Forbidden

Another strained silence stretches out between us. I glance desperately at the door. Why is she talking to me about this? Who has she been speaking to? What other information do they have in that damn file? Are they thinking of contacting Social Services? Did St Luke’s get in touch with Belmont when the kids went missing?

‘I’m not trying to meddle, Lochan,’ she says suddenly. ‘I just want to make sure you know that you don’t have to carry the burden alone. Your social anxiety, the responsibilities at home . . . it’s a lot to have to deal with at your age.’

Out of nowhere a pain rises through my chest and into my throat. I find myself biting down on my lip to stop it trembling.

I see her face change and she leans towards me. ‘Hey, hey, listen to me. There is lots of help available. There’s the school counsellor or any one of your teachers you can talk to – or outside help I can recommend if you don’t want to involve the school. You don’t have to carry all this on your own—’

The pain in my throat intensifies. I’m going to lose it. ‘I – I really have to go. I’m sorry—’

‘All right, that’s all right. But, Lochan, I’m always here if you want to talk, OK? You can make an appointment with the counsellor at any time. And if there’s any way I can make things easier in class . . . We’ll forget the presentations for the moment. I’ll just mark it as a written assignment as you suggested. And I’ll leave answering questions up to you and stop pushing you to participate. I know it’s not much, but would that help at all?’

I don’t understand. Why can’t she just be like the other teachers? Why does she have to care?

I nod wordlessly.

‘Oh, love, the last thing I wanted was to make you feel worse! It’s just that I think really highly of you and I’m worried. I wanted you to know there’s help available . . .’

It’s only when I hear the defeat in her voice, see the look of shock on her face, that I realize my eyes have filled with tears.

‘Thank you. C-can I go now?’

‘Of course you can, Lochan. But would you just think about it – think about talking to someone?’

I nod, unable to utter another word, grab my bag and run from the room.

‘No, stupid. You’re only supposed to lay four places.’ Tiffin yanks one of the plates off the table and returns it to the cupboard with a loud clatter.

‘Why? Is Kit going to Burger King again?’ Willa nibbles the end of her thumb nervously, her large eyes darting around the kitchen as if looking for signs of trouble.

‘Tonight Maya’s going on her date, stupid!’

I turn from the cooker. ‘Stop calling her stupid. She’s younger than you, that’s all. And how come she’s done her job and you haven’t even started yours?’

‘I don’t want Maya to go out on a date,’ Willa protests. ‘If Maya goes out and Kit goes out and Mum goes out, that means there’s only three of us left in this family!’

‘Actually it means there’s two left ’cos I’m going for a sleepover at Jamie’s,’ Tiffin informs her.

‘Oh no, you’re not,’ I intervene quickly. ‘That wasn’t discussed, Jamie’s mother never rang, and I’ve already told you to stop inviting yourself over to other people’s houses – it’s very rude.’

‘Fine then!’ Tiffin shouts. ‘I’ll tell her to phone you! She invited me herself, so you’ll see!’ He stalks out of the kitchen just as I begin to dish up.

‘Tiff, get back in here or no Gameboy for a week!’

He arrives at ten past seven. Maya has been on edge ever since she got in. For the last hour she has been upstairs, vying with Mum for the bathroom. I even heard the two of them laughing together. Kit jumps up, banging his knee on the table leg in his haste to be the first to greet him. I let him go and quickly close the kitchen door behind him. I don’t want to see the guy.

Fortunately Maya doesn’t invite him in. I hear her feet pounding down the stairs, voices raised in greeting, followed by: ‘I’ll be with you in a minute.’

Kit returns, looking impressed and exclaiming loudly, ‘Whoa, that guy’s loaded. Have you seen his designer gear?’

Maya rushes in. ‘Thank you for doing this.’ She comes straight over to me and squeezes my hand in that a

I pull away. ‘Don’t be silly. Just have a good time.’

She’s wearing something I’ve never seen before. In fact she looks totally different: burgundy lipstick, her long russet hair pi

‘Kiss!’ Willa cries, flinging up her arms.

I watch her hug Willa, kiss the top of Tiffin’s head, give Kit a punch on the shoulder and smile again at me. ‘Wish me luck!’

I manage to return the smile and give a small nod.

‘Good luck!’ Tiffin and Willa shout at the tops of their voices. Maya cringes and laughs as she hurries out into the corridor.

There are slamming doors and then the sound of an engine starting. I turn to Kit. ‘He came by car?’

‘Yeah, I told you, he’s loaded! It wasn’t exactly a Lamborghini, but Jeez, he’s got his own wheels at seventeen?’

‘Eighteen,’ I correct him. ‘I hope he doesn’t intend to drink.’

‘You should have seen him,’ Kit says. ‘That guy’s got class.’

‘Maya looked like a princess!’ Willa exclaims, her blue eyes wide. ‘She looked like a grown-up too.’

‘OK, who wants more potatoes?’ I ask.

‘Maybe she’ll marry him and then she’ll be rich,’ Tiffin chips in. ‘If Maya’s rich and I’m her brother, does that mean I get to be rich as well?’

‘No, it means she dumps you as a brother ’cos you’re an embarrassment – you don’t even know your times tables,’ Kit replies.

Tiffin’s mouth falls open and his eyes fill.

I turn to Kit. ‘You’re not even fu

‘Never claimed I was a comedian, just a realist,’ Kit retorts.

Tiffin sniffs and wipes the back of his hand across his eyes. ‘Don’t care what you say, Maya would never do that, and anyway, I’m her brother until I die.’

‘At which point you’ll go to hell and never see anyone again,’ Kit shoots back.

‘If there’s a hell, Kit, believe me, you’ll be in it.’ I can feel myself losing my cool. ‘Now would you just shut up and finish your meal without tormenting anyone else?’

Kit tosses his knife and fork onto his half-finished plate with a clatter. ‘To hell with this. I’m going out.’

‘Ten o’clock and no later!’ I shout after him.

‘In your dreams, mate,’ he calls back from halfway up the stairs.

Our mother is next to come in, reeking of perfume and struggling to light a cigarette without smudging her freshly painted nails. The complete antithesis to Maya, she is all glitter and crimson lips, her ill-fitting red dress leaving little to the imagination. Soon she disappears again, already unsteady on her high heels, screeching up at Kit for having nicked her last packet of fags.

I spend the rest of the evening watching TV with Tiffin and Willa, simply too exhausted and fed up to attempt anything more productive. When they start to bicker, I get them ready for bed. Willa cries because I get shampoo in her eyes, and Tiffin forgets to hang the shower curtain inside the bath and floods the floor. Teeth-brushing seems to take hours: the kiddie toothpaste tube is almost empty so I use mine instead, which makes Tiffin’s eyes water and Willa gag into the basin. Then Willa takes fifteen minutes to choose a story, Tiffin sneaks downstairs to play on his Gameboy and, when I object, gets unreasonably upset and claims Maya always lets him play while she reads to Willa. Once they are in bed, Willa is immediately hungry, Tiffin is thirsty by association, and by the time the clamouring finally stops it is half past nine and I am shattered.