A Million Rainbows

1. Sunday 10th November 2015, 10.37am

Sunday 10th November 2015, 10.37am

Alyssa was a fair person, but her glossy black bob, high cheekbones and crisp, creaseless white tailored suit gave her a stern look, as though she was a blade that impaled you if you came too close. 'Andrew, your rent money is overdue again,' she sighed.

Rainbow watched her dad massage his temples with his palms, rubbing in small circles. 'Give me a week.' Andrew never begged, but his voice was laced with desperation. Alyssa shook her head apologetically. 'Look, Andrew, you've had too many weeks and taken too many liberties. I'm sorry, but I can't afford to keep giving you chances. It's more than my job's worth.' Even her London accent was crisp and enunciated. Andrew suddenly became very interested in his Guinness slippers.

Alyssa gave another sympathetic groan. 'I thought you found some job options?'

'They weren't my cup of tea after all.'

'Andrew, you've hit rock bottom. You have a teenage daughter to look after. You can't afford to be so selfish.'

'I know,' Andrew said heavily, casting a glance towards Rainbow's door (she shrunk back from her spot watching through the crack).

'I tell you what,' Alyssa says thoughtfully, 'you have until Wednesday. But that's as long as I can give you to give me sixty thousand. And here-' she fished in her pocket and handed him a twenty that was as crisp as the rest of her, as though she'd ironed it. 'I know it isn't much,' she said, pressing the note into his palm, 'but every little helps, as Tesco says, and I reckon you need all you can get.'

Andrew wrapped Alyssa in a warm hug. She was taken aback, and awkwardly patted his back. Rainbow thought Alyssa looked relieved when he released her, and wasn't surprised. Her dad was tall and strong, and gave bone-crushing hugs like Hagrid out of Harry Potter.

Alyssa left, and Rainbow snuck back into her bed and lay dreading the dawn. She was starting a new school tomorrow, which always sucked. No matter where she went, Rainbow was bullied for her shock of red, unruly curls, weirdness and bizarre sense of style. Not that she wanted friends-ugh!-but being able to walk down a corridor without having names and food thrown at her would be great. Rainbow had no intention of making friends. Her mother died when she was three, and Rainbow lived in a small flat with her dad (who was a great dad, but wasn't a mum) and her cat Nivea (she named her after the skincare brand a month after their Daily Essentials Day Cream ridded her of her dreaded acne). Rainbow had always been lonely, and didn't consider it a negative adjective. She had her dad, and she had Nivea, and she was lonely, and that was how she liked it.

Rainbow rolled over, hugging her pillow. She fell asleep wondering how her dad would make sixty thousand by Wednesday, and what would happen if he didn't.