And what if Mum was crying all the way to Scotland because she was already missing us so much? Crying and crying and messing up her make-up and running out of tissues. And then I had the worst thought of all.

What if Mum wasn’t missing us at all?

CHAPTER 16

I did not enjoy my time at the Roystons’ and I’m pretty sure they didn’t enjoy having me there either.

The Royston family was made up of Brother Royston, who I called Uncle Paul; Sister Royston, who I called Aunty Jean; Peter, who was seventeen and used to be in the same Sunday school class as my brother Daniel; Helen, who was thirteen and in the first year of Grange High School; and Maudie, who was twelve and in the final year of Grange Primary.

They lived in a cream brick house in what was called a seaside suburb, but their house was near a very boring, busy main road and you couldn’t even walk to the ocean, so I think they must have been very disappointed if that’s why they bought it. It had no front yard to speak of, just dry grass that Peter had to mow when it was growing, but it was already so hot when I went to stay that it was just short yellow sticks of weeds and straw. The backyard had a big shed in it but it wasn’t that interesting and mainly just had their car and a few tools in it.

There was also a very old caravan that had no wheels and smelled of cat’s wee when you went into it, which Aunty Jean told me not to do. I went into the shed to have a good look around one day, and Aunty Jean yelled at me to get out before she took the stick to the back of my legs, so I didn’t chance a rummage around again. The back garden also had no flowers or shrubs or lawn or furniture except for a broken wooden table with two benches either side. Sister Royston said those who loved God and spent their time at the meeting all weekend had no time for fripperies like gardens. She said garden beds were a sign of materialism and vanity. When I said, ‘Didn’t God make the flowers and tell us to consider the lilies of the field?’, she said He did, and I could go and look for lilies in fields any time I liked and consider them there.

This was one of probably a thousand things I said in the weeks I stayed with them that I wished I hadn’t.

Aunty Jean was scary. She was enormously tall and very fat, but not that floppy kind of fat. She seemed so firm that I often wanted to poke her to see if she was as hard as she looked. I saw some strange underwear on the line one day that made me suspect she bound herself up with elastic all-in-ones to pretend she had a shape. Someone should have told her it wasn’t working, and she should just let go and breathe. Although, perhaps if she did, she would unfold into a huge wobbly jelly.