‘I left a note!’ I cry.
‘There was scrappy bit of paper in the kitchen,’ Dad murmurs. ‘I came down for a drink. I was just tidying up—’
I turn to him. ‘You threw my note away, Dad?’ Then, to Frank: ‘I’m sorry you were worried. I really am. Wejust …’ I clear my throat. ‘We actually spent the night in the library.’
‘What?’ Frank shakes his head in disbelief. ‘For a moment there I thought you said you spent the night in the library.’
‘Is that allowed?’ Eddie gasps, suddenly a bastion of law and order.
‘No, it’s not,’ I reply. ‘But we did it anyway. We had a library lock-in and you can report me if you like—’
‘Who to? The council?’ Dad looks as if he’s actually considering this.
‘Whoever you like,’ I say, already turning back to the house. ‘I’m going to get showered and changed. I have to go to work …’ I march back inside and pour myself a huge glass of water and guzzle it down.
‘Bit hungover, are you?’ Frank has appeared in the doorway.
‘Just a little. Can we talk later?’ I head upstairs, hoping to shake him off, but he catches up with me on the landing.
‘I can’t believe this,’ he mutters.
‘Well, I’m sorry. But that’s what we did.’
‘It’s mental,’ he announces.
‘It is, yes.’ I make for the bathroom and lock the door.Sod him, I think, closing my scratchy eyes as the shower rains on me. Robe-burning maniac. And he thinksI’mmad?
Frank is still lurking when I emerge from the bathroom. In our bedroom he sits on the edge of our bed, brooding, as I dress in silence. As I head downstairs, he follows me. I snatch a slice of cold toast from the toaster and eat it dry,washed down with more tap water. Dad is sitting at the kitchen table, observing us all, and Eddie is squinting at the substandard phone.
‘Oh,’ he announces. ‘Lyla’s messaged. She says she’ll bring my phone! Her uncle’s driving her over. Can she stay here? Is that all right?’
‘Jesus Christ,’ Frank breathes.
‘Yes, of course,’ I say distractedly.
‘Can we have my old room? It’s just, the bed’s bigger—’
‘Oh, are you throwing me out of my room now?’ Dad’s eyes widen.
‘Of course not, Dad. Eddie, you and Lyla can stay in the girls’ room, where you’recurrently sleeping—’
‘But it’s single beds!’
‘Well, that’s all right, isn’t it? It’s still a bedroom—’
‘What’s wrong with single beds?’ Dad asks. ‘Plenty of people would be grateful—’
‘Please don’t start on about howgratefulI should be, Granddad,’ Eddie wails.
‘I can’t handle this.’ Frank glares round at all of us. ‘I’m sorry but I can’t deal with this anymore.’ He marches out of the kitchen and stomps up to our bedroom. This time it’s me who’s following him.
‘I’m sorry, Frank,’ I start. ‘This isn’t huge fun for me either, you know.’
There’s a strange look in his dark eyes. It’s not anger. It’s more like desperation. ‘D’you realise how worried I was last night?’
A wave of shame surges over me, and my cheeks flame. ‘I’m really sorry. I should’ve come home after the pub, orat least called you then. Honestly, I had no idea my phone was dead. I just needed a little bit of time away from—’
‘Fromme?’ he snaps. ‘Is that it?’
