Aleisha had watched as her mum beamed, showing off the gap between her front teeth. Her mother’s smile always took her back to long-ago family trips to the beach, like a photograph imprinted on her memory.
She wished Aidan were here to see it. He’d tell her to be careful, to not get her hopes up – he’d remind her that there may still be a few more weeks, even months, to go until Leilah was ‘totally herself’ again.
Right now, though, that didn’t matter. They had been a dull, boring, ordinary family for an hour and a half. It was all Aleisha wanted.
She remembered film nights with Leilah when she and Aidan were little, usually when Dean was working late. They’d curl up together under a blanket if it was winter, tuck into a bowl of Tesco’s own vanilla ice cream if it was summer. Aidan usually insisted on sprinkles – chocolate sprinkles, hundreds and thousands. Aleisha preferred syrup. Sometimes Leilah allowed both. They’d dubbed these their film critic nights, because they’d watch the film and then talk for ages afterwards – discussing different characters, funny bits, the sad bits too. Leilah would ask probing questions like, ‘What did that character learn from what he did?’ Aleisha recognized herself doing this in her conversations with Mr P, trying to find out a little more about his views on each book. Leilah did it to spark conversation, to help their favourite moment last longer. To keep them in the bubble, the bubble that would burst as soon as Dean came home and everything had to go back to boring reality – getting ready for bed, then for school, so Dean could settle down in front of the TV himself and unwind with the ten o’clock news. She missed the three of them just being in each other’s company with nothing else to worry about but the character motivations and the theme music.
‘What did you think?’ Aleisha asked as Leilah watched the screen, her mother’s palms held together as if in prayer.
‘It was quite emotional!’ Leilah said softly, still staring at the credits. Her face was illuminated by the television in all its different colours: reds, blues, greens. All the creases in her mother’s face were clear: the expressions, the sadness. She was lovely.
‘Thank you,’ Leilah said, still staring, gently squeezing Aleisha’s hand.
‘You’re welcome,’ Aleisha replied, unsure of what she was being thanked for.
‘Come sit with me?’ Leilah slapped the cushion of the seat beside her.
Aleisha did as she was told, not wanting to break the spell again.
‘How are you?’ Leilah looked at her.
Aleisha let the question hang in the silence between them for a moment, not wanting to say the wrong thing.
‘Yeah, I’m okay.’ She opened her mouth to continue, but her mind was a blank.
‘Who’s that person you keep texting?’ Leilah asked as Aleisha’s phone buzzed.
‘What?’ Aleisha flushed.
‘That person – the one you’re messaging now. Someone you’re always on your phone to when you’re here. Who?’
Aleisha looked at the message from Zac: Hey, you all right? How was the film? Fancy that coffee sometime soon?
‘Oh no one,’ she mumbled. ‘A friend.’
‘A boyfriend! Do you have a boyfriend?!’ Leilah’s eyes glinted with girlish glee. Aleisha couldn’t help but smile for a moment.
‘No, no, no. It’s no one.’ An image of Zac dressed in Jane Austen-style clothes, a formal, frilly white shirt, popped up in her mind. She covered her face with her hands.
‘Someone you work with? You mentioned someone called Kyle before?’
‘No!’ She was horrified at the suggestion.
‘You have to tell me.’
Aleisha laughed. She hated this. But her mother actually gave a shit if she was seeing a guy. That was new.
‘Are you going to invite him round?’
It was like Leilah believed they were living a different life at times like this, as if she and Aidan could invite friends round at the drop of a hat.
‘So, come on spill, who’s the guy?’
‘Why do you think it’s a guy?’
‘Look, I might be old but I know it’s a guy and I want to know everything. Not because I’m your mum, just because. Why can’t I know something fun and exciting? Look at me!’ Leilah held her arms out to the side. She looked small. Her T-shirt was sagging around her waist, and her legs were crossed tightly in front of her.
‘But I mean, what if it was a girl? Not a guy.’
‘I don’t mind either way. You’ll tell me!’