Page 86 of From Now On

‘Nina?’ Charlie stands before her, hair damp, towel wrapped around his waist, droplets of water glistening on his shoulders.

‘What the fuck, Charlie?’ Nina jumps to her feet.

‘What—’

‘What theactualfuck?’ Nina thrusts the earring in front of his face, reminiscent of the bloody child in that bloody video holding out her cornet.

I scream.

Nina screams now. ‘So while me and Duke have been at school, you’ve been… you’ve beenfuckingsome tart in my parents’ bed. Showering off the smell of the skank, were you?’

‘It wasn’t like—’

‘At least I know it wasn’t my teacher this time because she was in class with me. It isn’t Sasha because she’s in New York. So, who is she Charlie? Who’s worth lying—’

‘I haven’t lied—’

‘You promised.’ Nina swipes angry tears away with the heel of her hand. ‘You promised me that you wouldn’t see anyone until Duke has adjusted. Until we’ve adjusted but you… you… three women in the past few weeks. You just can’t help yourself, can you? Is that a stable environment for an eleven-year-old to grow up in? Is it?’

‘Please, Nina. Let me explain—’

‘There’s nothing to explain. I trusted you. We trusted you. You said you’d put us first. You’re a waste of space, Charlie Johnson. I don’t need you and Duke certainly doesn’t need you. Why don’t you just bugger off back to London? We’d rather be with Aunt Violet than you.’

‘You don’t mean that.’ Charlie touches Nina’s shoulder. It makes Nina’s skin crawl. She shakes him off.

‘I’m going out.’

‘Please don’t. I need to—’

‘Well, I need to be as far away from you as possible. Go fuck yourself, Charlie.’

She storms out of the bedroom, slamming the door behind her, trying not to think of all the other times she had slammed this door in the past.

‘Mum, everyone gets more pocket money than me. It isn’t fair.’

‘Mum, everyone is staying at the party until ten o’clock. It isn’t fair.’

Nina throws herself onto her own bed now, burying her face into her pillow to drown out the sound of her sobs. Charlie doesn’t love them. He’s lied to them. The first chance he has he’ll probably leave them and then where will they go? Not back to Aunt Violet. As much as she’s grown closer to her aunt – and, not that she’d ever admit it, she really enjoys their Sunday lunches together, Violet teaching Nina to whisk the batter for the Yorkshire puddings,to beat the custard so it doesn’t go lumpy – she doesn’t want to live with her again. She wishes she were old enough to take care of her and Duke. She wishes they weren’t reliant on someone else.

It isn’t fair.

She’s sick of feeling so alone.

It’s time to find out whether she has to be.

Nina ignores Charlie when he taps on her door so softly. She nips the tip of her tongue in-between her teeth in concentration as she carefully draws a liquid eyeliner across her top lids. She dusts bronzer across her cheekbones and slicks her lips with a brave scarlet, which isn’t quite how she feels but she wishes it were. It’s warm but despite the bold lipstick choice she isn’t quite ready to bare her arms. She slips on a sheer black blouse and after examining her reflection she undoes the top three buttons, squirts perfume onto her cleavage.

She doesn’t want another row with Charlie so she pads quietly downstairs, slips out of the front door and runs until she reaches the corner and then she slows to a walk so she isn’t a hot, sweaty mess when she arrives at Maeve’s.

Sean opens the door. Nina feels a blush creep across her neck as though he can read what’s on her mind.

‘You look nice, Nina,’ he says as she steps inside. Self-conscious, she wonders if she should have worn one of her usual shirts. This see-through top suddenly feels too obvious. Too immature. She doesn’t want to be seen as a little girl anymore. She is here tonight to share how she feels.

Instead of dashing up to Maeve’s room, she follows Sean into the kitchen and perches on a stool at the breakfast bar.She watches him as he opens the fridge and takes out a box of eggs.

‘Have you eaten?’ he asks and she feels his concern drape around her like a blanket. Her shoulders relax a little.

‘Yes,’ she lies. Her nervous stomach has no room for food.

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