Page 44 of Lost Luggage
‘Like what?’
‘Business studies.’ She threw her hands in the air. ‘Not that he has any right to decide my future, he’s not even my proper dad.’ Flo’s cheeks flushed. ‘And I don’t want to talk about that.’
Dolly’s eyebrows shot into her hairline. Flo had a different father? Someone Kaz knew before Mark? But they’d been school sweethearts. Unless Kaz had an affair or… She bit her lip. It was none of her business. This must have been Flo’s secret.
‘Mind, university does cost a lot these days,’ Dolly said gently. ‘I was shocked when Phoebe told me how much.’ She squeezed Flo’s arm. ‘I’m sorry, love.’
Leroy came to the back door. ‘The fish fingers are on. Potatoes boiling. How about that game of Go Fish?’ He shook a pack of cards.
Flo won and perked up enough to wolf down dinner. She played around with the last forkful of peas.
‘It’s like Mum and Dad don’t know me at all.’
Dolly paused. ‘I didn’t know everything about Greta. But that’s because she hid things. You still haven’t made your passion for insects clear enough to your parents. It’s all very well talking about wanting to go to university to study them, but you need to show your parents that it’s a genuine, serious intention.’
‘Look at it from a business point of view, like they would,’ said Leroy. ‘You’re twelve soon, aren’t you? Why not put your name down for a paper round. You can never start saving too early for college. You could research courses, too. Find out practical facts, so that your parents know this isn’t just a daydream.’
The doorbell rang and Flo followed Dolly until they reached the lounge where she bobbed in to tell Maurice and Fanny how much her life stank. Dolly pulled open the door.
Arms full, Phoebe glanced back at the road, looking flushed. ‘I’ve been to the corner shop after finishing my shift. I don’t normally work Thursdays but offered to help with a stocktake. Logging today’s date into the computer so many times made me realise, the bake-off is two weeks today. They could choose an Easter theme. We need to practise. I’ve got all the ingredients for a traditional simnel cake, whatever that is. I looked up Easter baking online. Next Thursday you could come to ours to practise making Easter biscuits – we could do them in the shape of bunnies and chicks. Granddad’s agreed to go out. What do you think?’
‘Cake?’ Flo’s face appeared at the lounge doorway. ‘Can I help?’
Dolly looked between the two of them. ‘Help Phoebe carry these ingredients into the kitchen. Then wash hands.’
Flo rushed up to Phoebe and paused before shyly taking several items.
Leroy beamed as he stood by the sink, having finished the last of the dishes. ‘Happy to gofer and act as DJ.’
Flo held up an orange jar, stepping from side to side. ‘It better be that “Lady Marmalade” song you like so much, then.’
‘You sure this is okay?’ asked Phoebe when Flo and Leroy headed to the record player.
‘Yes. I need to get my head around everything but I’m done with putting my life on hold. And your granddad doesn’t need to be out of the house. He can’t hurt me any more than he already has. This competition is about you and me, Phoebe. I’ll bring the ingredients next week.’ Leroy and Flo came back in, him strutting to disco beats.
‘Great, I’m looking forward to us baking together,’ said Phoebe. ‘Next Thursday is the seventh; I’ll make sure I put our practice session on the calendar.’
Leroy’s face dulled for a second, before he picked up the sink sponge and wiped down the work surface.
‘Why don’t we make a night of it?’ said Dolly, with a sideways glance at her neighbour. ‘Steve’s pub does decent grub. Flo, if your parents allow it, and as it’s school holidays, do you fancy having tea there with us, next Thursday? If Leroy doesn’t mind, he could drive you home whilst I go to Phoebe’s for the baking.’
‘Wow! Yes please!’
‘You could meet us there after work, Phoebe – just have a drink if you don’t fancy eating that early.’
Phoebe shot her a grateful look.
‘Leroy?’ Dolly shot him a pointed look.
His shoulders loosened. ‘Wouldn’t miss it for the world.’
Last year Tony had taken Leroy out for an evening picnic on his birthday, the seventh, saying it would be romantic. The weather had been unseasonably hot for April. They’d driven to Alderley Edge and parked up, before walking to the popular sandstone ridge with its spectacular views of Manchester and the Peak District. Strawberries dipped in chocolate, rich cheeses, grapes, Leroy had talked about the food for days afterwards, and the horizon, streaked with yellow, red and orange.
Dolly hoped that this birthday’s Rising Sun would help erase the memory of the one that had set.
30
‘Didn’t you book a table for half-past five, when Phoebe finished work?’ asked Steve and he checked his computer till. The Rising Sun had earned a reputation for the best food in Lymhall. A whoosh of savoury fried smells escaped through the kitchen swing doors.
