‘You seemed all weird, excited.’
‘Well, Angus was longing to show off and do a handstand in the shallow end.’
A smile creeps on to her face. ‘Saddo,’ she says.
‘Listen, Lauren, we don’t have to do anything you’re uncomfortable with.’ I want to touch her arm, hold her hand, but I’m unsure how welcome my touch might be. I gear myself up to ask, ‘Ian said you had a panic attack this morning?’
She nods. ‘Yeah.’
‘I have them too. I used to have them a lot after Jamie died,’ I confess, but she either doesn’t hear or doesn’t want to know, so I don’t elaborate. ‘I’m sorry for pushing you into buying a costume. I should have made sure it was what you wanted to do.’
‘You was only trying to help,’ she concedes, finally meeting my eye.
Every maternal bone in my body wants to take her into my arms and hold her. Yet I don’t know if it might humiliate her even further.
‘You were impressive with Ian and Angus,’ I end up saying, ‘you pulled them into line.’
She shrugs. ‘Had practice with my bros.’
‘You have siblings?’
‘Two step-brothers, Brian and Lee. Mum died giving birth to me,’ she says without blinking.
Again, I’m taken aback by her matter-of-fact tone. ‘Where are they now?’
‘Prison.’
‘Prison?’ I laugh nervously, and to my relief she laughs with me too.
‘I dunno. Lee’s probably behind bars. Or if he’s not, he’s about to be. He takes a lot of drugs. Gets into fights. It’s not his fault.’ She shrugs. ‘He got in with the wrong crowd, you know. Easily done.’
I nod.
‘Brian only wants to see me if he needs money. Not that I have any.’
In this moment, I struggle not to hate Brian.
‘I could have gone the same way you know,’ she says to me, defiance in her eyes. ‘I got offered drugs on the streets, but I didn’t take ’em.’
I wouldn’t have blamed her if she had. Anything to escape the world and numb my feelings.
‘I didn’t beg either, Holly, not once. I could have begged, stolen, had sex to get more money for drugs, but that would have ruined my life. And I didn’t want to ruin my life, Holly. My life was ruined as a kid.’ She gestures to the chocolate wrappers and empty crisp packets. ‘I’ve done this for years, sneak eat. Evil step-mum, Gail, thought it was fun feeding everyone but me. I remember one time, she cooked ravioli, it was out of a tin, everything was out of a tin, and she gave me an empty plate and laughed. As a kid I used to creep downstairs at night. If there was cake, I’d eat a tiny slice, hoping she wouldn’t notice. She always did, so I had to stand outside, in the front garden, facing the main road, saying over and over, “I am disgusting.” I hated not going to school, it was the only place I felt safe. I was bright, you know. Enjoyed reading and drawing and stuff.’
It’s unnerving the way Lauren talks, taking me back to a time when she was starved and abused. I wonder how there can be no shred of self-pity in her voice when she describes her stepmother’s cruelty. Maybe that’s to protect herself from what she’s experienced. My therapist once told me my anxiety, loneliness and panic attacks were a natural response to losing Jamie. Maybe it’s the same for Lauren. Her anxiety and panic attacks communicate how she feels more than words.
‘I don’t touch alcohol,’ she continues, ‘except at Chrimbo. But I’m not giving up smoking. I’ve smoked since I was twelve. Smoking and food, that’s what helped me get by, that and not thinking or talking about it, to anyone. So if anyone tells me to give up fags—’
‘They can go jump off a cliff?’
‘Exactly.’
We sit in companionable silence, and I feel I’ve made something of a breakthrough this morning. Mainly because I’ve been more myself. Finally, I’ve got the message loud and clear not to try and cheer her up or tell her everything will be OK, but to listen. ‘This scar, down my leg,’ she says, gesturing to her thigh, before quickly covering it over with her dressing gown again.
I wait for her to go on. If she wants to.
‘It was one Christmas. Gail used to always get me to pour the drinks and make the food, do everything basically. I forgot to turn the oven on, the turkey was raw. I’d boiled the kettle to make everyone a cup of tea. Gail came in.’ She shrugs. ‘You can guess what happened next. She took me to hospital, was all sweetness and light to the doctors, said I’d done it to myself.’
I don’t know what to say. ‘Where was your dad?’
