‘No. You are a very grown-up lady who likes … wait, is this that Frozen again?’ He laughs and swings her once more, teasing her that she’s too old for the likes of Disney; then he goes to the kitchen to stoke the boiler and put the kettle on.

‘Dad,’ she shouts through to him.

‘Aye?’

‘Thank you for tidying my room.’

‘What?’

‘Thanks. For tidying my room.’

‘I didn’t tidy your room – you did. Nearly tripped over those stones. They’re in the garden.’

‘What? No, I was out—’

He has disappeared back into the kitchen, clattering pots and pans as he serves up their dinner. She notes that he didn’t look sad, angry or secretive when she spoke to him. He didn’t look any way at all.

Over a plate full of sausage and mash Lauren asks carefully, ‘So when are you playing the ceilidh?’

‘Tuesday.’

‘And I’m not allowed to come?’

‘Afraid not. I’ll play you a private gig and you can dance to that. You and Billy. And Jameson.’

‘No way.’

‘No way, José.’ Her father smiles into his plate. ‘So. You won’t mind staying at Billy’s that night then?’

‘When?’

‘Tuesday.’

‘No—’ She picks at her mashed potato. ‘Dad. Billy’s not even going to be there. They’re away.’

‘Where?’

‘Disneyland Paris.’ She forks a small cloud of potato into her mouth. ‘So can I come with you?’

‘Ach, no, Lauren. We’ll have to find someone else. How about Vairi, eh? Know how much you love her.’

‘Dad, stop joking me.’ They eat the rest of the potato in silence. As Lauren picks up the plates, she says, ‘Can I go to Angela’s house?’

‘No, you cannot.’

‘But why? They’re not on holiday. Ann-Marie is home.’

‘Aye. Maybe Ann-Marie can come around here. I don’t know. You’re just not going to Angela’s.’

‘Why not?’

He sighs. ‘Just … Now’s not the time, Lauren.’

She knows better than to say any more and dries the dishes as he hands them to her one by one. ‘Do You Want To Build A Snowman?’ plays for the fourth time.

6

Lauren waits with Billy in the rain for the school bus, dirty white with peeling letters: Lighthouse Coaches. Everyone calls them Shitehouse.

She takes her place in one of the middle seats next to Jenny Gunn, from the year above. Lauren steals a glance at her fake leather jacket with its black studs.

‘It’s from New Look,’ Jenny says.