The Edge of Sanity Read Free

the pub. Hannah had been so gobsmacked she’d almost bitten off the tongue she was busy trying to stuff down Steve’s throat.
    ‘Uh-oh, watch out. ‘ere comes Prince-bleedin’-Charmin.’ Steve had guffawed, like a twat. No breeding. Not like Charlie. But then, Steve did hang out with Charlie. And Kayla had quite fancied bumping into him.
    She shouldn’t have left Emma though. Kayla recalled with a fresh pang of guilt how she’d begged to come with them.
    ‘ Ple-e-ase ,’ she’d whined, shadowing them from the house across the boatyard, where her dad was working only stone’s throw away. ‘I’ll be good.’
    ‘No!’ Kayla had stopped and turned. ‘Go and play,’ she’d hissed, annoyed. If their dad overheard, he’d be bound to suggest she take Emma along with her on their “shopping trip” and Kayla would stand no chance of impressing Charlie with her kid-sister in tow.
    ‘I’ve got no one to play with.’ Emma pouted, like she did when she couldn’t get her own way. ‘I want to come with you.’
    ‘Well, you can’t. Come on, Hannah.’ Kayla hooked arms with her best friend, and tried to ignore her ball-and-chain little sister.
    ‘But Mummy said,’ Emma persisted.
    ‘No she did not. Now go away .’
    At which, Emma had played her trump card, ‘I’ll tell Daddy,’ she had said, her arms folded and a smug look on her face.
    ‘Tell Daddy what, exactly?’ Kayla had asked, seriously irritated.
    ‘That you’ve been smoking,’ Emma said, looking like Miss Prim and Proper herself.
    ‘Ooh, big bloody deal.’ Kayla had rolled her eyes, and then glanced towards the water, where their dad was desperately trying to get five boats turned around ready to go out. Saturdays were always frantic, customers queuing, checking watches, impatient to be off on their holidays.
    He’d had his work cut out that morning. And their mum had been roped into some village fête to raise money for the local intensive care baby unit, which meant that neither of them would have time to listen to Miss Tattle-tale Smarty Pants. So Emma could go play on the motorway.
    ‘Drop dead, toe-rag!’ Kayla had snarled over her shoulder, heading fast for the gates to make good her escape while her dad was distracted.
    If only she could take the words back. But she couldn’t any more than she could bring Emma back. Her parents had barely spoken to her after the accident. For days, Kayla could understand. After all, they’d been through some kind of shit … Kayla waited, while a familiar heavy wave of sadness washed over her … but for weeks? Maybe if she tried harder, she’d naively thought, pulled her weight around the house more, starting, she’d decided purposefully, with the bedroom she’d shared with Emma.
    It had taken her hours to clean the rubbish from under her bed. Sorting through Emma’s stuff had taken longer. Kayla found herself stopping every few minutes, especially when she’d come across the outfit Emma had had for her fifth birthday. Three years past toddler, and she’s into sequinned leggings and sparkle tops. Kayla felt that funny sinking feeling in her chest again.
    Finally, floor visible, she’d decided to vacuum. She wasn’t even aware her mum had come into the room, until she’d shouted her name above the Dyson’s drone.
    Kayla hit the off button, turned, and smiled expectantly. She was quite chuffed with her efforts, now that the bedroom was looking more like a bedroom. As in you could actually see the beds. So why had her mum looked so totally pissed?
    It wouldn’t have killed her, would it—Kayla’s lower lip trembled afresh—to have tried to look pleased, even if she had “tidied Emma away”. She hadn’t meant to.
    Her mum had gone ballistic, banging on about how she should have asked, shouting at her, until her dad had intervened.
    ‘What the hell are you doing?’ he’d demanded angrily of Jo. ‘What’s she done to deserve that?’
    ‘I tidied the bedroom,’ Kayla told him,