‘They’re fussing about the cake,’ she announced, flopping onto the other end of my sofa. ‘Neither of them remembered to buy more matches after the fire-starter kid moved on, and Dad’s trying to light fifteen candles using the stove.’
‘You mean sixteen.’
‘Nope.’ She grinned at me. ‘They could only find fifteen.’
I slumped back into the cushion, body in full post-sundae sugar crash. ‘Please tell them I don’t want any candles.’
‘Come on, Libby.Theywant candles, and that’s what matters here. Them proving what attentive, loving parents they are, despite having had no sleep last night.’ She looked at Jonah. ‘No offence.’
Before he could respond, the door flew open and Mum walked in carrying a cake topped with fifteen unlit candles and a wax crayon. Dad was right behind her, singing ‘Happy Birthday’ at full volume.
After a slightly cringey present opening, we ate Mum’s home-made chocolate cake followed by takeaway pizza, and, sticking to family tradition, Dad set up the karaoke machine.
‘You really don’t have to stay for this,’ I reminded Jonah, who threw me an amused look conveying that he wanted nothing more than to hear four weird people sing cheesy pop songs.
It wasn’t unusual for the teenagers we fostered to start off by spending a lot of time downstairs, rather than in their bedrooms. Being dropped off in a house with strangers meant there were countless unwritten rules that were often a world away from anything they were used to. Even a small thing like having a drink posed numerous questions:Can I help myself to a drink, or do I have to ask? Can I have the juice, or is that only for certain times? Do I have to drink it at the table, or can I take it into another room? What do I do with the glass when I’m finished?
Generally speaking, they figured this out by watching how we did it. Or at least doing it when one of us was there so we could tell them. They weren’t hanging out with us primarily because they liked us, but because they were working out whether they could begin to trust us, even the tiniest bit. For many of them, they’d already moved on before the answer to that question could become yes.
But, seriously, karaoke?
‘Maybe we should play a board game instead?’ I suggested.
The rest of the family looked at me askance.
‘But we always do karaoke on our birthdays!’ Nicky said, a wicked glint in her eyes.
‘We don’t usually make someone endure that torture on their first night with us.’ I didn’t add that this was because my parents never welcomed a new child around a birthday but hoped that my tone implied it.
‘Torture?’ Mum said, pretending to be offended before grinning idiotically at Jonah. ‘Speak for yourself.’
‘What do you reckon, Jonah?’ Dad asked, microphone in hand. ‘We’ve got a cupboard full of board games ranging from tiddlywinks to Risk.’
‘I reckon we should start with Bon Jovi,’ he replied, with a face so straight I knew he must be laughing on the inside.
‘Fine!’ I snapped, hating how huffy I sounded. ‘Fine.’
I grabbed the other microphone, stood to my feet and decided that if Jonah King wanted to hear me crucify ‘Livin’ on a Prayer’, then who was I to deny him that pleasure? It wasn’t as though he had a high opinion – make thatanyopinion – about a girl like me, anyway.
If we were going to do this, then I might as well enjoy myself.
At ten, Mum insisted we called it a night, sending us all up to bed while she and Dad cleared up the wrapping paper and leftover pizza.
‘I’m guessing that after tonight you might be relieved to move on to a long-term placement,’ Nicky said, pausing at the top of the stairs to grin at Jonah. ‘Maybe that was my parents’ plan all along. They are expert at this stuff by now.’
‘Nah.’ Jonah gave a small shake of his head. He’d taken off his hoodie at some point, and his hair, sweaty after his eventually being unable to resist joining in with our medley of rock classics, was pushed back, showing a smooth forehead and the full impact of his amber eyes. ‘Watching Tony impersonateBeyoncé was a perfect distraction from the craphole that is my life right now. I’m kind of hoping I have to stay a bit longer.’
Was it my imagination, or did his eyes flicker to where I was waiting behind Nicky on the stairs?
‘It’ll be September before we karaoke again.’ Nicky laughed. ‘That’s my nineteenth, by the way, in case you are still here and want to start planning my present early.’
‘Duly noted.’
It was a definite glance my way, that time. A ghost of a nod before he disappeared into his bedroom.
Nicky said nothing, but I knew her well enough to decipher the look on her face as we reached the tiny attic landing.
‘Seems like the vampire has a heart after all. Be interesting to see what happens if he does stay.’
