Twenty
Now
Callie shut the front door with a sharper click than she intended.
Her mum poked her head out of the kitchen. ‘You’re late. We kept your dinner warm.’
‘Thanks,’ Callie said, dropping her bag by the stairs.
‘How did it go today?’ her mum asked.
‘Sam couldn’t come because he painted himself the wrong colour,’ Callie explained, tired.
‘I don’t know what that means, but come and eat. We’ve had ours.’ She ducked back into the kitchen. And then thought better of it, popping out again and looking her daughter up and down. ‘You look knackered.’
Callie didn’t feel knackered. She felt… brittle. Like one good shove and she’d break on the floor.
She stepped into the kitchen. Brian was at the table with the paper. Hannah was on her phone. Were they waiting for her?
‘You’re back,’ Hannah announced without looking up.
‘Yup,’ Callie replied, sitting down. ‘Is it popping off in the group chat?’
Hannah looked at her as though she were Methuselah. ‘What are you on about?’ She went back to her phone.
Callie’s mum slid a reheated plate in front of her.
‘So,’ her mum said, sitting down. ‘You’re filming again tomorrow?’
‘Apparently,’ Callie muttered around a mouthful of lasagna. ‘They want to pick up everything we missed once Sam’s colour corrected.’
‘Is that bad?’ Brian asked.
‘It’s… inconvenient,’ she said.
Though it was a hell of a lot more than that. Why had she said that thing about being good with her hands? Was she losing her marbles? She hadn’t been trying to flirt. It had just come out wrong.
Right?
‘How’s Mae?’ her mother asked.
Callie stabbed a piece of pasta harder than necessary. ‘She’s fine.’
‘Fine?’ her mum repeated, far too carefully.
‘Busy,’ Callie clarified. ‘She’s got a bakery to run and a film crew in her way. Anyone would be short with that many people breathing down their neck.’
Brian looked over the top of his paper. ‘Short with you?’
‘With everyone,’ Callie lied.
Hannah glanced up from her phone. ‘Did she shout at you?’
‘No,’ Callie said. ‘She didn’t shout.’
‘Did she cry?’ Hannah asked.
‘Why would she cry?’ Callie asked, disturbed.
