Peppermint Kiss by Kelly McKain

and I exchanged a glance then, and just as I was about to tell Grace what had happened, Mum surprised us by saying, “So I take it they came for the car, then?” She smiled grimly. “It was nice of them to leave the wellies. I’d forgotten about those.”
    Grace went pale. “What? But, if they’ve found the car, does that mean they know where we are? Are they going to come round here and try to take the rest of our stuff? Oh my gosh, those debt men are really scary, I’ve seen them on TV. They could be on their way here right now. We’d better bolt the door!”
    When she said that, my heart started banging in my chest too, and Saff looked terrified.
    Mum spoke all in a rush. “Grace, honey, calm down, it’s okay. I rang the Range Rover showroom and told them where to find the car. I didn’t give this address, of course not. No one is coming after us, I promise you.”
    Saff turned on Mum. “You rang them?” she screeched. “That car was the last thing we had! Even if we couldn’t afford to keep it, we could have sold it and paid the rent for months ahead. And train tickets for me to go back to London. And new clothes. I could still have done my singing lessons. I don’t
believe
this!”
    Mum looked shaken. “It wasn’t an easy decision, Saff,” she half-whispered. “But I had to do the right thing. The car was on a credit agreement, so it didn’t really belong to us. It got us down here in an emergency, but keeping it after that would have been like stealing.”
    â€œLook around, Mum, it still
is
an emergency,” Saff snapped, then went into full flouncy sulk mode and stormed off to the bathroom.
    I put the kettle on and made tea for everyone, like I used to at home. I know it’s weird but I love the smell of the steam coming up when you pour the water on, especially if it’s Earl Grey or lapsang souchong (not that we had any of that here).
    Mum came over to get her mug and paused for a moment. “Oh, Abbie, you’ve made five, love,” she said, looking startled.
    â€œOh, yeah. My brain’s zapped from school,” I mumbled. But we both knew I’d automatically made one for Dad.
    Mum squeezed my shoulders and gave me a sad smile, but she didn’t say anything about it, thank goodness. Just tipping it down the sink seemed too awful somehow, like I was tipping Dad down with it, so I drank mine, then gulped his down too, even though I didn’t really want it. Grace was buried in her homework at the table by then, and Saff was out of her mood and looking at the free paper with Mum.
    As I pretended to read one of my soap-making recipe books on the sofa, I couldn’t help wondering what Dad was doing right now. Was he thinking about me like I was thinking about him? Was he worried about us? I wished that he could ring us, or that I had a number for him, so I could let him know we were okay, at least.
    Then I glanced at my family – Grace frowning over her books, Saff circling job ads in the paper, Mum’s face a mask of worry. Suddenly I felt guilty for even
wanting
to speak to him. It felt like I was betraying them. But then, we weren’t going to just forget about him, were we?
    I wanted to talk to Mum about it, but it didn’t seem like the right time. So, for the moment, I put it all at the back of my mind and went to get my box of beauty ingredients. I had just about enough essential oils left to make some solid perfume. I planned to fill the kitchen with the scents of rose and geranium, and maybe a bit of sweet orange and bergamot too. They’re supposed to be uplifting. I doubted they were uplifting enough to make us all feel totally better about the future, but maybe their warm cosy glow swirling around us would be enough to lift the cloud of gloom just a little.
    On Friday just before lunch I was putting some books back in my locker and someone leaned in close to me,