Pictures of Lily

Sheila?’ Josh doesn’t look amused. Well, I thought it was funny.
    ‘See you later.’
    ‘Not if I see you first!’ I call after him, idiotically. The front door slams.
    I pour the tapwater down the sink and sigh as I realise I’m alone in the house. Helping myself to water from the jug in the fridge, I pad barefoot down the corridor to my bedroom. I screw up my nose at the sight of the green and brown curtains and matching bedspread. Maybe I will do something about my bedroom, after all. I decided earlier that I’d leave it as it was because there’s no point customising it when this will never feel like my home. But on second thoughts, I don’t think I can live like this, even for a short time. Perhaps I’ll get a few posters or something, change the bedspread if I can find something cheap and cheerful.
    I go to the window and look out. The view looks up into the hills. I notice for the first time what looks like a castle at the top. Weird. I pull the curtains closed.
    My suitcase is still sitting on the floor by the window. It didn’t take long to unpack; I was only allowed to bring one case, which is something Mum and I fought tooth and nail over before we came away. I go to the bathroom and brush my teeth and then I return to the bedroom and change into my PJs before pushing the suitcase under the bed so it’s out of the way.
    ‘AAAARGH!’
    I let out a bloodcurdling scream and leap onto the bed as a freakishly huge spider shoots out from under it and scurries at breakneck speed in the direction of the door. As I wobble on top of the mattress, fear clutching my stomach, the horrible realisation sinks in that if I don’t get rid of it, I’ll have to sleep in the same room as it. Tensely I crane my head in the direction that it fled.
    They’re more scared of us than we are of them, they’re more scared of us than we are of them, they’re more scared of us than we are of them . . . It’s a mantra that worked well enough back home, but here the spiders can kill you.
    I tentatively step down from the bed and snatch up a nearby trainer to use as a weapon. Feeling hopelessly vulnerable in my bare feet, I tread carefully towards the door as I keep my eyes peeled for dark spidery legs pressed up against the skirting board.
    Nothing. Nada. Zilch. I don’t know if it went out of the door or if it’s still lurking somewhere in the bedroom with me. The only thing I do know for certain, I think to myself as I climb uneasily into bed, is that I won’t be sleeping well tonight.

Chapter 2
     
    Five a.m. That’s not too bad, all things considered. I did wake up at three, vaguely needing to go to the toilet, but I’ve managed to hang on because there was no way in hell I was going to go traipsing down the corridor in the dark when there are life-sucking arachnids lurking about. Now I climb out of bed and put on my trainers before making my way to the bathroom. Mum’s bedroom door is ajar. I wonder if she’s awake too? I push open the door and peer inside. The bed is empty, still neatly made in all its murky-orange and mustard-yellow bedspready glory.
    So she slept with Michael on the first night. Am I surprised? I know I shouldn’t be, but I still take a deep breath and let out a loud sigh as I leave the room, pulling the door closed behind me.
    After a trip to the bathroom, I head into the kitchen, standing there aimlessly as I wonder what to do to pass the time until everyone else wakes up. I didn’t even hear them all come back last night, so I must have been out cold, despite my spider trauma.
    Maybe Mum didn’t come back at all? Maybe something happened to her? If she were dead, they’d have to make room for me at Dad’s place . . .
    A nasty sensation spikes at my head as I realise that my first thought wasn’t for my mum’s welfare, but before the dark side of my imagination can present an evil scenario explaining her empty bed, I hear a door open down the corridor. Moments later, Michael appears in the kitchen.
    ‘Ah, Lily,’ he says warmly. ‘I wondered if it was you I could hear.’
    ‘Is Mum in your bedroom?’ I ask outright.
    ‘Er, yes,’ he replies, looking awkward. I exhale loudly and he gives me a funny look before clapping his hands together once with forced enthusiasm. ‘Righto, think I’ll put the kettle on. Want a cuppa? Huh . . .’ He glances down at my feet, safely encased in my trainers, before his eyes lift to take in my pyjamas. ‘Were you planning on going