‘For Mum?’
‘No, no, just something for me. For my headaches. Let’s get food then, yeah? If you still want to. The picnic?’ he said, ruffling her hair.
Stepping through the doors of Tesco, they regretted it instantly. It was rammed. They rushed through the aisles to find their sandwich fillings of choice. Aleisha chose paté, because she loved it. Aidan got himself corned beef, because it reminded him of sandwiches that Dean used to make, though he’d never admit the association. They bought prawn cocktail for Leilah, hoping she hadn’t gone off it.
They wandered past Creams, the ice-cream parlour, on the way back. She peered in, wondering if anyone she knew was in there. It had once been a regular haunt for Aleisha, because it was one of the few indoor places under-18s could loiter for hours, stuffing their faces with sugar. But the black and purple chairs and tables were riddled with a new generation of teenagers wearing Adidas sliders and socks. Aleisha’s friends had grown up and grown out of it – they’d moved on to the next stage of their social lives: getting fake IDs and befriending bouncers to get into proper bars. She didn’t miss it. Did she?
An hour later, the sandwiches were made; some were cut into triangles, others into fingers. They sat on Leilah’s serving platter – white with a gold rim. Already they were getting stale. Aleisha prodded one with her finger, and felt the bread, dry, against her fingertip.
Aidan was sitting outside. Leilah was seated in a kitchen chair, looking out of the open back door into the garden. She was smiling, although Aleisha could see her face was pale. Her eyes dark and unseeing. The skin on her forehead dry. She was tired again.
Aidan laid an old picnic blanket down. ‘Mum,’ he called, smoothing out the wrinkles. ‘Come outside!’ He tried to sound upbeat, but Aleisha heard his voice shaking. He was nervous, he was shit scared. She hadn’t noticed it so clearly before.
Aleisha shot a look at Leilah – this was the moment of truth.
Leilah stayed stock still. Then, gradually, she began to shake her head. Slowly at first. One, two, three.
Then frantically. Onetwothreefourfivesix.
Her breathing became deeper, then shallow all of a sudden.
Her eyes closed. Her hands flew to her face. She hugged herself. Her fingers digging deep into her arms. Locking herself away.
Aleisha put the sandwiches down. Aidan forgot the final wrinkles in the blanket. They rushed towards her.
Instinctively, Leilah turned to Aidan first. Aleisha knew she couldn’t reach either of them now. Aidan started humming softly, a chorus of, ‘It’s okay, Mum,’ and, ‘You’re safe, Mum,’ and, ‘We can eat in here, we don’t have to go outside.’
Aleisha was forgotten. Redundant.
She walked back to the kitchen counter and watched from a distance, her worries bunched up inside her, forming a stone in the pit of her stomach. Heavy. Hurting. Aidan was kneeling in front of his mother. Both his hands clasped around one of hers. Praying. Begging her to be okay again. Leilah only ever wanted Aidan. The air was thick. Aleisha could barely breathe. Her brother looked at her, for help, to check she was okay, and she could see the air was suffocating him too. At least, she thought for the tiniest of moments, she wasn’t the only one.
‘It’s okay, it’s going to be okay,’ he told Leilah. Aidan slammed the garden door shut, keeping the outside world firmly out, locking the three of them in. He walked Leilah upstairs to her room.
‘Can I help?’ Aleisha shouted.
‘No, it’s fine. Just give us a minute,’ Aidan called down.
Although she tried to swallow it, Aleisha could feel herself getting angry. Her mind started to race. She leaned against the counter, staring at Aidan’s fucking Peter Rabbit plate. Always so happy. Always reminding her that Aidan was the best one here. Before she could register what she was doing, she grabbed the plate from the shelf, and let it slip out of her hand. It crashed onto the floor, smashing in slow motion, letting Aleisha feel every microsecond of her selfishness.
‘Leish?’ Aidan came rushing down to find her picking up the first shard, pushing the sharp edge into the tip of her finger, watching as a bead of blood blossomed in front of her eyes. ‘Are you okay?’ He grabbed a tea towel, wrapping it tightly round her finger as if it was the biggest injury in the world. ‘I’m so sorry, I should have helped you clear up.’
‘Is Mum okay?’ Aleisha asked, not wanting to know the answer.
‘She’ll be okay.’
He said nothing about the fact it was his plate, his special display plate. The sandwiches were still sitting on the kitchen counter, untouched, as he swept up Peter Rabbit’s cotton tail.