‘I’ll take him,’ I said.
‘I bet you will,’ Rupert snickered.
I kicked him under the table.
‘She has a love for the word “Jo,”’ Julian warned Robbie.
‘What’s not to love?’ I objected. ‘It’s the Scottish word for love or sweetheart, and it often makes excellent use of some two-letter tight-spots.’
‘Yeah,’ Jules complained, ‘but do you need to use iteverygame?’
‘I don’t use iteverygame,’ I shot back. Then I mumbled under my breath, ‘I don’t always get a J.’
‘But if you do,’ Rupe said, rolling his eyes, ‘then it’s Jo, for sure.’
‘It has the same certainty as you spelling sex, snog or fart in a game.’ I shrugged. ‘We all have our foibles. Yours are just more annoying than mine.’
Mum shot the two of us flat, unfriendly looks. ‘Pack it in, the two of you. I know you think you’re being funny, but you’re giving me PTSD flashbacks.’ She shuddered. ‘I was delightedwhen the two of you moved out of your teenage years. Let’s leave them in the past, where they deserve to remain.’
‘You’ll miss it,’ Rupert said sulkily, ‘when I move out.’
The room stilled.
‘I daresay I will,’ Mum murmured, eyes fixed on her Scrabble tiles. ‘But I’ll deal with it, and no doubt I’ll spend a lot more time walking around buck naked.’
‘Mum!’ Rupert objected, covering his eyes with his hands as if he were in danger of seeing her sixty-five-year-old butt right then and there.
‘Nice move,’ I said approvingly to Mum as she put ‘Jo’ on the board.
She smiled and patted my hand. ‘Thank you, dear.’
Mum’s turn over, Rupert leaned back in his chair and flashed me a smug grin. ‘Your turn, Ace. What are you going to do now that Mum’s used your favourite word? You’ll have to come up with something original, old girl.’
‘Old girl?’ I repeated, incredulous. ‘First, we’re not in the 1940s, and secondly, you’re only four years younger than me, moron.’
‘Age is just a number,’ Rupert said loftily. ‘Wisdom, though … that’s where I’ve got you beat.’
I snorted. ‘You think wisdom is spelling “fart” on a triple word score?’ I showed Robbie my proposed word, and he shrugged and nodded in agreement. I began to get the feeling he’d never played the game before. I put my tiles down on the double-word score and swivelled the board to Julian.
‘Immature buffoonery,’ Julian agreed with a sniff, addingQUIZto the board with the kind of smarmy triumph that suggested a twenty-point lead was imminent.
Robbie leaned closer to me, his breath warm against my ear. ‘I think your family’s adorable.’
‘That’s one word for them,’ I replied. ‘Other options include “feral,” “chaotic,” and “should be committed.”’
Rupe poked at his tiles with a frown. ‘I have terrible letters.’
‘Only a bad workman blames his tools,’ Mum reminded him.
‘Ha! As if you can talk. You actually made “Jo,” Mum. You’ve joined the dark side.’
‘A mother must occasionally side with her daughter,’ she said serenely. ‘Especially when her sons are being idiots.’ She placed another word down and turned the board to me.
‘Hey!’ said Julian. ‘I’m being sensible. Don’t tar me with Rupert’s brush. It’ll probably give me chlamydia.’
We all snickered at that.
‘Your turn, Ace,’ Robbie murmured.
