Lifesaving for Beginners

cold. He’s always warm.
    He pulls away then and looks at me. He looks at me like I am someone good. When he looks at me like that, I nearly believe it. Just for a moment. And then he smiles and turns. I stay like I always do. I stay until he opens the door and gives me one more wave and disappears into the house.
    I’m most of the way home when the phone rings. ‘Hello?’
    ‘Kat? It’s Dad.’ Which is strange because he never rings.
    ‘Is Ed OK?’
    ‘You need to come back here. Straight away.’

 
    I pick up Faith’s phone. A number flashes on the screen. A landline number. It’s not a number that I recognise. It doesn’t look like it’s from Brighton, the number. It’s only got about three more rings before it goes onto voicemail. Not enough time to run into the girls’ toilets and get her. If I was allowed to go into the girls’ toilets, which I’m not.
    Two more rings.
    Faith will probably kill me if I answer it. But then she might be mad if I don’t answer it. It might be important. It could be her real mam. Her birth mam. Ringing to say that she got Faith’s note and that she’s sorry about before but she’d like to meet up and bring us to a dead fancy restaurant for our dinner. She’ll probably try to get us to eat lobster. That’s the kind of stuff they serve in fancy restaurants. I hate lobster, even though I’ve never eaten one. It looks like it might still be alive.
    One more ring.
    Maybe it’s Rob? Maybe he followed us to Dublin and he’s ringing from a public phone box because his mobile ran out of battery or something? He’s ringing to say he’s sorry for fighting again and he wants Faith to come on the tour with the Crowns. I think Rob is wrong about Faith. I don’t think she’s changed. She just has to do stuff now that she didn’t have to do before, but, apart from that, she’s pretty much the same. She still watches EastEnders and practises her violin and listens to music on her iPod.
    I pick up the phone.
    I say, ‘Hello?’
    ‘Oh . . . hello. I was . . . I was looking for Faith. Faith McIntyre?’
    ‘Who are you?’ It doesn’t sound like a birth mother. Or Rob.
    ‘I’m, er . . . My name is Kenneth. I mean Leonard.’
    That’s a pretty weird answer, when you stop and think about it. I should probably hang up.
    ‘You must be Milo.’
    ‘How do you know that?’
    ‘It was in the note.’
    ‘Oh.’
    There’s silence for a while. I think he’s thinking about what he’s going to say next.
    I say, ‘Are you Faith’s birth father?’ I don’t know if that’s a proper word, to be honest.
    ‘No, I’m her . . . her birth grandfather.’
    ‘Oh.’ It must be a proper word, after all.
    He says, ‘I was wondering . . . if I could speak with Faith. Is she there?’
    I say, ‘No, she’s not.’
    ‘Oh. I see.’
    ‘She’s in the toi— in the Ladies.’
    ‘Oh. I see.’
    ‘But she’s been in there for ages so I don’t think she’ll be too much longer.’
    ‘I could phone back.’
    ‘I expect she’ll be out in a second. She’s probably just putting her make-up on again.’
    ‘Er, fine then. I’ll . . . I’ll wait. Are you . . . are you still in the area?’
    ‘What area?’
    ‘Near our house. Faith left a note. In the letterbox.’
    I say, ‘We’re in a café.’ I don’t say the name of it. I don’t say, ‘We’re in the Cream Bun.’
    Faith comes out of the toilet. She has brushed her hair and put on more lipstick. I know because there’s a little bit on her front tooth. I think it would taste awful, if you had to kiss a girl who was wearing lipstick.
    I say, ‘She’s here now.’
    The man says, ‘Oh. Good. Good,’ even though his voice doesn’t sound like the voice of someone who thinks things are good.
    Faith says, ’What are you doing with my phone?’
    I say, ‘It’s your birth grandfather.’
    Faith doesn’t say anything. She sits down.
    The grandfather says, ‘Is she OK? Will she talk to me? Could you put her on?’
    I hold out the phone to Faith but she shakes her head. I press the phone against my ear again. There is silence down the phone and then the grandfather says, ‘I could come and pick you both up. Bring you up to the house. Would that be an idea?’
    I say, ‘Hold on a minute.’ I put the phone on the table beside us and say, in a whisper, ‘He wants to come and collect us. In his car, I think. He wants to take us to his house.’
    Faith doesn’t nod or shake her head. She just sits there. She might