Page 82 of The Little Shop of Curiosities Cursed Object 1, The Music Box

“Why? What’s she done now?” Brandy asks in an almost bored tone.

“She’s only fucking teaching Benny how to play fucking poker.” Ari scowls. “Last fucking week it was fucking blackjack. Kid’s a fucking shark. I lost seventy fucking quid to ’im. I was fucking lucky to escape with the fucking shirt on my fucking back.”

“Small mercies,” I mutter.

“Benny is Ari’s son,” Brandy explains, then points the cat in the direction of the large window. The crowd parts slightly and I see a sweet-faced young man with Down syndrome playing cards with someone just out of my line of sight.

“That’s my fucking boy,” Ari says proudly, his eyes soft and his expression filled with love. Then he turns back to me. “Don’t play cards wiv ’im, ’e’ll rob you fucking blind. It’s that sweet fucking smile of ’is, it gets everyone to go fucking easy on ’im, but ’e ain’t fucking stupid.”

Oh my god, it’s like listening to Vinnie Jones in a Guy Ritchie movie. I’m going to be hearing the F word in my sleep at this rate. Although it might be a welcome change from the dreams I’ve been having lately.

Suddenly the crowd shifts, and I see who Benny is playing cards with.

My mother.

Of course, how could I be so stupid? I completely forgot she was staying here with Tristan and Danny while all that weird stuff was going on in her shop.

My heart starts to pound, my hands clenching unconsciously. Brandy and Ari are having a conversation which doesn’t seem to include me so I edge away, making sure to position myself where my mother can’t see me.

But I can see her.

Now that I have the chance, I study her face. She looks a bit like Constance, the Crawshanks sister we’re descended from, although her expression has none of the steady calmness of Constance, from what I remember from my dreams. Vivienne’s face is harder, wary, like she expects the world to cheat her or take advantage. When she looks at Benny, though, she gives him a smile, a genuine one, and the care she has for him softens her.

A small part of me yearns to talk to her, to ask why she didn’t want me, but a part of me just as equally doesn’t want to know.

Either way, this is not the time and place.

“Anyone for a game of Twister?” Ruby lifts a game box over her head and cackles loudly. She’ll probably take several people out with those sequinned epaulettes. The crowd shifts again, no doubt to get out of her way and avoid being volunteered for a possible chiropractic injury.

As the guests move, Vivienne looks my way. I turn away abruptly but collide with a solid chest.

“Fancy a go, Prickles?” A now familiar sexy northern accent says.

“What?” I squeak. When I look up, Sam nods in the direction of Ruby, who is now unfolding a giant plastic sheet decorated with multi-coloured spots.

I glare at Sam, not really sure why I’m irritated by him. Slipping past him, I head towards the kitchen and just avoid a collision with Maddie, Danny’s work partner. Opening the kitchen door, I stalk inside, aware that Sam is following me.

“Is that a no?” Sam asks. I can hear the grin in his voice.

“You’re being ridiculous,” I snap.

I sail into the room, vaguely aware that Chan, Dusty, Tristan, and Danny are in there, along with several other people, but I don’t stop to figure out who. I focus on the fridge.

“Oh, come on, Prickles.”

“No, absolutely not.” Scowling, I open the fridge to grab a bottle of water.

“Come on, you might like it,” Sam cajoles. At this point, I finally glance at him. He’s smiling so much that it crinkles the scar at the side of his face and reveals a dimple in his other cheek.

“I am not playing Twister…at all. But especially not in a room full of strangers.”

“I’ll bet I could bend you into some interesting positions.” Sam’s gaze does an appreciative slide over me, and I feel my body flush.

I roll my eyes, trying to project an air of nonchalance, but it feels like everyone is watching me. My heart pounds and there’s a buzzing in my ears. My chest feels too tight and I’m about ten seconds away from a really embarrassing panic attack in front of a flat full of mostly strangers at a party I didn’t want to attend.

I hurry out of the room and stop dead when I see Ruby has convinced my mother to join in her game. Vivienne’s quite happily flicking the spinner and calling out colours and body parts while swilling from a bottle of gin.

It only takes a second for my control to slip and everyone’s emotions to slam into me with all the force of a high-speed train. The unopened water bottle falls from my hands and hits the carpet in front of me. I press my hands to my ears for all the good it does me. Squeezing my eyes shut, I try to block it all out, but it’s too much.