The Edge of Sanity Read Free Page A

feeling as bewildered as her dad looked.
    He’d raked his hand through his hair. He always did that when he was upset or angry. ‘Shit,’ he had said, his shoulders sagging. ‘She wouldn’t understand, Jo.’ He reached for her mum, but Jo backed off.
    She had clamped her hands over her face and just kept saying sorry. Over and over she had said it, and Kayla felt worse than ever, because, the truth was, she didn’t know who her mum was saying sorry to.
    Kayla had looked at her dad, wondering what to do next. Stay? Or leave them alone? He looked so exhausted, she remembered. Wretched and worn out, and worse, he had tears in his eyes. If her mum’s outburst had destabilised Kayla, her father’s noticeable tears rocked the very foundation beneath her. Kayla had never seen him cry openly, not even after the funeral. Kayla knew he had cried in secret, though. Tall, strong, good-looking—all her mates said so. Kayla quietly thought so—her dad had cried his heart out when he’d thought there was no one around to see him.
    He’d cried last night, after they’d argued: A real humdinger this time, her mum yelling at her dad, volume on max. There’d been a lull after a while, while her mum topped up her wine. Kayla didn’t need to hear to know that. She’d been drinking a lot since Emma. She said it helped her to sleep.
    Yeah, well, pass the glass. Kayla could use some of that.And then came the whammy, the guilt-hanging, heart-crushing finale. ‘It’s your fault!’ she’d told her dad. ‘All of this is your fault!’
    Her dad didn’t shout back. He never did that. He should have. It wasn’t his fault! Kayla had felt like shouting for him. It was mine!
    He had been standing in the hall before he’d gone, dragging his arm over his eyes and taking deep breaths, and Kayla knew he was crying. She’d wanted to go to him. To tell him everything would be okay. That he still had her. But … what if it wasn’t enough? If she wasn’t enough? Too frightened to find out, she returned to her room, buried herself under her duvet and stuffed her face into her pillow.
    Her dad had crept up to check on her. Kayla knew he would. He always did, but she’d kept quiet, kept her eyes clamped tight shut, because she didn’t want to see the pain in his eyes. The pain she’d caused.
    And then, he’d left. Bye, Kayla. Cheers. Nice knowing you, but not that nice. See you around. Yeah, right. He never said a word. Not a single word.
    She’d gone to the window when she’d heard the front door close, watched him head off across the boatyard. No jaunt to his walk anymore, no sense of purpose, he’d looked like a man defeated.
    Sometimes, Kayla wished she could go back. Take a trip in the Tardis and step out to a time when she had her dad all to herself. She missed how they used to be: The way he’d muss up her hair, or tickle her until she nearly wet herself. ‘Can’t sulk when you’re laughing, can you, Kayla?’ he’d grin, and show her no mercy.
    Maybe he thought she was getting too old for all that stuff now? Kayla supposed she probably was. She’d had to steel herself to ask him for money a few weeks back. Money above her allowance, which she’d already spent. She’d have been more comfortable asking her mum, but Jo rarely emerged that early in the morning anymore.
    ‘What for?’ Daniel had asked, irritated as the toast popped belatedly and the smoke alarm went into overdrive.
    ‘ Dammit !’ he’d cursed then, turning away to toss blackened toast in the bin. ‘I haven’t got any cash on me, Kayla. You’ll have to ask me later.’
    ‘But Dad, I need it now,’ she’d insisted.
    ‘How much?’ He’d searched his pockets.
    ‘Three quid.’
    ‘I haven’t got three quid, Kayla. A pound will have to do.’
    ‘But a pound isn’t enough, Dad.’
    ‘Is it ever?’ He’d sighed, ramming the kettle under the tap, soaking his shirt, and obviously shortening his temper further. ‘What’s so important that you