Forbidden

I fall back, breathing hard. ‘Make what worse? What are you talking about?’

He approaches me, his hands reaching for my shoulders, but I back away, refusing to be pacified by any more meaningless words of comfort. Lochan lets his arms fall with a hopeless, desperate look. ‘They want to see Mum. I told them that she was abroad on business, but they insisted on a number. So I gave them her mobile but it just went straight to voicemail—’

I pull my phone out. ‘I’ll call her at Dave’s. And I’ll try the pub and Dave’s mobile too—’

‘No.’ Lochan holds his hand up in a gesture of defeat. ‘She’s – she’s not there . . .’

I stare at him.

Lowering his arm, he swallows and walks slowly back towards the window. I notice that he’s limping. ‘She’s – she’s gone away with him. Just for a holiday, apparently. Somewhere in Devon, but Dave’s son doesn’t seem to know where. He just said he thought – he thought they’d be back on Sunday.’

I gape at him, horror coursing through my veins. ‘She’s gone for the whole week?’

‘Apparently. Luke didn’t seem to know – or care. And her phone’s been off for days. Either she forgot her charger or she’s switched it off deliberately.’ Lochan goes back to lean against the windowsill, as if the weight of his body is too great for his legs to bear. ‘I’ve been trying to call her about the bills. Yesterday after school I went round, and that’s when Luke told me. He’s staying in his dad’s flat with his girlfriend. I didn’t want to worry you—’

‘You had no right not to tell me!’

‘I know, I’m sorry, but I figured there was nothing we could do . . .’

‘So what now?’ I am no longer speaking in measured tones. A head pops out from a door further down and I try to reel myself in. ‘She has to stay in hospital until Mum comes to fetch her?’ I hiss.

‘No, no . . .’ He puts out a reassuring hand and again I dodge it. I’m furious at him for trying to shush me, for keeping this from me, for treating me like one of the children and just repeating that everything is going to be all right.

Before I have the chance to quiz him any more, a short, balding doctor comes out through the double doors, introduces himself to me as Dr Maguire and shows us back into the small room. We each take a seat on a spongy, low-slung chair and, holding up large X-rays, the doctor shows us the before and after pictures, explains the procedure that took place and what to expect next. He is cheerful and reassuring, echoes most of what Lochan has told me already and assures me that although Willa’s shoulder will be sore for a few days and she will have to wear a sling, it should be back to normal in a week. He also informs us that she is now awake and eating di

We can take her home. I feel myself go limp. We all stand up and Lochan thanks Dr Maguire, who smiles broadly, reiterates that we can take Willa home as soon as she’s ready, and then asks if it would be all right to send Mrs Leigh in now. Lochan puts his hand against the wall as if to steady himself and nods rapidly, chewing on his thumbnail as the doctor leaves.

‘Mrs Leigh?’ I turn to Lochan with a questioning frown.

He swings round and looks at me, breathing hard. ‘Don’t say anything. OK? Just don’t say anything.’ His voice is low and urgent. ‘Let me do the talking – we can’t risk contradicting each other. If she asks you anything, just go along with the usual business-trip story and tell her the truth – you had a late class and didn’t come home till after it had happened.’

I gaze at Lochan across the small room in bewilderment. ‘I thought you said they were fine about Mum.’

‘They are. It’s – it’s just procedure . . . for this type of injury, they say. Apparently they have to file some kind of report—’ Before he can get any further, a knock sounds and a large woman with a head of frizzy ginger hair enters.

‘Hello there. The doctor told you I’d be coming in to have a word? I’m Alison – from the Child Protection Agency.’ She extends her hand towards Lochan.

A small sound escapes me. I turn it into a cough.

‘Lochan Whitely. N-nice to meet you.’

He knew!

I’m aware I’m being addressed. I take her podgy hand in mine. For a moment I literally ca

Alison is rummaging about in a large bag, pulling out a folder and pen and various forms, chatting as she does so. She asks Lochan to confirm the situation with Mum, which he does in a surprisingly steady voice. She appears satisfied, scribbles a few things down, and then looks up from her notes with a broad, artificial smile.

‘Well, I’ve already had a word with Willa about what happened. She’s a delightful little girl, isn’t she? She explained she was in the kitchen with you, Lochan, when she fell. And that, Maya, you were still at school, but your two brothers were at home.’

I look across at Lochan, willing him to make eye-contact with me. But he seems to have deliberately turned away. ‘Yes.’

Another of those fake smiles. ‘OK, so in your own time, explain to me how the accident occurred.’

I don’t understand. This isn’t even about Mum. And surely Lochan gave the details of the fall to the doctor in charge when he brought Willa in.

‘R-right. OK.’ Lochan leans forwards, elbows on knees, as if desperate to tell this woman every detail. ‘I – I came into the kitchen and Willa was up on the counter where she’s not allowed to be because it’s – it’s really quite high, and – and she was on tiptoe trying to reach a box of b-biscuits on the top shelf—’ He is speaking in that manic, staccato way again, almost tripping over his words in his hurry to get them out. I can see the muscles in his arms vibrating, and he is scraping at the sore beneath his mouth so hard that it’s starting to bleed.

Alison just nods, scribbles some more, looks up again expectantly.

‘I t-told her to get down. She refused, saying her brothers had each eaten some and had then d-deliberately put the biscuits up there out of her reach.’ He is panting, staring at the form as if trying to read what’s being recorded.

‘Go on . . .’

‘So I – I repeated what I’d just said—’

‘What exactly did you say?’ The woman’s voice is sharper now.

‘J-just – well, basically just: Willa, get down now.’

‘Was that spoken or shouted?’

He seems to be having trouble breathing, the air making a scraping noise at the back of his throat. ‘Um – well – well – the first time I was speaking quite loudly b-because I was worried to see her up there again, and – and the second time, after she refused, I – I suppose, y-yes, I sort of shouted.’ He glances up at her, chewing the corner of his lip, the rise and fall of his chest rapid.

I can’t believe this woman! Making Lochan feel guilty about shouting at his sister when she was doing something dangerous?

‘And then?’ The woman’s eyes are very sharp. She seems particularly attentive now.

‘Willa – she, well, she i-ignored me.’

‘And so what did you do?’

There is a terrible silence. What did you do? I repeat to myself, desperate to butt in but trapped by my promise to let Lochan do the talking, on top of the fact that I wasn’t actually there. Does this Child Protection person ask the parent of every injured child brought into hospital what it was the parent had done? Guilty until proven i

But Lochan isn’t answering. I feel my heart start to pound. Don’t start getting stage-fright now, I beg with him in my head. Don’t make it look as if you have something to hide!

Lochan is frowning and sighing and chewing his lip as if trying to remember, and with a shock I realize he is close to tears.