When she wakes, it is just gone three. In half an hour she will have to pick up Tiffin and Willa, while I clean up the mess in the kitchen and carefully remove any remaining items of clothing from her bedroom floor. I cup her flushed, sleepy face in my hands and start kissing her with a fervour bordering on hysteria. I feel angry and desperate.
‘Lochie, listen to me,’ she tries to say between kisses. ‘Listen, my love – listen. We’ll just start skipping school every couple of weeks!’
‘I can’t wait another whole fortnight—’
‘What if we don’t have to?’ she says suddenly, eyes igniting. ‘We could spend every night together, like yesterday. Once we’re sure Tiff and Willa are asleep, you can come and get into my bed—’
‘Every night? What if one of them walks in? We can’t do that!’ But she has my attention.
‘There’s that rusty bolt at the bottom of my door, remember? We can just lock it! Kit always falls asleep plugged into his headphones. And the other two hardly ever wake up in the night any more.’
I chew on my thumbnail, thinking hard about the risks, desperately torn. I look up into Maya’s bright eyes and remember last night, feeling her smooth naked body beneath my hands for the first time. ‘OK!’ I whisper with a smile.
‘Lochie? Are you better, Lochie? Are you taking us to school tomorrow, Lochie?’ Willa is all concern, climbing onto my lap as I sit sprawled out in front of the TV.
Tiffin’s concern is more casual, but present nonetheless. ‘You got flu or what?’ he asks me in his growing East End accent, blowing the long fair hair out of his eyes. ‘Are you ill? You don’t look ill. How long are you gonna be ill for, anyway?’
With a jolt, I realize that my taking a day off school has thrown them. Previously I’ve gone in with flu and even bronchitis, just because the kids had to be taken in, Kit had to be watched, Social Services had to be kept off our backs, so taking a day off wasn’t usually an option. I realize too that they associate any kind of ‘serious’ illness with Mum: Mum collapsing drunk on the doorstep, Mum retching over the toilet bowl, Mum lying passed out on the kitchen floor. They aren’t worried about my supposed headache, they are worried I will disappear.
‘I’ve never felt better,’ I reassure them truthfully. ‘My headache’s all gone. Why don’t we all go and play outside together for a bit?’
It is amazing the difference a day off school can make. Usually, by this time, I am dragged down with exhaustion, snappy and on edge, desperate to get the kids into bed so I can get a moment alone with Maya and a start on homework before I find myself falling asleep at my desk. Today, as the four of us set up a game of British Bulldog, I feel almost weightless, as if the Earth’s gravity has dramatically decreased. So, as the sun begins to set on the mild March day, I find myself standing in the middle of the empty street, hands on knees, waiting for the three of them to come tearing towards me, hoping to make it to the opposite side without getting caught. Tiffin looks all ready for takeoff, one sneakered foot pressed back against the wall, his arms bent, hands clenched into fists, a look of fierce determination in his eyes. I know that on the first round, I have to give him a run for his money without actually catching him. Willa is receiving last-minute instructions from Maya who, by the looks of things, is planning diversionary tactics to allow her to run straight across the road without getting caught.
‘Come on!’ Tiffin yells impatiently.
Maya straightens up, Willa hops up and down in excitement and I count down, ‘Three, two, one, go!’
Nobody moves. I gallop sideways so that I’m directly facing Willa and she squeals in delighted terror, pressing herself back against the wall like a starfish, as if trying to push herself right through. Then Tiffin is off like a bullet, heading away from me at a sharp angle. Anticipating his move, I race towards him, blocking his trajectory. He hesitates, torn between the humiliation of running back to the safety of the wall and the risk of making a run for it. Boldly, he chooses the latter. I give chase immediately, but he’s surprisingly fast for his size. He makes it to the other side by the skin of his teeth, face glowing pink with exertion, eyes triumphant.
Maya has used this diversion to send Willa on her way. She runs wildly towards Tiffin, so intent on reaching safety she almost launches herself straight into my arms. I take a step back and growl in an attempt to send her off in a different direction. She freezes, a rabbit caught in headlights, her blue eyes huge with the thrill of fear. From either side of the street, the other two scream out instructions.
‘Go back, go back!’ Tiffin screeches.
‘Go around him, dodge him!’ Maya yells, confident in the knowledge that I’ll only pretend to try and catch her.
Willa makes a move to my right. I lunge for her, my fingers brushing the hood of her coat, and with a squeal she hurls herself towards the wall, head-butting Tiffin in the stomach, who promptly doubles over with a dramatic yell.
Maya is now the only one left, dancing about on the other side of the street, making Tiffin and Willa laugh.
‘Run, just run for it, Maya!’ Tiffin screams helpfully.
‘Go this way – no this way!’ Willa squeals, pointing wildly in all directions.
I flash Maya an evil grin to signal that I have every intention of catching her, and she bites back a smile, a hint of mischief in her eyes. Hands in pockets, I start sauntering towards her.
She goes for it. Catching me off guard, she sets off at an acute angle. I match her pace for pace and start laughing in anticipated triumph as we approach the boundary. Then, out of nowhere, she wrong-foots me and goes tearing back the opposite way. I hurl myself after her but it’s no use. She makes it to the other wall, yelping in triumph.
In the next round I catch Tiffin, whose disappointment soon turns to glee as he finds himself in the role of predator. Ruthlessly, he goes straight for Willa and catches her within seconds of her leaving the safety of the wall, sending her flying. Bravely she picks herself up, briefly examines her scraped palms, and then dances about excitedly in the middle of the road, stretching her arms out as if hoping to block our path. As we surge towards her, Maya and I both try so hard to allow her to catch us that we end up colliding and she grabs us both, provoking much hysteria. Maya has just begun her turn when, in the distance, I make out a lone figure trailing down the road towards us, and recognize Kit, dragging himself home dejectedly after an hour spent in detention for swearing at a teacher.
‘Kit, Kit, we’re playing British Bulldog!’ Tiffin yells excitedly. ‘Come and join in! Please! Lochie and the girls are all rubbish. I’m ruling this game!’
Kit stops at the gate. ‘You all look like a bunch of retards,’ he announces coldly.
‘Well, come and liven up the game then,’ I suggest. ‘You know, I could do with some competition. This game is piss easy for a runner like me.’