‘We’ll think of something. Now get some sleep. You’ll need it if you’re going to live with six kids and a kissing frog.’
‘You’re so funny. Good night.’
Thirteen
Once again, Dad gave me a lift home. We’d had a similar discussion over breakfast about why I hadn’t arrived in my car, but this time I didn’t mention that I’d had alcohol.
‘You haven’t been banned or something, have you?’ Mum asked. ‘You have been drinking heavily since you met that Berry person, and her brother.’
‘No, Mum. I haven’t. I ate rather a lot of my neighbour’s delicious cinnamon cookies and I needed to walk off the excess calories. I’ve brought you a bag, and one for Gran if you’re popping into the care home to see her.’
‘You’re trying to make us fat?’ Mum looked horrified.
‘No. I’m trying to give you a delicious treat. One a day won’t hurt you. I had … several yesterday.’
‘Oh, I see. Well thank you. I’ll pass your gift to your gran. But she’s not in a care home, darling,’ Mum said. ‘It’s a residential establishment and community for the elderly.’
‘Otherwise known as a care home.’
‘I’ll give you a lift,’ said Dad.
It was clearly time to go.
‘You won’t be coming back, will you?’ Mum checked.
‘What? Ever?’ I asked, knowing full well what she meant.
Mum looked flustered. ‘No. Of course not. You’ll be here for Sunday lunch. I meant, you won’t need to stay tonight, will you? Your plumber is coming to sort you out today, isn’t he?’
‘Ooooh yes,’ I said in as sultry a voice as I could muster. ‘I do hope so. My plumbing needs a good sorting out.’
Mum furrowed her brows; Dad quirked one of his.
I didn’t bother to tell her he arrived yesterday and was returning today.
‘Oh, Lord,’ said Dad. ‘It’s snowing. Hurry up or we won’t be able to go anywhere.’
I dashed to the front door and flung it open. A solitary snowflake landed on my nose.
‘We might need to dig our way out, Dad,’ I said.
Dad shook his head and walked past me.
‘You don’t have to wind your mother up,’ Dad said once we’d left the driveway.
‘I know. But I can’t help myself.’
‘Try,’ he said.
I threw him a look. ‘Okay. But I make no promises.’
‘Just do your best. That’s all I ask. That’s all we’ve ever asked.’
‘Do you and Mum love me, Dad?’
He almost drove onto the pavement. He coughed, and puffed out his cheeks. He glanced in the rearview mirror and his fingers tightened on the steering wheel.
‘What sort of a question is that? Of course we do. It goes without saying.’
