin and Willa, the row with my mother, the constant hell that is school. Every time I decline to answer a question in class, each moment I spend alone bent over a book, I am reminded of what my family think of me. Pathetic. A socially inept weirdo. A teenage son who can’t get a friend, let alone a girlfriend. I try – I really try: small things, like asking my neighbour for the time. He has to lean across the aisle to ask me to repeat my question. I can’t even hear the sound of my own voice. I still don’t fully understand it – I managed to talk to the school staff the afternoon Tiffin and Willa disappeared. But that was an emergency, and the horror of the situation overrode any inhibitions I might have had. Talking to adults is bearable; it’s talking to people my age that’s impossible. So I keep replaying Maya’s words in my head. Maybe there is someone who isn’t ashamed of me after all. Perhaps there is one member of my family whom I haven’t totally let down.