Page 134 of Vying Girls

At least she’s okay with me visiting today, a hollow, textedKbeing her only acknowledgement.

I push open the front door gently, fighting down the urge to knock. Mum only gets angry when I do, turning the act back on me somehow.

This place not good enough for you now? Don’t feel like it’s your home anymore?

I take a breath and call out for her.

‘In here,’ she hacks back from the lounge.

She’s sat on the sofa, telly on low, still in her dressing gown. It’s still early, I guess. I left the lodge at a stupid hour, extricating myself from Elly’s arms to grab the bag I made up the night before.

Can’t deny the paranoia I felt on the journey. I’d been so consumed in Nic’s knockback that I’d forgotten about Damien. Maybe forgotten is the wrong word. He had just been overshadowed by the crushing disappointment of Nic’s latest rejection. I need to stop getting my hopes up. After all, she’s hated me for half her life. God, that hurt to hear. All this time missing her, assuming she felt the same. How fucking wrong I was.

‘Hey.’ I swing my bag onto the sofa with a sigh.

‘Hey, yourself.’ Mum glances at me, giving me a quick once over. ‘You broken up or something?’

I blink, thinking she’s speaking about me and Nic before realising she means uni.

‘No. It’s still term time.’

The entire ride over, I was debating on whether to tell her about Nic. Blow the whole lid off on that. It’s her past too, another life I supposedly ruined. But I need answers, and I think Mum will be more of a key to them than Nic.

‘I wanted to talk to you about something.’

Mum’s quiet for an assessing moment. The TV drones on. I breathe in the familiar scent of candles and cigarettes. She must have dyed her hair recently. It looks good, shiny and black,falling thickly over her shoulders and obscuring her arm tattoos. I forget that she’s pretty, that everyone says we look the same. Except I’ve never had to dye my hair dark. Wonder if that’s something else she hates me for.

‘Not knocked up, are you?’ she says with a strangled laugh.

I can’t help my grin.If you only you knew, Mother.

‘No. Definitely not.’

She grunts, turning her face back to the telly. ‘Something else, then?’

‘Yeah, something else.’ I pick at the flaking faux leather sofa. This is probably a certain kind of suicide. Like I’m watching the crash before it happens, like being the one to cause it. ‘I wanted to ask about before. Like, way before. You know, the things with Jack and Nicole and stuff.’

‘Why?’ Mum barks, her anger as instant as a struck match.

‘I’ve just been thinking about it, that’s all.’

‘You’ve had therapy,’ she points out, like that’s of any consequence. ‘I even paid for it after the NHS lot kicked you off. You said you felt better. That was years ago.’

‘Yeah, well, those kinds of things don’t just go away, do they? And I was a kid back then. No one could give me the proper truth.’

‘Well, I don’t want to talk about it.’ She lets out a disgusted snort. ‘This is what you fucking come back for? On a Monday bloody morning. My god. I don’t want to hear it. Go on. Callum will be here in a minute. He sure as fuck won’t care.’

I clench my teeth, fighting back tears. ‘Still with him, then?’

‘Yeah.’ She nods, voice softening. ‘Yeah. Doing good, we are.’ She throws me a glare. ‘Don’t want anything fucking it up.’

I run my sleeve over my nose, sniffing back tears. ‘And what about me being fucked up?’

I shake my head, concerned I’m going to break down on her. This is so fucking hard. I’m so done with being everyone’spunching bag. I know I’m fucking horrid but I’m not hurting anyone on purpose. It’s just the effect of getting close with me, I guess. This is why Haz and I work so well. We understand what it’s like to feel like a curse.

‘Just a couple of questions, Mum. Then I’ll go, I promise.’

She sighs, pitching forward to pick up a cooling cup of tea. ‘What’s brought this on, anyway?’