Once, he told her to put on her coat. ‘We’re going to the farm to feed the newborn lambs,’ he said, jangling his keys. Beth ran for the door, her cheeks flushed with excitement. I followed close behind, already uneasy. He held the door open for her to step out, then shut it behind her and locked it. He left her standing on the step, her little face pressed against the glass.
‘Open the door,’ I pleaded, shocked by the casual cruelty.
Mum had laughed, tipping her wine glass towards me. ‘She’ll be fine. Don’t be so soft. She needs toughening up.’
I grabbed the door handle myself, but Mum slapped away my hand, her voice turning steely. ‘Leave it, you interfering little cow. Don’t ruin all the fun.’
I watched Beth shivering outside, her breath fogging the glass. She didn’t cry, though. Not until he opened the door again and told her they weren’t going to see the lambs, ‘not now, not ever’.
Then the tears came, silent but steady, as I pulled her upstairs to our room.
The day Mum lay sobbing on the sofa and told us her boyfriend had dumped her, Beth and I went upstairs and jumped for joy. But the next man was worse.
He didn’t promise anything. He didn’t have to. Within days, Mum thought the world of him, just as she always did, trying to please him, doing herself up like a dog’s dinner in full make-up and short skirts.
But he didn’t seem interested in Mum, he just watchedme. His eyes tracked me around the room like he was waiting for something. At first, I thought I was imagining it. Then he started brushing up against me in passing, standing too close when there was plenty of space. The worst was when his hand grazed my chest as he reached for something close by. I flinched, pulling back, but he didn’t even pretend it wasan accident. His smile was slow and deliberate as he licked his lips. I felt sick.
I told Mum he made me uncomfortable, hoping she’d understand. Instead, she looked at me like I’d done something wrong. After that, she watched me like a hawk too, her gaze tinged with jealousy whenever he was around.
I learned quickly. Whenever one of Mum’s boyfriends came over, I’d take Beth upstairs. We’d push the chest of drawers against our bedroom door and sit on the bed together, Beth choosing a book from her school reading folder.
We’d always felt safer together than apart.
Life had settled down a bit at the Webbs’ house. It took me a while to get over Mrs Webb blaming me for the Monopoly game, but I began to believe it was a one-off because nothing else happened …
But one night, after we’d been at the Webbs’ house for a few weeks, Beth had one of her bad dreams. I woke to the sound of her crying out, her little body thrashing under the covers. The room was dim, lit only by the faint glow of the streetlamp outside.
‘Beth,’ I murmured, sliding out of my bed and into hers. She kicked again, her heel catching my thigh, but I didn’t let go. ‘It’s OK. You’re safe, now. It’s just a dream.’
She whimpered, her breathing ragged and hoarse, but I held her close, stroking her hair and murmuring until she started to calm. Gradually, her fists unclenched, and her cries softened into quiet sniffles.
‘Nobody’s going to hurt you ever again, Beth,’ I whispered. ‘I promise.’
Her hand found mine, squeezing it tight as she drifted back to sleep. I stayed there, holding her until the first light of dawn crept through the curtains.
In the morning, Beth turned to me. ‘I love you, Janey,’ she said earnestly. ‘Thank you for looking after me.’
For a moment, I couldn’t speak. I swallowed the lump in my throat and kissed the top of her head.
‘We’ll look after each other,’ I said, trying hard to keep my voice level. ‘Nobody will ever come between us. I promise.’
She nodded, as solemn as if we’d made a pact, and I knew she believed it.
The Webbs’ house felt safer than life at home with Mum, but I couldn’t let myself relax. Even school seemed to be happening to someone else. I sat through the lessons, took the tests, but my mind was always half on Beth, whether she’d eaten, or whether the Webbs would be nice to us that day. I watched the other girls talk about university applications and summer plans and felt as if I was floating just outside their bubble, looking in.
Eighteen was just a few months away. And I didn’t have a plan. Just a feeling in my gut that once my birthday arrived the Webbs would be done with me.
Then at the end of the summer term, I got a lovely surprise at school. I raced home to find Beth – who’d already broken up because of a staff training day – and Mrs Webb in the kitchen.
I held out the certificate, grinning despite the nerves fluttering in my stomach. ‘Look, Mrs Webb! I got an award for best short story in English.’
Beth clapped, eyes bright. ‘Yay, that’s amazing, Janey!’
Mrs Webb barely glanced at the certificate. She snatched it from my grip, gave it a cursory look, and tossed it onto the kitchen counter, as if it was a shopping receipt. ‘No one likes a bragger,’ she said flatly, wiping her hands on her apron and turning to my sister. ‘Beth, love, you’ve done such a beautiful job setting the table. Well done.’
I swallowed, trying to ignore the sting. The certificate lay there, face down, one corner dipping into a greasy ring of cooking oil. I wanted to snatch it back, to protect it from the smudges, but I stood there, rooted to the spot, the linoleum cold and hard under my socked feet.
Beth gave me a sad smile, but I couldn’t quite return it. I should have known better.
