The knock on the door sends another jolt through my body. But it’s only Maya, looking completely wiped out as she sags against the doorframe.
‘Are you all right?’
Hands still covering my mouth, I nod, desperate for her to leave but unable to speak. She observes me soberly in the gloom, hesitates for a moment, then switches on my overhead light and comes in.
I take my hands away from my face, clenching them into fists to stop them shaking. ‘I’m fine,’ I say, my voice raw and ragged. ‘We should all just go to bed.’
‘You don’t look fine.’ She closes the door and leans against it, her eyes huge, her expression unreadable. I can’t tell if she’s angry, horrified, disgusted . . .
‘Maya, I’m sorry, I – I just lost it . . .’ A jagged pain runs through me.
‘I know, Loch, I know.’
I want to tell her just how sorry I am. I want to ask her whether Willa is OK. I want to ask her to check on Kit, make sure he’s not packing his bags and planning to run away, reassure me that I haven’t hurt him, even though I know I have. But I can’t get the words out. Only the sound of my heaving breaths fills the air. I press my hands against my nose and mouth to try to muffle the sound, push my elbows down hard against my knees in an effort to stop shaking, and find myself rocking back and forth without knowing why.
Peeling herself off the door, Maya moves towards me, taking a seat beside me on the bed.
Instinctively my arm flies up to ward her off. ‘Maya, d-don’t – I don’t need—’
She takes my outstretched hand and gently pulls it onto her lap, rubbing my palm in circular motions with her thumb. ‘Try and relax.’ Her voice is gentle – too gentle. ‘It’s all right. Everyone’s OK. Willa’s gone back to sleep and Kit’s fine.’
I shift away from her, struggling to disengage my hand from hers. ‘I – I just need some sleep . . .’
‘I know you do, but you have to calm down first.’
‘I’m trying!’
Her face is pinched with concern and I’m aware that the sight of me in this state is doing little to reassure her. Her fingers are warm on my wrist, moving up to stroke the inside of my arm, the touch of her hand somehow comforting. ‘Lochie, it wasn’t your fault.’
I bite down hard and turn away.
‘It wasn’t your fault,’ she says again. ‘Lochie, you know that. Kit’s been trying to provoke you into something like this for ages. Anyone would have snapped.’
There is a mounting pain at the back of my throat, a warning pressure behind my eyes.
‘You can’t keep blaming yourself for everything, just because you’re the eldest. None of this is your fault – Mum’s drinking, Dad leaving, Kit turning out the way he has. There’s nothing more you could have done.’
I don’t know how she’s figured all this out. I don’t understand how she is able to read my mind like this. I turn to face the wall, shaking my head to tell her she’s wrong. I pull my hand away from hers and rub the side of my face, trying to shield it from view.
‘Lochie . . .’
No. I can’t take this any more, I can’t, I can’t. I’m not even going to get her out of the room before it’s too late. My eyes pulsate with a rising ache. If I move, if I speak, if I so much as blink, I’m going to lose this battle.
Her hand touches my shoulder, strokes my back. ‘It’s not always going to be like this.’
A tear skims the side of my cheek. I put my hand up to my eyes to stop the next one. My fingers are suddenly wet. I take a deep breath and try to hold it, but a small sound escapes.
‘Oh – Loch, no. Don’t – not over this!’ Maya sounds softly desperate.
I move closer to the wall, wishing I could disappear into it. I press my fist hard against my mouth. Then the bottled breath explodes from my lungs with a violent choking sound.
‘Hey, hey . . .’ Despite her reassuring tone, I recognize the note of panic. ‘Lochie, please, listen to me. Just listen. Tonight was hideous, but it’s not the end of the world. I know things have been really, really tough recently, but it’s all right, it’s all right. Kit’s fine. You’re only human. These things happen . . .’
I try to dry my eyes on my shirtsleeve, but the tears keep coming and I can’t understand why I am so utterly powerless to stop them.
‘Shh, come here—’ Maya tries to pull me round to face her, I push her roughly away. She tries again. Frenziedly I fend her off with one arm.
‘Don’t! Maya, stop it, for chrissakes – please! Please! I can’t – I can’t—!’ The sobs burst out with each word. I can’t breathe, I’m terrified, I’m falling apart.
‘Lochie, calm down. I just want to hold you, that’s all. Just let me hold you.’ Her voice adopts the soothing tone she uses when Tiffin or Willa are upset. She’s not going to give up.
I scrape the fingernails of one hand against the wall, violent sobs running in shock waves through my body, tears soaking my sleeve. ‘Help,’ I find myself gasping. ‘I don’t understand what’s wrong with me!’
Maya slides into the space between me and the wall, and suddenly there is nowhere for me to hide any more. As she puts her arms around me and pulls me close, I try to resist one final time, but I am drained of all strength. Her body is warm against mine – alive, familiar, reassuring. I press my face against the curve of her neck, my hands clutching at the back of her nightdress as if she might suddenly disappear.
‘I – I didn’t mean to – I didn’t mean to – Maya, I didn’t mean to!’
‘I know you didn’t mean to, Lochie. I know that, I know.’
She is talking to me softly now, almost whispering, one arm wrapped tightly around me, the other stroking the back of my head, rocking me gently back and forth. I cling to her as the sobs rack my body with such force, I think I will never be able to stop.
CHAPTER EIGHT
Maya
I open my eyes and find myself staring up at an unfamiliar ceiling. My head feels fuzzy with sleep, and it isn’t until I find myself blinking over at a desk laden with A-level textbooks, a chair covered in discarded shirts and trousers, that I remember where I am. There is a distinctive smell too – not unpleasant, but unmistakably Lochan. A slight weight on my chest prompts me to look down, and with a start I see an arm slung over my ribcage, bitten-down fingernails, a large black digital watch secured around the wrist. Lochan is fast asleep by my side, stretched out on his front, pressed up against the wall, his arm draped over me.
My mind flashes back to the previous night and I remember the fight, remember coming up and finding him in a really bad way, the shock of seeing him on the verge of tears, the feeling of horror and helplessness as he broke down and sobbed – the first time since the day Dad left. Seeing him like that sucked me back through the years, back to the day Dad came to the house for that ‘special goodbye’ before catching the flight that was to take him and his new wife to the other side of the world. There were presents, and photos of the new house with the pool, and promises of school holidays with him there, and assurances that he would be back regularly. The others had naturally bought into the whole charade – they were still so young – but somehow Lochan and I sensed that was it, we would not be seeing our dad again – ever. And it wasn’t long before we were proved right.