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my eyes are dry.
    â€œAre you sure you’re okay?” he asks.
    I nod into his chest.
    â€œCan you tell me what’s making you cry?”
    â€œMum,” I whisper.
    â€œDid you two have a fight? About me being in your room?”
    â€œNo. It’s … she’s … she has … it’s cancer. In her breast.”
    Dan tightens his embrace. “Oh, Fray.”
    We lie in silence. Dan’s chest rises and falls with each breath he takes. The predictable repetition soothes me until my heart rate slows and my breathing matches his.
    After a while he asks, “Is she going to be okay?”
    â€œI don’t know. She’s having an operation just after Christmas. She says the odds are good, but …”
    More silence. I try to fall back into the rhythm of our breathing, but no matter how hard I try, I can’t. Then Dan says, “Why don’t we go downstairs and watch a movie on the big screen?”

    I go to the guest bathroom and splash cold water on my puffy eyes and red cheeks. When I come out I spot Dan in the courtyard, furtively dragging on a cigarette. I pretend I haven’t seen him. It’s not the right time to give him another lecture on the evils of smoking, and anyway, he says he only smokes when he’s stressed, and we both know whose fault that is today.
    Dan comes into the living room a minute later, crunching a mouthful of breath mints and looking guilty. He tells me to choose a DVD while he makes popcorn in the microwave (which doesn’t taste as good as popcorn made on the stove, but for someone whose mum won’t even have a microwave in the house it’s such a novelty that I love it, especially the fakey-butter flavoured one). Even if you didn’t know that Dan’s house is a woman-free zone, you could guess from the DVD collection: science fiction, war movies and action flicks. I choose a kung-fu movie that claims to be “a hilarious martial arts western”. Half an hour into it, I realise that this means a lot of bad jokes about villains getting kicked in the balls, impaling themselves on spiky cacti and being hit in the face with things. I don’t care. I’m stretched out on the grey suede couch, lying with my head on Dan’s lap. If he wasn’t laughing so hard, I’d fall asleep.
    â€œI should get going,” I say when the movie ends.
    â€œDo you want me to come with you?”
    I reluctantly pull myself off the couch. “Thanks, but I’ll be okay.”
    â€œWell, do you want to do something tomorrow? We can ride to the beach, if you like.”
    â€œI have to finish my Christmas shopping,” I say, not mentioning that his is the only gift I still have to buy. “And get stuff ready for Steph’s tomorrow night. I’ll see you on Christmas Day though, right?”
    â€œYeah, we should be back from Auntie Bev’s by five. I’ve already told Dad that if they try to make me sit at the kids’ table with the six year olds again, we’re leaving immediately, so it could be way earlier.”
    I make a silent wish for Auntie Bev to stuff up big-time.

7
    When I get home there’s a postcard from Nicky on the dresser in the hallway.
    Dear Freia
    Bulgaria is beautiful, but freezing – they’re predicting a white Christmas. SO glad your mum lent me those thermals! Thankfully, the library (which is beautiful and amazing beyond words) is heated. I wish I could say the same for my hotel. Hope you’re having the summer of your dreams. I can’t wait to hear all about it when I get back.
    xxx Nicky
    PS Please give Jay a hug for me next time you see him. I expect he’ll need one by now.
    Jay’s not the only one, I think. But of course Nicky doesn’t know that. I asked Mum last night if she was going to tell Nicky about the operation, because I think she’d want to know. Mum looked at me like I’d suggested she go skinny-dipping in the