Despite the grind, she had a quiet, giddy buzz that had nothing to do with the sticky floor or the pile of laundry sagging in the corner.
Mae under the ash tree. Mae trying to pretend she wasn’t eating a bad crisp. Mae’s lips.
George hovered in the doorway, watching the water swirl in the sink.
‘Mum texted,’ he said. ‘She says she’s not back till later. And she says you have to make sure I eat something green and tidy my room.’
‘She always says that.’
‘I know.’ He paused. ‘I already did my room.’
‘Gold star,’ she said sincerely.
Later, when George was fed with pasta (with a sauce that promised nutrients you couldn’t taste) and a side of nuggets, and exiled to his room to get ready for bed, Callie sat at the small dining table, checking the post, looking for any red bills. Today, none. A good day.
She wanted to text Mae, to send some stupid message about grass stains. Though if she had any nerve, she’d send something about how kissing Mae made her toes curl.
She didn’t send either.
Mae would be with her dad now, she thought. The two of them going over takings, talking about bread or something. But Callie knew Mae didn’t care about the bakery. She was as stuck as Callie.
The front door opened, keys rattling.
‘Kids? You alive?’ her mother called.
‘No, we died,’ Callie said, getting up. ‘George is getting ready for bed.’
Her mother came in, kicking her shoes off as she went.
‘Long shift?’ Callie asked, perched on the armchair.
Her mother worked at the supermarket out of town, near the ring road.
Her mother paused. ‘Yes.’
‘You don’t have a shift today. So where have you been?’
Her mother groaned, sounding like a caught-out kid. ‘That’s none of your business.’
‘It is if I’m here looking after George.’
‘He’s been at his camp all day,’ her mother said dismissively. ‘You didn’t even have to do pickup because I arranged for Carol to do it.’
‘He got home hours ago.’
‘I’m so sorry you have to look after your brother for two hours.’
Callie watched her with the usual quiet resentment. It didn’t feel wrong, though; this was just the way things were between them. She’d gotten used to resenting her mother. Ever since her deadbeat dad had finally left, and not long after that, all the adult responsibility had quietly shifted onto Callie’s shoulders, without anyone ever saying it aloud or offering so much as a word of thanks.
‘You eat?’ Callie asked.
‘I grabbed something,’ her mother said.
‘So you’re really not gonna tell me where you’ve been all day.’
‘Doesn’t seem five minutes since you were running round this place in your pants. Now you’re demanding to know what I’m up to. I don’t ask you who you’re hanging around with. Though God knows, I hear about it.’
Callie ignored the implication in that. ‘I never askedwhoyou were with,’ she said.
