prise the lid off a coffee. Not a teenager. Cliff it seems, has gone.
I spy t he dog with the sad face tied up outside the Health Centre.
“We meet ag ain, boy. Hey, don’t I look any better?”
..................................................................................................................
I am walking home along the High Street when my phone rings, it’s Seven again. I answer and she switches her face to sullen.
“Why did you hang up on me? I didn’t mean anything about your face- I just meant, watch out for Cliff.”
“ Doesn’t matter.”
“ It matters to me! I don’t know what I can say to you anymore, you’re so sensitive.”
Her eyes search out mine, I won’t give them. I get a sudden flash of straight whites.
“So tell me what happened!”
“He’s a perfect Rex Rayne. Even better than Dollar.”
“No!”
“He was stood there in a Bugs Bunny suit.”
Seven shrieks, tosses back her head. Her edges go soft for a split second.
“I marched outside to confront him like you said, and he’d gone.”
“Told you he was a Natural.”
“You said if he was a Natural he’d wait.”
“I messaged him straight back for you, I said you needed to know if he was a Natural.”
“What? I don’t need to know anything about him!”
Seven does h er evil laugh: three syllables, emphasis on the last. I glare at her. Glaring never works with Seven, she has some kind of force field that repels them.
“ You want to date a Natural? I’m rescuing you here.”
“Who said anything about a date? It’s just a conversation that never happened.”
“You don’t know anything about this guy.”
My dent comes.
“I do know one thing: I know to try a bag of carrots next time.”
I turn into my street and the reflective house on the corner catches my dent as I pass, reflecting it back to me in multi-colours. Seven is scowling out of my phone, she thinks I’m winding her up with my smile, but I can’t stop - I’m too funny. My stomach rumbles; it’s nearly lunchtime and I can’t remember the last time Mum planned a meal and carried the concept through to warm, comforting reality. Baby is going to come out addicted to a quick sandwich. I imagine her pouting as she stares overwhelmed, into the fridge. Listing forward, front-loaded with those pouty lips and the bump.
“I’ve got to go.” I tell Seven. “Pregnant one needs help thinking.”
“Wow, I keep forgetting about the baby!”
“You wouldn’t if you saw her. Or had to live with her.”
“ How long has she got left?”
“Any day now, but I was ten days late. She’s massive. Enhanced her face yesterday, gone all pouty.”
“Revenge face.” Seven nods her approval. “Good for her.”
I walk up to the front gate and give it a nudge with my foot and pause on the ‘welcome’ mat to steel myself and tuck my phone away. (Seven might actually enjoy this confrontation, but I don’t need an audience.) Concentrating hard on misery and not smiling, I ease open the cheerful yellow front door and find Mum behind it.
Chapter Eight
Mum is in the front hall and has one hand splayed against the wall and it becomes apparent that she is trying to ease herself down to retrieve a pile of clothes. She holds a weight-lifters stance, knees splayed.
“Ah, good timing. Could you...?”
Mum sways slightly, and rests a shoulder on the wall. I dive in and scoop up the clothes and take in her new
I spy t he dog with the sad face tied up outside the Health Centre.
“We meet ag ain, boy. Hey, don’t I look any better?”
..................................................................................................................
I am walking home along the High Street when my phone rings, it’s Seven again. I answer and she switches her face to sullen.
“Why did you hang up on me? I didn’t mean anything about your face- I just meant, watch out for Cliff.”
“ Doesn’t matter.”
“ It matters to me! I don’t know what I can say to you anymore, you’re so sensitive.”
Her eyes search out mine, I won’t give them. I get a sudden flash of straight whites.
“So tell me what happened!”
“He’s a perfect Rex Rayne. Even better than Dollar.”
“No!”
“He was stood there in a Bugs Bunny suit.”
Seven shrieks, tosses back her head. Her edges go soft for a split second.
“I marched outside to confront him like you said, and he’d gone.”
“Told you he was a Natural.”
“You said if he was a Natural he’d wait.”
“I messaged him straight back for you, I said you needed to know if he was a Natural.”
“What? I don’t need to know anything about him!”
Seven does h er evil laugh: three syllables, emphasis on the last. I glare at her. Glaring never works with Seven, she has some kind of force field that repels them.
“ You want to date a Natural? I’m rescuing you here.”
“Who said anything about a date? It’s just a conversation that never happened.”
“You don’t know anything about this guy.”
My dent comes.
“I do know one thing: I know to try a bag of carrots next time.”
I turn into my street and the reflective house on the corner catches my dent as I pass, reflecting it back to me in multi-colours. Seven is scowling out of my phone, she thinks I’m winding her up with my smile, but I can’t stop - I’m too funny. My stomach rumbles; it’s nearly lunchtime and I can’t remember the last time Mum planned a meal and carried the concept through to warm, comforting reality. Baby is going to come out addicted to a quick sandwich. I imagine her pouting as she stares overwhelmed, into the fridge. Listing forward, front-loaded with those pouty lips and the bump.
“I’ve got to go.” I tell Seven. “Pregnant one needs help thinking.”
“Wow, I keep forgetting about the baby!”
“You wouldn’t if you saw her. Or had to live with her.”
“ How long has she got left?”
“Any day now, but I was ten days late. She’s massive. Enhanced her face yesterday, gone all pouty.”
“Revenge face.” Seven nods her approval. “Good for her.”
I walk up to the front gate and give it a nudge with my foot and pause on the ‘welcome’ mat to steel myself and tuck my phone away. (Seven might actually enjoy this confrontation, but I don’t need an audience.) Concentrating hard on misery and not smiling, I ease open the cheerful yellow front door and find Mum behind it.
Chapter Eight
Mum is in the front hall and has one hand splayed against the wall and it becomes apparent that she is trying to ease herself down to retrieve a pile of clothes. She holds a weight-lifters stance, knees splayed.
“Ah, good timing. Could you...?”
Mum sways slightly, and rests a shoulder on the wall. I dive in and scoop up the clothes and take in her new
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