And now here was her mother, saying that she was dead.
‘This can’t be,’ said Layla, the cardigan falling from her hands. She stood up, shaking her head. ‘He must have got it wrong, he must have misunderstood…’
Annie stood up too. She grabbed hold of Layla’s shoulders and looked her in the eye.
‘Layla,’ she said, and her voice was full of compassion. ‘He didn’t misunderstand. She’s gone. I’m sorry.’
Layla looked blankly around. She was silent, taking it in. Then her eyes fastened on to her mother’s face. ‘Dad’s going to get him, isn’t he? He’s going to get Rufus Malone?’
‘He is. He will,’ said Annie, watching her anxiously. ‘I know what a terrible shock this is for you. Is there anything I can do, honey? Anything I can get for you?’
Layla shook her head. ‘No, I… think I’ll go up and take a shower, I want to be on my own for a bit.’
‘Sure. Of course.’
Annie watched her daughter go. Her heart ached for Layla. She’d lost friends herself, dear friends, she knew how it hurt. She looked at the fuchsia cardigan, left there on the couch. Then she picked it up and put it away, out of sight. She knew her daughter would always hate the thing now. That it would forever symbolize the loss of her friend.
Layla showered, tied her hair up in a knot, and dressed in jeans and a white T-shirt, hardly noticing what she was putting on. Then she sat on the bed. She didn’t feel she could face going downstairs again, seeing the pity in Annie’s eyes. But she was restless, grief-stricken, trying to take in what seemed like some sick joke: Precious is dead.
Thoughts of Precious kept popping into her head. The incisive, intelligent Precious she’d got to know. She could picture her now, laughing and smiling and doing her fantastic private dance. And then it hit her: she would never see her laugh or smile or dance again. Precious is dead.
Barely knowing what she was doing or where she was going, she snatched up her bag and headed downstairs, stopping off in the kitchen. Rosa was saying Hola, Layla, can I help you? But no one could help with this. Shaking her head, Layla returned to the hall and crossed to the front door. She wanted to walk, to feel the air on her face with no fucking minders to tell her where to be, what to do. She wanted to flee this whole terrible situation, run away from her own torment. She slipped outside, but Bri was barring her way.
Shit, why can’t they leave me alone?
‘It’s OK, I’m just going out.’
‘Going where? With who?’ asked Bri.
‘Um…’ Please go away, please leave me alone, can’t I just be alone for five minutes?