“No one will disturb you.”
“Do you really think I believe you?”
I don’t even believe myself. “Go on, then.”
My daughter rolls her eyes, dragging her poor tutor behind her. I smile, pleased with myself and of my first encounter with my daughter’s friend. All things considered, I think it went pretty well – so I decide to grab my phone and share the good news with my favourite headmistress.
I guess I don’t suck so much after all.
What are you talking about?
As a dad.
Silence. A silence I’m not particularly fond of.
Carter’s here.
Here? As in, at your house?
Exactly. He came to study with Skylar. They’re in her room now.
Alone?
Sure.
Is the door open?
I don’t think so, I heard her slam it. Why?
Your daughter is fifteen. Carter’s sixteen.
So?
They’re teenagers. They’re alone.
“Oh, fuck!”
I don’t type that: I say it as I’m taking the stairs two at a time, heading towards my daughter’s bedroom door, which is closed. I knock. I don’t want to come bursting in furiously and grab him by the scruff of her neck. I open it slowly. My daughter is sitting on the windowsill, Carter on the bed.
I’m already uncomfortable with the situation.
“What?” she asks, eyeing me up. My phone buzzes in my hand.
I glance at the screen.
You went into her room, didn’t you?
“Well?” my daughter says, dragging my attention back to her.
I can’t make myself look like an arse again, or show my daughter that I don’t trust her. So I fumble around for an excuse.
“Grandma wants to know if you want any apple tart.”
I’m sure Mum won’t mind me saying that.
“Kerry…” my daughter warns.
“I’d like some apple tart,” Carter responds timidly.
