Kat had never had any need to sneak into the house before, and although she should have been grateful she wouldn’t need to now, it was disappointing to simply open the door and step inside. She could slam the door and give an a cappella rendition of the Backwash theme song and Dad wouldn’t hear.
He was in the sitting room, the TV up loud, snoring on the sofa. An empty bottle of wine sat on the table beside him, and sweat patches were spreading wide from his armpits. ‘Dad,’ she said, standing over him.
He had always slept like it was the last chance he would ever get, and he didn’t stir now.
Tonight she had behaved like somebody she didn’t recognise. If Dad woke up, Kat wondered if he would see his daughter, another person entirely, or nothing at all. She didn’t know which would break her heart most.
‘I thought we were better off at a distance,’ she said. ‘After Mum, and Suzy, I was all you had left, and I couldn’t risk us getting driven apart too. But by keeping my distance, I made it happen anyway. And now I need you . . .’
Dad did not stir. Slowly, Kat reached towards him, feeling that same yearning pull that had tempted her on the high street. It might not be too late to reconnect with him, to make amends for turning them into strangers.
‘I’m still here,’ she said.
No response. Kat took her hand away and moved back to the hallway, sloping up the stairs, alone.
Wesley made his way upstairs and let himself into the quiet flat. A light had been left on for him. Mum was home for the night, magazines and dirty plates scattered across the front room, but she was in bed now. His phone vibrated as he reached his bedroom door. A message from Aoife.
Everybody’s up for it. The church has a morning service tomorrow, so we’ll probably find him there.
Soft snoring greeted him as he opened the door. Evie was bundled in blankets and drooling into her pillow. He wanted to kiss her on the forehead, something older brothers were supposed to do, but he knew it would wake her up.
Instead he took off his shoes and dirty jeans and climbed into bed. Aaron’s family portrait was under his pillow, and he peered at it in the street light that slanted through the window. He wondered if they dreamed of their lost son, if he came to them in their sleep, only to be forgotten all over again by morning.
A shape appeared at the window and blocked the light. Wesley opened it to let Buttnugget inside. The cat immediately found the bed, turned circles, and then collapsed purring against his side. His closeness was enough to lead Wesley quickly into sleep.
It was a crush. It had to be a crush.
Less than an hour after coming home, she received a video from Safa; kittens dressed up in tiny Backwash outfits and tottering about miniature replica sets.
This is highly relevant to my interests, she replied.
They spent half the night messaging back and forth, as if they had known each other for ever, and every time Kat saw the words Safa is typing her heart skipped a beat.
Definitely a crush. Or was this what it felt like to finally have a friend? She refused to let confusion hinder her enjoyment.
The think about Esme is that she’s a melon dramatic but whole.
Thankfully Kat had fast become an expert in translating Siri’s interpretations of Safa’s dictated messages.
You really should just type your messages like a normal person.
We live in a gilt earring future, replied Safa. It’s people like you that hold human itty back.
If you insult Esme again, I will find you and I will kill you.
They had spent the entire evening – and would spend most of tomorrow – together, but Kat didn’t want the conversation to end. This was something – someone – she had always wanted.
Messaging Safa took her mind off the fade. Focusing on the words made it easier to ignore the fingers typing them. Despite what brought them together, Safa made it easy to pretend everything was normal. No supernatural asterisk on their relationship. A crush always makes people feel like the only two in the world; for them it was almost true.
What time we meeting too moz?
Did you actually say ‘2moz’ out loud?
And ‘’?!
WHAT TIME.
The march starts at midday, so I can come to yours for 9.30?
A minute later a photo arrived of Safa’s address on a crumpled ASOS invoice.
You really do hate typing, don’t you?
:) I’m typing this one just for you. C u 2moz my dude xxx
They might have been a joke, but the kisses made Kat’s heart gasp.