‘Maybe that would be best,’ said Mum. ‘But no. I’ll just say he died in his sleep. Of course she’ll be upset, but she’s young. She’ll get over it in time. She’ll —’

‘I will NOT get over it,’ I yelled. Tears were running down my face and every part of me was shivering. Mum and Dad had jumped to their feet and were watching me. I wanted to be more grown up. I wanted to show them I could be mature about things, reason with them, persuade them my dog would be okay, we’d all be okay. But my foot was stamping the floor and I was howling. ‘You will not kill my dog, Mum. You will NOT.’

And then Mum had my shoulders in her hands, but I didn’t want to look her in the face. I heard Dad say, ‘Chrissie?’ and his voice was worried, but Mum’s grip was firm and I couldn’t help myself. My face lifted and I met her eyes.

‘I’m not talking about your dog, Ashleigh,’ she said.

‘Chrissie!’

‘I’m talking about Aiden.’

‘What?’ My voice choked on a laugh.

‘Chrissie? Don’t.’ But Mum never took her eyes from mine.

‘It’s time you knew, Ashleigh. It’s time you knew. Aiden is not your brother. He’s not even human. Do you understand?’

I shook my head. I was numb and none of this made sense.

‘I made him, Ashleigh. I made him in my lab to protect you. Aiden’s a machine.’

13

13

Dad made me drink a glass of water. I didn’t want it and most of it spilled out of my mouth and onto the floor. They sat me on one of the chairs at the front and Mum got a cold towel and wiped my face.

‘I can’t believe you just did that, Chrissie.’ Dad’s voice.

‘Are you feeling okay, Ashleigh?’ said Mum.

I shook my head. The pattern in the carpet was shifting, small spirals of red and green twisting and turning. I was close to passing out. That was okay. I didn’t like where I was. I didn’t understand anything.

‘Chrissie, we need to talk,’ said Dad.

‘No, we don’t,’ Mum replied. ‘Ashleigh and I need to talk. Ashleigh and I will talk. We’re not leaving this room until we do. Do you hear me, Ashleigh?’

‘This is crazy …’ said Dad.

‘Gareth, do us all a favour and get something strong to drink from the kitchen. Whisky on the rocks for me, a diluted brandy for Ashleigh.’

‘She’s a child. Alcohol is not …’

‘I know she’s a child and I know she’s in shock. A small brandy won’t hurt. Now stop arguing and just go and do it, Gareth.’ Mum’s voice. Angry. Hard.