It's Lisa, right?

Chapter 23

23

My father walked into the reception, holding his hand out to Mrs Peters. She shook it, and looked at me, spitefully as if to say, ‘Ha ha, you’re about to be in trouble’. I merely raised my eyebrows at her, as if to reply, ‘Don’t be so sure’.

“Sorry I’m late,” said my Dad, “I was on the phone with my wife, trying to convince her that our attic needs to be professionally cleansed of monsters.”

Despite my anger, I smiled and my Dad winked at me, knowing how entertaining I found it when he said such things to my teachers. Mrs Peters looked as if she couldn’t decide whether he was serious or not, and I took great pleasure in seeing it. But she then shook her head, dismissing it.

“Well, the reason I called, Mr Danes, is that I feel your daughter needs to be taught a few things about manners,” said Mrs Peters.

“Oh really?” he said, frowning.

“Yes. We were just chatting in my office, and she decided to throw a rather hysteric tantrum.”

“That doesn’t sound like Lisa.”

“Well that is what happened, Mr Danes. I think you should take Lisa home now.”

“Oh… OK, but I don’t really see how that’s a punishment,” he said, innocently. My father was the master of that innocent child-like look.

I put a hand over my mouth, to cover my smile. Mrs Peters glared at my father, and he raised his eyebrows.

“But, yes, of course,” he said, hurriedly. “I will take her home immediately.”

He took my shoulders and shepherded me towards the doors. I glanced round at Mrs Peters and smiled, smugly. She scowled, in return. Well, it was her own fault – if she wanted to get me in trouble, she should have told one of the other teachers, not my parents (especially not my Dad). Once we were in the car, he turned to me.

“Is that true?” he asked.

I shrugged.

“May I ask why you were having a ‘hysteric tantrum’?” he said, using air quotes.

“Because I was already annoyed, and then she just… ”

“And why were you annoyed?”

I looked at my feet.

“Was it perhaps because of this thing that I wouldn’t understand?” he tried.

I nodded, and he sighed. “Well then, I say that Mrs Peters has no one but herself to blame for your ‘hysteric tantrum’. I mean, you don’t poke an already grumpy bear with a stick and expect them to not react.”

I frowned. “Did you just compare me to a grumpy bear?”

He hesitated. “No, of course not.”

I eyed him, suspiciously.

“Well, we better get you home, so you can ‘work on your manners’. Whereas I must get back to work.”

Left in the house, all by myself I couldn’t think of what to do. It wasn’t like I had anyone to talk to, now. I stood in the middle of the living room, swinging my arms awkwardly – what on earth could I do? What had I done with my spare time, before Henry? Then again, before Henry appeared I was only five, so my activities then probably wouldn’t appeal to me now.

“Henry?” I said, inaudibly.

Of course I received no reply. I hadn’t expected to, either. He was gone. He was gone, and there was nothing I could do about that. I lowered myself onto the sofa, and pulled my bag onto my lap – maybe I could read. However, as I rummaged around, I came across the drawing I’d done. I smoothed the bent paper and stared at it. I remember when I drew it, and thought that it looked quite good, but now I realised that it was actually terrible! It didn’t even begin to capture Henry’s appearance – not his soft skin, not his long legs, not his wide smile, not his amazing smooth hands, with his long thin fingers. None of it! My eyes narrowed and I furiously tore the drawing up again and again, hot tears running down my cheeks, until the shreds of paper were no longer big enough to rip up. I stood up, annoyed that I had nothing else to take this out on. I looked round for something, anything to break – there was the TV, the fireplace, all of the ornaments, the books – but nothing seemed good enough. I could taste my salty tears, but didn’t wipe them away. I stormed into the kitchen, hoping I would have more luck in there. I flung the cupboards open, and my eyes suddenly landed on the biscuit packet.