Chapter 39

I woke to the sound of thumping on a door. Brutally loud and accompanied by shouting that it took my startled brain a few seconds to process.

‘Jonah? Open the door, please, or we're coming in.'

Why was Mum banging on my door asking for Jonah?

Oh no. Oh crap.

I opened my eyes and saw, not the green of my attic bedroom, but Jonah's dark-blue walls. He stirred beside me, shaking his head and squinting his eyes.

‘Jonah?' Dad.

Eyes widening, Jonah froze, mouthing a string of swear words. Before I could decide whether to dive under the covers or bolt for his wardrobe, the bedroom door opened.

For three seconds it was as though the world stopped turning.

Mum and Dad stood in the doorway in stunned silence.

Then all hell broke loose.

Shouting, crying, Dad ripping the duvet off us – thank goodness I was still dressed, and Jonah had his shorts on. Small consolation in the grand scheme of things, but I preserved that tiny iota of dignity, at least.

Jonah tried to physically shield me from the torrent of anger, but that only enraged Dad even more. Abandoning any hint of professionalism, he wrenched Jonah to the side, grabbing my wrist to yank me off the bed.

‘Dad, stop!' I was too stunned at that point to cry or resist. ‘Nothing happened! Please, stop!'

‘You being in this boy's bed happened,' Mum screeched. I'd occasionally seen my parents grow irate at social services, ignorant teachers or having to stand by helpless as one of their foster children suffered, but nothing like this. They'd borne physical blows, verbal abuse – one girl ripped up Dad's late parents' wedding photo – and never once lost their temper.

I huddled in the corner as Mum grabbed a sports bag and started stuffing Jonah's things into it, sobbing.

Jonah, on the other hand, had been confronted with his worst trigger – screaming, out-of-control adults. He'd instinctively switched to survival mode, posture aggressive as he swore and shouted, trying to get up in Dad's face.

After a seemingly endless couple of minutes, Nicky appeared.

‘What's going on?' She pushed her way in between Dad and Jonah, bracing them apart with held-up palms.

‘Dad?' Her voice was loud but it quavered. ‘Mum, stop! What are you doing?'

‘Jonah's leaving,' Mum said, shoving a pair of jeans into the bag.

Nicky spotted me then, eyes going round as she started to process the cause of all the drama.

‘They found you, then,' she said, head shaking in dismayed disbelief. ‘Best get out of here before you make things even worse. Both of you.'

She grabbed the T-shirt now in Mum's hand and shoved it at Jonah.

‘They aren't going anywhere,' Dad spluttered, but Nicky was having none of it.

‘They're going downstairs, where they're safe, while you two fricking well pull yourselves together before you do something that'll get you both struck off.'

‘Irrelevant,' Mum snapped, her voice thick. ‘I'm done. This is too much. I can't do it. I shouldn't bloody well have to do it!'

‘Go with them, Nicola,' Dad barked. ‘They aren't to be alone together.'

‘What, you think we're going to start getting it on in the living room while you're up here ransacking my stuff?' Jonah scoffed.

If possible, Dad's face turned even more purple, his fists clenching. Nicky pulled a furiously impatient face at me, and I slipped past her out of the door. To my relief, Jonah followed me. I went straight to the kitchen, expecting him to come too, but instead the front door crashed shut, echoing through the sudden silence.

My parents' social worker, Robin, arrived an hour later. Clare, social worker for Jonah, was not far behind. I'd hidden in my bedroom the second Jonah disappeared down the road, and remained there until Robin knocked on my door and asked if I would be kind enough to come down and have a chat about what had happened.

I'd had an hour to try to come up with an explanation, a justifiable excuse for being in Jonah's bed at ten-thirty in the morning. With Jonah.

The best I could do was present an edited version of the facts. We were chatting, both feeling stressed about exams, got cold so we went under the duvet. We clearly hadn't had sex, nothing like that had happened before, there was no relationship. Blah, blah, blah.

I pushed back my shoulders, tried to look innocent, and sauntered into the kitchen, coming to a dead stop at the journal sitting in the middle of the table.

‘You read my diary?' I cried. ‘You went into my bedside drawer, took out my diary and read it. That's… why would you do that?'

‘You were missing!' Mum said, sounding as distraught as I felt. ‘You have a maths exam this afternoon and you were nowhere. Your phone was in your bedroom, bed clearly hadn't been slept in. We waited an hour, called Katie and Alicia, and they didn't know where you were either. None of your shoes were missing. The front door was locked from the inside. We were frantic with worry.'

‘So you know, then,' I said, all the fight seeping out of me. ‘Is there any point talking about it?'

Robin cleared his throat before either of my parents could answer.

‘We know that you clearly had some feelings for Jonah.'

‘And you also know that they were only feelings. Up until yesterday.'

‘What happened yesterday?' Robin asked, stroking his beard. I liked Robin. He'd been a social worker forever and had seen pretty much everything. He used to take me and Nicky out for milkshakes sometimes, and had become a something of a replacement for the grandad we hardly ever saw because he lived in a care home miles away.

‘We spent the day hanging out and revising together. In the garden. Later on we were both feeling stressed about the exam, so I went into Jonah's room and we talked for a bit. It got really late, and we ended up falling asleep.'

‘You talked in his bed?' Clare asked.

‘On his bed. You've seen the state of his room. There wasn't anywhere else to sit.'

‘Your parents found you under the covers.'

‘It got chilly!' I knew, rationally, that there was no way to salvage this. Not now they'd read the obsessed ramblings in my journal. But I could try to make sure Jonah didn't get into too much trouble. At least, little enough trouble that we could keep on having contact once he moved out.

‘They also found me fully dressed.'

‘Well, it's easy enough to slip a T-shirt and leggings back on,' Mum snapped. ‘We were banging on the door for a good minute before we came in.'

‘Why don't you just say it?' I said, the words choking in my throat. ‘Ask me if we had sex.'

‘Well, I think that's pretty obvious.'

Mum couldn't look at me. Her knuckles were white where she gripped the cold mug of tea in her hands.

‘Is it? Because we didn't. We did nothing like that. Yes, I like Jonah. But if you read my journal, you know that I was never going to do anything about it. I wouldn't let a stupid crush ruin his chances of being adopted.'

‘But you did, when you spent the night in his room,' Dad said, the disappointment on his face even worse than the anger earlier.

‘It was one night! We were chatting and we fell asleep! It was extreme circumstances and we won't do it again. Obviously!'

‘Libby,' Robin said, gently. ‘You know Jonah can't stay.'

At that moment the front door opened, and the unmistakable sound of Jonah's boots clomped down the hallway. Before Clare could intercept him, he was standing in the kitchen doorway, his face a mask.

‘Jonah,' Clare said. ‘Libby was just telling us that last night was the first time anything had happened between you.'

‘Nothing happened!' I cried, trying to send Jonah desperate messages with my eyes, which he refused to acknowledge.

‘Oh, for goodness' sake, Libby. Please stop this charade,' Mum said.

‘You want to know the truth?' Jonah asked, sounding as if he couldn't have cared less.

‘That would be very helpful, thank you,' Robin said.

Jonah leant against the doorframe. ‘We kissed. It was the first time it happened, but it wasn't the first time I wanted it to. And I'm not going to pretend I don't want it to happen again.'

‘What the—?' Mum jumped up so fast that Robin reached out and steadied her with one hand on her arm.

‘I'm sorry you found out like this, and that we didn't wait until I'd moved out. We didn't plan for it to happen. But I love Libby. I'm not some deadbeat loser taking advantage of your daughter.'

‘That's exactly what you are!'

I bit the inside of my cheek so hard I tasted the tang of blood. It was the first time I'd seen Dad cry. Mum, however, was simply furious.

‘We take you in, offer a home to your brother and sister – to be your family. And this is how you repay us? You not only took brazen advantage of my daughter, you took advantage of me, Tony, Nicola… everyone you hoodwinked with your good-guy, tough-life persona. You've made damn fools out of all of us.'

I was too stricken to protest as Robin herded me and Jonah off to our bedrooms. An age later, Jonah messaged me.

I'm sorry. I'm an idiot for thinking that speech could win them over. I know better than anyone that life isn't a soppy film. I guess you gave me a reason to start hoping for a happy ending. I'm sorry for dragging you into my screwed-up crapheap of a life. No matter what happens, I love youx

I replied straight away.

I loved that speech. They're mad now, but when they've calmed down I can talk to them, make them see. Don't give up on a happy ending just yet. I love you tooxxx

A few minutes later, the shouting and crashing started. It wasn't hard to grasp what was going on.

Jonah was leaving. To ensure our family had no further contact with him, Ellis and Billy would be staying with their current foster carer. Placing their brother far enough away to safeguard me meant he'd be hundreds of miles from his siblings, too.

I ventured out of my room, sure that I stood as good a chance as anyone of helping Jonah to calm down, but Robin firmly sent me back, failing to appease me with his offer to bring up a drink or some lunch.

‘My exam starts soon.'

‘He'll be gone well before then.'

‘Then I need to say goodbye!'

He shook his head, sadly. ‘That's not going to happen.'

I tried phoning, three times. Sent more texts. There was no reply, but I reasoned he wouldn't be looking at his phone.

When there was the unmistakable sound of people lugging suitcases down the stairs – despite Jonah yelling that he didn't want any of it, they could burn the lot – I half ran, half stumbled down two flights of stairs to catch up with him.

‘Libby, get back inside,' Mum ordered from where she stood rigid in the hallway as Dad heaved a bag into the boot of Clare's car. I ignored her, hurrying onto the drive in my bare feet just as Jonah was about to get into the passenger seat.

‘Jonah!'

He quickly lifted his head to find me, eyes wild, hair a matted mess and an angry red mark across one cheek. ‘I'm sorry.'

‘I know. I'm sorry too.'

‘I love you!'

Before I could say anything else, Dad had grabbed hold of my arm and steered me back in the house. By the time I slipped free, the car had gone.

‘Where's he going?' I asked, fraught with desperation, following Robin and my parents into the living room.

‘They found a residential unit,' Robin said. ‘Quite lucky at such short notice.'

‘Where?'

‘I can't tell you that.'

‘Fine, I'll ask him myself.' I started to flounce off, as if I were the one wronged, rather than the person who'd chucked a petrol bomb into the middle of our family.

‘How about you get ready for your exam, and we can stop off for a KFC on the way there?' Robin said, although it clearly wasn't a suggestion.

I looked at my parents, two shell-shocked statues clasping hands on the sofa.

Now probably wasn't the time to say that I hated KFC. I changed into my uniform, collected my bag and went to stare at an exam paper, tears dripping onto my paltry effort at solving a quadratic equation and plotting points on a graph.