Footprints in the Sand

3. The Sleepover

I waited anxiously for my friends to turn up, and by 5 I was virtually pacing my room. The doorbell rang and I dashed downstairs, reaching the door just before Dad.

            "I have this, Father." I smiled. He nodded slightly and glided back to the lounge. I opened the oak door to see Ash and Carrie standing in the doorway. I wrapped my arms around them,

            "Mon père est ici." I whispered. My father is here. I'd taught that to them in Year 9, our little signal if they ever came over and Dad had landed. Both groaned slightly, almost inaudibly. I let go of the pair of them as another car drew up my drive: Luce's Dad, in the back was Daisy. The two got out of the car and ran at me, both swinging their arms around my neck.

            "Votre papa ici?" Luce asked. His Mum was French and Luce had been brought up speaking French. He was the easiest for me to educate.

            "Oui, malheureusement." I replied. "I swear the French use the longest words possible." I complained, letting go of them and pulling them inside. Dad stood in the doorway, leaning against the frame to the lounge.

            "Good day, Mr Shadow." Carrie smiled. Dad lowered his head,

            "Carrie." He replied,

            "We're heading upstairs. Mother calls us when it is time for food." I smiled. Dad nodded. Mum appeared in the doorway,

            "Half an hour, Flo." Mum called.

            "Yes, Mummy." I replied. I heard Dad sigh, and saw his dark curls shake a little as he went back to the television. We headed upstairs to my room. I shut the door behind Daisy, the last person to walk into my room. They slumped into my sofa, or against it. I sat on the small, soft chair that I'd built out of boredom the previously summer. Everyone knew only I sat in it.

            "You still call your Mum Mummy?" Daisy asked as she swished her highlighted blonde hair behind her shoulder. She was the most naive of my friends, not quite as rich as my family, but rich enough to shop in a similar style to my budget.

            "You still call your Dad Daddy." I retorted.

            "That's different."

            "I only call her Mummy when Dad's around and I want to annoy him. Otherwise she's Mum."

            "You're strange." Ash said, sticking his tongue out at me. I smiled sarcastically. My friends giggled. Knock, knock, on the door. Silence fell. I stood up silently and opened my door. Dad stood there, his face as blank as fresh printer paper, though in his hands was a tray containing five cups of something orange and fizzy.

            "Pru told me to bring drinks." He whispered. He seemed so off compared to his normal strict self, and it was a little strange to me.

            "Thanks." I went to grab the tray.

            "Can I bring them in?" His voice was shaky and nervous, much like a child's. It was strange to see Dad so open and fragile.

            "Sure." I smiled and led him in. He placed them on my chest of drawers that held all my school books.

            "Hey, Mr Shadow." Ash smiled, waving a little towards my Dad,

            "Hello, Asher." Dad smiled in return, his pristine, posh voice still there, but not as posh as normal. What has happening to my Dad?