Family Togetherness

Chapter 4- Layla

Layla started school a year late. It came with being the youngest of five; everything she did had to be last.

"It's a matter of priority," Victoria had told her the other day, when she asked why she couldn't start an activity like the others. "We're older. The things we do now are important for our future."

Layla didn't know what priority meant, but she wasn't about to ask. That was another thing that came with being the youngest; if you asked your brothers and sisters a question, they'd never give a straight answer. They thought it was funnier to tease you until you wished you'd never bothered with the whole conversation.

"But you did ballet when you were five. Five! And I'm nearly eight!"

Layla would have hated to do ballet. She didn't think dancing was a proper sport. But even that was better than sitting in the car for half an hour whilst Luke worked through Physics club; or shivering on the sidelines of the pitch whilst Nathan jogged up and down in football training.

"Next year, maybe."

Layla sighed, turning on her heel and flouncing out of the room.
Next year. Next month. Tomorrow. Everybody was always fobbing her off with these meaningless time promises. It was always going to happen soon, but never when she wanted it to. Never now.

"Everyone in the car! Let's go!" Sophie was standing by the door, a grey beanie pulled low over her ears and eyebrows. She looked as if she were part of a polar exploration mission.
As she impatiently jangled the heavy bunch of keys, the rest of her team reluctantly came to join her by the door; all hats, gloves and bulky school rucksacks.

"Mum!" Layla fumbled with the zip on her winter coat. It had been Abby's previously, and Victoria's years before that; and the zip was stubborn, the woolly fabric sparse and threadbare. Not that the poor condition was such a bad thing- Layla didn't mind hand-me-downs. She quite liked the fact that all her toys had their own stories of where they'd come from, and what they'd done in their previous lives. It was just that sometimes she longed for a doll or a dress that she could truly call her own.

"What is it?" Sophie asked distractedly. "Nathan, grab that bag for me!"

Nathan glanced up from his phone. "What? The red one?"

Sophie gave a low, frustrated sigh. "The one with the groceries in it. Mrs Davidson gave you some money to buy some vegetables. Ten pounds?"

"Nobody gave me ten pounds!"

"Nathan," his mother exploded, "an old lady has given you a large sum of money and asked you to do her shopping. Don't you dare tell me you've lost it!"

Nathan gazed sheepishly at the well-worn carpet. "I've sort of lost it, Mum."

"Urgh!" Sophie threw her hands into the air in disgust. "This is absolutely ridiculous! Remind me how old you are again?"

Nathan glanced wildly around for an escape, the pleading eyes landing on his little sister. Layla took the hint.

"Mum, I was trying to ask you-"

"Not now! Get into the car, all of you! I'm sick of the sight of you!"

Layla wasn't sure why her Mother would be sick of the sight of her, because she hadn't done anything wrong.
She had read through her school reading book (fat cats that sat on mats- again! Layla was beginning to tire of the same old stories.) She had written out the sentences on her phonetics sheet; and she hadn't put up a fuss about eating dinner for a whole week- even though it had been Victoria's turn to cook, which meant nothing but beans on toast.