Perfect

Nineteen: Awkward

Mum releases me from her iron grip and holds me at arms length.

“My, Layla, you’ve got thin!” she gasped. “That modelling.” She tuts. “It’s not healthy and...” Mum grabs the end of my jumper, pulling my wrist up to her eyes. The sleeve falls way and she can see the scars; I can see the scars. I pull away and shake the sleeve over my hands once more. From the table, Francesca sighs heavily and shuts her laptop, just as Callum and Gerard enter.

“Who’s this young man?” Mum inquires.

“This is Gerard,” I tell her. “He’s a friend I made in America...he paid for me to come over here.”

“A friend, huh,” Francesca mutters under her breath and I turn to her.

“Yes, a friend,” I say sharply. “He’s a good friend. I’m lucky to have met him.”

Gerard nods. “You must be Layla’s mother?”

“I am, but call me Margaret,” Mum answers him, grinning hugely and hugging him. Gerard looks a little surprised, but quickly recovers and edges over to my side.

“You both came just in time; I was about to put dinner on the table. There should be enough for us all...” Mum goes back to the kitchen, leaving Giselle to squeak and shriek, Callum to babble, and Francesca to sigh and tut as she puts her laptop away.

“Mum, I’m going now,” she calls in her usual posh accent, the voice that says ‘I am superior’ when really she has a strong Salford accent, just like Giselle, Callum, Mum – and me, before I went to America, and my voice got a slightly American edge to it.

“Oh? Why?” Mum asks, popping her head out of the kitchen door. “You can...”

“No,” Francesca cuts her off hurriedly. “I have a lot of work to get through and I could never finish it here. I’ll be off then.”

She picks up her case and her bag and strides into the hallway. I hurry after her.

“Francesca.”

“What do you want?” she spits, her voice suddenly back to common as she gets annoyed.

“A little hello and some politeness would be nice,” I answer her.

“Why should I? We get no news from you in three years and then you just appear on our doorstep with some guy you’ve picked up –”

I turn away. “Francesca, I’m not speaking to you when you’re being like this.”

“Yes, you do that...always running away from your problems,” Francesca growls. I hear the door slam and walk back into the dining room. Giselle and Callum are trying to make conversation with Gerard, now all sat around the dining room table with plates of food in front of them. Mum comes out of the kitchen carrying two more plates and puts them down again. I sit in the seat where I always used to sit, and I’m thankful that Gerard is next to me.

Because I know this dinner is going to be an awkward one, because my family just love to talk. And Gerard being there might just make things a little easier...