She rolled her eyes in full-on big-sister mode. ‘I’m not talking about whether you shared a drag or not. Although, don’t. Smoking is totally grim and not your vibe. You were sitting alone together in the dark…’ She spluttered. ‘Half naked. Alone. Together. In the dark.’
‘Actually, Jonah was in jeans and his jacket,’ I said, fake cheerfully.
‘You are so not funny.’ I wasn’t often on the receiving end of Nicky’s glare. It would have been intimidating if I weren’t still oozing with giddy warmth from the conversation with Jonah.
‘You are so not my mother,’ I bit back.
‘Thank goodness! If Mum or Dad found out, they’d go ballistic.’
‘Why?’ I snapped. ‘I was having a drink of water.’ I held up the glass as evidence. ‘In the garden. We weren’t in my bedroom.’ No foster child, whatever their age, was allowed in there. ‘If I’d known he was up, I’d have put a jumper on. But I don’t think me in my ratty old pyjamas is that tempting. We were just chatting. We weren’t even sat near each other.’
Not near enough, anyway.
‘About what?’ she huffed.
‘Exams. What else? A token gesture of awkward conversation. Honestly, it was nothing.’
It waseverything.
‘If I’m up and about at night again, I’ll wear my old dressing gown. Okay?’ I gave her ankle a playful nudge with my toe, hoping to defuse the tension. ‘Seriously, Nicky. Do you honestly think I’m sneaking around with Jonah King in the middle of the night? Right underneath Mum and Dad’s window?’
She chewed on her plait, eyes assessing me.
‘Even if he wasn’t our foster brother, just no! The very thought is completely rank. Give me some credit.’
‘Yeah.’ She squeezed in next to me on the chair, resting her head on my shoulder. ‘I’m sorry. Itisrank. I’m ashamed for thinking it. I was just surprised to see you. And you actually look extremely cute in those pyjamas with your hair all mussed.’
I took a steady breath, deliberately relaxing my shoulder. ‘How often did we chat in the garden with Sabine, or Rani? You know they liked us to keep them company when they were up half the night, stressing. That’s honestly all this was. One minute of exam small talk with our new, long-term foster brother.’
‘Bronah.’
‘What?’ That made me burst out laughing.
‘That’s what I’m calling him, in my head. Is it too soon to try it to his face?’
‘Not at all. It’s perfect.’ I giggled, unable to think of a less suitable nickname. ‘Just make sure I’m in the room when you do.’
I got up. Without the distraction of Jonah, my headache was making itself known again. ‘Anyway, what wereyoudoing up at this scandalous time of night? Looking to mooch a cigarette?’
Nicky closed her eyes, settling into the chair as if planning to stay there a while. ‘You aren’t the only one stressing about exams.’
I left her to it, a tentacle of guilt wrapping itself around me as I climbed the attic stairs. As far as I could remember, that was the first time I’d outright lied to my sister. Over the next few months, it wouldn’t be the last. Unable to share the truth with anyone, instead I pulled out my journal and poured it out between the pages of my dream house.
15
NOW
It was somewhere around three in the morning when it hit me. I’d been dozing fretfully, in between floundering about in a puddle of pathetic self-loathing, when I suddenly jerked awake, eyes springing open, head startlingly clear.
I’d founded a charity to help empower people to make positive changes that often cut through years – if not generations – of destructive choices. Day after day I told the Baby Bloomers that, while they couldn’t change the past or even a lot of what was happening to them in the present – these babies were coming out one way or another! – they had so much more control than they realised. They could decide who they wanted to become. Although it wouldn’t be easy to become her. It might take lots of practice, and mistakes, and dusting themselves down and trying again. Focussing on what we called small yet significant choices. It would mean building emotional – and sometimes physical – boundaries to protect them from some people. It would include being uncomfortably honest about their own limitations and struggles and need for support. It would mean facing down the foe we all instinctively fight – fear of change.
And yet, here I was, wondering what on earth to do about my own miserable mess of a life.
Small, significant choices.
I’d start first thing tomorrow.
Or the next day, when I’d had some more sleep and a bit more time to think about what those changes would be.
