Chapter 18 Zoe Spring 2025 #3
‘Can we have a chat?’ We.
I said nothing but they both came into my room anyway. Mum took the chair from my desk and turned it to face me. Dad perched awkwardly on the bed.
The skin on my palms had split where the eczema had taken over and clear fluid had leaked out, mixed with specks of blood. It hurt but there was also a pleasure in picking it, waiting for Dad to talk.
‘This is clearly not working,’ Dad began.
Something light began to grow in my belly.
They’ve realised they’ve made a mistake.
They’re going to give her back. I started to sit up and look at them for the first time.
But Mum didn’t look contrite. Her face was closed, more set than usual.
Dad looked as uncomfortable, as if he was about to explain the facts of life to a pre-pubescent child.
My eyes flicked between the two of them. The lightness morphed into a hard ball.
‘It’s not working for you – you’re clearly very upset – and I’m worried it’s going to have a bad effect on Zoe, and on Fiona and Sara.’
‘Kylie,’ I said, ‘she’s my baby. You have no right to change her name.’ There were bubbles of clear liquid under the skin. I pressed them, trying to burst them. How could it be so itchy?
‘When we agreed that we’d take her on as our child – your sister – you promised not to call her your baby,’ Mum said.
‘We never agreed that,’ I said, my voice rising without even meaning to.
‘You forced me into that.’ I focused on picking my skin, squeezing the fluid spots.
If I had a pin it would have been easier.
I loved the feeling of the pin pricking the top of the bubble and it then all seeping out. So satisfying.
‘We didn’t force you, Steph,’ said Dad. ‘We all agreed it was for the best. Best for you, but also best for the baby.’
‘The baby, the baby. My fucking baby.’ I was shouting then, but it was like it was coming from someone else’s mouth.
Mum got up and closed the door. Dad stared at his hands.
‘In order for this to work for everyone, we think you need a bit of a break from one another.’ Mum spoke slowly, enunciating each word carefully, as if I was a particularly dim child.
‘There’s also the issue of school. You weren’t around to sit your GCSEs, and you really should have started your A-levels now.’
Dad hadn’t looked up but I could see the tension in Mum’s face. She’s worried about how I’m going to react. She was building up to whatever it was slowly. Treating me like a child. She shifted in the chair a fraction and looked towards Dad but he didn’t move.
They wanted me to go back to school, I realised. But I’d have to go down a year, to sit the exams. There’s no way I’m doing that. It would be excruciatingly embarrassing. There was a girl once who had to repeat a year. Tina something. Everyone took the mickey.
Mum’s lipstick hade bled into the thin vertical lines around her lips. ‘We think you should go back to school to do your exams.’ And there it was. ‘You had a bright future before all of this.’ She waved her arm at nothing in particular. ‘And we want you to achieve that.’
‘I’m not going down a year,’ I said immediately. ‘It would be too embarrassing. Everyone would know.’
Mum and Dad glanced at each other and Dad nodded.
‘We completely agree with you,’ said Mum. ‘That would be awful for you.’ She paused a second. ‘So we thought you could go to a new school where nobody knew you.’
Their faces were turned towards me as if they were waiting for me to say or do something. ‘What school?’ I said finally.
‘Mum’s found a lovely school that would allow you to go back a year to sit your GCSEs and then you could go on to do A-levels next year. With your brain, if you worked hard then you’d easily get good grades.’
Mum had glanced at Dad when he said her name but now looked back at me. ‘It’s a lovely school, beautiful grounds, there’s a swimming pool, tennis courts, they play lacrosse. Just like those books you used to read.’
They were looking at me as if I was a ticking bomb. ‘And?’
‘Well, what do you think?’ said Dad, visibly swallowing.
‘I obviously want to go back to school. I can’t not have any qualifications. And I get that having school to focus on will help everything with Kylie.’ I emphasised her name and looked at Mum. She’s not going to win that one. My baby, my name.
‘Good, I’m glad you agree,’ said Mum, starting to get up. ‘We think it’s for the best. It’ll be a clean break, make it easier to separate yourself from her. When you come home in the holidays, you’ll be able to see her as a sister.’
When I come home in the holidays? I stared at her and she stood still, holding on to the back of the chair. Dad smoothed down his hair.
‘What do you mean “when I come home in the holidays”?’ I asked, looking between them.
Dad leaned back.
‘It’s a boarding school, Steph,’ said Mum, her voice wavering.
I heard myself start to pant. ‘I’m not going to a fucking boarding school.’
‘It’s for the best, Steph. Fresh start. It’ll allow you to come home and see Zoe as your sister, not—’
For the best. For the fucking best. It’s all she seemed to say.
The bedside lamp hit her full in the face and she fell on to her knees. Redness seeped through her hands as she clutched her cheeks and nose.
‘Oh my God!’ Dad stood staring at me. ‘Steph,’ he said determinedly. I picked up the water glass and he held up both his hands and started to walk backwards. I threw it and it smashed against the wall behind him. He lifted Mum up by the elbow, his arm around her, and turned to the door.
‘I’m not going to a fucking boarding school,’ I screamed again, throwing a book against the closing door. I sunk to my knees and buried my face in the duvet. I should never have come back.