‘Didn’t she? Doesn’t she have any ambitions in that direction?’
She does. But these days she’s got a toxic boyfriend too.I keep that to myself, though. ‘She didn’t want to.’
‘Pity,’ says Dad. ‘Is she well? I haven’t seen her for such a long time.’
‘Yes, she’s fine,’ I say lamely.
‘Would Tori like to come for dinner with us again soon?’
‘I can ask her.’ Which, of course, I won’t. ‘She’s been hanging around with a different crowd lately. Valentine Ward and all those arrogant rugby boys . . .’
‘Oh.’ Dad looks at me but doesn’t enquire further. Being married to Mum, he obviously gets to know a fair bit about the hierarchies among Dunbridge pupils, and Valentine’s mother likes to queen it on the school council at any opportunity, so he’s well aware of the Wards. ‘Charlie, I’ve been meaning to say – you don’t have to help me here all the time,’ he says, to my surprise. ‘I know your old man running the bakery isn’t exactly glamorous.’
I pause in mid-movement. ‘What are you talking about?’
‘I only mean—’
‘You think I’m ashamed of my family? Come on, Dad, do me a favour.’
‘I know what people your age can be like.’
‘Anyone who feels like looking down on me can take a running jump.’
There’s a hint of a smile on Dad’s lips. ‘I’m proud of you, son.’
‘I’m proud of you too, Father.’
‘God, that makes me sound so old . . . Don’t call me that.’ He laughs.
‘Well, it’s the truth, isn’t it?’ I grin.
‘Just call me Dad, OK, not Father.’
‘Duly noted.’ I hesitate, then just say what’s on my mind. ‘And you’ll still be proud of me if I’m wasting my time on this drama malarkey now?’
Dad eyes me. ‘You don’t waste your time.’
‘I probably won’t be able to help in the shop so often.’
‘Like I said, you don’t have to.’
I nod.
‘Why would you think I wouldn’t be proud of you?’ Dad asks.
I shrug. ‘Because it’s kind of nonsense, isn’t it? Acting, rehearsals . . . It’s not honest work, it’s not real.’
‘Charlie, you’re too smart to think that,’ he says drily. ‘We’re not sending you to that school so that you can end up as a baker one day.’
‘What if I wanted to?’
‘You want to go to university,’ Dad says, because he knows me. ‘And that’s a good thing.’
I swallow.
‘So, what are your plans there? Still interested in scriptwriting?’
‘I think so.’
