Page 58 of Did My Love Life Shrink in the Wash?
‘You know we’re all here for you, right? You should come round here more?’ Lucy says. ‘Hang out with me. Let me look after Joe. Give you a break.’ Emma sits there, nodding. ‘We can go to KFC because Ems refuses to eat there.’
Lucy cuddles into me, knowing hot wings, mash and gravy are things which soothe my soul.
‘It’s because I don’t believe it’s chicken. And it’s greasy and nasty,’ says Emma.
‘Which is why you have no joy in your life,’ replies Lucy.
‘You should be coming to my house more often too. Dad and I can help with Joe,’ my mum adds. She studies my face. When she came round last night, she held me quietly and with not a single trace of judgement which was strange for her. She then tasked Emma to look after me while she tended to Joe, and we both lay on little girls’ beds as she watched me like a hawk all night, literally sleeping with one eye open. She used to do this when she was fifteen to ensure none of us touched her Boyzone posters.
‘Your sisters also have something they would like to say to you…’ Mum adds, glaring at both of them. I know I’m going to like this part because I know they will have got a bollocking. They both look down to the floor.
‘We’re also very sorry we ruined your birthday,’ Emma says. ‘We were not very mature last night and we made everything about us and I said some awful things.’
She elbows Lucy.
‘Yes, I did too.’
‘Who was Batman in the utility room?’ I ask her.
‘A school run dad.’
My mum shakes her head. I laugh which is very much needed. ‘Sean shagged our headteacher in Emma’s bed,’ I mention to her.
Lucy tries hard to keep in the giggles.
‘I know. My sheets are on a hot wash as we speak,’ Emma replies, less than impressed.
‘Sean was here? I haven’t seen him for ages!’ my mum adds.
‘The world was here,’ I tell my mum. ‘There must have been at least forty people. They were sitting all the way up the stairs.’
Lucy acts like this wasn’t a problem. You can imagine Emma’s reminding herself to check the contents of all of her drawers.
‘It wasn’t all awful. A man dressed like Bart Simpson said it was a really good party. He liked the vibe,’ Lucy says.
‘Punch-drunk madness?’ Emma says, glaring. Lucy widens her eyes back at her. Don’t, girls, please. Behind us, a person knocking on the living room door gets our attention. They seem to have let themselves in. I stand up in shock.
‘Yasmin.’
‘Hi.’
My sisters and mother look at her, confused.
‘You are here. In my sister’s house?’ I say, my mind playing catch-up.
‘I am?’
Lucy stands up and points at her. ‘You’re Yasmin King from school?’
‘You went to King Charles?’ asks my mum.
‘I did.’
‘Why are you here?’ I ask.
‘I was at your party. You sent me an invite via text?’ she tells me.
She waves at Joe, who gestures back coolly to his surrogate mother.
