Forbidden

‘Wait, wait, wait. Come here first.’ I reach for her arm just as she is about to roll off the bed.

‘What?’

‘Come here!’ Still squinting slightly against the light, I tug at her wrist. ‘Kiss me.’

Maya laughs and obliges, sliding back down beside me. Slowly I unbutton her shirt and she wriggles out of her skirt. Ducking beneath the warmth of the duvet, I start tracing a line of kisses down her body . . .

She is standing naked in front of the open door of her wardrobe when I return from the shower and it takes her a moment to notice me hovering in the doorway, watching her. She turns, meets my gaze, and blushes. She reaches out for the crumpled sheet at the end of her bed and wraps it round beneath her arms. The white material swirls around her feet, making me smile. I pull on my underwear and join her by the window, kissing her cheek. ‘I do.’

She looks at me questioningly and then down at the sheet before breaking into giggles.

‘In sickness and in health?’ she asks. ‘Till death us do part?’

I shake my head. ‘Way beyond that,’ I say. ‘For ever.’

She takes my hands and leans in for a kiss. It hurts. Suddenly everything hurts and I don’t know why.

‘Look at the sky,’ she says, resting her head in the crook of my neck. ‘It’s so blue.’

And suddenly I do know: it’s because everything is so beautiful, so wonderful, so utterly glorious – yet it ca

I wrap my arms around her and press my cheek against the top of her head, then notice the bracelet against her white wrist, the silver glinting in the morning sun. I reach down and touch it.

‘Promise me you’ll always keep it,’ I say, my voice unsteady suddenly.

‘Of course,’ she replies instantly. ‘Why wouldn’t I? I love it. It’s the most beautiful thing I own.’

‘Promise me,’ I say again, ru

‘Hey.’ She tilts her head so that I am forced to meet her eyes. ‘I promise. But things are going to work out. Look at us – they already have. You’re about to be eighteen, and then next month I’ll be seventeen. We’re nearly adults, Lochie, and once we are, no one will be able to stop us from doing what we want.’

I lift my head, nod and force a small smile. ‘Right.’

I see her expression shift. She leans her forehead against my cheek and closes her eyes as if in pain. ‘You have to believe it, Lochie,’ she whispers. ‘We both have to believe it with all our might if we want to make it happen.’

I swallow hard and grasp the tops of her arms. ‘I believe it!’

She opens her eyes and smiles. ‘So do I!’

This is the definition of happiness: a whole day stretching out ahead of me, beautiful in its emptiness and simplicity. No crowded classrooms, no packed corridors, no lonely breaks, no cafeteria lunch, no droning teachers, no relentless ticking clock, no counting down the minutes to the end of yet another dreary day . . . Instead we spend it in a kind of joyous delirium, trying to savour every moment, enjoy to the full our bubble of happiness before it bursts. We make pancakes and mess about with the strangest combinations of fillings: Maya wins Most Disgusting with her combination of Marmite, cornflakes and ketchup, which has me gagging over the bin. I win Most Artistic with frozen peas, red grapes and Smarties on a bed of mayo

When she wakes, it is just gone three. In half an hour she will have to pick up Tiffin and Willa, while I clean up the mess in the kitchen and carefully remove any remaining items of clothing from her bedroom floor. I cup her flushed, sleepy face in my hands and start kissing her with a fervour bordering on hysteria. I feel angry and desperate.

‘Lochie, listen to me,’ she tries to say between kisses. ‘Listen, my love – listen. We’ll just start skipping school every couple of weeks!’

‘I can’t wait another whole fortnight—’

‘What if we don’t have to?’ she says suddenly, eyes igniting. ‘We could spend every night together, like yesterday. Once we’re sure Tiff and Willa are asleep, you can come and get into my bed—’

‘Every night? What if one of them walks in? We can’t do that!’ But she has my attention.

‘There’s that rusty bolt at the bottom of my door, remember? We can just lock it! Kit always falls asleep plugged into his headphones. And the other two hardly ever wake up in the night any more.’

I chew on my thumbnail, thinking hard about the risks, desperately torn. I look up into Maya’s bright eyes and remember last night, feeling her smooth naked body beneath my hands for the first time. ‘OK!’ I whisper with a smile.

‘Lochie? Are you better, Lochie? Are you taking us to school tomorrow, Lochie?’ Willa is all concern, climbing onto my lap as I sit sprawled out in front of the TV.

Tiffin’s concern is more casual, but present nonetheless. ‘You got flu or what?’ he asks me in his growing East End accent, blowing the long fair hair out of his eyes. ‘Are you ill? You don’t look ill. How long are you go

With a jolt, I realize that my taking a day off school has thrown them. Previously I’ve gone in with flu and even bronchitis, just because the kids had to be taken in, Kit had to be watched, Social Services had to be kept off our backs, so taking a day off wasn’t usually an option. I realize too that they associate any kind of ‘serious’ illness with Mum: Mum collapsing drunk on the doorstep, Mum retching over the toilet bowl, Mum lying passed out on the kitchen floor. They aren’t worried about my supposed headache, they are worried I will disappear.

‘I’ve never felt better,’ I reassure them truthfully. ‘My headache’s all gone. Why don’t we all go and play outside together for a bit?’

It is amazing the difference a day off school can make. Usually, by this time, I am dragged down with exhaustion, snappy and on edge, desperate to get the kids into bed so I can get a moment alone with Maya and a start on homework before I find myself falling asleep at my desk. Today, as the four of us set up a game of British Bulldog, I feel almost weightless, as if the Earth’s gravity has dramatically decreased. So, as the sun begins to set on the mild March day, I find myself standing in the middle of the empty street, hands on knees, waiting for the three of them to come tearing towards me, hoping to make it to the opposite side without getting caught. Tiffin looks all ready for takeoff, one sneakered foot pressed back against the wall, his arms bent, hands clenched into fists, a look of fierce determination in his eyes. I know that on the first round, I have to give him a run for his money without actually catching him. Willa is receiving last-minute instructions from Maya who, by the looks of things, is pla

‘Come on!’ Tiffin yells impatiently.

Maya straightens up, Willa hops up and down in excitement and I count down, ‘Three, two, one, go!’

Nobody moves. I gallop sideways so that I’m directly facing Willa and she squeals in delighted terror, pressing herself back against the wall like a starfish, as if trying to push herself right through. Then Tiffin is off like a bullet, heading away from me at a sharp angle. Anticipating his move, I race towards him, blocking his trajectory. He hesitates, torn between the humiliation of ru