on her lips like she is trying to stop them from saying something.
Outside, the white clouds have taken over all of the sky. A blackbird with a bright orange beak jumps across the grass. It pokes its beak into the squishy mud looking for a worm to kill. Whiskey doesn’t look at me even when I make the special food-time call, ‘Whis whis whis.’ My voice sounds funny and then Dad comes and takes me back inside.
Mum isn’t there. She must be lying down. The policeman is leaning against the fridge door. He’s jumbled all the letters up and they don’t spell Falcon’s name any more. I’ll have to fix it when he goes. The lady policeman is still sitting at the table with the notebook in front of her. Dad’s hand is on my shoulder. ‘It’s okay, love,’ he says, ‘nearly there,’ as if we were on a trip in the car. A green letter C is on the floor next to the policeman’s big black shoe. My stomach feels funny but I don’t know if it’s hungry or sick. Dad pulls out the chair beside the lady policeman and I sit on it because that’s what I’m supposed to do. I don’t mind because it means I can’t see the weird white sky where Mum was standing.
‘No one is angry with you,’ the lady policeman says, and smiles her lips to show me she’s lying. She has dark hairs on her lip but she’s a lady.
I don’t know what to say to make it better so I say, ‘I’m sorry, Dad,’ but he doesn’t look at me. The way that he’s sitting there like he’s broken, with his big Adam’s apple going up and down, he looks like someone else’s father, not my dad.
‘Look at me,’ the lady policeman says, and I look at her eyes, which have freckles in them. ‘You and Falcon were in the car making a racket and your mum got angry with you because she had the yips,’ she says, and then she stops talking but she nods her head up and down so I nod, too. ‘Good girl,’ she says but she doesn’t smile. ‘And then your mum took the handbrake off and got out of the car and the car rolled into the water.’
The policeman’s foot makes a glucky sound on the lino where Falcon’s juice tipped over. He closes the door softly behind him. He must be going to check on Mum. The blue F for Falcon has fallen under the fridge door and Whiskey’s hair is all stuck to it. I guess Mum will have to throw it in the rubbish. The lady policeman is still looking at me, so I nod. I hope Mum has her drugs so she doesn’t have the yips with the policeman. Then the lady policeman asks me if I remember the man rescuing me from under the water, but she doesn’t ask about Falcon and I don’t tell her about him crying when the car filled up with water. She stops writing and draws a line under her last words like it’s The End.
I don’t like the part of the hallway that goes past Mum’s bedroom. The door is open and I hope Mum is lying down asleep, but she isn’t. She’s sitting on the little stool in front of her dresser where the round butterfly box with all of her make-up is. I’m not allowed to touch Mum’s butterfly box. She’s staring at the mirror so I see two of her, two mums looking at each other. I’ve gone all the way past her door and I’m nearly at mine when she says, ‘Sunny,’ and I stop, but she doesn’t say anything else so I have to walk back to the doorway. The policeman is in the room with her. He’s got his arms folded and he’s staring at the back of her head like he’s waiting for her to hurry up. I put my hand up to hold on to the door. I don’t know which mum I should be looking at, but they’re not looking at me anyway. It’s only six steps from here to my room. I want to lie in my bed with the duvet pulled up over my head and make a tent for Baby Bear and me. I don’t want the white sky looking in my window and making me sick.
Then Mum slides her eyes at me, but she doesn’t move her head, and I have