I laced and unlaced my boots three times, certain the right thing was to tell Ellen face to face what I’d seen that morning. Yes, Dawson might not forgive me, but he was achild. He couldn’t see what was best for himself, could he?
In the end, I decided to finish the Hillary West book in bed, with a packet of cheap chocolates. I would speak to Dawson when he’d recovered, then decide what to do next.
* * *
For many years I’d been a woman without dreams. Hobbling from one day to the next, clutching the fragments of my mental health to my chest. My only dream was that one day I might dare to have real dreams again.
And then, slowly, over the past few years I’d begun to imagine. To hope. To think about having the guts to get a job that didn’t make my eyes bleed from boredom. To picture a scenario where Richard would hold my hand in public, where Zara would invite me to her parties. And I would feel so secure, so confident, I would decline, busy with a fulfilling life of my own instead. I’d begun to plan the home I would one day live in, full of colour and squishy furnishings and hundreds of books…
And now. Now at least half those things had come true. I owned a house, some potential friends, a fledgling social life, and a job that was anything but boring. And the rest of those dreams – the ones involving Richard and Zara – seemed more like nightmares.
Now, I dreamed about three things, over and over again: washing machine; oven; fridge.
Pulling an envelope out from the drawer by my bed and counting the money I’d squirrelled away inside, I wondered which one I wanted most. But soon I’d have bills to pay. I needed a cheap computer so I could start selling some things. To hire a skip. And who knew what other problems were hiding in the Hoard? I might have to give in and hire pest control if the scrabblings above my head got any worse.
I put the envelope back, shut my dreams away in the drawer and tried to be happy for those which had, so unexpectedly, come true.
14
Back working on Wednesday, I was still rushing about trying to sort coats and find enough pairs of shoes for the right feet when Dawson announced he would walk by himself, slamming the front door before I could reply. At school, I toyed with peeping around the corner to see where he was, but knew it would do nothing towards earning his trust.
Instead, I waited until that afternoon, finding him in his bedroom.
‘I’m busy.’ He clearly was, bent over his desk, concentrating on a sheet of paper.
‘I know, but I’m worried.’
No reply.
I had thought long and hard about this, but still felt a hot, painful lump in my throat as I moved to sit on his bed. ‘How long have you had no friends?’
Head buried in the paper, he froze.
‘This talk is two-way; did I forget to mention that?’ I added, trying to ignore my heart bashing against my ribs.
The only sounds were the clock ticking and the scratch of his pencil against the paper. I began to think he wasn’t going to answer, which left me sort of stuck for what to do next.
‘Idohave friends. They don’t go to the same school as me, that’s all. They live in Hatherstone.’
‘Oh, okay. What are they called?’
‘Lucas and Erik.’ It was clear from his flat tone that he was hating every second of this conversation and had only answered, with the minimum of information, so I’d go away and stop bugging him. ‘They go to our church. Happy?’
‘Happier.’ I took another deep breath. ‘Has something happened, or has school always been like this?’
‘I used to be friends with Daniel, but he moved. And then Harry and Porter started playing football with the rest.’ He shrugged his slim shoulders. It made me want to cry. ‘If you don’t play football, no one’s friends with you. It’s just how it is.’
‘Don’t you like football?’
He carried on drawing. ‘What doyouthink? And even if I did, I’m so bad no one would let me play.’
‘What about your cousin, the one you walk home with?’
He shook his head. ‘Austin hates me the most. And he walks with his stupid girlfriend now anyway. Which I’m glad about. I like walking by myself.’
‘I really think your mum could help with this. And your dad – he must be an expert. Most kids have times when friendships change, and they need to find new people to hang about with.’
‘Next year I’ll be at Redway with Lucas. I don’t want to be friends with anyone in my class. They’re idiots.’
