‘Then why aren’t I allowed one?’ Her expression clouds over and I can see this morning’s easy atmosphere rapidly evaporating.
‘Dad and I feel that, until you’re old enough to go off on your own, you don’t really need a phone. Once you start getting the bus with your friends it will be useful, but until then…’
‘Okay, so can I go to town with my friends? Lots of them get the bus, and—’
I can already see where this conversation is heading and I need to nip it in the bud. ‘You’re not having a phone, and you’re not old enough to get the bus into town without an adult.’
‘It’s not fair!’ She folds her arms across her chest.
My heart sinks. I can’t give in to her, but I don’t want our weekend to turn into a massive sulk-fest. ‘Right,’ I say, changing the subject and picking up Katie’s icing bag. What shall I pipe onto this cupcake? A butterfly? A flower?’
‘A butterfly!’ Katie says.
‘Who cares,’ Eva mutters.
‘I beg your pardon?’ I turn to my daughter. ‘What did you just say?’
‘Nothing,’ she says, her face turning red.
‘Don’t be rude, young lady.’ I realise, with a pang, that I sound like my mum.
‘I’m not being rude. I just want to get a phone like all my friends. But you don’t care that I’m left out because I’m the only one who can’t join in on Snapchat. You’re turning me into a loser, like Maya.’
‘Right! That’s enough! Don’t talk about your friend like that.’
‘She’s not my friend.’
‘Go to your room!’
‘Fine! I’d rather be there than here with YOU!’ Eva marches out of the kitchen, slams the door and stomps up the stairs.
I realise my hands are trembling. I have never had a conversation like that with my daughter before. She’s always been so gentle. I’ve never heard her say mean things about anyone. I have no idea what’s got into her or how to make things better. Is this a taste of the teen years ahead of us?
‘Does Eva hate you, Mummy?’ Katie asks in a small voice.
‘No, sweetie. She’s just a bit cross at the moment. We’ll leave her to calm down and then she’ll say sorry and everything will go back to normal.’
‘I hope so. She was really angry. Her face went red and her eyes were mean.’
Katie and I finish icing the cakes, but our joyful morning is ruined. I resist the temptation to go upstairs and see how Eva’s doing. She needs time to think about her behaviour. I’ll clean up the kitchen and then go and see if we can mend fences.
Half an hour later, once the cakes are iced and the kitchen is tidy, I can bear it no longer. ‘Right, KitKat, you stay here a minute while I just go and see if your sister’s any happier.’
‘Can I come with you?’
‘Maybe in a while. Let me speak to her first, okay? You watch out the window for Daddy coming back. But no going out the front door without me!’
‘I won’t.’
I take a breath and make my way upstairs to Eva’s room. Her bedroom door is closed and so I give a little knock. There’s no reply.
‘Eva?’
I knock once more.
‘Eva? I’m coming in, okay?’
I open the door, but my eldest daughter isn’t in her room. My eye lands on an envelope propped up on her chest of drawers. It has ‘Mum’ written on the front. My heart begins to thump. I snatch up the envelope and tear it open:
