Free Taking Flight by Sheena Wilkinson

light so I supposed Declan was in his bedroom. The living-room was tidy enough but the flowers on the wallpaper clashed with the pink flowers on the three-piece suite. They must always have done, but I’d never noticed.
    â€˜It’s not as nice as when Gran was here,’ I said to Mum when she finally followed me in.
    She looked round. ‘No,’ she said. ‘I suppose Theresa has her own ideas.’ Ideas ? Looked to me like the only idea Theresa had was to do as little as possible. I picked up a photo from a shelf to change the subject. ‘Is that you?’ It was a wedding group. Mum was the bridesmaid in a salmon-pink dress that did nothing for her.
    She looked. ‘Hmm, Theresa’s wedding. Theresa and I are the only people still alive from that photo.’
    â€˜Mum! That’s a bit morbid.’
    â€˜It’s true, though. Look, isn’t Declan the picture of his dad?’
    â€˜I suppose.’ I set the photo back. ‘So, how come Theresa lived with her mother-in-law? Is that not a bit weird?’
    Mum shook her head. ‘She moved in after Gerard was killed. Declan was only a baby. I suppose they looked after each other.’
    I followed Mum’s gaze around the poky room. ‘It’s a bit grim, isn’t it?’
    â€˜Shh!’
    â€˜It’s OK, he’s upstairs. And I don’t mean it in a horrible way.’
    â€˜Well, don’t let Declan hear you,’ Mum warned.
    â€˜I’m glad you moved away from here.’ I didn’t just mean the house; I meant the whole skanky estate.
    â€˜I was luckier.’
    â€˜You weren’t just lucky. You told me you worked dead hard.’
    She smiled. ‘I did. But I was clever too. I passed the 11+. And I don’t know why but somehow I always wanted out of here. Gerard and Theresa both liked it OK.’
    â€˜So why doesn’t Theresa get a job and move somewhere nicer?’
    â€˜Well, maybe she will when she’s better,’ Mum said. She didn’t sound convinced. ‘But sweetie, next time you feel like being mean to Declan or putting that snobby face on, just remember this is what he’ll be going to back to next month.’ We were both whispering.
    â€˜OK! God, Mum! Lighten up a bit.’
    â€˜I’m just going upstairs,’ she said.
    I turned on the huge TV – it was the only new-looking thing in the room – and settled down to flick through the channels.

Chapter 11
    DECLAN
    Feels like months since I was in my own room. I sit on the bed and look round. The dark patch on the blue carpet where Emmet and I spilled the whiskey he nicked from his dad when we were twelve. The torn bits of wallpaper behind the bed that I pick at when I’m bored. Part of me wants to crawl under the duvet until all this is over. The other part can’t wait to get out. That stupid old bitch, saying all that crap about Mum. I get up and cross to the window. Backyards. Roofs. The streetlights of the street behind this one. The neon sign of Fat Frankie’s – only the sign says The Golden Fry. All I can see from the guest room at Colette’s is her garden and the one behind it.
    Footsteps on the stairs. Colette in the doorway. I haven’t got very far. The bag she gave me is sitting empty on the bed, gaping like an open mouth.
    â€˜This used to be my room,’ she says. ‘Your dad had the big one. I used to say it wasn’t fair because he was never in and I was never out.’ She laughs. ‘God, the hours I used to spend studying in here.’
    I have the smallest room because Gran had the other one. When she died Mum said I could move into her room but I didn’t like it so I moved back in here after a couple of weeks.
    â€˜Does it look the same?’
    She looks round. ‘I didn’t have a TV. Or football posters. I had Duran Duran.’
    â€˜ Who ?’
    â€˜Long time ago.’
    â€˜I don’t know what to