The Edge of Sanity by Sheryl Browne Page B

her dad climbed into the taxi. He looked awful. He was pale. She’d bet he’d lost weight. And his body language was all wrong. Her dad walked tall, straight-shouldered, or he did until the last few months. Kayla wished he would go home. That she could go home. To a home that felt like home—like it used to.
    Maybe she should tell them that. Then refuse to go back until they called a truce and sat down and talked, like adults. Yeah, right. If she didn’t go back, it’d be her mum slashing her wrists and blaming her dad. Mind you, the way her dad had acted tonight, he looked to be the parent Kayla should be worrying about.
    ‘Oh, come on, Kayla. Let’s go in,’ Hannah cajoled. ‘He’s gone, hasn’t he? And it’s nearly chucking out time, anyway. If we don’t go in now, we might as well forget it.’
    Kayla debated.
    ‘Pretty please?’ Hannah blinked beguiling eyes. ‘We’re all slutted up now, aren’t we? And I’d really like to see Steve.’
    ‘I dunno.’ Kayla chewed on her bottom lip. ‘He looked pretty annoyed, didn’t he?’
    ‘Yeah,’ Hannah conceded. ‘But that’s what parents do.’
    ‘But what if he comes back?’
    ‘Kayla, he won’t be back. He’s an irate father, not a flippin’ private detective. ‘Now come on , or we’ll have wasted all this make-up.’ Hannah hooked her arm through Kayla’s and set forth towards Strobes. ‘And I know you’d want Charlie to see you looking gorgeous.’
    ‘Yeah, I suppose.’ Kayla doubted she looked gorgeous. And, peculiarly, despite all the anticipation, she wasn’t really sure what she wanted anymore. Except to lose herself on the dance floor, maybe.
    ‘Head high, breasts forwards,’ Hannah hissed as they sauntered nonchalantly toward Strobes. ‘And smile. ’
    Kayla rearranged her face, thrust her best assets forwards, and arm-in-arm they strolled inside, straight past the still-bewildered bouncers.

Chapter Seven
    ‘Been there, mate.’ John, who had a room in the same hotel as Daniel, nodded knowledgeably. ‘Wives and kids, nothing but trouble. You’re well out of it. Come on, just have the one,’ he slurred, waving a bottle of whisky. ‘Life goes on, you know.’
    Daniel shook his head at the irony of that statement. Yes, right, he thought. Until God, fate, whatever, deigned otherwise. In one split second, Emma’s life had been stolen away, and he’d been allowed to go on. And he didn’t want to. Daniel knew that now more than ever. Not like this, not without Jo and Kayla.
    ‘I’ll pass, if you don’t mind,’ he said. ‘I’m knackered.’ The guy meant well, but drinking whisky wouldn’t help, unless he drank the whole bottle maybe. And then what? Pass out in his bed, knowing Jo might ring? No, he wasn’t about to do that. He needed to stay focussed until he knew Kayla was home safe. ‘Maybe tomorrow,’ he said. ‘Cheers, anyway.’
    ‘You’re on,’ John called after him as he headed up the stairs. ‘We’ll have a few beers in the pub and shoot some pool, if you like?’
    ‘Sounds good,’ Daniel lied. A boozy male bonding evening? Thanks, but no thanks. He’d be some kind of hypocrite anyway, wouldn’t he, drowning his sorrows in booze when Jo was obviously trying hard not to. He fumbled for his key and let himself into his room.
    One room, six by four, it was only just big enough to house the few belongings he’d brought with him. He threw himself down on the circa-sixties nylon bedspread, propped his head on his hands, and stared at the coffee-stained walls, which seemed to loom ominously closer tonight. Daniel tried not to notice, until they shuffled in another inch.
    Shit! Panic knotting his stomach, he was up and across the room to yank the resisting window wide. He hated it. This … powerlessness. It reminded him too much of a kid half his size, who’d lain awake in a room much the same, his only escape the window, which refused to budge as stubbornly as this one. Even if he’d plucked up the