For how much longer?That depressing thought settled in my gut.
I followed after Mum, fidgeting with the material, pulling it away from my stomach, feeling it cling to my body and making me suddenly self-conscious.
I rounded the corner and saw Dad perched at the head of the long dinner table in a conversation with Evan, who was leaning back in his chair with his ankle propped up on his other leg. Taking up as much room as he possibly could. Charlotte was milling about the kitchen, spooning vegetables into large bowls. A long maxi skirt split up to her thigh clung to her slim figure, a knitted cropped jumper complimenting it. As I entered the open-plan kitchen diner, Charlotte turned her head, not stopping what she was doing.
‘Better late than never, I suppose.’ She smiled with no warmth.
‘Can I help with anything?’ I stepped forward, wanting to put my nervous energy into something productive.
‘I do this for a living, Fallon.’ I hated the way Charlotte said my name. Cold, sharp, like a knife intended to slice to the bone. She spoke it with an air of constant scolding.
‘A simple family dinner is hardly stressful. I sent you another job application. I also attached an article about how to present yourself in an interview. You can’t just be yourself and expect people to accept that. You need to play the game.’ She chided.
Feeling myself prickle at the haughty tone, I plastered on a smile. So forced that my cheeks started to ache.
‘Thanks, but I’m fine. Things will work themselves out.’
Shit.That was the last thing you said to Maureen and Charlotte Lowell. Two women who never rested on their laurels. What they wanted, they went out and got. Not a bad trait to have. I often admired the strength and self-discipline that it took. However, it caused them to see any other way of living as lazy. I was as opposite as you could get to the females in my family. Most of the time, I was grateful thatthe neurotic gene had slipped me by, but other times… I would give anything to have even an ounce of their self-confidence.
Charlotte put down the spatula she was using to lift roast potatoes onto a fancy serving dish and folded her arms across her chest, her posture stiffer than the meringue mum was currently whipping.
‘You don’t want to have to move back in with Mum and Dad at thirty, do you?’
I bit down on the inside of my cheek. ‘I won’t need to.’
‘By thirty, I had already saved enough money to put down a deposit on my restaurant. You need to buckle down and get serious.’
I hadn’t been in the house for ten minutes, and the chastisement had started. My eyes darted behind Charlotte to Mum, still whipping the egg whites, listening to everything but saying nothing.Yet.
‘Where’s Jeremy?’ I asked, louder than necessary.
Charlotte took the subject change like a teacher knowing her student was trying to get out of finishing their homework. She sighed, turning back to the potatoes.
‘He’s upstairs fiddling with the wifi.’
Seeing the lull in conversation as a chance to make my escape. I wandered over to the table where Dad and Evan were still talking, both leaning forward like they were trading state secrets.
‘Hey, Evan. Dad.’
Neither got up to greet me, so I shuffled over to Dad to give him an awkward side hug. He patted me softly on the arm, less,I’m so happy to see you darling,and more,okay, enough now.
I didn’t hug my brother but gave him a firm nod. These days I couldn’t bear showing any form of affection to a brother who had bullied me so mercilessly for so long—whotook joy in tormenting me. He’s a heartless bastard and there are some things I’d never forgive him for.
Evan leaned back in his chair and surveyed me from head to toe. Holding my breath, I waited for the comment. He could never let me go without saying something snide; as usual, he didn’t disappoint.
‘Heard about the job search. Have you tried applying at Greggs? I’d love to get free sausage rolls. I’m sure as an employee you’d get a discount, perfect for you, Fal.’
Evan laughed at hishilariousjoke whilst Dad smiled and gave a soft chuckle. I’d learned the hard way over the years that giving Evan any kind of reaction was like handing a knife to a sadist. While he was less blatant with his bullying these days, he took great pleasure in cutting me down. To stab at what he perceived to be my biggest insecurities and twist the knife in. Evan was cruel. So, I once again moved my lips into a small smile and walked away from the table.
To my retreating form, Evan called, ‘Aw, come on, Fal, still can’t take a joke?’
There was no escape. Either I went back to the table and let my brother rip me apart with verbal abuse disguised asjokes,or I went to the kitchen and let my confidence be stripped to the bone by my sister. I walked out of the room and up the stairs to the bathroom, needing a moment to collect myself.
On the landing, I bumped into Jeremy coming from the office, face a mask of concentration as he surveyed an object in his hands. Jeremy was the definition of harmless. He wore glasses that he constantly pushed up the bridge of his nose; he spoke in short sentences, often uncomfortable with emotion and confrontation, but he’d always been kind to me. Or at least he didn’t outrightly call me a failure, which in my world constituted kindness.
‘Hi, Jeremy.’
His head snapped up from the machine. Brown eyes took a moment to register my appearance.
