“What’s wrong Claire?’ Agnes asked, opening the curtains at 10 minutes past ten exactly.
“Nothing,” said Claire.
“Well, you can’t stay in bed all day,” said Agnes. “The sun’s out.”
“So?!”
“So stop grumping and get up,” said Agnes. “You like the sun and you like the summer holidays.”
“I don’t,” said Claire. “The sun makes me sun burnt and the summer holidays make me bored.”
Agnes was still trying to think of some counter argument to those irrefutable facts when Claire interrupted the silence all on her own without even waiting for something to disagree with.
“And anyway Daniel said yesterday was going to be the last day ever and then it wasn’t,” Claire said. “He said there were going to be explosions and implosions and there weren’t any AT ALL!”
“Maybe they cancelled each other out…”
“Shut up Mum,” said Claire. “I’m already furious enough without you making it worse.”
She threw her hairbrush on to the floor and then crossed her arms over her chest and stared balefully round the room like some sort of fairy tale princess. Albeit a huge and particularly angry fairy tale princess. Maybe Goldilocks if she finished up by shouting at the bears until they all moved to the mountains.
“You’re furious because it wasn’t the last day ever?”
“YES!” Claire said. “I was looking forward to not existing AT ALL!”
“And what would that have achieved?”
“NOTHING!” shouted Claire, who wasn’t entirely sure what she was upset about anymore, she just knew that she was. “Urgh, fine, I’ll get up then. But you have to let me get an ice cream from the ice cream van.”
“Do I?”
“In fact you have to let me get TWO!” said Claire. “Otherwise I’m coming straight back to bed.”
It was, Agnes realised, going to be a long six weeks. It always was.
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Notes:
1. Written on July 17th, 2026
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