Lisa had been hurt once – and she was determined it wasn’t going to happen again
She stormed out of the room
It was a school morning, and as nine-year-old Lisa trudged downstairs she was surprised to be met with a delicious smell.Yay, pancakes! Her mouth was watering as she burst into the kitchen, but she stopped abruptly when she saw her stepfather Dylan and not her mother standing at the cooker.
‘Morning, love,’ said Mum. She was sitting drinking tea, her pregnant belly so huge it nudged up against the table. ‘What would you like on your pancakes?’
‘I’ll just have cereal.’ Lisa was aware of Mum and Dylan exchanging glances.
‘But you love pancakes,’ coaxed Mum.
‘I don’t love them today,’ said Lisa, reaching for the cornflakes. She knew she was being a brat. But just because Dylan made the pancakes didn’t mean she had to eat them.
‘All the more for us then,’ said Dylan after an awkward pause.
He offered one to Mum but she shook her head, nibbling on some toast. ‘I’d love to but I’ll only get heartburn. Lisa, love, I have a hospital appointment so your dad’s picking you up from school.’
Lisa loved her dad, but the truth was, he wasn’t very reliable. ‘He’ll forget,’ she said, speaking from experience.
‘He won’t,’ Mum assured her, though she didn’t meet her eye. ‘He’s promised.’
‘Why can’t Dylan pick me up?’ Dylan might be a pain but at least he always turned up when he said he would.
Lisa intercepted another shared look between the grown-ups.
‘He’s coming to the hospital with me.’
Of course he was. He hadn’t missed a single appointment. Lisa looked from one adult to the other. ‘Why?’ she asked finally. ‘You were there on Monday.’ She poured her cornflakes into a bowl. Her mouth still watered for pancakes but she plunged doggedly on. ‘What’s wrong with you?’
‘Nothing,’ said Mum quickly. ‘Everything’s fine.’
But Lisa knew there was more to it. Recently there had been too many conversations cut off when she walked into a room. Now she saw Dylan lightly touch Mum’s shoulder as he walked past and she scowled.
‘I’ll take the bus,’ she said.
‘Lisa…’ said Mum.
‘I’m nine. I can come home on the bus on my own.’
‘Lisa please.’ Mum rubbed her temples. ‘Can you just do as you’re told for once? I don’t need to be worrying about you.’
Slamming her spoon down, milk splashing everywhere, Lisa stormed o
