It’s like he’s coaching her to get through labour, or a prisoner-of-war camp. Having us to stay is the equivalent of a –prisoner-of-war camp?
And all of a sudden I’m stricken with mortification. I can’t put Mum through this any more. We have to go. We have to move out right now, before she loses it completely.
‘It’s not two weeks!’ I say hurriedly. ‘It’s … two days! That’s what I was about to tell you. We’re moving out in two days!’
‘Two days?’ echoes Luke incredulously.
‘Yes! Two days!’ I avoid his gaze.
Two days should give us enough time to pack. And find somewhere to rent.
‘What?’ Mum lifts her head from Dad’s chest. ‘Two days?’
‘Yes! The house suddenly all came together, so we’re moving out. I meant to tell you.’
‘You’re really going in two days?’ falters Mum, as if she can’t let herself believe it.
‘Promise.’ I nod.
‘Hallelujah,’ says the delivery guy. ‘If you could sign, madam?’ His eyes swivel to his lorry. ‘Oi! Young lady!’
I follow his gaze and gasp. Shit. Minnie’s climbed up into the cab of his lorry.
‘Drive!’ she yells joyously, her hands on the wheel. ‘Miiiine drive!’
‘Sorry!’ I hurry to get her down. ‘Minnie, what on earth are you—’ I clap a hand to my mouth.
There’s honey smeared all over the steering wheel. Honey and crumbs are decorating the seat and the window and the gear stick.
‘Minnie!’ I say furiously, under my breath. ‘You naughty girl! What have you done?’ A horrible thought suddenly strikes me. ‘Where’s your sandwich? What have you done with it? Where did you—’
My gaze falls on the built-in tape player.
Oh … bloody hell.
The lorry driver was amazingly nice, bearing in mind he’d just delivered sixteen coats to someone who didn’t want them and then her daughter shoved a honey sandwich inside his tape machine. It only took about half an hour to clean everything up, and we’ve promised him a state-of-the-art replacement.
As the lorry disappears out of the drive Mum and Dad head into the kitchen to make a cup of tea and Luke practically hauls me upstairs.
‘Two days?’ he demands in a whisper. ‘We’re moving out in two days?’
‘We have to, Luke! Look, I’ve got it all planned. We’ll find a rental place and we’ll tell Mum we’re moving into the house and everyone will be happy.’
Luke is regarding me as though I have a screw loose.
‘But she’ll want to visit, Becky. Hadn’t you thought of that?’
‘We won’t let her! We’ll put her off until the house has been sorted out. We’ll say we want everything to be perfect first. Luke, we don’t have any choice,’ I add defensively. ‘If we stay here any longer we’ll give her a nervous breakdown!’
Luke mutters something under his breath. It sounds a bit like, ‘You’re going to give me a bloody nervous breakdown.’
‘Well, have you got a better idea?’ I retort, and Luke is silent.
‘And what about Minnie?’ he says at length.
‘What do you mean, what about Minnie? She’ll come with us, of course!’
‘I didn’t mean that.’ He clicks his tongue. ‘I meant, what are we going to do about her? I take it you’re as concerned by what just happened as I am?’
‘By the honey sandwich?’ I say in astonishment. ‘Come on, Luke, relax. It was just one of those things, all children do it—’
‘You’re in denial! Becky, she’s getting wilder every day. I think we need to take extreme action. Don’t you agree?’
Extreme action? What’s that supposed to mean?
‘No, I don’t.’ I feel a little chilly around my spine. ‘I don’t think she needs “extreme action”, whatever that is.’
‘Well, I do.’ He’s looking grave and not quite meeting my eye. ‘I’m going to make some calls.’
What calls?
‘Luke, Minnie isn’t some kind of problem,’ I say, my voice suddenly a little shaky. ‘And who are you calling, anyway? You shouldn’t call anyone without telling me first!’
‘You’d tell me not to!’ He sounds exasperated. ‘Becky, one of us has to do something. I’m going to sound out a couple of child experts.’ He pulls out his BlackBerry and checks it, and something inside me flips.
‘What experts? What do you mean?’ I grab his BlackBerry. ‘Tell me!’
