be kept to yourself.’
The light from her phone shone on her face. ‘Yeah, well, I don’t expect people to read my mind.’
Wouldn’t that be great. If people could do that. My mouth never quite manages to say the words my brain thinks. It could save me a lot of trouble. While I was thinking this, someone knocked on the door before opening it.
‘Is she still on her damn phone?’ said Bubblee, walking into my room and plopping herself on my bed.
‘How’s Farah?’ I asked.
Mae put her phone down as Bubblee switched on my bedside lamp and looked around my room.
‘Every time I ask she just replies “Fine.” I think you need more colour in this room, Fatti. Maybe a painting or two? Something to add a little character.’
What did she mean? Doesn’t she think I have character?
‘Are you gonna marry that Malik guy?’ asked Mae.
My heart seemed to beat a little faster.
‘Over my dead body,’ replied Bubblee, observing my bookshelf. ‘There’s something very reflective in the orderly way you’ve piled your books, Fatti.’
Mae shot a look at me, suppressing a laugh. I had to hold mine back too.
‘I mean, we can really draw parallels from our surroundings about our personalities.’
‘Oh yeah,’ said Mae. ‘What’s your flat like then?’
‘You can come visit and see for yourself one day.’ Bubblee looked at her. ‘If you do well in your GCSEs, you can even come and stay with me for a while.’
Mae sat up. ‘Shut your face.’
I had a sudden bout of panic. If Mae leaves here, then I’ll be alone – with my parents.
‘We can go to exhibitions and sit in cafes. You can get a part-time job.’
‘A job?’ said Mae.
‘Yes. A job. That thing that funds the life we want to lead.’
Mae lay back down. ‘London would be something.’
‘Fatti, you can come too,’ said Bubblee, hitting me on the leg.
I said: ‘That’d be great.’ But a hundred questions came to me: What would I wear? How would I act with Bubblee’s artist friends? I need to lose at least twenty pounds before going to London. The whole idea made me want to reach into my drawer for cheese, except I couldn’t with Mae around. But she was right, London would be something.
‘You’d better not marry that Malik before I get a chance,’ said Mae.
Bubblee threw a pillow at her. ‘I’m not marrying him. He’s so uninspired.’
‘But you don’t even know him,’ I replied.
Why do people make such quick judgements about others? Why does no-one give anyone a chance? I think Bubblee said something, but I was too lost in these thoughts to hear. So lost that I ended up saying aloud: ‘I feel like I know him.’
Mae let out a snort of laughter. I felt my face flush, unable to look at Bubblee, who I could tell was staring at me.
‘Haha. Fatti fancies Mal-meister,’ said Mae, getting her phone out again.
‘Don’t even think about hitting the record button,’ I said, the heat in my face rising. ‘And I don’t fancy him. I’m just saying. He is family, anyway.’
‘Exactly,’ said Bubblee. ‘It’s unwholesome to even think about marrying him. I mean, Farah married her cousin and that’s bad enough.’ Bubblee looked at the ground. ‘Look what she’s got to show for it,’ she added.
It seemed so obvious to me. Was I being stupid? Did no-one else see what I saw?
‘Let it go, man,’ added Mae. ‘How much longer are you gonna hold that against her?’
‘I’m here, aren’t I?’ replied Bubblee. ‘Can you believe how Mum was going on and on about Jay? I was embarrassed for her.’
‘He does send money,’ I said.
‘Not nearly enough to make up for the fact that we never know where he is, or what he’s doing. He couldn’t give a crap about any of us.’
I wondered if Bubblee realised that a lot of the time we don’t know where she is or what she’s doing either. My bedroom door opened again and it was Farah. ‘This is where you’re all hiding.’
I folded my legs to make room for Farah on my bed.
‘Bubblee’s the one hiding,’ said Mae, still tapping on her phone. ‘From her husband.’ After which she made kissing noises.
‘She could do a lot worse than him. They’re a good family. Good brothers,’ replied Farah, still standing at the doorway.
‘Good enough for someone else, maybe,’ mumbled Bubblee.
‘What?’ said Farah.
‘Nothing,’ she replied.
Farah’s hand rested on the door handle – she was still as a statue. ‘If you have something to say, you might as well say it. It’s not like I have other things to deal with.’
‘Nothing,’ repeated Bubblee.
I don’t understand how someone can be so stubborn about something. I’ve seen the way Mustafa is around Farah – the way he’s looked after her. He might not be funny and clever – all those things that Bubblee goes on about – but he was kind, at least. Is kind. Which is more than can be said for a lot of men. God, I hope he lives.
‘Mae – get off your phone and sleep in the room with me tonight,’ said Farah.
Mae sighed deeply, picked up her pillow and left the room with Farah closing the door behind her.
I watched Bubblee who was staring at the closed door.
‘You can sleep on the bed,’ I said to her. ‘I’ll take the floor.’
‘Thanks,’ she replied, sounding as if she were somewhere far away.
*
I woke up early, absolutely starving. Creeping out of the room, I walked passed my parents’ room and heard weird noises coming from inside. Sounded like Mum’s arthritis was pretty bad, as she seemed to be moaning. When I went downstairs Malik was at the breakfast table, eating a bowl of cornflakes.
‘Oh,’ I said.
‘You’re up early,’ he replied.
I couldn’t think of anything to say and wished I’d at least put my bathrobe on.
