Forbidden

‘Do it like I told you. Go through it in your head. One seven’s seven, two sevens are—?’

‘Thirty-three,’ Kit chips in.

‘Thirty-three?’ Tiffin echoes optimistically.

‘Tiff, you’ve got to think for yourself.’

‘Why did you put two beans on my fork? It’ll make me choke! I hate ru

‘What are ru

‘Snake poo,’ Kit informs her.

Willa drops her fork and looks down at her plate in horror.

‘One seven’s seven,’ Lochan continues doggedly. ‘Two sevens are . . . ?’

‘Lochie, I don’t like ru

For the first time in my life I don’t feel the slightest bit inclined to help out. Lochan has said exactly five words to me since coming home two hours ago: Have they done their homework?

‘Tiffin, you must know what two sevens are! Just add them together for chrissakes!’

‘I can’t eat all this, you’ve given me too much!’

‘Hey’ – Kit cocks his head – ‘did you hear those shouts, Tiff? Sounds like Jamie just scored another goal.’

‘That’s my football they’re playing with!’

‘Kit, just leave him alone, will you?’ Lochan snaps.

‘I’ve finished.’ Willa pushes her plate as far away as possible, knocking over Kit’s glass in the process.

‘Willa, watch what you’re doing!’ Kit yells.

‘How come she gets to leave all her beans?’ Tiffin begins to shout.

‘Willa, just eat your beans! Tiffin, if you don’t know what four sevens are, you’re going to fail your test tomorrow!’ Lochan is losing his cool. It gives me a perverse sort of pleasure.

‘Maya, do I have to eat my beans?’ Willa turns to me plaintively.

‘Ask Lochan, he’s the cook.’

‘I think you’re being a bit free and loose with the word cook there,’ Kit remarks, chuckling to himself.

‘The boss, then,’ I substitute.

‘Yeah, that’s the one!’

Lochan flashes me a look that says, What have I doneto you? Again, I’m aware of a fleeting sense of satisfaction.

‘Willa, for fuck sake, clean up this mess – you’ve got water all over the table!’ Kit protests.

‘I can’t!’

‘Stop being a baby and get the sponge!’

‘Lochie, Kit said the F word.’

‘I’m not eating any more!’ Tiffin roars. ‘And I’m not doing no more tables, neither!’

‘Do you want to fail your maths test?’ Lochan shouts back.

‘I don’t care! I don’t care! I don’t care!’

‘Lochie, Kit said the F word!’ Willa wails, angry now.

‘Fuck-a-doodle-do,’ Kit sings.

‘Will you all just shut up! What the hell’s the matter with you!’ Lochan slams his fist down on the table.

Tiffin, seizing on this distraction, leaps up, grabs his football gloves and races out of the house. Willa bursts into noisy tears, slides off her chair and stamps her way up to her room. Kit tips three plates of uneaten ru

With a groan, Lochan puts his head in his hands.

Suddenly I feel awful. I don’t know what I was trying to prove. That Lochan needs me, perhaps? Or was I just trying to get my own back for the silent treatment? Either way, I feel lousy. It would have cost me nothing to chip in and diffuse the situation. I do it all the time, without even having to think about it. I could have prevented Lochan’s stress levels going through the roof, stopped him feeling like a failure as yet another family meal ended in mayhem. But I didn’t. And the worst thing is, I actually enjoyed watching everything fall apart.

Looking exhausted, Lochan rubs his eyes with a wry smile. Glancing at all the leftover food, he tries to make a joke of it. ‘Maya, more ru

He has every right to be angry with the lot of us, but instead he is so forgiving it makes me ache. I want to say something, do something to take it all back, but I can’t think of a thing. Chewing his lip, Lochan gets up and starts clearing away, and I suddenly notice that lately his sore has got bigger, that he has been gnawing at it more and more. It looks so painful, so raw, that to see him bite at it like that makes my eyes water. Getting up to help him clear the table, I remind Kit it’s his turn to do the washing-up and, without thinking, touch Lochan’s hand to get his attention – but this time, to my surprise, he doesn’t pull away.

‘Ouch, your poor lip,’ I say gently. ‘You’re going to make it worse.’

‘Sorry.’ He stops chewing and presses the back of his hand self-consciously against his mouth.

‘Yeah, God, that thing has become really gross.’ Kit seizes the opportunity to chip in, his voice loud and brash as, with a crash, he drops a pile of plates unceremoniously into the sink. ‘The guys at school were asking me if it was some kind of disease.’

‘Kit, that’s rubbish—’ I begin.

‘What? I’m just agreeing with you. That thing’s gross, and if he keeps on biting it, he’s go

I try giving him one of my warning looks but he studiously avoids my eye, crashing the crockery around in the sink. Lochan leans one shoulder against the wall, waiting for the kettle to boil, staring out of the darkened window. I decide to give Kit a hand with the washing-up – Lochan seems to have ground to a halt and I don’t want to leave the two of them alone together while Kit still has the bit between his teeth.

‘So you’ve finally managed to nail yourself a boyfriend,’ Kit remarks scathingly as I join him at the sink. ‘Who the hell is it?’

I feel my insides clench. Instinctively my gaze flies over to Lochan, who drops his hand from his mouth, his head jolting back in surprise.

‘He’s not a boyfriend,’ I correct Kit quickly. ‘Just – just some random guy from school who asked me out for – uh—’ I break off. Lochan is staring at me.

‘For – uh – sex?’ Kit suggests.

‘Don’t be so childish. He asked me out for di

‘Whoa – no introductory drink at Smileys then? Straight in there, wining and dining you.’ Kit is clearly enjoying watching me squirm. ‘What guy at Belmont can possibly afford to take a girl out for di

‘Stop being ridiculous. It’s a guy in the year above called Nico. You don’t even know him.’

‘Nico DiMarco?’ But of course Lochan does. Shit.

‘Yeah.’ I force myself to meet his look of astonishment over the top of Kit’s head. ‘I – he asked me out on Friday. Is that – can you – is that all right?’ I don’t know why I’m suddenly finding it so hard to speak.

‘Uh-oh, you should have asked permission first!’ Kit crows. ‘You’re go

‘OK, Kit, that’s enough!’ I shout, slamming a plate down on the counter. ‘Go and bring Tiffin inside and then do your homework!’ I’m the one losing it now.

‘Fine! Excuse me for breathing!’ Kit throws the washing-up brush into the sink with a splash and stalks out of the room.

Lochan hasn’t moved from his position by the window, scraping at the sore with his thumbnail. His face looks hot, his eyes deeply troubled. ‘Nico? D’you know him? I mean, the guy’s pretty, uh – you know. He’s kind of got a rep . . .’

I keep my head down, scrubbing the plates hard. ‘Yeah, well, it’s only a date. We’ll see how it goes.’

Lochan takes a step towards me and then changes his mind and moves back again. ‘Do you – do you – I mean, do you like him?’

I feel the heat rush to my face and suddenly I am angry again. How dare Lochan give me the third degree when I agreed to the date for us – for him?

‘Yes, as a matter of fact, I do, OK?’ I stop scrubbing and force my eyes to meet his. ‘He’s the hottest guy in school. I’ve fancied him for ages. I can’t wait to go out with him.’